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fev3rish · 3 months

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YOUR EYES TOLD ME, “GIRL, COME RIDE ME !” kenji sato x fem!reader

you never could resist kenji’s eyes.

cw. oral (m receiving), overstim (?), mild dumbification (kenji doesn’t like thinking when it comes to you), kenji’s highkey obsessed with you, sex toys (vibrator that reader pulled out of god knows where), sub!kenji & gentledom!reader who’d do anything for him, alt synopsis: you and kenji fuck NASTY, aftercare, mina cameo, kenji and reader are equally obsessed with eachother. porn with barely any plot

notes. i’m releasing all my inhibitions just posting this; it’s incredibly self indulgent 😭🙏 this is my first time writing & posting smut, so i’m sorry if there any errors. this’ll likely be the first and last time i’ll post smut ever . chat i am literally so embarrassed this is not what i stand for . this is also good for a select audience; the ppl who get it, get it😄🙏

you never could resist kenji’s eyes.

it’s funny, you were the one to ask him out—you took a chance and decided to be brave, and when kenji heard the words roll out of your mouth, the expression that made its way onto his perfect face—god, it took all you had in you not to take him then and there. his eyes were so big, and he was just so cute, and the both of you were so very flustered, but as he smiled and accepted, you knew that you were in for the long run with him.

his eyes pulled you in at every possible moment.

they pulled you into bed at night, and out of it in the morning. all kenji really needed to do was look at you the right way and you’d give in to every one of his whims, no questions asked; you were his. as much as you wanted to tell yourself you had him wrapped around your finger, because you did, it didn’t compare to just how much you’d risk for him. you were his, through and through. just looking at kenji did things to you.

you never could resist kenji’s eyes, especially now.

did he know what he was doing? in those sweatpants, that white shirt that accentuated his biceps just a little too good—the way his mouth hung open tiredly, the prettiest soft lips—in his hand, some of that ‘damned’ coconut water mina had given him. he must’ve been so tired to just settle with that. he was sprawled out on that weirdly big sofa of his, head thrown back, resting against the arm of the chair and legs spread—already enticing enough. you trailed your eyes from his tired body, to his eyes.

oh god, his eyes.

kenji’s hooded eyes raked across your form, then back to your face. His pretty eyes seemed to stare into yours for a little longer, almost needing—longing—to be paid attention to.

you caved.

kenji’s breath hitched when you had suddenly straddled him, embarrassment evident in your face along with hints of poorly hidden lust. “baby?—“ he had tried to give you a proper greeting when you walked in, but you had foiled his attempts. now, he just looked at you cluelessly. you were breathing heavier than usual. “whats got you so perked up?” he tried to tease, but you shushed him. “you’re so — you’re so fucking stupid —“ you whispered. he raised an eyebrow.

“where’d that come from?—“

“can i give you head?” you blurted out and he did a double take. “where is this coming from?!” he asked again, his face heating up—he didn’t seem against it, though. you looked at him. he always looked at you when he talked, even when you didn’t have the bravery to look back into his pretty eyes—he always looked at you. It disarmed you so quickly. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty.” you began. “—Haven’t known love until you looked at me with them.”

Kenji went haywire. it was so obvious that he was flustered, the blush reaching deep into his neck and the way he tried to cover his face was proof of that. you didn’t let him cover his face, you never did. “too pretty.” you muttered, and he only gave in to you more. “I want you so bad.” you looked into his eyes for what seemed to be the first time in forever. everything in you was just screaming, screaming at you to, for lack of a better word, fuck him. You wanted him so motherfucking bad.

kenji could never really resist your eyes either.

something in the way you looked at him, as you kissed the tip of his cock, did something to Kenji. “Shit.” he cursed, watching your spit dribble down the base—and he jolted up as you wrapped your fingers around him because you were being such a fucking tease. “You wanted me so bad, now you’re teasing me to death here, baby, please—“ he pleaded. you only smiled, your hands, your touch, was so light on him now. he could barely feel it, which made him reasonably pouty. then you unexpectedly pressed the tips of your fingers into him, and he gripped the couch a little bit tighter.

you took the tip into your mouth first, tongue swirling around it as he twitched in your control. kenji’s tip was always so sensitive, it wasn’t a surprise you had decided to go for it first—you wanted him to give in to you, after all. to give all of him to you this time.

it was funny how easy it was to get him to cave; just the bob of your head up and down had him clawing at your hair and pulling you in deeper and deeper. you could feel him in the back of your throat, and as you watched him babble on and on about how every hole you had was made for him (all the holes that mattered, atleast), and how you made him feel so good, you clenched your thighs and chose to be patient.

you wanted to play with him for a little while.

“please, please, please, please, please—“

“oh, kenji, you’re moving too much. try to sit still, okay?”

kenji never realized his dick could get that red, nor did he realize you ever had any of this in you—you were always so obedient. you did what you could to please him, and he always made it a point to take good, good care of you; he was just so tired today, he didn’t think you’d be the one taking care of him this time. where did you even get that vibrator? how are you so good at handling it? why is he asking these questions? he doesn’t even want to think anymore, he just wants you on him. the feeling of your tongue, planting itself on the very tip of his cock—and the feeling of the vibrator perched upon his base is dizzying, and kenji can’t even speak. can’t talk.

it all just hurts so good.

how many times has he came again? he’s neglected counting. you’ve just been taking care of him so, so well, he doesn’t even want to think about any one but you. what does it matter? your pretty face is right infront of him, smiling up at him as you help guide him through yet another orgasm. another orgasm without him inside you.

he almost cries at the feeling.

he just feels so incomplete without his dick inside of you, feeling you clench all around him and watching you sink into his cock, watching it disappear, it’s fucking addicting. you’re fucking addicting. he can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop saying your name, can’t stop reaching for your body because he just wants to feel you! he just wants to feel you. whatever he can get, he’ll take.

just let him feel you.

your eyes widen at just how far you’ve pushed him, his eyes are so glossy, and his cheeks are covered in dried tears—his lips, swollen and red because you may have gotten a little too carried away in last round’s impromptu make out, call out your name weakly. his throat is hoarse and when you stand up, he forces himself off his position in the couch to wrap his arms around your body, his head resting on your stomach. his breaths are ragged, and you can feel his cock hardening against your leg once more. you coo.

“kenji, what is it you want, baby?” you ask him, soft and sweet. he looks up at you, and he shyly mutters something about… ah.

“let—let me feel you.” he hiccups,before quickly adding, “please!”

he wants to be inside you.

that’s so cute. you audibly ‘awww’ at the state you’ve reduced him too, so pliant and willing—eager to please, eager for you to take from him as much as you let him take from you. his eyes are glossy, glistening with unshed tears, and they will likely be that way for a while. kenji looks up at you, his doe eyes making you abandon any and all plans you had for him.

you could never say no to those eyes, they were just begging you for more.

and more you would give.

“there, there we go, there we go, yes— yess..” his voice is a husky whisper in your ear as you sunk down onto his cock; you never did get used to the stretch, and kenji can tell, with how you grip his shoulders so tight the hold is almost bruising. he squeezes his eyes shut once more and he hisses, you’re so tight, he’s such a weak fucking man, he has to still himself for a bit—has to hold on to your hips to stop you from continuing, because he doesn’t want to cum, he doesn’t want to cum yet—you haven’t even started speaking yet, he wants to hear you talk him through it.

you’re so beautiful.

“kenji, when can i move?” you ask, you’re so close to his face—he hates to say it, especially since he’s balls deep inside of you right now, and because you’ve been dating for a while already, but he has the biggest crush on you. “you can move now.” he replies. you smile, and press a kiss to his lips. “you’re being so good to me, kenji. you’re always so good to me, i’ll be good to you too. always.”

kenji wonders how you’ll go about that.

you’re going so fast.

he didn’t know you had the stamina for that, and neither did you, but this is kenji sato you are riding—god forbid you waste a single second when he’s inside of you. kenji can’t even speak, kenji can only moan, moan, and keep moaning. he watches you ride him and he swears he’s died already.

this is a view you can only find in heaven.

you’re just so pretty, he’s going to cum just from looking at you in this state.

look at you.

kenji’s mind is gone, and the kisses you share while you ride him are messy—teeth clanging and tongues crashing, but he loves it. he loves it when you get messy.

“you’re so—”you bite back a moan, “you’re so pretty, kenji, oh my god—” you say to him, and he whimpers. “you make the prettiest sounds, baby, again.” again. again. again. he whimpers and he writhes again, and again, and again, for you. you only look at him in awe, because he’s so pretty when he can’t think. it makes you want to do all the thinking for him.

maybe you will.

“kenji.” you call, “you with me?” and he nods, his eyes lidded. he’s tired, but he’s with you. your left hand grabs his face, squishing his cheeks together. a feline grin makes it’s way onto your face as you lean in, “you always take such good care of me, kenji. this is my ‘thank you’.” and you’re making him pull out, and kenji whines, but he moans even louder when you sink all the way back in and he feels you squeezing him all over again. you take him to the hilt, skin slapping against skin as you watch his mouth part in utter bliss.

“do you want to cum inside me, kenji?” you ask, so very sweetly to him, and he’s so fucked out that all he can do, all he wants to do, is say “please.”

the shit you pull next has kenji dazed. you’re going so fast, you’re taking him all in, he can feel you squeeze every time you sink down and oh my god, it feels so good. “you feel so good.”

you cum with him in a sea of bliss, and the ring that he can physically feel where you and him connect, has him on a new found high.

“wow.”

“you really took me by surprise there.” kenji chuckled, now laying on the same couch that probably needed to be deep cleaned—you laid on his chest, smiling up at him mischievously. “i wanted to be the one in control this time. you always take good care of me, so why wouldn’t i do the same for you?” you ask, a rhetorical question that has kenji tilting his head and patting your cheek. “well, i was in great hands with youu!” he hummed, taking your hand and placing a kiss to the back of your wrist. “literally. i was in great hands.”

you laughed, eyes creasing at the pun—and kenji laughed, too. then, he nodded towards the bathroom. “you wanna take a bath together?” he asks, “that’s about the most romantic thing you’ve ever asked me.”

“well, most is an exaggeration.” he shrugs,

“what other question would have me so happy other than that?”

“you would know.”

“no, i don’t, wanna say it?” you challenge, a glint in your eye and kenji knows that you know.

“i don’t have a ring yet, babe.” he chuckles, wiping a stray hair off your face. “gotta make sure you get only the best, after all.”

“well, i already have the best.” you smile into his chest, and kenji looks at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face, before he calls mina over to tell her to set up a bath for the two of you. she obliges, snickering. as you hear the slow running of water, you feel kenji’s fingers sneak into your scalp. you needed the massage. as you let yourself give into true relaxation, you hear kenji’s voice lulling you asleep. he trusted mina would wake the two of you up once the bath was ready, anyway.

your eyes close, and so do kenji’s, but he can’t help but reply to you—you say you have the best, but he can’t help but disagree. “i have the best, not you.”

#kenji sato #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman #kenji sato x reader #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader #kenji x reader #ultraman kenji sato #ultraman rising 2024 #ultraman x reader #ultraman 2024

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qlossytbh · 3 months

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

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cheriladycl01 · 1 month

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Would you write a Carlos or Max x reader please where she’s a driver too. They’re always worried about her when she races but they’re not prepared when she gets into a serious crash just running errands to the store. They get a call from her caller ID expecting her to have forgotten something but it’s a police officer or paramedic telling them she’s been in an accident. Thank you!

Is this Mr Sainz? - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Verstappen Reader x (Brother) Max Verstappen

Plot: You get into a car crash when shopping for the first food shop before a race weekend.

You were used to driving, it was literally your job at a professional level as a driver in Formula One driver. And you were good too, having 3 wins under your belt in only your third year in the sport.

Sometimes it felt like you only had your seat because you were a Verstappen, but racing was in your blood and you were becoming just as much of a menance as your brother on track.

You also had your boyfriend Carlos who you’d been dating since you were in F2. You never thoughtyou’d make it as far as F1, but after proving yourself in your F2 season, and not struggling too much without power steering, you were promoted.

Having Carlos and Max on track with you was so fun as you were always teasing and making jokes with each other especially in interviews and on Thursday media days.

Carlos and Max however hated the fact that they had to race you and track an that you were good enough to actually fight for position with the pair of them. They were both pretty worried about you before they got into the car. Once they were on track they both tried to consider you as just another car, but admitidly that was pretty hard.

They never thought about you normally driving… it was such a mundane thing compared to driving round tracks at around 250mph.

“Hello is this Mr Sainz?” the call came through whilst Carlos, Max, Lando, Oscar, Charles and Pierre were all in the hotel lobby just waiting around having drinks and talking. It was your caller ID so Carlos didnt think anything off it when he picked it up to here … well not you on the other end.

You were out, getting some snacks for in the hotel room. Everyone had sent you their orders and you’d gone out by yourself wanting some time alone ahead of the race weekend.

You were walking around the large shop, picking out what was given from the list before heading to the checkout. It was getting kind of late, and it was media day tomorrow so you wanted to go back as soon as possible.

“Hi, how are you?” You smile at check out lady who looks shocked to see you before starting to scan your items.

“I’m okay! How are you?” she asks back still looking over you in shock and you try not to chuckle at her reaction.

“I’m pretty good, just shopping for some snacks for my friends. This was the nearest place, its really nice in here” you smile as you take the items off her and pack them into one of your reusable bags.

“That’s gonna set you back $82.52” she says, her American accent coming through. You smile and shake your head.

“On snacks, my god I forgot how many people I was buying for” you chuckle handing over your black card and putting the food back into the trolley.

“Thank you so much! You’ve been so helpful!” you smile before you walk outside going to the car you had rented and loading up the boot of the car.

“Yes this is he” he says with a confused look, furrowing across his brows as he glances a the group who are also looking over to him.

“You are listed here as the emerency contact for a Y/N Verstappen yes?” the voice asks and Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. He looked over to Max, who was now chatting and joking around with Lando.

“Hold for one second please” he says before muting the call.

“Max, come outside. Now…” Carlos says gruffy, before walking outside to a quiet area where there arent any people to interrupt.

“Yes I am the emergency contact for Y/N Verstappen” Carlos sighs and Max freezes.

“She’s been in an accident and we are requesting you and a Max Vertsappen, her second emergency contact at he hospital immedielty” he explains and Max and Carlos share a look.

“What happened?” Max asks, a pause from the officer slighty confused at the different accent change.

“Whos this?”

“I’m her brother Max Vertsappen” he says, his tone cold.

“Well, it looks like she was coming back from the shops and a drunk driver ran through a red light and went into the side of her car crossing the road. She’s in surgery right now but that’s all i can confirm right now” he offers and tears build up in Carlos’ eyes. Max is sort of frozen in shock before he shakes himself out of it.

“We’ll be there as soon as possible, St David’s I’m guessing?” he asks and gets cofirmation from the officer before hanging up Carlos’ phone for him.

“Carlos come on” Max says pulling at his fellow drivers wrist who is now the frozen one with a blank look on his face.

“I-“ he starts but cant say anything.

“Carlos come on, this cant wait!” Max exclaims before the older man wakes himself up from his daze and follows Max to the lobby where their friends are waiting.

“Can one of you drive us to the hospital, we’re both to irratic to be behind the wheel right now” Max asks, looking at everyone who’d stopped their convrsations the minute the absent duo had come back in.

“What? What’s happened are you. okay?” Charles asks standing up.

“It’s Y/N she got into a car crash, drunk driver or something and she’s in the hospital right now” Carlos explains to the group.

“I’ll drive!” Lando agrees quickly, before taking them out to his McLaren, Carlos sat next to him while Max sat in the back.

“Whoever did this is going to pay” Max spits out angrily, tapping against the back of Lando’s seat.

“She’ll be okay, she’s like the strongest person i know” Lando replies looking in the rear view mirror at Max before concentrating back on the road.

They get to the hospital in record time running into the emergency department trying to look for Y/N.

“I’m going to go get some flowers and chocolate for her, you guys let me know the room shes in yeah?” Lando says knowing that they just want to ask and see how she is.

They nod the younger driver off before hounding the receptionist with questions.

“Is Y/N Verstappen here?” Carlos asks.

“She was in a car crash, an officer said she was in surgery?” Max asks.

“She’s an F1 Driver has her team been informed about the accident, what about her family?” Carlos asks.

“Slow down. I unfortunaltley dont have the answer to any of those questions but the first. She’s here, I’m not sure if she’s out of surgry yet but I will. page her doctor to come see you both. Please in the meantime take a seat” she directs them to the smaller and more privte waiting area.

Carlos takes a seat first his head in his hands while Max starts to make calls to his mum and dad and ther sister letting them know what was going on and telling them the limited knowlege he had on the situation.

In the time they’d been waiting, it had gotten out to h general public that you’d been in a car crash and articles and posts had been made online regarding the situation.

“For Y/N Verstappen?” a lady calls in a longwhite coat clipbaord in hand. Carlos’ head lifts up from his hands and he steps up towards the lady as Max hangs up.

“Yes?” Max asks looking over to the doctor.

“Your sister Y/N is out of surgery, it was hard work but she’ll make a full recovery in time. She’s a fighter and we really thought we’d lost her for a second. She’s asleep right now but you can visit” she smiles offering to guide them through the area.

“Thank you” Carlos’ cries pulling Max in for a hug, leaning agaisnt his shoulder before they follow the doctor through to your room.

You were asleep on the hospital bed, some wires and other medical tech strapped up to you and Max never thought he’d see you like this, he’s prayed you’d never ever be in this situation. He hated seeing you, looking so fragile and vulnerable.

Eventually your anesthetic wore off and you were woken up to voices lightly talking and rays of sun bursting through the window. The first thing you notice is how relaxed your body is. Not that you knew right now but the morphine you were on for pain was making you very woozy.

“Mmmmmm” you groan as you try to move.

“Hey baby” you hear lightly from next to you, your eyes fluttering open to meet your boyfriends.

“Hi Carlos” you smile soflty looking at him and the worried look on his face.

That’s when yourmind becomes a little less fuzzy and you realsise you are neither at home or in the hotel.

“You were in a car crash, you had us worried” you hear your brother admit.

“Mmmm Max?” you asklooking around the room seeing the various flowers and cards and noticing it was a hospital room.

“We’re here” he smiles coming to stand the other side of the bed.

“We’ll always be here for you” Carlos adds, holding your hand.

Taglist:

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huntingingoodwill · 3 months

Text

aren’t you gonna tuck me in? (j.m.)

masterlist

pairing: brat!reader x joel miller

prompt: goodnight kiss

a/n: a lil sumn for @janaispunk’s 1.5k kisses challenge!!! with a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic smirk smirk... congrats babes 💕

“You crazy old motherfucker!” Your screams were tinged with laughter as Joel slung you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the Tipsy Bison.

“Who’re you calling a crazy old motherfucker?” Joel grumbled, locking his arm tight around your thigh and kicking open the door as he pointedly ignored your friends’ whoops and whistles.

You blew them a kiss before they disappeared behind the swinging door, at which point you gestured to the desolate road Joel had carried you out onto.

“Don’t see any other crazy old motherfuckers around.”

The slice of light that fell upon the road from the open door reduced into nothingness as it swung shut, leaving you and Joel awash in blue moonlight.

“If I’m crazy, it’s only ‘cause you drove me to the brink-” He paused in exasperation, landing a smack to your thigh that prompted a delicious, ticklish pain to shoot up your leg, and peals of laughter to come falling out your mouth,“will you stop wiggling up there?”

“Sure thing.” The saccharine words dripped off your tongue before you halted your movements, muscles slackening as you draped your dead weight over his shoulder.

“Jesus,” He huffed, suddenly exhausted as he had to literally shoulder the burden of your lax body. “Y’know what, just get down.” He said, quickly lowering you to the ground.

“Joel Miller, you are quite the party pooper.” You chuckled, stumbling to your feet.

He had stormed into the Tipsy Bison, locking eyes with yours as he pushed past a crush of people, causing your lips to twist into a smirk and your heartbeat to quicken in time with the beat of the warbling song blasting from the jukebox. He had barely given you time to shoot off a sly remark before he tossed you over your shoulder and whisked you away, an act much more interesting to you than the drunken conversation you were enjoying with your friends.

“I did not poop any parties.” He said, watching you stifle a laugh as you walked beside him. “Maybe you don’t recall, but we’re on patrol together tomorrow, and I am not gonna play nurse to you when you’re hungover on a horse.”

When Tommy had first put the both of you on patrol together, he had thought his brother was pulling some sick joke. He probably was. You had taken a particular interest in Joel whenever you saw him around Jackson, never failing to deliberately bump into him and engage in some teasing that would render Tommy helpless with laughter as Joel stood on, unamused.

As much as Joel hated to admit it, and as much as he felt he really was being driven crazy on his patrols with you, he had almost come around to it.

The gleam of your smile in those dark forests as you told him corny jokes around a crackling fire. Like sunlight peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

He pushed the thought away. Maybe you really were driving him to the brink.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, gait leisurely besides his focused march down the road, “I’ve been hungover on that horse before and you never had to baby me. I just think you hate fun.”

“I do not ‘hate fun’.” He said, his monotonous drawl sounding pretty fun-hating, “...But maybe you were having too much fun. ‘Specially with that boy of yours.”

He regretted letting the words slip as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t deny the flare of heat that simmered under his skin when he entered the bar to see you laughing your head off with one of the guys that always seemed to trail after you around Jackson.

“Oh. My. God.” You said, a thin sheen of dust rising around your boots as you screeched to a halt.

“What?” Joel said, heart pounding as he whipped his head around.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not-“ Joel spluttered, heat blooming across his collar.

“I’m walking home with a green-eyed monster!” You grabbed him by the jaw, and Joel prayed you couldn’t feel the heat from his cheeks searing the pads of your fingers. You turned his head, prompting him to look in your eyes. He had to fight off the urge to melt against your touch under the intensity of your stare, his jaw clenching beneath your fingers.

“Nope. Not green. Still shit brown.” You said, killing the moment with a grin.

Joel shook you off, quickening his pace rather unsteadily as you continued to walk beside him.

“You’re obsessed with me. First, you’re carrying me out of the Tipsy Bison, and next, you’ll be carrying me over the threshold after our wedding." You laughed.

That made even more heat blossom in his cheeks, and he tried to push that image out of his mind as he cleared his throat, biting his tongue as he let you carry on.

“Don’t be too jealous, Joel.” You purred, slipping your arm through his, nuzzling up to him in a way that made blood roar in his ears, “That guy’s not really my type. I like older guys.” You placed extra emphasis on the last phrase, making Joel’s head swim.

After making him squirm under your gaze for a couple seconds, you burst into laughter.

“As mean as you look, you get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.” You said, punctuating the sentence with a coddling pout.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Joel grumbled, eyes trained straight ahead.

“It’s hilarious.”

Your footsteps trailed off as the both of you arrived in front of his house, staring at its squat silhouette in the dark.

You turned to grin at him, Joel shooting a sideways glance at you, debating whether or not to take the bait.

“What?” He mumbled, taking the bait.

“Miller, you devil. You could’ve at least bought me a drink before bringing me back to your place.”

He rolled his eyes, walking up the porch steps as you trailed behind him.

“Your place is all the way on the other side of Jackson. So you can either sleep here tonight, or we’ll spend another hour walking around in the dark.” He said, opening the door.

“Excuses, excuses.” You clucked your tongue, shaking your head with false disapproval, "As much as I'd like that long, romantic, moonlit walk, I am getting a little sleepy. I'll stay the night."

He held the door open for you, gesturing for you to head inside, a motion that you simply returned with an expectant stare.

“What?” He said, trying not to shift under your gaze.

“Aren’t you gonna carry me over the threshold?”

“Get your ass in the damn house.”

Your laughter rang, clear as a bell, through the sparse rooms of his house as you kicked off your boots, flouncing up the stairs as if you were right at home.

He heard the sound of his shower turning on and the syrupy hum of your voice over the splash of water.

He reached for your shoes, overturned and muddied, before straightening them and placing them next to his. Staring at the both of them next to each other, your voice ringing in his ears as you sang a discordant melody in the shower, a flicker of strange emotion shot through him.

The realisation he wouldn’t mind picking up after you, putting your shoes next to his. They would have a place next to each other, where they belonged, whenever you came home.

The realisation that he wouldn’t mind if your voice filled up every room in the house, where once he thought he was content with silence.

As he poured a glass of water for you and began carrying it up to his bedroom, he realised he wouldn’t mind bringing up a glass of water for you every night, and a cup of coffee every morning.

“I’m going insane.” He muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

“You decent?” He called out, knocking on his bedroom door.

“Hardly ever. Come in!” You sang.

The scent of his soap hung in the air, clinging to your skin. You grinned at him, a soft glow haloing you from his bedside lamp as you towelled water out of your hair, one of his flannels hanging off your frame.

“Is that mine?” He swallowed, the words flying out of his mouth so quickly they almost sounded accusatory.

“Yeah.” You turned to look at his furrowed brow. “What? I can give it back to you if you want.” You said, beginning to unbutton it.

He averted his eyes, that familiar heat shooting under his skin again. “Jesus- just- you can keep it on.”

You burst into laughter as Joel rubbed the back of his heated neck.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He mumbled.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, your sincerely grateful, soft voice sending his walls tumbling down.

He cut his eyes at you one more time, a vision in his worn, old flannel, before making a move to leave.

You cleared your throat, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the quiet room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He looked at you, his deep brown eyes wide in confusion, a furrow set in his brow.

“Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?”

His cheeks reddened as he stared at you, swallowing thickly.

Hiding his trepidation behind an exasperated eye roll, he crossed the room. His hand, the skin rough in contrast to the soft blanket, pulled the fabric over your body, covering you. You smiled up at him, that evil glint in your eye that drove him crazy shining up at him.

“Goodnight kiss?” You whispered with feigned innocence, glancing up at him through thick lashes.

“Christ.” He whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears, his heart somewhere between wanting, annoyance and restraint.

“Please?” You whispered, lips turning up at the corners into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He felt his resolve crumble to pieces, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in, heartbeat kicking in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

He felt dizzy as he felt your hot breath against his ear, the soft skin of your cheek nuzzling into the scruff on his cheek.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whispered, lips ghosting his cheek, “you can do better than that, can’t you?”

He melted against your touch, barely able to formulate a smart retort before he felt your teeth digging into his cheek.

“Jesus!” He recoiled, the bite radiating with a dull pain.

“That’s for pooping my party, Miller.” Laughter bubbled from your lips as you watched him run his fingers over the grooves your teeth left in his skin.

“You’re fucking crazy.” His wounded tone just made you even more amused, your smile growing on your face.

“Don’t sulk.” You pouted, hand reaching up to skim a thumb across his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into your touch. “Let me kiss it better.”

He let you press a kiss to the quickly fading bite mark, his head swimming as your tongue darted out, giving him a playful lick before you laughed against his skin, breath fanning out over his cheek.

He turned his head, forehead pressed against yours as his nose brushed yours, his eyes screwed shut.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

He pressed his lips to yours, that strange, floaty feeling he had felt downstairs washing over him. You held him close, fingers entangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him onto the bed.

Lying on his back, he let you press your palms against his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling, feeling barely there, as if he could have just slipped away, your hands the only thing pinning him to earth. He felt it with every kiss you pressed to his lips, when your lips ghosted the line of his jaw, his neck. You were everywhere, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“All better?” You said, voice barely audible over the roar of blood in his ears.

“Yes.”

“Y’know,” you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with your lips, “I just realised something.“ You looked down at him, the smile that meant trouble returning to your face. “We have a really early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Joel!”

Just like that, you had rolled off of him and turned off the light, plunging the both of you into darkness. He laid there, barely registering what had just happened, his body already missing your warmth.

He turned to look at you, your face slackened with sleep as your breath evened out, completely calm in the embrace of sleep as his heart still pounded in his chest, giddy as he turned back to stare at the ceiling.

He was definitely going crazy.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagines #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal

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acid-ixx · 3 months

Note

Now that someone mentioned Connor as a possible love interest I think he will be a good choice. He obviously feels a similar kind of anger at his own father(s) so they could connect thanks to it. And his super hearing and other abilities will make it possible for him to always know when something is wrong with reader. I see reader being in shock that someone wants to be there for them and dismissing any yandere tendencies, toxic traits in favour of keeping Connors attention. Not like they could loose it no matter what they do, Connor is to obsessed and I could see him being dependent on his darling.

a/n: since i am more familiar with the animated series (young justice) for conner kent and i feel your ask is describing his version so i'm basing it off of him! but yes you are so fr in this. i will never not go too far when it comes to rambling, i love long asks hehe.

it was temporarily stated in chapter one that you had your momentary bouts of anger and that in itself already paved its way into conner's heart because of course most would be put off with the rage that he kindles within. you two would really be some sort of match made in heaven— it's like you deeply understand the intensity of his emotion, and you both share that bond nobody could deter; it being anger towards your parent/s and the inability to be accepted or nor noticed/your feelings being invalidated most of the time.

but because of the level of power between you, you being human and him literally being a carbon copy of superman, conner would be incredibly overprotective and possessive of you. and i'm not just implying that he would give anyone within a fifty mile radius a death glare, no, you would literally be glued to his figure all the time.

that means a hand on either your shoulders, your waist, or hips. if you were the shy type, then expect him always holding your hands or wrist. but if you don't mind the weird display of pda, then you'll be lucky enough to have the rights to smother your face in his chest whenever and wherever— sometimes that would even be his go signal to tell anybody off whenever you feel the slightest bit of discomfort.

but other than the advantages of being with him (protective guard dog 24/7), you would pretty much lose every sense of independence nor privacy. which isn't losing much since you already have your mad family on your tail constantly tracking you down and probably a huge bounty on your head— but at least you have your boyfriend with you, right?

with the lack of attention you were given to as a child, one given willingly without the need to ask for is basically a heaven for you. and with his powers? babe, you don't even need to ask for him to take you away to somewhere safer because he could already hear your heartbeats thumping louder and louder.

speaking of superhearing; a way to calm your boyfriend down quickly and efficiently would be laying his head on your chest. you'd probably discover the method later on your relationship, but as much as conner loves to hear your heartbeats from any distance, he loves it all the more when the only barrier that keeps him away from your beating heart would be your skin and your ribcage.

since conner was raised with the lack of physical contact and he's the type to push people away, your physical affection towards him is something he doesn't even know he craves, not until he tastes it for himself.

you wouldn't even feel the need to tell creeps off anymore! because conner is out there intimidating every person who dares to show the slightest bit of romantic intentions towards you.

so really, is it so bad if he wants you all for himself?

you both eventually gain a codependent relationship with each other— but it's not like any of you would leave each other wanting for more, because you both are more than enough for each other.

and conner thinks it's better off if it would only be the two of you in this world.

screw your family.

#🍨... yael's talking #🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere superboy #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #romantic yandere #yandere connor kent #yandere connor kent x reader #yandere conner kent #yandere conner kent x reader

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alyrasturnz · 3 months

Note

"fluff this" and "angst that"

fwb!matt x reader based on the song "false god" by t swift!!!!!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎FALSE GOD

❐ summary » y/n and matt maintain a facade of friendship while discreetly fucking in private. they satisfy their desires without the chain of commitment, though beneath the surface, they secretly yearn to be able to call each other their own. who could have foreseen that a seemingly innocent post on your instagram could burgeon into something far more profound?

❐ pairings » bsf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » literally smut , swearing , mentions of blood if you whip out a magnifying glass , pet names [ princess , every single variant of sweet ] , car sex

❐ a/n && w/c » the first smut fic i have ever written.. am i doing this right ? 😭 this took me 24 hours im not joking • 3.79k

matthew.sturniolo replied to your story: Look real pretty, sweet thing

matthew.sturniolo replied to your story: You busy?

he recognizes your presence from the scandalous story you've just shared on Instagram, but he remains indifferent.

his nonchalance is but a facade, for he finds you utterly irresistible in that tiny dress—a garment he's taken off you so many times that the number eludes him, each instance a cherished fragment of his recollections.

he could’ve merely enclosed his hand around his own length, allowing his imagination to paint an obscene tapestry of her cunt enveloping his completely, but he understood that if he could just endure the wait a bit longer, he would soon be enveloped in the euphoric sensation of her skin against his own.

yet, he can vividly recall how it clings to your curves, the mesmerizing sway of your hips—a dance that intoxicates his senses, and the way it causes his arteries to swell with an almost unbearable intensity.

he felt the torrent of his blood vessels surge toward his cock, suffusing them with a fervent flush as the pre-cum seeped, a slow and insidious seepage that betrayed the hidden depths of any sort of purity he had left.

he could just see the swarm of lecherous admirers vying for your attention, plying you with drinks and undressing you with their eyes.

yet, he is confident in the knowledge that none of them could ever satisfy you in the way he can.

thus, he presses the heel of his palm against the throbbing bulge in his pants, attempting to quell the surge of desire. his fingers tap restlessly at his phone screen, your salacious story flashing before his eyes once more, eliciting a low, ragged groan from deep within him.

matthew.sturniolo sent you a message : Need a ride? Gotta talk to you about something important, princess.

the immediacy with which you open that notification is almost reflexive. a testament to the alacrity with which you have always responded to him.

yet, it was uncharacteristic for him to adopt any semblance of earnestness with you. the tacit understanding between you both was unequivocal: he relished the company of a pretty girl to his heart’s content, unburdened by the exigencies of pressure or commitment, which was indubitably for the best, given matt sturniolo’s enigmatic nature.

“has something happened?” you inquired as matt allowed a breathier, almost sardonic chuckle to escape his lips while scanning over the message. he let it linger for a few more seconds, savoring the moment, fully cognizant of your tendencies and the intricate dance of anticipation that played between you both.

thus, he was already en route with an unquenchable pulsate in his cock as you sent your location a few moments later.

matthew.sturniolo sent you a message : See you soon, sweet girl

the impatience seeps through him like a relentless tide.

matt becomes acutely aware of it, the realization dawning as he clutches the rhythmic tattoo of his slender fingers drumming against the wheel, each tap a testament to the silent storm brewing within.

yet his impatience pales in comparison to his mounting annoyance, a sentiment vividly betrayed by the imprint of his throbbing cock, oozing against the fabric of his slacks when you finally step out from the dim, grimy doorway he has been fixated on with an intense glare for what feels like an eternity.

but you’re wide-eyed and so adorable when you notice the familiar vehicle, one you’ve seen the inside of a few too many times for it to be just casual now.

yet, your eyes, wide with innocent wonder, betray an endearing charm as they alight upon the familiar vehicle— one whose interior you have explored with such frequency that it has transcended the realm of casual familiarity

he suddenly feels too hot under his clothes as he’s clears his throat, his eyes following your figure until you’re opening the passenger door with a smile that’s just as pretty as you always are.

there is no hesitation as you approach him, the radiant smile that unfurls across your features upon recognizing the chestnut-tressed man in the driver’s seat ignites a warm, effervescent sensation within his chest.

a sudden, oppressive warmth engulfs his throat as he clears, his eyes unwaveringly following your graceful figure until you open the passenger door, your smile unfurling with a beauty that is as enchanting as ever.

your grasp of the world and his standing was but a fleeting shadow in the vast expanse of reality. you knew that he was a youtuber, yet your knowledge was limited to the whispered confessions he shared during those tender nights, your body resting against the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat.

however, any trepidations that dared to creep into your thoughts were swiftly vanquished when matt, with a voice imbued by unwavering resolve, assured you that there was no cause for worry.

he would be your unwavering sentinel, shielding you from all harm.

as you finally settle into the car, he perceives the flicker of apprehension in your eyes, recognizing that you likely suspect he has called you here for a matter of grave importance.

"is everything alright? your message left me unnerved, matt,” you murmur, your voice a soft whisper that disrupts his obscure reverie, yet paradoxically seems to stoke the embers of his desire.

he chooses to let the silence stretch, the tension palpable in the air as both of you take a breath, savoring the moment. the pause lingers, a deliberate tease, before he finally shifts the car into drive, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"oh? worried about me, sweet thing?" he replies, his voice a low, velvety murmur. his large palm comes to rest against your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. yet, despite his comforting touch, your eyes still brim with curiosity, silently questioning the abrupt end to your night. not that it mattered much; after all, your ride home was graced by the presence of someone as irresistibly handsome as matt.

or who could’ve been your ride home if he actually had any intention of taking you there. but just as quickly as the car starts, it stops again in a darkened alley, one you've both scoped out before. your 'driver' reclines his seat back, a silent invitation as he pats his lap expectantly, the shadows playing across his face in the dim light.

“matt-“ you huff, playfully rolling your eyes. yet, as you attempt to slide over the center console, you feign ignorance to the way the corners of matt’s lips widen into a knowing smile. "is this why you picked me up... seriously?" your voice carries a whiny edge, spoken through a pout that holds no real irritation. not when you feel the chestnut-haired man’s hands, warm and familiar, taking their usual place on your hips, guiding you effortlessly onto his own.

"hmm.. come on now, don’t try and pretend you weren’t teasing me. did ya’ miss my cock, ‘s that it?" matt drawls, his voice a low, mellifluous murmur that seems to permeate your very essence.

as he leans forward, his lips graze along your jawline, sending electrifying shivers down your spine. a deep, guttural grunt escapes him at the first lascivious press of your pussy against his clothed cock, even through the fabric.

his fingers twitch into your skin, a silent and fervent entreaty for more, each touch igniting an insatiable yearning.

"looked fuckin’ greedy for it in those pictures, princess." he’s such a tease, and he can feel the palpable effect his words have on you when your next exhale trembles against his neck.

gooseflesh erupts along his ivory skin at the tantalizing proximity of your bodies, but it’s not enough for him; he yearns for you closer, a voracious need that demands fulfillment.

matt feels your fingers trace against the nape of his neck, eliciting an involuntary shudder from him.

he deliberately exhales a prolonged breath against the shell of your ear, the warmth cascading over your skin.

his lips then begin a tantalizing journey, pressing kisses along your cheeks and trailing them to the very corner of your lips, only to stop short, just to revel in the endearing whine you emit in response to his calculated tease.

"you can simply confess that you missed me..." you manage to tease back, though your breath catches in your throat when matt finally allows his lips to brush yours. slender fingers traverse the expanse of your skin until they grip your jaw, rendering you immobile as if ensuring you cannot close the distance until he decrees it.

his movements are excruciatingly deliberate, tantalizing, yet just close enough for you to discern the next low rumble of his words. "is that so?"

he doesn’t give you a moment to process his words, let alone respond, before his lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you like he’s been starved for this all night.

his movements are urgent, a stark contrast to the playful nonchalance he usually wears like armor. when his tongue slips past your lips, dancing with your own, you feel the tension melt from his shoulders, a subtle shiver running through his hips.

the way your whimpers dance through the air leaves him feeling dazed, a lingering echo of the drink you had before he arrived still present.

you hadn’t consumed enough to feel a buzz, but just enough for him to taste the cloying sweetness of the liquid on his tongue as he sucks on yours, groaning at how it momentarily satiates his sweet tooth, yet leaves his deeper craving for you unfulfilled.

the initial, delicate brush of your fingers against the waistband of his slacks elicits a deep, heavy exhale from him, as if he is releasing a breath he had unknowingly been holding, the sensation weaving a spell of ardor over him.

matt’s own fingers reluctantly abandon your skin to assist in tugging them down, a sigh escaping his lips at the first hint of sexual liberation. with a single, decisive tug, he pulls the constrictive fabric away, until his leaking cock rests against his abdomen.

he clicks his tongue in mild frustration when you pull away from him, lifting your dress up around your hips, the motion a tantalizing tease that leaves him yearning for your touch once more.

his abdomen tightens with a jolt of ecstasy, sending his mind spiraling into a fuzzy haze, where coherent thought dissolves into the intoxicating sensation of pure, unadulterated bliss when your hand wraps around the foundation of his cock, giving it sequence of deliberate, languorous pumps as matt groans, subdued and ragged before he’s sending you a grin which causes an involuntary constriction within your very core, as if your innermost being is ensnared by an invisible force. “knew you were fuckin’ hungry for it, sweet girl,”

one of your arms hooks around his shoulders, and it feels almost instinctual the way his arm snakes around your hips, drawing you nearer. his larger hand gently supplants yours as he positions his pulsating tip between your legs, and then his lips find yours once more, sealing the moment with a kiss that speaks volumes.

fuck, he takes solace in the knowledge that he alone is privy to this intimate vision of you, a privilege that fills him with a profound sense of contentment. matt believes that with the very first caress of his cock through your folds, it would render his mind a void, shrouded in a misty haze as he watches his cum effuse from your puffy cunt.

his cock twitches underneath you when he feels it prod at your flexing hole, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss when he finally begins to sink into you. he’d normally take his time prepping you for the stretch, but when your lips part to moan at the first saccharine squeeze around him, he thinks your pussy was made to fucking take him anyway.

his cock convulses underneath you when he feels it prod at your flexing hole, his eyes gradually flutter shut in a state of bliss as he finally succumbs to the embrace of your tight cunt. he would typically dedicate ample time to meticulously readying you for the stretch, yet, in the moment when your lips gently part to moan at the first saccharine squeeze around him, he thinks your pussy was made to fucking take him anyway.

“shit, wish they could see how fuckin’ pretty y’ look on my cock, princess.," he murmurs. by "they," he refers to the silent spectators who have glimpsed your story through matt's eyes. he shouldn't care, shouldn't dwell on it as much as he does, but oh, how it consumes him.

but now, you find yourself here, and now, it is he who conjures your moans and sighs, as his cock deeper into the warmth of your cunt. his eyes drift downward to observe the delicate manner in which your puffy folds unfurl for him and he thinks you’re fucking hypnotizing.

he allows his head to recline against the headrest, a sigh escaping his lips as he senses the moment your hips align perfectly with his, giving you a moment to acclimate to the stretch, all the while striving to maintain his composure and not succumb to its biting embrace.

but you are as eager as you are radiant, and matt feels as though he has ascended to heaven with the first genuine sensation of your body dancing against his, elevating your hips until only the tip of his cock is reposing in your warm flesh before your pussy descends once more into repose.

his eyes, once reminiscent of the ocean's azure depths, have now darkened, their hue transformed into a stormy, intense focus on the way your pretty tits jiggle with every saturated affinity of your hips with his

“it feels so fucking good, matt," you murmur through parted, pouty lips, your thoughts clouded with arousal for his sinful prowess. you lose yourself in the sensation of his proximity, and it's almost instinctual the way his fingers find their way to the nape of your neck, drawing you in for a kiss that is as fervent as it is necessary.

matt kisses you as if you are the first drop of water on his parched tongue after a relentless drought, savoring every essence you offer and more, as his body moves in perfect harmony with yours.

“yeah? nobody treat this pretty pussy like i do, princess? i know what y’ need.” he grunts against your lips, his cheeks tinged with a rosy flush, and with the way he's holding you—desperation etched in the firmness of his grip against your skin—you'd think you might dissolve into the ether if he dared to let you go. “fuck— this pussy was made for me”

the muscles in matt’s sculpted physique quiver beneath you, trembling with a barely contained intensity when he grinds his hips up to meet yours, deliberately pulverizing his pelvis along your puffy clit until he’s swallowing those pretty sounds that only he likes to pull from you. the blunt head of his cock slides along every one of your sweet spots perfectly and it feels like he’s igniting every nerve ending in your body.

the rhythm he establishes is nothing short of remarkable, considering his imposing stature and the confined quarters of the car, but the way he fucks you is more than just that. it’s unrelenting but fervent, and the warmth that only he can ignite along your thighs makes you feel as though you’ve swallowed the very essence of the sun itself when he holds you closer, momentarily pulling away to gaze upon you once more.

“yes- ah! i, i need you.. matt, fuck.” you exhale a dreamy sigh, your cheeks flushing with a rosy hue as a whirlwind of emotions stirs within you.

the flustered sensation courses through your veins, making your heart race and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind as your pussy squelches, drenched and disheveled as the sounds reverberate through the confines of the car, creating an intricate symphony that dances along the wall, yet, matt has transcended the point of concern regarding who might overhear. you resonate so pretty for him when he’s forcing his cock deeper into your slick cunt, his pelvis grinding against your clit while your nails delve profoundly into his back, discovering uncharted territories, and leaving crimson trails in their wake.

“oh yeah? ‘m i your one and only? this pussy all mine?” he emits a guttural groan, fully aware that such a request is beyond propriety, yet the mere contemplation of it propels him towards an inevitable climax. you, in turn, let out a soft, knowing giggle, for you both understand the undeniable truth in his words.

your rhythm falters, your body instinctively gravitating towards his, enveloping him in a way he has never experienced, leaving him utterly consumed by your presence.

he finds himself utterly powerless when you cast that enchanting, starry-eyed glance his way, causing his breath to catch and his composure to unravel.

yet, he is acutely aware of how close you are when that starry-eyed glance is accompanied by the languid roll of your hips and another needy constrict of your cunt around his cock, and, fuck, if you demanded his very soul at that moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to let you entwine it with your own.

for matt harbors a fervent desire to possess you entirely, wishing to render you unattainable for anyone else. he is avaricious, fully aware of his own nature, yet remains utterly indifferent to it. he yearns to claim every fragment of your being, cursing coarsely as he fucks into you eagerly. his hands nearly clenched into fists at your hips, as your moan, so sweet and melodic, resonated for him. “yesyesyes, matt- g-god.“

another groan emanates from his lungs in response to the insistent coaxing of your walls, the reverberation of his tone resonating deep within his chest, and you feel your body nearly succumb with each powerful thrust upward into you.

every thrust into you is propelled by the formidable strength of his physique and the unadulterated fervor of his desire for you, feeling matt ruthlessly slam his cock into your stretched cunt, as he draws you closer.

nuzzling into the crook of your neck, he murmurs half-drunken praises, each word dripping with fervor and cascading down your spine like liquid fire.

he lets out a deeper, more resonant grunt escape his lips this time, reverberating with a newfound intensity.

with another mindless throb of his cock, pulsating with a pure lewd, he lets his slender fingers weave a delicate path between your bodies, finally anchoring themselves with purpose between your thighs.

as he rolls your puffy clit in sticky circles, and if he wasn’t fucking you mindless you’d maybe be able to recognise the familiar signature against the puffy bud.

but he synchronizes the movements with the rhythmic oscillation of his hips, driving upwards into yours with a deliberate cadence, and instead your breath is skipping and he feels your pussy throb around him as he grits his teeth.

“shit, gonna cum f’ me, sweet thing? no holding back on me now.” he hums, his words flowing with a polished ease despite the underlying current of need they carry, until your hips falter and you let your head fall forward, finding solace in the crook of his neck.

“i’m gonna— matt! fuck!” you emit a high-pitched squeal, while matt releases a deep, resonant groan. his hips press into yours, snug and tight, as the first milking compression of your walls ensnares him. he bites his lip, a futile attempt to restrain himself, panting against the dip of your shoulder as he coaxes and fucks you through the mind numbing orgasm only he can give to you.

“that’s it, so good f’ me.. only me, yeah?” he rasps, and the praise cascades down your spine, causing your eyes to roll back. each stuttered bounce of your hips against his interrupts your needy, breathless chants of his name as a ring of gooey liquid forms around the base of his cock every time his hips draw back beneath you.

“take me so well, don’cha? fuck, princess. pussy’s fuckin’ made for me.” your breathing becomes ragged, and Matt feels your body meld seamlessly into his. his jaw tightens as he hisses through clenched teeth, finally releasing his warmth deep within you.

his cock pulsates and congeals as he compresses at your hips, his brows crumbling while he curls over you, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, his hair sticking slightly as he loses himself in the fluttering pull of your body and your cunt.

he finally stills with the slight sting of overstimulation but you still feel warm where you’re chest is pressed tight against his, his fingers grazing along the length of your spine in the intimate silence that stretches after. but then you whimper and pull back to give him a look that makes his usual smirk curl his lips.

“is this seriously why you picked me up, matt?” you hum, your voice lilting into a playful cadence, and he responds with a laugh—a more breathless resonance, as you emulate his tone impeccably. subsequently, he bestows upon you one of his most dashing smiles and places a moist, ticklish kiss upon your cheek, prompting a cascade of giggles from you.

“huh? nuh uh, angel. think we both agreed you were asking for it.” matt drawls back, his words still slightly slurred in the lingering aftermath of pleasure, yet the playful tone that always accompanies his speech remains discernible.

“yeah right.. did you really like the pictures that much?” you pose your question yet again, watching as he sends you an amused wink. he then deftly squeezes your cheeks together between his fingers, pressing a kiss against your lips as they jut out in response.

“hope you took some that’s just for me, yeah?” he teases, wiggling his brows but then you’re laughing and squirming back over to the passenger seat, and as much as he already misses the warm press of your skin against his, he still feels heat bloom in his chest when he catches you smiling anyway.

“i feel gross now, i gotta go home and shower.” you mumble as you pull down your dress and matt follows as he tucks his cock back into his slacks. but he can’t help the way his large palm naturally reaches over to rest against your thigh, squeezing at the skin before he’s leaning across the center console to ghost his lips along your own.

“oh? you thought you were getting off easy? nights still young, sweet thing.”

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tpwrtrmnky · 3 months

Text

The problems with the 'infighting' comic

So I deleted the infighting comics. Fundamentally, the reason why is that I think I did a bad job with them. Clearly this wasn't a popular decision, and I did say I'd elaborate on why when I had time, so let's talk about the problem with the infighting comic.

Just to get this out of the way, the problem is not that the 'wrong' demographic liked it, or anything of the sort. What I don't like about the comic, and what keeps coming up, is that the way I frame it and how I execute the attempt at doing something with the never-ending churn of Discourse in the queer community is that it:

Fails to state what I think the problem is. "Infighting" is vague, it can mean basically anything, and unfortunately a very common use of the term is "literally anyone in the community criticizing anyone else in the community for any reason whatsoever." The comic fails to do anything to communicate whether this is the intended reading or not. This is a problem because the most common targets of bad-faith infighting accusations are also the most marginalized in the community, and the fights start as completely unjustified backlash to marginalized people criticizing marginalization.

The comic doesn't sufficiently communicate the intended idea that these are marginalized people with actual problems. The complaints of the characters come off as trivial due to how they are only presented in an oppositional context, with no frame of reference given as to whether their complaints are equally legitimate, whether one of them is right and one is wrong, or whether they're both just saying some nonsense. This is a fundamental flaw in the premise, because depending on which real-life situation the reader assumes it's about, the entire meaning changes. Regardless of what I say I actually intended this is bad enough that by itself, it drags down the whole thing.

The framing that the bigot character doesn't care about the difference between the groups. This only works if you're operating under the assumption that the comic is talking about groups that are routinely conflated by bigots, which at the very least is a detail that should be clearly stated in the premise, not in the second comic, and again leads to a very artificial framing of the supposed "infighting."

The main character being presented as a neutral observer with no stake in the argument themselves is weird.

The follow-ups do very little to address any of the above issues.

The comic is spread over four separate posts, which means even if the above issues were meaningfully addressed, the circulation of parts of the comics without those problems dealt with would continue, with all the problems retained.

There are more criticisms, and I am not going to argue with them because I don't want to defend the comic as I made it. I don't like it. I am tired of seeing the arguments that come from it. I apologize for how it was made, and I will not attempt anything to replace it until I can meaningfully address the problems with it.

There are additional structural problems with the Pills That Make You Green comics that have become more and more apparent as I've kept making them. I think failure to meaningfully address these issues is going to keep causing comics to fail in similar ways, and so I am thinking that a serious change to how I approach these needs to happen if I even want to make them anymore.

#pills that make you green #ptmyg

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qqueenofhades · 4 months

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Is it foolish of me to sympathize with how marginalized people on the far-left are incredibly frustrated that the Democratic establishment isn't as scared of/desperate to please them as the Republican establishment are toward the MAGA fringe? I guess from their perspective, voting feels like begging - most of the people who hear you won't even glance at you, let alone drop you a coin. But you still have to do it, or else you (or worse, your family) are *guaranteed* to starve.

Okay, a few thoughts here. Note: for you and the other people who have recently sent politics asks, I have been very deliberately NOT talking about it for the last few months. I had to break it yesterday because of the Orange Menace finally getting fucking convicted, but I do want to go back to not doing that (at least for the next few weeks/months/until whatever else stupid happens). So while I will answer this, I am generally not going to answer others and my apologies for that, but yeah. It's just so much and I have GOT to keep myself sane until November somehow. (Or God forbid, afterward, but you know.)

First off, most members of the American far left aren't actually marginalized people, or at least not marginalized enough that their personal well-being seems in any way likely to be affected by their loud and ceaseless campaign to tell other people not to vote. Actual marginalized people who have lived in America for any length of time are *well* aware of how the government and the state can be weaponized against them; witness how black community organizers will voice well-deserved criticisms of the Democratic establishment or other aspects of American party politics that are frustrating for everyone, but they will still always tell people to vote. Black people are also extremely aware that earning the right to vote was an incredibly long, difficult, and bloody battle that they were never given it for free, and the white power establishment fought them having it at every turn. They are thus far more aware than your average white online leftist that voting matters, because they had to work so hard to get it (and still to defend it as various red states launch openly racist assaults on voting rights, especially aimed at disenfranchising people of color). Witness how Bernie also got literally zero traction with African American voters, despite being the darling of the (white) online left.

Hispanic people are also (rightfully) frustrated at how both American parties can use Latino immigrants as a political football, but they're still backing Biden by 30-point margins. We hear a lot of chatter about Trump supposedly gaining ground with voters of color -- maybe he has, though I doubt it, but that's still incremental gains from the massive holes he was in before, and where he generally remains. Arab Americans are (rightfully) angry with Biden over Gaza, but even in the much-hyped Michigan primary, he got roughly the same amount of "uncommitted" voters as Obama did as an uncontested incumbent in 2012, and most of them have said they'll grit their teeth and vote for him in the general election anyway. Yes, a few of them have decided not to, but they are not the size of the Black and Latino populations in America insofar as electoral power, and many of them have grudgingly decided that as bad as Biden might be on this particular issue (though far less so than the social media groupthink would paint him) the alternative (i.e. Trump openly promising to deport everybody who's not white and crack down on pro-Palestinian protests and anything else) is much, much worse.

And yet, white leftists seem utterly incapable of making these same calculations. Frankly, I'm not sure they actually care about Gaza, let alone anything else they say, because if so, they wouldn't be slavering at the mouth to let Trump back in there to "teach a lesson" to Biden, Democrats, and everyone else who was not Smart And Clever Enough to sanctimoniously sit on their hands and let the fascists take over. I know this because they spent all their time lying about Biden and distorting his record and insisting people not vote even before October of last year, and then it only got ten thousand times worse. I'm not saying that all leftist or leftist-identified people are white, but they are disproportionately predominant in leftist spaces and in pushing the idea that there's "no difference" between the parties and somehow Trump and Biden are morally equivalent or will have the same amount of impact on what will happen after one of them is elected. That is, yes, because they are white and they have the privilege of assuming that a weaponized fascist government will not go after them for that reason (even though Trump and his surrogates are now claiming that "everyone" who opposes Trump has to be "dealt with.") As such, when you say that marginalized far-left people are frustrated with the Democrats, I'm... not entirely sure that's true. Marginalized people AND the far left are both frustrated with the Democrats, but one of those groups has generally still decided not to voluntarily disenfranchise themselves, and the other is pumping out Vladimir Putin-wet-dream anti-voting propaganda at every chance they get.

There is also the fact that America is not a left-wing country in any sense of the word, and that while it's easy for the MAGA Republicans to go ever further far-right and promise to be even more outrageously cruel and stupid and fascist than ever before, but that's not an actual policy or a plan. It is also a strategy of diminishing returns; witness the fact that for all the cruelty and stupidity Republicans have pumped into the public arena since 2016, they haven't actually been that good at winning elections, and most of their major successes have come from Trump winning in 2016 and thus being able to stack SCOTUS and the district and circuit courts with hand-picked right-wing nut jobs, who are functioning exactly as they were designed to do. (Which Hillary Clinton warned about, along with everyone else, and yet she was taken out by the exact same dirtbag leftist disinformation moral purity machine that is working overtime to handicap Biden for the exact same reasons.) Mainstream Democrats warned about this before the 2016 election and were scorned and laughed off. Indeed, the entire Online Left continues to resolutely deny that the extremist SCOTUS is responsible for anything (It's Biden's Fault) and thus are likewise identical to Trumpies. And since they also want Trump to get back in there and teach a lesson to the Democrats, they're just as anti-democratic, dangerous, stupid, and deliberately short-sighted as actual MAGATs, and can by no means be considered allies to the singular movement of keeping fascists out of power. That is our only present goal.

If Democrats bent over to everything the far left asks for (which is often a combination of tankie gobbledygook, various vague ideas about Communism utopia where capitalism magically vanishes with no consequences, half-baked revolution cosplays, and other stuff that is functionally equivalent to the wildest lunacies of MAGA) they would never win an election again, and that would be exactly what the fascists want. Witness how they struggled when they were branded "defunders of the police" and "socialists" and other effective responses to the mildest milquetoast efforts for reform or accountability. And the political climate right now is just far too dangerous to throw everything to the wind and prance out some pipe-dream perfect-utopia plan. I'm sure you've heard about Project 2025 and how the far-right Heritage Foundation is planning to systematically implement fascism at all levels of the country, the instant they have a compliant Republican president and congress. I would take all these people crying about Biden even a fraction more seriously if they weren't openly jonesing for something that is so unbelievably, incredibly worse.

For example: I currently have major beefs with literally the entire foreign policy of the Biden administration right now. I think they're being too hard on Ukraine (forbidding them to strike targets on Russian soil with American weapons, which would end the war faster) and, despite some promising signs and open displeasure, still far too easy on Israel. They looked foolish after insisting that Rafah was a red line and then essentially making up an excuse that what's going on now is not a "major operation." Secretary of State Blinken floating the idea of helping Congress censure or neuter the International Criminal Court arrest warrants issued for Netanyahu and co. was also one of the fucking stupidest things I've heard from a serious (i.e. non-Trumpist) American diplomat in a long time. So we respect the ICC when it issues warrants for tyrants we don't like (Putin), but when it issues one for tyrants we still do, apparently (Netanyahu), then bingo, it's back to the bad old habit of ignoring international law like we're special and it doesn't apply to us, and allows all the other bad actors around the world to do the same by pointing at America and correctly pointing out that we ignore it when it doesn't suit our purposes. I think this is wrong and I don't agree. So? What am I going to do?

Well, you see. I'm going to vote for Biden and I am going to give him money and I am going to remind everyone I know that they have no moral option but to do the same. I do this because I am aware that despite my disagreements, Biden is acting from a cautious anti-interventionist standpoint and does not want to throw American military might around recklessly or dangerously like good ol' George Dubya or Trump or even Obama and the drones. He is listening to sober mainstream advisors who have (however incorrect and useless) ideas about "avoiding escalation" and trying to bring conflict to a managed end. He is doing this with a realistic appraisal of the power of the office of American presidency and he's not going to capriciously end democracy and become a full-blown fascist dictator on day one, as Trump has openly and repeatedly promised to do. Yes, if there was a viable option apart from Biden, maybe I would think about voting for them, but there is not, and literally everyone who does not actively vote for him is helping Trump. I do not care about any other contrived and disingenuous online squealing. I know that Biden does not want the war in Gaza to go on for no reason and for maximum carnage; Netanyahu and Trump both do. That is just to name one thing.

So: yes. I absolutely understand being frustrated with the Democrats and wishing they would push harder and etc. But I am also aware that they can be pushed, that they are the only option right now, and the people who huff and puff and whine and groan about how it's such a moral imposition to vote for them are literally doing the fascists' work for them, and that is not acceptable. If they want a better system or a better world that isn't just useless internet fantasies about magical end-of-days Raptures fixing everything, also a la the crazy fundamentalists, they will have to get off their ass, do the work, and create that change. I will be happy to vote for that candidate when or if they arrive. In the meantime, I will continue to do my damndest to ensure that we even have a chance to get there. So yeah.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #okay back to Not Talking About Politics i go

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3typical3 · 1 year

Text

Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mamá”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

#writing tips #writing #fan fic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #namor x reader #pedro pascal #oscar issac #tenoch huerta #marvel #spiderman #hispanic #fan fic writing

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