#mature headcanons

[demigods-posts]

one interesting aspect of percy and rachel's relationship that isn't often highlighted is how empathetic percy must have been toward rachel about seeing through the mist as a small child. because percy was the kid who saw a man with one eye stalking him at the local playground. the kid who saw a horse with wings resting atop the roof of a nearby building. the kid who was nearly killed by a fury disguised as his algebra teacher. and the kid who understood what if felt like to distrust the world around him, to be reprimanded for falling victim to the fear that accompanied it. if it was anything that percy offered rachel. it was the grace of understanding a uniquely mortal experience.

[fuzzypuppybuddie]

Itty sen little cho doodles while I wait for my food

[michaelsfavgirl]

heartstrings & rings

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: A thoughtless act on your part leads Michael to mistakenly believe you're planning to divorce him. Consumed by fear he spirals, thinking he's about to lose you.

Tags: light angst, angst with a happy ending, established relationship, misunderstanding, mention of divorce.

Word Count: 1.7k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: I'm trying to get better at writing angst

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

You’re in your luxurious walk-in closet, surrounded by the endless racks of designer clothes. The shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, filled with everything your heart has ever desired, all organized by season and color. You’re standing in front of a full-length mirror, your brows furrowed in concentration as you pull on a pair of pants, only to tug them off moments later.

You’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes—putting on clothes, taking them off again, sifting through options like a stylist on a deadline. Today’s a shopping day with your friends and you want to look absolutely flawless. Of course, Michael insists that you use his card and not your own. He's always made it clear: what’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours.

You smile at the thought, rummaging through your jewelry collection to find the perfect accessories. Your fingers absently fiddle with your wedding band and engagement ring as you try on a few necklaces and swap out a pair of gold earrings for something with more sparkle. 

Finally, after trying on half your closet, you settle on an outfit that showcases your sense of style. But as you give yourself a final once-over in the mirror, something doesn’t quite fit. Your rings, your beloved wedding band and stunning engagement ring, don’t quite match the vibe of your outfit.

Without thinking twice, you slip them off, replacing them with a few rings that go better with your look. You toss them onto the bed thoughtlessly, mentally noting to put them back on later, before walking out the door.

—

Meanwhile, Michael is wrapping up an exhausting day at the studio. He’s been working tirelessly, and all he can think about is coming home to you and recharging with a quick nap before you return from your shopping spree. He smiles to himself, thinking of how you’ll undoubtedly strut through the living room later, showing off your new outfits like you always do, and how he’ll cheer for every single one. It’s a tradition he cherishes, one that brings a sense of normalcy to his otherwise hectic life.

The house is quiet when he arrives. He heads straight for your shared bedroom, tossing his jacket onto a chair as he pulls off his shoes, already anticipating the comfort of your shared bed.

But as he approaches, something catches his eye. There, on the cozy sheets, are your wedding band and engagement ring, glinting in the sunlight like tiny, heart-wrenching beacons.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s crumbling beneath his feet. He stares at the rings, his mind racing. Why would you leave them here? Why did you take them off? The thoughts claws at him, panic quickly seeping into his chest.

His heart pounds as he walks closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the rings with trembling hands. What does this mean? His thoughts spiral as he turns them over in his palm, his vision starting to blur. The weight of them feels like the weight of his worst fears—fear that he’s failed you, that he hasn’t been the husband you deserve. Is this how you’re telling him? Is this how you’re leaving him?

His chest tightens, and it becomes harder to breathe. He clutches the rings, pressing them against his chest as if holding them close would somehow keep you from slipping away. Tears fog his vision, spilling down his cheeks as his mind continues to spiral. How could he not have seen this coming? He thought things were perfect, that your marriage was growing stronger with each passing day. But apparently, he was wrong. He wasn’t good enough. He should have been more attentive, more loving, more… everything.

God, I can’t lose her, he thinks, his tears falling freely now, dripping onto his shirt as his whole body shakes. The love he feels for you is so deep, so consuming, and the thought of losing it—of losing you—makes his heart feel like it’s being torn apart.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the door open. He doesn’t notice when you step inside, your arms laden with shopping bags and a soft smile on your face.

That smile drops instantly when you see him. His shoulders are hunched, his back trembling with silent sobs, and you can’t even see his face because he’s holding his head in his hands. Your heart clenches in panic as you lose your grip on all the bags and let them fall to the floor. You rush to his side.

“Michael? Michael, what’s wrong?” Your voice is filled with worry, your hands immediately cupping his tear-streaked face as you stand in front of him. You feel the wetness of his tears on your palms, your heart squeezing painfully at the sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so broken.

But his eyes… they don’t even meet yours. He looks past you, still holding something tightly in his hand. Your voice shakes as you plead with him. “Please, talk to me. What’s going on?”

He pulls your hands away gently but doesn’t speak. Instead, he drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. His voice cracks, pleading as he presses his forehead against your thighs. “Please… please don’t do this. I’ll be better, I promise. Just… Please don’t leave me.”

You freeze, confusion flooding your senses. What on earth is he talking about? You feel his grip on you tighten, his body trembling against yours as his desperate words continue to spill out. “I’ll be more attentive, more loving… whatever you need. Just please, don’t leave. Don’t file for divorce.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of his words, of why he’s in this state. Divorce? Leaving him? You’re about to beg him to explain when something catches your eye—his hand, the one that’s clutching something so tightly. You gently pry it open, revealing the rings in his palm.

Your wedding band. Your engagement ring.

And suddenly, it all clicks.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, the realization hitting you like a freight train. 

He looks up at you, his tear-streaked face filled with so much raw emotion that it nearly breaks your heart. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He just looks at you, utterly lost.

You feel horrible, guilt slamming into you as you realize what he must have thought when he saw the rings. Sinking down to his level, you wrap your arms around him, as you desperately try to bring him out of his haze.

“No, no, no. It’s not what you think. I just… I just took them off because they didn’t match my outfit. That’s all. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to—”

He interrupts you, his voice still shaky but tinged with disbelief. “They didn’t go with your outfit?”

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “Yeah. That’s it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about how it would look. I just… I didn’t want to clash, and I didn’t realize you’d—” Your voice falters, on the brink of tears yourself.

Michael stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a shaky laugh, a sound that’s so unexpected that it takes you a moment to process it.

“They didn’t go with your outfit,” he repeats, as if trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of it.

You nod again, your own tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

He shakes his head, letting out another soft chuckle, and suddenly he wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried against your chest as he laughs, really laughs this time, the sound full of relief and disbelief all at once.

You can’t help but giggle along, the tension between you evaporating in an instant. You lay your head against his curly hair, finally breathing out. The sheer absurdity of the situation is too much to handle, and soon you’re both laughing together, wrapped in each other’s arms as the misunderstanding dissolves into nothing.

“I can’t believe you thought I was divorcing you,” you say, your voice still tinged with laughter as you stroke his hair.

“I thought I was a terrible husband,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and vulnerable. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands as you gaze into his dark brown eyes. “You’re not a terrible husband. You’re the best husband I could ever ask for. And I’m sorry I scared you like that. I love you more than anything. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He smiles softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you too,” he whispers, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. The kiss is slow and unhurried, helping him remind himself that you are his and he is yours. Body and soul.

For a long moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the weight of the misunderstanding finally lifting as you hold each other close. And as you sit there, your heart full of love and relief, you can’t help but marvel at how deeply you love this man—the man who thought he wasn’t enough for you, even though he’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

Eventually, Michael pulls back, his smile soft and genuine as he takes your hand in his, gently sliding your rings back onto your finger. “There,” he says quietly. “Right where they belong.”

You smile, tears brimming in your eyes once more as you lean in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is passionate and full of love, a promise of forever.

“Now,” you say with a playful grin as you pull back, “are you ready for the fashion show?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he wipes the last of the tears from his eyes. “Of course I am. My little fashionista.” And with that, the two of you fall back into the easy, playful rhythm that defines your relationship.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @virgomjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos @kingayanna

[unnocturnal]

Stardew Valley Bachelor Headcanons!

[outsidersheadcanons]

I KNOW Ponyboy Curtis keeps a masterlist of everyone he hates in the last few pages of his private journal

[n4tsum1-san]

every time someone mischaracterizes nuanced character relationships and turns it into a basic parent-child dynamic, i die a little inside

my main gripe with this is about nahida being called scara's mom/aunt but it also extends to zhongli & xiao, beidou & kazuha, wriothesley & sigewinne, neuvillette & furina, and others.

like. i enjoy found family as much as everyone else, but that is a terrible injustice to the characters' writing. the character typecast as the child is infantilized to hell and back while the other character is reduced to a 2d caricature of the perfect parent. Bruh

don't get me wrong, headcanons are fine and all, it just irks me that some people consider it lore accurate when it really isn't

[ophelian-darling]

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Yandere Suguru Geto x Female reader.

Summary : Blessings form in different shapes and bright in different colors; Love being the fairest and liveliest one.

TW : Obsession, minor character death, discrimination, pregnancy, manipulation.

enjoy ♡

It is divine to think how hell would be regarded into grotesquely crimson images within the human imagination: Sufferance is too common, wounds as a thorn prick and lasts as a heart's ache, Yet consider this when we think of heaven: purity- innocence of Eden in its prime, everything that sources its beauty and continence from a glass sphere no soul ever stepped on, farthest from the nearest paradise which we -so far- know of. Every now and then, the glass sphere's page of the sky would rain glossy drops, bright in the charm of a moon's haze, kissing earth's soil ever so gently after a long fall through the dark space. The drop; a seed of everything that derives all good in this life, either blooms into flowers, little joys that are worth living for, or even people- lost angels on devil's land. 

Suguru believes he has an eye for perfection: the images of others reflect on his irises and pass, be a fragment of a forgotten dream and ghost in a corner within his anamnesis. life ought to be lived as a sort of a sweven, destined to be erased once the reaper sinks in its teeth; Not like you have much of an option as a sorcerer, you just keep fantasizing and drawing rose-colored glasses about a life you know you can't have, sighing when conjuring a dear friend's lineaments, feeling a warmth under an eyelid when a beloved's smile flickers through a faint image of cogitation. a needle of duty had sewed up every passage to his heart; there was no horizon to look up to, except that one of exorcising curses to no end, saving that little part of happiness that was rightfully his to others who already had a fair share of it.

Suguru would burn the candles of thought and wander around a series of scenarios: what would it be like to love? What color is romance and what taste are kisses? There must be a reason why the moon was put on a pedestal of artistry, or a color of blood to abridge all tongues and words of ardor. There had to be a reason why someone was so eager and willing to hand their hearts on a platter to someone else, someone who was looked upon as the apple of eye. It seemed absurd: humans are merely products of vice, planted to sin and harvested to destroy, every letter and word they utter weighs nothing heavier than a lie, So why would such a morbid creature empty the jar of heart on another morbid creature? It is a wounding, shameless lie.

Cease to feel and halt to sense, there was no meaning in draining the amphora of emotion on someone, a one who can't taste curses to know how much of a grace it's devouring. it's pointless to break the glass of heart over a bod that ignores your agony to indulge in its little world of pink lies. He just wishes- Only if, if he slices that part of him that screamed of humanity everyday, the part that made him extend a wing to shield the helpless from their demise… He hated having a heart. 

Once during a green summer, one that had a breeze of May and the pink warmth of Valentine's day, The sphere wrapped a blessing in a curse's fabric; a gift so pristine it competed with the glimpses of eternity with a smile and tore the horizon's edge with a kiss, a form of life that its existence on this cursed land was the vilest injustice ever committed towards its chastity. The Angel; now blossoming from the sphere's seed into a human with flesh and blood, nerves and bones, eyes and a beating heart, is left to be stained and tarnished, munched and swallowed by the imperfect- the bad seeds, the swirl of everything evil. a tear of a curse could lace a sea of blessings, and you had to be protected: from the serpents, the devils, the flawed, or anyone else that wasn't him.

"Y'know, Suguru, sometimes when I look through your eyes, I can see you fighting yourself, as if you were your own worst enemy" You started the conversation like this, so casually, with no hint or intention of digging too deep into his psyche.

July, casting blazing rays and nearly melting the shadows outside, while the pair of you decided to remain in class for no obvious purpose. Suguru didn't mind having you around, aware that you weren't going to engage in tittle-tattling, leaving him with the room to think. It's been a long year. 

With a strike of sudden concern, and maybe a little suspicion, He directs his whole posture towards you, noticing your relaxed position on the seat beside his. a silence of something that was about to begin stretched before he asked "What do you mean?" 

a Winter night smile drew itself on your lips. In a movement of Bonnie Parker leaning on her motorcycle, you faced his confused comportment, rolling your eyes playfully before replying "You thought that no one would notice? That's cute. but I must admit, you're so good at hiding it, even Satoru wasn't able to see it, I'm surprised!" something brightened in your expression, contradicting the words you just said. As if you were Suguru's Anima; you spoke so confidently, insisting on extracting a part you didn't like of him.

And that confidence stirred a certain sentiment within him. something he would see as… vulnerability?

He stared. 

Another silence, silence of an absurd play, one that the audience certainly didn't need to absorb the scene. 

You continued "Amanai was a human like any other, someone with dreams and hopes, fears and triggers, and a family- and a lot of friends. she lived her life to the fullest… Well, maybe not completely, but at least she had some taste of blessing before her death. people aspire to horizons, living enough to reach it and sometimes not, savoring both sweet and bitter times before kicking the bucket. But that's not what we're talking about here" 

His eyes couldn't get any wider, the images played slowly and vividly while the cassette of that memory didn't seem to stop.

"She's a vessel that can be replaced. Lord Tengen wasn't in that need for her anyway. But are we sorcerers any better? no. we're replaceable as well, unless you are Satoru, which we aren't. Yes, we are strong, but still replaceable. The Jujutsu world needs to continue existing or else cursed spirits will blow everything to bits, and of course, we're the only ones who can keep it going and exorcise these creatures." 

Your fingers twiddled with your necklace, rolling it slowly as your tongue flowed. "I wanted to go everywhere too, I wanted to have a lot of friends to love without worrying that they'll die at any second. I wanted to wander around and behold flowers and snow without seeing an ugly cursed spirit…" 

His tongue wouldn't unwrap, au contraire to his thoughts. his mind moved as fast as forgetfulness would spell, drinking in all of your heart's tears. Perhaps, after all, he wasn't the only one who awakened to a harsh knowledge. 

You, are special.

"It's not fair… why should I be the one who gives up on their happiness to save people who know nothing of my sacrifices…" 

"I-.." your rant comes to a halt, a veil of guilt slides down your expression. 

"Sorry… I didn't mean to remind you of… back then, I talked too mu-" 

"No." He interrupts, his usual resting face painted over. 

"You can continue, I understand you…" Suguru smiles.

Ever since the curtain on your heart was pulled, you seemed to confide in him more; drifting away from Satoru and Shoko slowly and subtly. He didn't want to think of it, yet these pages of poems and lines of serenades whispered something to him everytime he looked through you. She must be unhappy too, Unhappy people are sensitive to the unhappiness of others¹. and to confess, it balmed a little comfort on his soul to see that misery brought you together. Day by day, both of you would speak for hours, crafting an imaginary horizon where everything was a haven for a winsome world, goodwills falling like spring rain. Night by night, He who becomes the one to count the nights, scripting his nightdreams and rehearsing his hopes to a shadow of you that lingered in the corners, only for every word to blend into space once the daybreak spills through the clouds. 

Your voice; it is the voice of his mind now. The shadow of you is melodizing his thoughts and troubles of the heart, lulling his reveries and caroling his visions. The pages of romance flip like petals in the wind: as the silk of your vocal cords tailors the letters with red and pink, he is finally allowed to relish the true colors of so-called love. Yozo² is no longer fool in Suguru's thinking, for wanting to die alongside the one he loved, which Suguru Geto himself now, secretly, hopes to achieve with you.

"Have you ever thought about death?" Green-colored smile, surely wasn't grayed by anything. Suguru just thought, what did you think? Did you want to be with him no matter the place? 

The roles have been reversed. now you're the silent one; you were sure that you did talk too much that day, pouring your wounds into him that now they're his wounds. Guilt stinged your heart, only if you remained silent back then. 

"Um- yes, I'm already accepting it, we're sorcerers after all…" you struggled to compose a thought he'd like, it came out as what a child attempting wisdom would say. speaking to your friend has become a difficult task lately, you didn't want to lose the thread of thinking you shared together, and he seemed quite pleased to talk to you. 

He chuckled. 

"Never thought of making it better for yourself at least?" 

What…

"I used to think so too. But slowly, I'm finally able to see what I was too blinded to see. Remember when you said that you wanted to have a lot of friends and go everywhere? that's rightful of you to ask- but you can't get it whether you plead for it or not. I'm telling you; I know it very well when I say you can have everything you want if you step up and take control." stated he.

As if looking for any other person who seems to notice that there's something odd, you glanced around. nothing was in sight except the trees and grass of the long forest line. 

His face didn't move when he continued "You see, we forgot that we were stronger, smarter and more skilled than the ordinary, say evolution theory: creatures go through a long process of development to become advanced in brain and muscle. some reach the highest stage of development and become a human, while others simply stop in the middle or never start, thus remaining monkeys" 

For some reason, you imagined yourself operating on his brain: cleaving the front of his skull with a sharp scalpel, lifting up his scalp in a way a box of chocolates would be opened, unwrapping and milling his brain convolutions, looking through his memory and mind's eye to see when and where these ideas have crossed his mind so you can uproot them- it is your fault, you filled him with so much tangles for a sweetly simple soul as him.

"...And since monkeys can't survive on their own, we were the ones who would acquire and use their talents to establish Jujutsu and save them, doing it out of kindness and altruism, they give us curses and we cure them in response, continually and with no recognition of our merit…"  

Something in his eyes twitched; he sounded as if he was letting go of an ancient burden, the Messiah's cross thrown off by his back.

"... You, me, Satoru or anyone who uses Jujutsu is the purest form of life on this earth, we're destined to rule as much as we were to protect, to punish as we were to love. we sorcerers are chosen by the heavens…" 

"...Monkeys must die." the corners of his mouth were altered to a frantic excitement, seeming like he'd seen after years of being dim sighted.

It is a blessing to be ignorant. 

It started out subtly. Suguru would continue smiling- the line and twist on his face metamorphosed into one you have no knowledge of: it was strange, uncannily simple and eerily sweet, more of looking at a portrait of a goner and less of seeing a friend. His compassion faded, a mock-lively kindness replaced it, by the nature a moonlight would mimic a sunray's warmth. it is not change, nor epiphany; your friend was dying with no hearse set or heart settled- Suguru slept to no awakening so the priest in Gojo-gesa can breathe to every aspect of life. 

Eyes that used to behold the blessings in everything are now glaring with violence, gnashing its teeth to whoever and whatever didn't wield any cursed energy. it is visible for you to only see, all of the ink and blood jarred behind his eyes, masked perfectly and contained in a patient smile he wore to his subjects— our subjects darling! he would say, giving you a saddened look, as if his gift of a thousand obedient monkey wasn't enough to thrill you as much as it did to him.

“You know how much I love you, right?” he murmured, holding your hand. your eyes pierced the reflection on the vanity glass: a husband and a wife sharing an intimate moment, scenery of a devoted Genji holding a torn Fujitsubo³ and kissing away all of her distress. you switched your sight towards his hand, the one that stroked yours, the one that had on its ring finger a silver band twirled.

“And I'm willing to offer you everything I have, anything you want” He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, billing and cooing in his words “I just ask for a little smile in return, or a little ‘thank you’ for everything I do to us”

“You're taking advantage of innocent people, Suguru”

He scoffs “Are they really that innocent?! All they do is cause destruction and corruption. you're too kind to even call them people” the last word dropped like a glob of mercury, heavy and tarnishing. he's annoyed for sure that you ruined the romantic mood by mentioning monkeys yet again. 

“You're murdering people who came to you for help, Suguru…”

You saw it without looking at it, the flash of rage and loathing, with all its redness and heat a fire had less or more of. you hoped in despair ,maybe there's still the lingering blush of compassion in his heart; the comity of your dear friend Suguru, not the hatred of your husband the monk. His fist flew in front of your face, grabbing your chin and rotating your skull to his penetrating eyes. for a second, a thread was pulled in your chest, cutting your heart with a feeling of fear, was he about to strike you?

“I told you thousands of times… those you cry for so much are. not. people. Do you understand me?!” He pressed on each word, heavy breath fanning your face. you could only look back and try not to recoil under his gaze.

“They ruin our lives, they kill us, they cause suffering and they taint this earth with their filthy emotions… if it wasn't me who gets rid of them and cleans their trash, only heaven knew how much time left for us to live…” he digs his nails into your flesh, gritting his teeth at you “They made you unhappy, they tried to kill me while I was risking my life to save them everyday!” he raised his hands in the air, snarling with full volume. you're sure that Nanako and Mimiko are in another room hearing, and utterly aware of their agreement and devotion to Suguru. 

Frantically, he unwrapped his Gojo-gesa and threw it on the floor, shooting you a glare while he freed himself from the sleeves of his haori. his stare kept lining yours, and when he stripped from the white hada-juban, you've seen it, as if at first sight.

“Shouldn't a wife support her husband?! Why do I feel like everything else except for me matters to you?!” He yelled. it is not the first time you see the scar on his chest, in fact, you've seen it too many times that its lines were as familiar as the dimness of your eyelids. 

“Whom am I doing this all for?! for us! for our family! they're just like us, they've been belittled and cursed by monkeys and they had their happiness snatched brutally from their hands… all just because they were sorcerers” he calmed, yet not eased judging by how sharp his expression was. He dropped his arms to his side, reaching to cup your face and force you to see his eyes “You were hurt too… you begged me to save you years ago… you do remember the day we sat together in class and talked”

You do remember. 

The echo of that hour reverberated through his eyes. in their dark shade, you watched a reflection of yourself, helpless and gray, sew the first threads of his insanity. you wished if life had been a little more cruel and tore off your tongue before you ever got the chance to speak with him.

It's you who chiseled the priest.

He feathered a finger across your cheek, crooning honey “And you remember our dates too, all the kisses and embraces, our wedding and our nights together…” serene as a sea in spring, animating the past into a sweet lull. his eyes smiled to you, cording your heart when continuing “You love me, you love our family, our paradise— and him” His palm spidered to your stomach, stroking the node of flesh “You would never abandon him, would you?”

Can you even? He sojourned far in, tethered to you through a wall of flesh with a string stretching inside of him. the memory of his existence would carve lines in both of your bodies even after his birth.

“You're so selfless, that's why I fell for you darling” whispered he, drinking your silence in taste of obedience. Was there any release from the cuffs you wrapped around your own wrists? Suguru wasn't an imprisoner, he just smelted a bracelet you wished to wear, eager to please and in hunger for your praise, while you, in words and smiles, altered his brain to see in dark color.

“Why don't you say you love me?”  he coated demand with love, pouring foam on your ears in a whisper.

Your skin felt light underneath, like you could walk out of it as a coat. In times like these, when he gave affection and demanded it back, you could only say one thing, unlike a full colored prism of flirtation he can murmur to you.

“I love you so much, Suguru…” at first, saying it was like uprooting a rotting tooth, but as time passed and your tongue knew the taste of lying, it became like picking a fruit.

He smiled “Good girl…” 

His eyes glinted in red “...I love you too…”

[nynma]

FAVOURITE

drabbles of you being Astro’s and Dandy’s favourite

FEATURING; yandere! astro, and dandy from dandy’s world

WARNINGS; mentioning of kidnapping, murder, obsession, yandere themes,

𐔌 . ⋮ ASTRO .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

It started with a collision, your running figure bumping into Astros as he stepped out of his bedrooms door, him letting out a pathetic yelp as the two of you tumble to the ground. You rushing out apologies a thousand times and him saying it’s okay a thousand times back, it was a mess the two of you. Though you left shortly after, giving him a candy out of kindness, said candy sitting in a container along with other items that belong to you. To say he was he didn’t know you before the collision was a lie, for he had been admiring you silently in the shadows, acknowledging how you treated the others, how you spoke, ate, walked, your favourite interests, and even that little poster of yours hidden behind your bed frame. Yes, the poster of him with stars drawn around him. He might come off as shy and quiet to you, but oh sweetheart once you find out what type of person lays under that midnight blue blanket you better beware. And it was awfully, painfully, obvious that you were the most special to him compared to others, because one, when talking to you he payed full attention, not zoning out, dozing off or even blinking groggily. When it came to you somehow he was always awake, with others? You couldn’t even catch him with his eyes open. Maybe it was just a coincidence that you always caught him when he was awake, who knows? For all I know is that you are his favourite, and he’ll do anything to keep you as his.

𐔌 . ⋮ DANDY .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

It all started with a simple greeting and smile from you, your smile quick to put Dandy into a trance, and as if you two had been childhood best friends you talked and talked, sharing and telling information about yourselves, and sometimes others or random things too. But as time passed everyone knew, every single toon could tell that you were Dandy’s favourite, because well…to be honest it wasn’t really kept hidden well, or even at all. It all started with him giving you small discounts on some items to him giving you them for free, even when you said no and tried to give them back, which some found clearly unfair. I mean who wouldn’t? They had to pay and work hard for it while you just got it for free! Though, it wasn’t really your fault was it. Since Dandy was the one giving it for free and half the time you either gave it away to someone who needed it or forced Dandy to take it back. Yet he didn’t like how you did that, he found how kind you were cute and admirable, but not when your attention was focused on others. Of course, the others are his friends but, you, were his favourite friend. No one could surpass you, you were brilliant, perfect, everything positive…and that’s why he likes you so much. Because you’re so caring, too caring, too much that he might need to lock you up forever so you stop helping others and focus helping only him. But he can’t, sadly. So that’s why he’ll just kill everyone so it can be just you and him, forever and ever.

A/N… I honestly had no idea where I was going with this, it’s very random

[shyhandart]

We should be so lucky to get Asks from you! I love the pink pony with three legs you uploaded a while ago, you did a great job with her.

Could I get an Octavia? She's my favourite, no surprise. If that's not okay, please draw the pink pony again! I love her mane.

Im so glad you like her!! I'll definitely draw sweetpea more.

Im not super into Octavia but i think shes cute. She gave me very square and sturdy energy for some reason whilst also being rather elegant. I found that combo odd as i typically associate elegance with smoother, flowing shapes. But she spoke to me and who was i to disagree

[oristian]

And when Gwyn has Azriel do a live demonstration of what she read in her smut books, what, then?

[coochellati]

dont be shy give us more sub!bruno hcs 👉👈

Why of course you can!! Ho could I say no when you’ve included such a devious Blumoji???

I’ve got even better news for you: guess what. I didn’t just give you some headcanons. Nope—I also wrote a little smut fic to go along with these. Ehehehehe I hope you enjoy it ;)

Without further ado…

Submissive Bruno Headcanons!!!

Bruno Bucciarati enjoys giving up control. It's a nice change of pace--the idea of relinquishing his authority to this partner is exciting.

He’s unabashedly vocal. This man is not afraid to let you know exactly how he's feeling, holding nothing back.

At first, he may try to put on a sly act, wearing a smug poker face while he tells you, "Try me." Even though he's usually phenomenal at keeping calm and collected, getting dominated by you is one of the few things that will make him break. It's almost jarring how quickly he crumbles apart in the bedroom, rapidly deteriorating into a trembling, breathy mess.

He’ll let you restrain him--he enjoys bondage. True, he could easily escape using Sticky Fingers, but he doesn't even try.

Bruno loves it when you play with his stand; the phantom sensations drive him nuts. He derives a lot of pleasure from watching you.

He likes being overstimulated, and you can actually make him cry if he’s overstimulated enough. It's pretty easy to achieve this by pleasuring him and his stand at the same time.

He also enjoys edging. 'Nuff said.

He whimpers whenever he’s orgasmed a lot.

[michaelsfavgirl]

porn stash

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Alone at home, consumed by boredom, you stumble upon Michael's secret stash of tapes. Lost in curiosity, you're oblivious to his return until he catches you red-handed.

Tags: smut, established relationship, breach of privacy, snooping through his stuff, mentions of pornography, masturbation, getting caught, p in v, a singular pussy spank, doggy style, squirting, overstimulation, no creampie :( dom!michael, sub!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: we're back to smut let's goooo

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

You wake up from your nap with a slow blink, stretching lazily as the afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains. The house is quiet, almost too quiet. You groan, flipping over on the bed, hoping to hear the soft sounds of Michael coming back from the studio soon. But instead, there's just silence.

With a sigh, you grab the remote from the nightstand and flick on the TV, hoping to find something that will pass the time until he gets home. The screen buzzes to life, and you start scrolling through channels, trying to find something, anything, that might hold your attention for a while. But nothing works. 

The shows are cheesy, the dialogue cringe-worthy, and after five minutes of trying to force yourself through a scene, you roll your eyes and switch it off. “Ugh,” you groan, tossing the remote aside. Boredom starts creeping in fast, the empty house feeling too big, too still, and your mind begins to wander.

Your eyes lazily drift across the bedroom, over the familiar space, the faint scent of Michael lingering in the air. Everything is in its place but then your gaze lands on his bedside table. 

More specifically, on one of the drawers. 

The one that’s locked.

Curiosity tugs at you, a feeling that’s been there for a while now. You’ve always wondered about that drawer. Michael never mentioned it, and you never asked out of respect for his privacy. You figured it was something personal, something he didn’t want you to see.

But right now, with the house so quiet and your boredom clawing at you, that drawer seems to call out to you louder than ever.

You sit up in bed, biting your lip as your gaze lingers on it. What could be in there? Something secretive? There’s something about the way he’s kept it locked that has you more intrigued than ever. What could be so private that it’s kept behind a key?

You glance toward the door, making sure you’re still alone. Michael won’t be back for hours, he said today would be a long day at the studio. It’s the perfect opportunity to satisfy your curiosity. A little peek won’t hurt, right?

Heart racing, you slide out of bed as you approach the nightstand. Your fingers hover over the drawer, feeling a little tingle of excitement and guilt all at once. 

Where could the key be?

You start searching. You check inside the nightstand’s upper drawer, rifling through the neatly arranged items, but there’s no key there. You crouch down and look underneath the table, and that’s when you spot it, a small, metal key taped to the underside of the nightstand, hidden just out of sight. A sly smile spreads across your face as you peel it off.

Your heart beats a little faster as you sit back on the bed, the key cool in your palm. For a moment, you hesitate, chewing on your lower lip as a wave of guilt washes over you. You shouldn’t be doing this—it’s his private space, after all. But then again, what harm could a little peek really do. 

Taking a deep breath, you slide the key into the lock and twist.

The drawer opens with a soft click, and for a moment, all you see are a few VHS tapes stacked neatly inside. At first glance, it looks innocent enough, maybe some old home movies or forgotten recordings. But as you take a closer look, your eyes narrow, the momentary disappointment turning into your cheeks heating up.

These aren’t just any VHS tapes.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize what you’ve stumbled upon. The titles scrawled on the side of each tape in Michael’s handwriting aren’t the names of movies or shows. They’re far from innocent.

Your eyes widen as you pick up one of the tapes, your fingers trembling slightly. The label reads Doggy/Anal/Squirting in bold, messy letters. Your face burns as you quickly put it back down, glancing at the other tapes. Each one has similar titles, all in his handwriting, and each one more explicit than the last.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over you. 

This is his porn stash.

You can’t help but laugh nervously to yourself, your cheeks still burning as you sit back, staring at the drawer filled with explicit tapes. You never would’ve guessed. Michael always seemed so in control. To think he had a secret like this tucked away in your bedroom, just a few feet away from where you slept every night... It's a little mind-blowing.

Your fingers hover over the tapes again, curiosity piqued. He wrote the titles himself, meaning he put these together for his own, private collection. There’s something oddly intimate about that, something that sends a little thrill through you as you pick up another tape, reading the words Public/Threesome/Creampie written in the same familiar handwriting.

Your mouth goes dry as you imagine him watching these when he’s on tour, far away from you. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, a mix of embarrassment and desire.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You know that. 

But now that you’ve seen it, you can’t stop yourself.

Your fingers trace the label of another tape, and your heart races at the thought of popping it into the VHS player, of seeing exactly what he’s been watching in secret. The idea sends a flush of heat through your body, your imagination running wild with possibilities. 

But before you go any further, you pause, biting your lip. 

You’ve already invaded his privacy enough by opening the drawer. If he finds out you’ve watched one of these tapes... you’re not sure how he’d react. And part of you doesn’t want to break that unspoken trust between you.

Still, you can’t deny the way your body reacts to the thought of it. The thought that Michael, your seemingly perfect, polished husband, has this secret stash of pornographic tapes stashed away, it changes something in your mind.

The drawer is already open. The key already used. What’s a little more?

Your pulse races as you move to the TV, sliding the VHS into the player. The soft click of the tape being swallowed by the machine feels heavier than it should, like you’re on the edge of something big, something that will change things between you and Michael forever. But at this moment, you don’t care.

As the screen flickers to life, you lay down on the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel your thighs press together, squeezing tightly as the seconds tick by, your body growing hotter with each moment. The slickness in your panties has you feeling needy, aching, and the more you wait for the tape to start, the more your mind drifts to Michael. 

Finally, the screen lights up, and you’re immediately greeted with the sounds of heavy breathing, loud moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. The woman on screen is bent over, her face twisted in pleasure as a man pounds into her, hard and fast. You can’t help but widen your eyes at the explicitness of it, the way the camera zooms in on her pussy, stretched wide around a cock. It's raw, no-holds-barred.

Your cheeks burn but instead of turning down the volume or stopping the tape, you lean in closer. There’s something intoxicating about the graphic nature of it. You try to keep your breath steady, but it’s impossible. Each loud, wet sound seems to pull you in more, and you can’t stop thinking about Michael watching this.

Has he sat on this very bed, stroking himself while this played? The thought sends a shiver through your body. He’s been away on tour so many times, away from you, and you wonder how often he’s resorted to this. How many times has he pictured you in the same position as these women?

Your hand slips down your stomach and under your underwear, your fingers brushing between your wet folds. You bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan as you feel just how aroused you are. There’s something both thrilling and scandalous about this—watching what Michael watches in secret, knowing this is what he gets off to.

But then something shifts.

As you continue watching, you start to notice something about the women on screen. They aren’t just random actresses, no there’s something familiar about them. The way they move, the way they moan, the way they react to being fucked. It’s not just their bodies, though there’s an undeniable resemblance there as well. It’s more than that. It’s the way they look at the camera, the way they carry themselves. 

They resemble you. 

You almost choke as the realization hits you. Each woman in these tapes... looks like you. From the way they arch their backs to the way they tilt their heads when they moan, it’s as if Michael specifically chose women who could pass as your double. 

He didn’t just stumble upon these videos. He sought them out.

You picture Michael watching these tapes, his hand wrapped around his heavy cock, imagining you. Every time you weren’t there, every time he needed to relieve his tension without you, he turned to this collection—a carefully curated set of videos, all starring women who resembled the one he truly adored and craved. 

You.

A low whimper escapes your lips as your fingers find your throbbing clit, your body acting on instinct now. Your hand moves on its own, your trembling fingers slowly rubbing your glossy nub.

As you try to take care of your sensitive cunt you watch tape after tape after tape…your hunger insatiable. Your fingers move faster, circling your clit as you squeeze your thighs together, barely able to contain the pleasure building inside you. The images on the screen are raw, primal, and you can’t stop picturing yourself in the same position, moaning for Michael as he takes you the way you like it.

You’re lost in the haze of pleasure, your drenched fingers working in quick, desperate strokes against your pulsing clit. The pressure is building, your body tense and trembling as your other hand grips the sheets for stability. 

Your arm is getting tired from the frantic rhythm, your hand trembling as it works your glistening heat, but you can’t stop. Not now, not when you’re so close, the familiar warmth coiling in your belly, ready to snap. The pornographic scene on the TV doesn’t help either, the loud, graphic moans and the wet slaps of flesh against flesh have you imagining him in place of the actor on screen. You see Michael’s face instead, hear his voice, his deep groans as he takes you hard, filling you to the brim with his thick cock, stretching you in ways that make your toes curl.

Your breath is uneven, your thighs shaking from the tension as you lose yourself in the fantasy. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching the bedroom, so consumed by your need that nothing else registers. 

Michael’s back from the studio. As he steps closer to the bedroom, he hears the unmistakable sounds of moans, the erotic noises seeping into the hallway. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he listens. The noises are louder than he’s used to hearing but he simply assumes you’re feeling extra needy, and not that porno playing on the tv is causing this commotion. 

His cock twitches in his trousers but when he pushes the door open, what greets him is something far more tantalizing. His eyebrows raise, a mixture of surprise and lust washing over him as he takes in the sight before him. You’re on his side of the bed, your legs spread wide, your hand buried deep in your panties, desperately working yourself toward an orgasm while his porn tapes play on the TV. The explicit scene fills the room, the sounds of sex mingling with your own gasps and moans.

Michael leans against the doorframe, watching for a moment, his mouth slightly parted as his gaze trails over your flushed skin and the way your body moves with each thrust of your hand. His cock is painfully hard, his tip leaking at the sight of you completely unaware that he’s standing there. He could watch you like this all day.

“My, my,” he finally says with a teasing smirk, his voice deep and thick with amusement, “look at my baby.”

The sound of his voice snaps you out of your daze, and you jerk your head toward the door, eyes wide in shock. Panic floods through you as you yank your hand out of your panties, your soaked fingers trembling as you fumble to grab the remote. You scramble, trying to turn off the TV, but in your haze of embarrassment and the frustration of your unreached orgasm, your hands can’t seem to function properly.

Frustrated, you lower the volume instead of turning off the video, and the scene on the screen continues to play in the background, the wet, obscene sounds still audible, though quieter now.

Michael stands there, watching you with clear amusement, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. You can feel his gaze burning into you, making your skin tingle as you sit there, frozen and unsure of what to do. The embarrassment claws at your chest, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

“I- I was just…” you stammer, but the words die on your lips as you glance down at your fingers covered in your juices, your face burning with humiliation.

Michael pushes off from the door and walks over to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. He sits on the edge of the bed in front of you, his intoxicating scent filling your senses.

His gaze flickers to the open drawer, then to the tapes scattered on the floor. A chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he raises an eyebrow. “Got a little curious, I presume?” he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, still unable to meet his eyes, your fingers clutching the remote like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, your voice so soft it’s barely audible, your cheeks burning even hotter. 

“What was that?” Michael leans in closer, pretending he didn’t hear you. “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweet girl.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice trembling with embarrassment, barely louder than before. You can feel the weight of his stare, making you feel small under his gaze.

He smirks, tilting his head as if considering your apology. “Sorry for what, exactly?” he asks.

“For going through my stuff? Or for getting caught?” His voice lowers. “Because I think you’re only sorry you didn’t hide the evidence in time.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. He’s right, you’re not just sorry for snooping. You’re sorry he walked in on you like this, caught red-handed, mid-orgasm, watching his secret stash of porn. 

“I-” you begin, but Michael raises a hand, stopping you.

“No need to explain,” he says, his voice teasing as his fingers trail along your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. “I think I already know the answer.” His fingers reach your hand, still clutching the remote, and he gently pulls it away, tossing it aside. The TV is still on, though the volume is low enough now that it’s just background noise, the moans and grunts mingling with the heavy silence between you two.

You bite your lip, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach as Michael leans closer, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, a slow smile tugging at his mouth.

You feel a surge of boldness coursing through you, your heart beating fast as you turn your head slightly, still flushed and embarrassed but unable to resist the curiosity building inside you. 

"They look like me." Your voice is soft, but it’s enough to make Michael pause for a second, raising an eyebrow at your admission.

He glances back at the TV. His smirk deepens when he understands what you mean. "Who? The ladies?" he asks, his tone teasing, knowing the answer before you even nod. 

You blush even deeper, your face heating up at the truth laid bare between the two of you. It’s not just a coincidence; Michael clearly has a type, and it’s you. 

He chuckles softly, leaning closer until his lips brush against your ear. "My clever girl," he murmurs, and your heart flutters at the way he says it, his voice thick with pride and amusement.

You don’t know how to respond, your mind racing as his hand slides up your thigh. His presence is overwhelming, and you’re all too aware of the slickness between your legs, the wetness that’s soaked through your panties. Michael notices too, of course. He always does.

He grips your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to look at him. His touch is firm but not rough, commanding without being harsh. "Eyes on me," he orders, his voice low and authoritative. You obey, your gaze meeting his dark, intense eyes. 

“Were you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his voice low. 

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes…” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yeah?” His smile widens.

“You were doing such a good job, too,” he coos, his voice low and dangerous, filled with heat. “Getting yourself all worked up like that. I almost didn’t want to interrupt.”

Your breath hitches as teasing. “M-Michael…” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

“But now that I’m here…” He murmurs, “I guess it’s my turn to finish what you started.”

"Spread your legs," he commands softly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

You part your legs slowly, your movements shy and unsure. The cool air of the room brushes against your heated skin as Michael’s gaze drops between your soft thighs, and his eyes darken with lust when he sees just how soaked your panties are. You’re practically dripping, the fabric clinging to your swollen folds, slick and wet with arousal.

He coos softly, his voice filled with a teasing sort of affection. "My poor baby.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he casually tugs your panties to the side, exposing your drooling cunt to him. His fingers slide between your slick folds, finding your pulsing clit with practiced ease. He begins to circle it gently, his touch light but purposeful. Your head falls back onto the pillow as you buck your hips a little.

As his fingers toy with your sensitive flesh, Michael glances at the TV again, the sound of the porn still filling the room. "Did something catch your eye?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement, as if he already knows the answer.

You swallow hard, your thighs trembling as he continues to tease you, but you manage to nod toward the screen. You don’t need to speak; he follows your gaze and sees the woman on top of the man, riding him, bouncing on his cock with wild abandon. The woman clearly takes control, and it makes your pulse quicken with excitement.

Michael’s lips curl into a knowing smirk as he turns his attention back to you. "Is that what you want?" he asks, his tone teasing but with a hint of challenge in his voice. 

You nod, unable to find the words to express just how much you want it. It’s something you’ve fantasized about—being on top, feeling him beneath you as you move, your bodies in sync. But Michael never lets you. He’s always been the one in control, always the one calling the shots in bed. The idea of you straining to pleasure him is a foreign concept to him. You’ve never dared to voice your yearning. Until now.

He grins softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Not happening," he says, his tone firm but playful, as if he finds your request cute but entirely out of the question.

Your face falls, you pout at his response. But before you can protest, Michael’s hand moves faster, his fingers toying with your pearl in quick, sharp motions that make your whole body jolt with pleasure. A soft, needy whimper escapes your lips, and you instinctively arch your back, pushing your hips toward his hand.

"Don’t be greedy," he warns, his voice low and commanding. He pauses just long enough to give you a soft, teasing slap right on your pussy, the sting causing you to gasp. "Or you’ll get nothing."

The sound of his dominance, the way he takes control of the situation so effortlessly, makes your breath hitch. You can’t help but nod sheepishly, your body already trembling from the tension building inside you. 

Michael’s smile widens, clearly pleased with your submission. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now, let’s get these off, yeah?"

Without another word, he helps you out of your clothes, his fingers brushing against your heated skin as he strips you down to nothing. He moves you into position, pressing your chest down against the mattress, your face smushed into the soft sheets. Your ass is raised in the air, the perfect angle for him to take you however he pleases. your pussy leaks with anticipation.

Michael undresses himself behind you, the sound of his belt hitting the floor making your heart race. You can hear him stroking his cock, the slick sound of lube as he preps himself.

Michael presses the bulbous head of his cock against your weeping hole. You breathe heavily as you feel his warmth. He teases you, prodding his tip into your soaked folds before slipping it out, leaving you clenching around nothing, your needy pussy instinctively trying to keep him inside.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, your body craving him. Your walls throb with want, slick and hot, desperate for the fullness only he can give you. Slowly he pushes in again, this time sinking deeper into your tight heat. Your breath hitches at the intensity of the stretch, your pussy molding around his thick shaft as inch after inch disappears inside you.

Your eyes flutter, half-lidded in pleasure, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he fills you completely. The feeling of his delicious girth inside you is overwhelming, your gummy walls gripping him like a vice. He pauses, letting you adjust to the fullness, his hands firm on your hips as he stays buried deep within you.

"Oh god," you breathe, the word barely more than a whisper as your body trembles beneath him.

But Michael isn’t in any rush. His hips pull back, and you can feel every inch of him as he withdraws, the slow drag of his lengthy cock making your body shudder. The moment he nearly slips out, he thrusts back in again, a little faster this time, driving his meaty shaft into you with a satisfying stretch. Your pussy squeezes around him, trying to suck him deeper.

Your gaze remains fixed on the TV screen, watching the woman riding her partner, her body moving with a freedom and control you crave. You want to ride him so bad. The thought sends a jolt of desire through your core, your pussy fluttering around him as you imagine it.

Of course Michael notices. He always does.

He shakes his head, his amusement evident in his voice as he keeps plunging deeper into you, "Stop daydreaming about it," he says, his tone dripping with authority. "You can barely take my cock as it is."

Your brows furrow in frustration. You try to say something smart to defend yourself, but before you can, he cuts you off with a sharp slam that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"Wasn't a question," he growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you with more force. "You should be grateful you’re not being punished right now."

A helpless cry tumbles from your lips as his pace quickens, each powerful stroke filling you to the brim. Your sensitive pussy can barely handle the relentless pleasure, your slick walls gripping his cock as he drives into you, hitting spots that make your entire body tremble. Every vein, every ridge of his huge shaft presses against your walls.

Your legs shake beneath you, your muscles trembling with the effort to stay in position. If Michael wasn’t holding your hips so firmly, you’d have collapsed by now. His grip keeps you in place, keeps you grounded as he pistols his hips against you with a brutal intensity that leaves you breathless.

Whines spill from your lips, needy and high-pitched as your body struggles to keep up with the overwhelming sensation. His heavy balls slap deliciously against your swollen clit with each deep pump. Your eyes roll back in your head, your vision blurring as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

The sheets are damp beneath your face, muffling the sound of your ragged breathing as Michael's relentless teasing continues. His deep voice drips with amusement, mocking you for going through his things, and you can barely focus on his words as the overwhelming sensations in your body mount.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he says, his tone laced with playful cruelty. "Had to go snooping."

His words stir a heady mix of shame and arousal. Your thighs tremble as he continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your glistening, swollen pussy with ease. The wet, obscene sounds of his cock plunging into your dripping core fill the room, mingling with the pornographic noises still playing on the TV.

"Look at this mess you're making," he groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you back onto his cock covered in your shared slickness. "All because you went through my stuff. Naughty girl."

Your vision blurs, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you feel the pressure building inside you. It’s too much—his fast, relentless pounding, the slickness of your juices making everything slippery, the way his cock stretches you perfectly. It all blurs together, overwhelming you.

You try to speak, to warn him that you’re about to lose control, but the words die in your throat, your mouth opening in a silent gasp. And then it hits you, hard.

Your body tenses, muscles locking up as a powerful wave of pleasure crashes over you. Before you can stop it, a rush of liquid spurts from your pussy, soaking the sheets and spraying onto his thighs. A loud, guttural cry escapes your lips as your face is pressed deeper into the mattress, your entire body shaking uncontrollably as you squirt. It’s messy, uncontrollable, and you can’t stop it as your pussy sprays out more of your juices, drenching everything in your wetness.

"Fuck, go on sweet girl, mark your territory," Michael groans, his voice thick with arousal as he feels the warm liquid dribble down his skin. He doesn’t stop, if anything, the feeling of your wetness covering him only spurs him on, making him thrust harder, faster. His cock slides in even easier now, the extra slickness allowing him to plunge into you effortlessly

Your body jerks with each powerful thrust, your legs shaking beneath you as your sensitive pussy clenches around him. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear, the pleasure bordering on pain as he prolongs your squirting, making it last longer than you thought possible. Your whole body is quaking, your muscles spasming as another wave of pleasure washes over you, your pussy clenching hard around his cock as you cum again.

The bed is completely soaked beneath you, the sheets drenched with your juices as your orgasm wracks through you. You’re trembling uncontrollably, every nerve in your body on fire as Michael continues to pound into you. His balls slap against your swollen clit with each thrust, the sensation pushing you further into a haze of overstimulated bliss.

"You look so beautiful when you make a mess for me," his voice thick with desire. His movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged as he chases his own release. You can feel how close he is, the way his cock twitches inside you, his balls tightening as they slap against you.

His voice lowers, rough and filled with need. "You want me to fill you up, don’t you?"

You can barely find the breath to respond, your body trembling with exhaustion and overstimulation. But you nod, gasping out a breathless, desperate "yes." Your pussy still pulses around him, aching to be filled with his thick, hot cum.

Michael lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound dripping with mockery. "Mm, I don’t know about that," he says, his tone teasing as he slows his thrusts to a torturous grind. "How are you supposed to learn your lesson if I give you exactly what you want?"

Your breath hitches in frustration, your pussy clenching around him in a futile attempt to keep him inside as he suddenly pulls out. You whine, your body instinctively arching toward him, desperate for more. But he’s already stroking his cock, the slickness of your juices making it glisten as he groans at the sight of your puffy gaping pussy.

"My pretty girl," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the way your pussy is still spread open, glossy with your arousal and his precum. He strokes his stiff cock with long, slow motions, his gaze trailing over your trembling body.

You feel the cool air hit your exposed skin as his heavy length hovers above you, and you know what’s coming next. His heavy balls are tight with need, full of his potent seed, and you can hear his panting as he brings himself closer to the edge. But instead of giving you what you crave, instead of filling you up the way you always crave, he teases you further.

With a low groan, he pumps his cock a few more times before he cums, thick ropes of his creamy seed spurting from his tip. His creamy load splashes onto your pussy, covering your folds in his sticky, milky release. You gasp at the sensation, your body still sensitive from your own orgasm, and you feel the warm liquid drip down your inner thighs.

But none of it goes where you want it most.

Not a single drop enters your aching, empty hole. He’s careful to avoid your entrance, his cum pooling around your swollen folds but never filling you. You can feel the heat of it, the way it marks you, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough. Your pussy clenches instinctively, craving the fullness of him, but he denies you.

One drop of his cum starts to seep toward your stretched hole, and for a moment, you think you’ll finally get what you want. But Michael’s hand is quick, swiping it away before it can slip inside. You let out a disappointed sigh and nuzzle your cheek into the soft sheets. 

You feel utterly spent, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. His cum dribbles down your inner thighs, marking you, claiming you in a way that makes your heart race. But at the same time, there’s a lingering sadness, a frustration at the thought of all that creamy seed going to waste when you could have been filled with it.

Michael leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the small of your back as his hands gently rub over your warm body. He’s back to being tender now, his teasing nature momentarily softened as he takes care of you. 

Once he’s cleaned you up, he moves to put the tapes back in the drawer, his actions slow and deliberate as he organizes them neatly. But this time, he doesn’t lock it.

You glance up at him, your eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion, and he catches your gaze with a knowing smile. He says nothing, but the unlocked drawer speaks for itself. You know he’s giving you permission—whether it’s to test your boundaries again or to explore your curiosity more freely, you’re not sure. But either way, it feels like a small victory, a silent acknowledgment of the power you hold over him, even when he’s the one in control.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

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[shannonsketches]

I grabbed a bunch of caps for that last post so here's a few more in my favorite genre of bejíta

[theepisceswriter]

BACKSHOT BOYZ — AOT EDITION (Jean, Connie, Armin)

♡ Synopsis: Headcanons on some of the AOT boys' specific style of backshots, hehe.

♡ A/N: You freaky frogs read the title and know wtfgo, face down ass up that’s the way we like to fuck !!

♡ TW: 18+, penetrative sex, afab body parts and use of good girl, nothing too kinky.

JEAN

Jean is the K I N G of slow strokes nation

That man is hung like a horse; his cock touches the top parts of his thigh when it’s soft! He knows the nuclear weapon he carries around in his pants is deadly and he would hate to have such a gift and hardly be able to use it because he knows how hard a dick like his is to take. Slow and steady wins the race. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you by giving you too much of him at once or accidentally hitting your cervix, so he takes his time with you.

Foreplay is a MUST for him to get you prepared to take him. His favorite way to rev you up is with oral. He’s one of those men that thoroughly enjoy giving head for their own pleasure, watching you squirm and desperately rut into his mouth for more when his tongue is already as flat as it can be against your clit and his chin is dripping with your juices has him wanting to stay between your legs for hours. Did I mention that on top of attacking your clit like it's a Baby Bottle Pop he’s fingering you with those long slender fingers of his to the knuckles so you’re stretched enough to take him? Yeah, he’s a menace.

He prefers to have you on the edge of the bed with a pillow underneath your stomach. That way he has easier access to you and doesn’t have to worry about getting in weird positions to make the position doable.

The very first time you had sex with him you orgasmed off that one stroke alone, but you would like to think that you’ve built up a better tolerance now (barely).

That first stroke is deadly and leaves you gasping for air the way his cock slides into your walls with ease thanks to the gathered slick and spit between your legs doing its part as a makeshift lube. He pauses momentarily to give you a few seconds to adjust and, truth be told, he’s equally as breathless as you, but as soon as he feels your body relax he surprises you by bottoming out in you. I told you, he’s a menace.

His strokes are slow and calculated so you can feel every inch of his throbbing cock against your tight fleshy walls and he can hit every sensitive angle inside of you. Sometimes when he wants to spruce it up he’ll move his hips in circular motions for added stimulation.

“You take me so well, my love. This cock was made for you and only you wasn’t it?” “Look at your pussy swallowing me up whole, you take my cock so well babygirl, fuck.”

Dirty talk is top tier and he makes sure to press his chest against your back so he can whisper it intimately in your ear. Also, he’s a back licker through and true. Do with that information what you will!

CONNIE

The cockiest man in the world when he’s giving you backshots, like unbelievably cocky because he knows what his dick does to you, but he really knows what it does to you in doggy style. Thick, beefy, and uncut all up in yo guts !

His favorite doggy style position to have you in is on the edge of the bed so he can use the leverage of standing up to pound into you like a madman.

Taunting giggles and snickers the whole time, he watches you fight for your life gripping and biting on the sheets because you’re in a position where you have no choice but to take all of his beefy cock. He even likes to go no hands sometimes, placing them on the back of his head and letting the sheer power of his hips fuck you to borderline insanity.

“That's it, be a good girl and take all of me. You just love having my thick cock pound away at your walls, dont you?” “Aht, aht, you can take it. I know you can you’ve done it plenty of times before.” With a menacing smirk on his lips and all. Like, sir, this is how you cause crazy ex-girlfriends. You’re ready to go to war over that dick now!

Dont let his cool, calm, collected, and cocky demeanor fool you because the moment your walls get to ushing and gushing around him too well he has to put his hands around your neck as leverage to keep himself from buckling in the knees.

On nights when he’s feeling extra freaky (which is every night) he likes to put his thumb in your butt for added sensory. Sometimes he can even feel the tip of his dick through the soft membrane when he has his thumb in there and that lets him know he’s doing a job well done.

ARMIN

You on your stomach with your legs crossed and Armin mounted on your ass pounding into your poor overstimulated cunt is his favorite way to give you some lethal backshots. This position allows the two of you to be deeply connected, he can’t help but rut into you like a dog in heat.

You swear you can feel his cock tickle your belly button in this position and he swears he can feel your walls suck him in deeper and resist to let him go when he tries to pull out.

Its so overstimulating for the two; He often finds himself collapsing on on your back and burying his face into your neck while whimpering and moaning about how good you’re making him feel.

“Thank you so much for being mines and letting me fuck you 🥹” “You feel so so so good around me. You’re going to milk my cock dry, go ahead its all yours.” This man is on the verge of pleasure tears because of how warm and soft your pussy feels around him.

Has perfected the craft of kissing your next while he’s balls deep inside of you. He kisses your neck with the same energy he would use if he was kissing your lips, tongue and suction going crazy on that sensitive part between your ear and neck. Best believe by the end of the night you’re covered in hickies.

And the best part? When he finishes either he’ll pull out and leave squirts of warm cum on your ass or creampie you so he can watch it ooze and drip from between clenched thighs.

[kashmimo]

greenie

[sulky-cabbage]

I swear st.sg makes Sukugo even more compelling.

Just picture Sukuna and Uraume making fun of Yuji and then Kenjaku inserts himself in their conversation to mock gojo and his confession in jjk0 and how he used Gojo's love to seal him (mf thinks he's part of the group)

But he does NOT get the reaction he was expecting from Sukuna not only because he hates Kenjaku (he does) and not because he's jealous (he is) but because Gojo Satoru's love being ridiculed doesn't sit right with him for some reason...

I'd say Kenjaku figured Sukuna out right there lmao