#anyways. Pobrecito...

[sillywoyscreenshots]

the scene (or credits scene) at the end of the fancy party when hater picks up peepers and runs out the door with him !!

[variantia]

BELLUM. Renata "I used to be a villain but then this cute hero kicked my ass and came to visit me in jail and told me I could do whatever I wanted and he was the only one who ever had any real faith in me or made me think I could do something good, so I followed him to Japan and married him" Través-Yagi

listen obviously the story is a little longer and more complicated than that and she didn't marry him right away BUT SHE FOUND HER PASSION IN HELPING PEOPLE LIKE HER IMPROVE THEIR LIVES AND SHE FOUND IT BY CHASING THIS WEIRD NERD WHO FOUGHT HER AND WIPED THE STREETS OF SAN ANTONIO WITH HER BUT THEN CAME TO SEE IF SHE WAS OKAY AND TELL HER THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO DO WHAT HER FAMILY WANTED HER TO DO SHE SHOULD DO WHAT SHE WANTED TO DO

she would not have found that passion without Toshinori telling her that she could forge her own path, he was the first one to treat her like a PERSON FIRST instead of just another bad villain

and she wants to be that for other people

AND SHE IS.

[bitterlyromantic]

i still remember showing my mother a picture of dennis & her going Is That The Guy From Big Bang Theory?

[malkaviian]

pensamiento cringe antes de irme a dormir del au vampiro porque alguien me lo hizo pensar lol.

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

[neverendingford]

.

[justchristina]

Sarah j Maas I am in your WALLS girl

[vamossainz55]

hi, nik! fellow carlos enthusiast here hoping you could write a kiss to shut him up. he’s come home from the gym (post sweaty thirst trap selfie) and is venting about pierre. reader smooches him to stop, reassuring him that he could never do wrong in her eyes 🤫😘

a/n: hi anon, i love love loved writing this. carlos doesn't necessarily vent but reader does smooch him to shut him up. slight jealous carlos, i couldn't help myself sorry. i hope you enjoy <3

(+ insta au at the end w the infamous photo)

let's sweat it out, - cs55

it started as a joke, and it wasn’t meant to be taken as anything beyond that. you didn’t think he’d take it too seriously either as his ‘pobrecito’ comment hinted that the spanish driver hadn’t even taken pierre’s comment to heart. but here you were, watching carlos putting on his shoes on with his back turned towards you.

five years of being together meant you didn’t need to look at carlos’ face to know he’s not in the best mood. you can tell by the way he tightens his shoelaces, the little huff he lets out before he gets up.

“amor,” you say, rolling your eyes when he responds with dime before saying your name. he always did this when he was annoyed, refusing to use any pet name.

“i was joking,” you say for the nth time. you know carlos isn’t upset with you, the frustration of it all probably culminating into him being put into a bad mood. 

“maybe you shouldn’t have squeezed him carlos,” he says, voice high pitched with a scrunch of his nose. you roll your eyes at his childish response, crossing your arms over your chest.

“are you mocking me carlos?” your voice is sharp this time, a warning for him not to push it.

he hears it loud and clear since he instantly turns to look at you. “sorry, i know you were joking.” he murmurs before sighing. “i’m gonna go for a run and workout. i’ll be back in a few. do you mind waiting for a late lunch?” he comes over, resta his knee on the edge of the bed to kiss your forehead. 

“mhm, thought you were sorry.” you murmur but smile small at the offer anyways. his hand gently squeezes your elbow before he pulls away. “okay, i’ll wait for you for lunch.” 

_

you figure lunch will be… interesting. a few minutes after carlos had left you had seen pierre’s instagram story, a replay of when carlos had supposedly squeezed him. 

‘don’t be mad but,’ you had texted him along with a screenshot of the post. it took an hour for him to answer, and what he had sent was one of the last things you had expected to see. 

he replies with a photo and nothing else. you open the chat to see what it exactly is and you feel your cheeks burn red as soon as you see it. 

the photo is… something. you can see the droplets of sweat forming at almost every strand of hair he has. his locks are disheveled, lips parted as if in the midst of panting. your eyes trail to his collarbones, down to his chest and you have to cover your face, suddenly embarassed as your blush travels down your chest. 

before you even muster the courage to reply the notification comes in, carlossainz55 posted on their story. 

you’re bright red when you see the photo appear on your screen again. ‘carlos’ you text, 'what is this!! delete!!!!’. it’s technically not explicit, the caption of it saying gym time but it looks so intimate, reminds you of late nights or early mornings that has you feeling antsy. 

he doesn’t answer though, not after two texts or five, and you end up hiding your phone inside the closet to stop yourself from looking at that photo. he knows how much waiting drives you crazy. 

so he’s not surprised when he gets home to find you in the kitchen, lunch barely started even though he had texted you thirty minutes ago saying he was on the way. 

“you didn’t text me back, lost your phone?” carlos asks, smiling innocently at you when you turn over to look at him.

he’s still wearing his gym clothes, the change of clothes left in the bag he had dropped by the door. the fabric clings onto his body and he doesn’t miss the way you eye him. 

“left it to charge upstairs,” you murmur, red when you realise carlos fully knows your ogling him. 

“oh?” he says before coming closer to you. “but what if you miss one of pierre’s post?” carlos asks, raising his brow. 

“huh?” you ask, almost surprised by his words. carlos shrugs, hooks his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans. he pulls you close, loves the way you move towards him without question.

“maybe he releases another statement hm?” his lips hover over yours. “i mean… i shouldn’t have squeezed him after all. my fault hm,” you lean close to kiss him, already riled up from earlier but he doesn’t let you, leans back. “isn’t that what you said this morning?” 

“carlos,” you whine, the ingredients on the counter well forgotten. 

“you’re so busy with what pierre has to say, giving him all the attention in the world. he must be right hm?” your lips come close again, wanting to interrupt him but he still doesn’t let you.

“everybody knows you didn’t do anything carlos,” you say, antsy for a kiss already. 

“mhm, everybody but my girlfriend.” he says, raising his brow.

that’s exactly the moment you realize what all of this is really about. carlos wasn’t mad at pierre, he was jealous of your attention on him. 

“god, you’re annoying,” you say, and carlos knows you’ve finally gotten it. “i was joking.” 

carlos hums. “are you sure?” 

“yes, carlos.” his hands grip your waist. 

“really sure?”

“carlos,” 

“were you re-“ the words are taken from his lips when you press yourself against him. you cup your face and his hands go to squeeze your waist, lifting you to the counter to let you sit there. he smiles against your lips, lets a soft sigh of satisfaction once you both pull away. 

"you know i'll always back you first right?" you ask, raising your brow and carlos nods, pressing his lips against yours again.

"mhm, i know." he says, pressing kisses to your neck. you let your eyes flutter shut but you're quick to remember the story he had posted earlier, and you have to ask.

“so… the photo?” you question, hands already roaming under his shirt. 

“well, needed to make sure pierre was the last thing on your mind,” he says smugly. “did it work?”

you wait for a moment, watch as carlos tries to kiss you but this time you lean back, making him regret doing the same earlier. he pouts, blinks when you tap his nose with his finger. 

“hmm, i don’t know. maybe.” you say against his lips before kissing him again. 

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 293,758 others

yourusername dont worry about him guys. i'll let him squeeze me all he wants 😏 🤫 1 hour ago

charles_leclerc: ... oh 😦 54m ago

fan1: who wants to bet it took charles more than ten minutes to get what yn meant 28m ago liked by carlossainz55

fan2: WHY IS NOBODY SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT THE MEME 26m ago

fan1: no bc the mouth froth is so real. 25m ago

carlossainz55: coming home rn 🏃🏻‍♂️ 59m ago

yourusername: you're literally right next to me 57m ago

landonorris: NOT INFRONT OF THE KIDS 40m ago

yourusername: what kids? we're making them rn 20m ago

landonorris: i'm gonna throw up 🤢 18m ago liked by charles_leclerc

fan3: not the carlos sainz apologist 10m ago

fan4: LMAO shes his gf ofc she would be??? 6m ago liked by yourusername

yourusername: carlos apologist first, carlos fucker second 3m ago

fan4: girl i-

[chiwhorei]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞 - 𝐏𝐭. 𝐈: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Miguel and Peter have been best friends since grade school. You’ve been in love with Miguel for about that long.

He’s messed with every girl on campus, all of your friends, any girl with a pulse except for you- Parker’s adorable little sister. Even so, there’s plenty of ways to get fucked.

|| 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐃 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ||

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Parker!reader, Peter Parker Tags: Explicit- MDNI, College AU, Brother’s best friend, friends-to-lovers, house party, alcohol, voyeurism with a third party, sloppy oral, degradation, yearning, sarcasm, shared Marbies and the insurmountable melancholy Word count: 3k cross-posted to Ao3!

Thank you for your patience and encouragement, I survived my first case of writers block since being back. -xoxo, chiwhorei

You wobble forward on a pair of heels that pinch a bit too tight. Your favorite pair was lent out to a friend, they matched her outfit better anyway. The runner in the hallway slips under the balls of your feet.

The bathroom, that’s your excuse. His room just happens to be right next to the bathroom. You’ll just peek in to see if he’s hiding from the pounding music and drunk college students trying to talk over it.

The fruity drinks Peter keeps making you are starting to tingle in your cheeks. Miguel calls you a lightweight, but you’ve hardly seen him at all tonight. He’s not a very good host, you think, leaving his party guests to mill about without his company.

Most everyone seems plenty boozed enough to not notice, but you would miss Miguel even if you were sedated. You’re certain you could miss him the same, even if you’d never met him. You curse your own hyperbole, God, drunk you is annoying.

“Mmph,”

A muffled groan spills out of the creak in his bedroom door. Sober you probably wouldn’t creep any closer, but she’s long gone. Plus, you have to walk past it anyway, you remind yourself, to get to the bathroom.

Your eyes wander from their strained focus at the end of the hallway and catch on a familiar complexion. Strong arms hold Miguel’s meal against his bed as it whimpers and squeals, muscles flexing underneath the remainder of his summer tan. The space between the door and its fame is just enough for your face- too much, by far, but the blood under your skin seems to pull you as close as possible without it squeaking open any further.

“Calm down, Mami,” He shushes against her, you can hear how wet his lips are, “we’re not going to get anywhere with you squirming.” Miguel’s voice knocks the air from your lungs, it escapes past your lips in a clumsy gasp.

His stare, deep and unblinking, pins you to the doorframe. You’ve gotten Miguel plenty mad, riled him up more times than you could count- but this is different. It’s red-hot, soldering you to the ground below. It’s not anger, not surprise, not the mixture of both it probably should be.

“P- please, I can’t,” her voice is familiar, even broken around a cry, “I can’t cum again, Miggy.” He kisses up her leg, licking at her ankle as it’s pinned to his chest. Pink strappy heels sit limply against the dip in Miguel’s collarbone- the pair you leant her a few hours prior. They matched her dress better, but that doesn’t seem to be a concern anymore.

Miguel doesn't stop, doesn't flinch. You can hear his mouth as it purrs into her again, see his cheeks sitting high on his face- even behind the thighs that obscure your view. Instead of yelling at you to close the door, Miguel smiles wildly. Evil, in the sweet, tooth-rotting kind of way.

“Aw, Pobrecito,” he coos against her, but the words are shot towards his voyeur, “you can give me one more.”

It feels like a bullet in your chest, friendly fire.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t ya?”

“Hey,” A finger and thumb snap in your blank eyeline to rip you from your thoughts, you jump in your seat at the sound, “Are you listening to me whatsoever?”

“Claro,” Your accent lacks any semblance of confidence. Miguel scoffs, at least some of his work is getting through.

You clear your throat and focus back to the textbook in front of you to read off the next prompt, “Write out a response to the following question, ‘¿Qué haces este fin de semana?’

Miguel snorts in response, and your eyes narrow across the kitchen table. He swallows back the snicker he holds in his mouth, hands up in feigned innocence.

“Vale, but this one’s easy, ‘No tengo planes, porque soy pinche abborito-” You clip his last word, throwing the first thing in reach, your textbook, towards his head- hoping to land a papercut.

Your tudor’s braced for impact, catching it with one hand and laughing at your outburst. You huff, arms crossed and posture falling. Miguel and Peter have your parents old dining room set, your chair wobbles as you sink back in it. Just like it always has.

“I got that, asshole.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Miguel slides your book back across the wood between you, “You tested out of Spanish 101 and now you're going to flunk out of 205. What was it, hermanita, clerical error?”

God that nickname digs past your skin and into the nerve endings, eating its way outwards. It wasn’t always like this, was it? You can’t seem to remember a time where his voice didn’t ignite every cell of blood.

He must have a talent for house fires, you think, or maybe you’re just more flammable in the days following your little run-in. You retreat ever further into the wobbly dining chair to create some distance, digging your shoulders into the spoked back.

It feels the same as when you were kids. Slinking into your chair and puffing your chest when you and Miguel would pass insults over the table. Your cheeks feel just as hot, your blood just as cold. You’re 13 again and Miguel just told you that boys aren’t going to want to kiss you and get stuck on your braces.

“I did well on the stupid placement test because it was on paper.” You feel like you’re speaking around that mouth of braces again, “I can understand the vocab and stuff, but our final is all oral.”

“If the final is oral,” Miguel chirps, pulling you closer by the leg of your seat with a splintering screech against the floor, “you might as well just drop the class, mija.”

He’s far too close, your skin might start sizzling. This was a horrible idea, one you’re sure you’ll be paying for later. He might as well put it on your tab.

“I’m just going to go to the tutoring center tomorrow, or try to drop, or fail and lose my spot on the dean’s list.” You go to slam your textbook closed but Miguel’s fingers curl over the spine, spreading out to keep it open.

“Cálmate, you’re not doing any of those,” instead of looking dumbly into his stare, your eyes fix on the rings Miguel wears; one for every long, beautiful finger. He mixes silver and gold, and you can’t decide which metal looks better against his gilded complexion. The things those fingers could do, your eye threatens to twitch at the thought, the places those fingers have been. Nearly all of your friends and the majority of Sorority Row.

“I promised you I’d help, I’m a man of my word,” his tone feels earnest for a beat, and you watch a pointer finger come out to barely graze the hand you’ve still got holding your book. It’s hypnotizing, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on the girls that hang off of his every sentence. All of these years you should’ve been inoculated, and you’re still no better. You might even be fatal.

“Plus, your brother bet me that you’d fail your final.”

Fuck him. And every perfect plane of skin. And that lopsided, toothy grin. And that goddamn laugh that makes you feel undercooked and mushy.

You pull your hand away, moving to stand up but those dangerous fingers curl around your wrist. His touch is so familiar, so easy to get sucked in to, like a rerun of your favorite movie. A physiological horror, maybe.

“C’mon, I bet him that you’d ace it. You’re my smart girl, mi nenita.”

The opening you have to throw a smart remark, or maybe another book, is wasted thinking about if you’re the only one who gets called that.

Miguel drops his grip on you as the front door opens. From the corner of your eye, you see his tongue lick over his bottom lip, just like he does every time he’s won. He must like the taste of your turmoil.

“Is our girl fluent yet, Mig?” Your brother’s presence is booming and a more than welcome distraction. Peter’s hands wrap around your shoulders, pressing his stubbled cheek against your face hard enough to squish your mouth to the side.

“Oh absolutely, she’s on her way to nailing that final. We’ve just got to work on her or-”

“Peter,” your voice interjects, a few octaves higher than what would pass for normal, “you got a lighter? I need a break.”

Your brother pats his jacket pockets a few times before tossing you his zippo. You fumble the catch, nerves rubbed raw and bloody. Don’t give him a reaction. You reclaim a bit of your composure and swipe the pack of Marblo reds from the table.

“Hey! Those are mine,” Miguel’s protest dosen’t reach his eyes, and you can’t hide the pleased smile that he pulls up over your teeth, “fucking brat.”

“Put it on my tab.”

The cement fencing around your brother’s apartment is cold against your ass. Your brother’s lighter sparks a few times before you can light up the cigarette. He should get a new one, but you know he won’t. Peter hates change.

Must run in the family.

It wasn’t always like this, you think against the first pull from Miguel’s cigarette, maybe if I keep ignoring it, we can both pretend it never happened.

What’s longer, death, or a life sentence?

You would have gladly lived and died a lovesick puppy, following your brother and his best friend around like Miguel was leash training. Living in between the moments of your life where he was, where he’s always been. Wrestling in the living room, pretending to hate when he’d gain the upper hand and pin you down helplessly under him. Playing tag, playing house. Calling shotgun in his old mustang, giggling every time your brother tried to argue. “It’s her seat, Peter,” he’d say with his arm over the back of your seat, pulling out of the driveway as if he hadn’t just ripped out your bleeding heart, “get over it.”

You couldn’t tell at first, but that open bedroom door was the last straw bending. The last few moments before the break, the aching stretch as you’re snapped in half. You’re not just Peter’s clumsy kid-sister anymore, you’re the drunk college girl that watched Miguel fucking his tongue into your freshman-year roommate.

You’re the still-drunk girl that walked home alone and touched herself to the memory of his wet smile and lashing tongue. The sobered-up girl that came hard on a toy named after him.

Heavy boots stalk forward, tracing the sidewalk and landing in your eyeline. You take another drag, blowing out into Miguel’s face.

“No fucking manners,” Miguel pulls the cigarette from where it sits between your lips, “what am I going to do with you.”

From where you’re perched, you meet his gaze without having to crane upwards. Miguel’s lips wrap around the stain your lipgloss left. You wonder if he notices, if he likes that taste too.

“I think I’ve had more than enough of you today.” Your quip is half-hearted and falls flatly on the pavement between you.

“Ya know, for someone with a stick shoved up her ass,” Miguel steps closer, taking up the space between either knee, “your posture sucks.”

You straighten your back in protest, but a low tree branch pokes into your spine. A yelp splinters from your throat as the wood catches where your leggings meet your sweatshirt.

Miguel laughs, but leans forward and reaches around your middle to snap the branch from where it’s stuck against your tailbone.

“Told ya.” He flattens his palms against the cool cement, you can feel the warmth of his thumbs on either side of your thighs. Rule number three, Don’t let him get too close. But you’re trapped already, surrounded in three of the four directions.

“I think we need to have a little chat, Mami.”

Maybe if you fall backwards into the tree behind you, you could try to make a break for it. A few scrapes and bruises sounds significantly more palatable.

“I think I’m good, I’ve met my heart-to-heart quota for the year.”

You try to stand, but Miguel’s hands keep your hips down where you’re sitting. You can feel the ridges of his fingers where his rings lie, the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor in his left hand.

“Ay coño,” Miguel tilts his face up to give you a smile, his canines look sharp enough to break skin, “no need to play coy now.”

Flashes of wet lips and borrowed shoes run past your vision. There’s no way you’ll make it out of this conversation in one piece, you feel yourself chipping already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yank the cigarette from Miguel as he exhales, blowing his smoke from the side of his mouth. What a gentleman.

“I see,” he tuts. You watch him swipe his tongue across his teeth, it takes every ounce of will to keep you from thinking about how your lip gloss tastes in his mouth.

“Maybe I should bring in an outside perspective, I wonder if Peter saw anything on Saturday.” Miguel stands up straight and spins around to feign walking away, “He can help us track down the creep that was watching me fuck your little friend-“

“I don’t know what you want me to say, O’Hara,” your jaw is clenched hard enough to snap wire, “That I’m sorry? I promise I didn’t see anything? I promise I won’t tell anyone?” At least anger is a little easier than shame. Even if you’re the one in the wrong, it feels evil for Miguel to play with his food like this.

“O’Hara?” He laughs, turning back to face you with crossed arms.

“Well, Parker, I guess I’m just wondering,” Miguel takes the spent cigarette from your hand, pulling the last of it with a final inhale and dropping it onto the ground. You hear the crunch of his boot as he puts it out.

“Did you like what you saw?”

His face is only as far away as your eyelashes, two hands coil around your legs, hiking them up behind your knees. His lips are so close to you that you can taste his gum- cinnamon. A flavor so specific to him, you swear that’s the only reason he likes it.

“No,” your voice is barely above a whisper, speaking to someone you wish couldn’t hear it, “I mean, I wasn’t trying to… watch you. I was going to the bathroom and-“

“And you thought you’d stop by for an anatomy lesson? I only promised I’d help you with Spanish.”

Your eyes prick with frustrated tears, it’s either fess up or fall backwards and make a break for it.

“I was drunk,” your voice is louder than it should be, the arch in Miguel’s eyebrow seems to agree with you.

“I was tired, a- and drunk, and when I walked by your room I was… curious, I guess.”

His hands loosen from where they press into your leggings. He hasn’t let go yet, thumbs now drawing circles into the thin spandex. If his touch wandered any farther, you’d be done for- the damp heat spilling from your center outwards is mear inches from the tips of his fingers.

“Little Parker was curious,” his voice croons, “about what exactly? The birds and the bees? What mommies and daddies do when they love each other?”

Miguel’s waist blocks your legs from twisting over each other, there’s no relief to be found, it seems there never is- for you at least.

“I know what the-” his patronizing widdles down any sharp comeback you’ve got holstered until the points are dull, “I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I’m plenty versed in that area of study, and I definitely don’t need any notes from you.”

You’re not as hopeless as Miguel thinks, your first year of college was spent on any ‘anatomy lessons’ you had still been missing. Underwhelming, unsatisfying, clinical even, but the specifics would be buried next to your grave before you’d give them to Miguel.

“Hey Mig, ya ready to go?” Your brother’s voice almost knocks you from the cement ledge you’re perched on.

Miguel doesn’t falter for a second, whispering into the shell of your ear and punctuating with one last malicious smile. Your skin feels sticky, like you’ve just crawled out of a mouse trap.

The words he moved around his lips are left to echo in the now-empty space in front of you. His Mustang whines as it pulls out of the driveway and you try to shake loose from the grip still searing your thighs.

“Just let me know if you need help studying those more private subjects, I’m known to be quite the tutor.”

©️chiwhorei.2023 || don’t fuck with me I’m so serious

[valentine-cafe]

...on the other hand i also wanna request kind of the opposite of my last one. What if a reader who was generally shy and not suave went up to your flirtiest and more charming etc characters and tried to be flirty? But was clearly stressed cause your ocs were so gorgeous but cue reader trying to be flirty anyway like trying to compliment them but spluttering and apologising (basically "you- i- sorry you're just- pretty- *flusters and blushes and wants the earth to swallow them whole*)

:3 only if you guys have the time tho ofc!!😘

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔 ◞ ₊˚

𖹭. a selection of the flirtiest bastards and their reaction when your shy self flirts with them /gn reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ sealed your fate the second that you approached him. what were you thinking? of course he just leaned up against his locker, folded his arms and watched with with an arched of his pierced brow. a smirk on his black-stained lipstick. “what’s a pretty thing like you apologising for, cariño? quite the show you’ve given me.” steps on closer and brushes your hair back / fixes your collar before he leans his tall height down. that damned smirk only making you shrink more. “no running away now, go on. ‘m pretty yeah?” poor you. he’s the worst, but at least he’s polite about it.

enigma x reader, mercenary x reader, antihero x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ TAE-HYUN 209 ꒱ didn’t even give you a chance before his turquoise eyes were giving you the elevator look. down your figure then back up to your lips - if only to meet your eyes again. a clear smirk on his lips and a small tilt of his head. he wouldn’t say anything at first, simply letting you fluster. letting you stammer and try to find your words. but when you called him pretty? he’d just chuckle and signal you closer with a curl of his finger. “cute. come give me your name. I’ll take you out for some coffee.” 

park tae-hyun, one of the leaders in the resistance and an enigma who can shapeshift. cool and collected, an effortless, smug bastard who's dedicated to his work in protecting supernatural and thwarting the psychopathic herrera husbands. long, straight turquoise green hair that reaches his shoulders, turquoise green eyes, slight tanned skin, stands at 6’11”

enigma x reader, shapeshifter x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HÀOYÚ 9948E ꒱ was stacking away some books when he heard your splutters and stammers. the way you leaned over the counter of the library to try and garner his attention. the reaper arched his brow and couldn’t help the series of chuckles that left him before he so effortlessly sauntered over. leaning on the same counter on the opposite end. leaning his elbow against it and placing his head in his hand. staring at you with those sharp diaoxazine eyes and a devilish grin that had your heart doing flips. “oh, are you struggling? well, don’t stop now.” his face would lean closer. “I must say you’re quite pretty yourself. stammering and stuttering like that.” pokes your nose with a clawed nail and then trails it down to your lips. poor you, again. he’s also the worst.

grim reaper x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ only leans back against his chair. sharp maroon eyes keeping a steady gaze on your eyes as you stand before his desk. his head tilts up, to the side and his expression makes you think that you’re doing everything wrong. well - until a quirk of his lips made your want to fall to your knees then and there. with one of his legs crossed, his scarlet stiletto taps mid-air, before a soft, deep croon rumbles from his throat after a hushed click of his tongue. “aww pobrecito,” ( poor thing ) a pat to his lap with an idle hand. “c’mere. seems like you are struggling. let me help you out.”

admiral x reader, spy x reader, assassin x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 1311 ꒱ was thrilled when he heard your once confident voice quiver and noticed the ways your eyes fluttered. the last thing he expected was for one of the bartenders at the place he performs at to start flirting with him. but who was he to deny you? doesn’t say a damn thing and simply backs you up until your back flushes against the edge of the bar counter - which he soon boxes you against when two of his arms reach to rest on either side of you. those beady, all-magenta eyes peer into yours and the grin on his lips tells you all that you need to. “looks like you need some practice. want some help?”

rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, mercenary x reader, villain x reader

[armoricaroyalty]

For some reason, when she kissed him, he thought of Theo.

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Transcript under the cut.

WOMAN 1 | ...for real, I've been like, completely obsessed. WOMAN 1 | Like, there was hardly any wedding coverage for Jacques and Vivi, right? And that was my first royal wedding! I thought it was normal! I didn't know I was missing out. WOMAN 2 | Right? It feels like everyone's been saving up all their hype. WOMAN 1 | Has anyone else been following the dress rumors? WOMAN 2 | [ sighs ] I just hope Emily's dress isn't as boring as Vivi's was. WOMAN 2 | Vivi's whole wardrobe is boring! She dresses like a toddler, it is so unflattering. WOMAN 1 | I know, right? She should ask Lady Em to take her shopping. WOMAN 3 | Lady Emily is soooo gorgeous. WOMAN 2 | She's too good for him. He's always been such a scrub. WOMAN 1 | Whatever! I'm just glad it's a real love story, not just a shotgun wedding. An office romance... [ dreamy sigh ] Like, it could have been me! THEO | [ scoffs ] [ The conversation died immediately, and the silence solidified into something like hostility. Theo turned to see five pale, contemptuous faces fixed on her back, and her heart jumped up into her throat. Fighting to keep her expression neutral and her voice even, she stood and announced to no one that she was going to lunch. They pretended not to hear her. ] WOMAN 1 | ...she is such a stuck-up b-word. WOMAN 2 | Did you know that she used to date Prince Frederick? WOMAN 1 | Oh my god. Her? WOMAN 2 | Yeah. That's how she got hired here after she got disbarred or whatever. WOMAN 3 | Yeah. And her mom dated the King before he married the Queen. WOMAN 1 | Oh my god. She's a second-generation royal girlfriend? Gross. WOMAN 2 | D'you think her daughter will actually land a prince? WOMAN 3 | Why not? [ giggles ] Third time's the charm! [ Even in the warmer months, the gardens at Yew Court Palace stood empty. In February, the fountains were dry and the ivy dormant. Fat crows stirred in the bare branches overhead. Somewhere nearby, muffled by hedges, came the low hum of passing traffic. ] [ It was a food place to be alone. ]

THEO: I am going to kill myself or my coworkers, havent decided yet FREDDY: Nooooo dont do that FREDDY: Id have noone to text if you were dead THEO: Aw, no friends? FREDDY: Nope :( THEO: Pobrecito FREDDY: O baby. Talk dirty to me THEO: Lmao THEO: For real though THEO: Gonna kill my coworkers THEO: Or myself FREDDY: What did they do this time THEO: They are just openly talking shit about me now THEO: IN FRONT OF ME FREDDY: Wtf???????? FREDDY: Want me to have them fired lol THEO: I can fight my own battles tyvm FREDDY: Whats your battle plan? Stapler in jello? Sign them up for boner pill emails? THEO: Find a new job and leave them here to choke on their own incompetence FREDDY: Love when you talk about choking :heart_eyes: THEO: LMAO perv FREDDY: Cant help myself lol FREDDY: Anyway…sorry about your terrible job. Mine kinda sucks rn too THEO: Isn’t your job rn wedding planning?? FREDDY: But it’s not it’s actually mediating between my mom and Emily THEO: Do they not get along? FREDDY: No they get along fine but it’s like. FREDDY: My mom clearly has Ideas (tm) about how the wedding should be and em clearly wants something completely diferent and it is just constant FREDDY: Theyre killing meeeeeee THEO: That sucks. Are you at least getting your own ideas in too? FREDDY: Not really…altho tbf if i was getting my way it’d be like. Courthouse wedding. In and out. THEO: My parents got married at city hall FREDDY: Dreams really do come true THEO: They sure do THEO: Okay this is going to sound weird but...I felt like the wedding plans didn’t really seem like you THEO: if that makes sense? THEO: Like I get that you're a prince but a huge formal wedding isn't your vibe at alllll FREDDY: You know me…my kind of party involves a lot more helicopters and blow THEO: LMAO I thought there was just the one helicopter FREDDY: See this is why we’re friends lol FREDDY: You keep me honest

[ soft knocking ] EMILY | Frederick? Are you okay in there? FREDERICK | [ muffled ] Be right out! EMILY | Are you alright? You were gone a while... FREDERICK | Aw, did you miss me? EMILY | Just making sure you didn't fall in.

[ayyyy-le-simp]

Hey pookieesss 🤭

Happy Final Bad Batch Eve. I’m totally not crying.

All day I’ve seen final goodbyes and sad edits. And so to help ease the nerves and anxiety, I come here with some hopefully funny shenanigans. Featuring my beloved Mami again.

My mother has very little knowledge on Star Wars (which relatable, im still learning). And so I’ve asked for her to give me her thoughts on The Bad Batch characters!! I call this ✨ pre-game comfort ✨. Writing this two hours before midnight (it’s 10pm where I live).

Enjoy <33 and everyone thank my beloved mother!! (Spanish lines will be translated, blue print is me)

“I already told you, Rambo.”

“Was he ever shirtless?”

“Unfortunately no.”

“Damn.”

“He’s a 7/10 though.”

“That’s the one who died, right?”

“Pobrecito.” (Poor thing.)

“Cómo se llama?” (Whats his name?)

“Tech.”

“Ahh okay. He died the same way Bucky Barnes died.”

“Bucky Barnes didn’t die though. He came back as the winter soldier.”

“Exactly. And who’s that mystery clone guy?”

“I think that mystery clone is Tech.”

(Guys she supports our delusions.)

I’m typing this on my phone at the moment, and for some reason, tumblr isn’t letting me type under pictures and it’s literally annoying me and I’m too lazy to made separate posts, but stay tuned. But I might make another version on my tiktok 🤭

ANYWAYS

Moving onto Crosshair

“He reminds me of your dad. Bald and tall.”

(I showed my mom the scene of Crosshair sitting by himself in the cafeteria)

“Ay pobrecito.”

Moving onto Wrecker

“He reminds me of Drax. From guardians of the galaxy.”

“I think he would like Pitbull.”

“MR WORLDWIDE!”

“I literally love him.”

“Quién? Wrecker or Pitbull?” (Quién means who)

“Wrecker.”🤭

“Estas loca.” (You’re crazy.)

Moving onto Echo

“What happened to him?! Why does he look gray?”

“He needs to eat some red meat. Get some blood in that skin. That’s some low iron.”

“Yo le daría carne asada.”(I’d give him carne asada.) [steak]

“Echo? Like the movie Earth To Echo. I like that movie.”

Moving onto Omega (my literal daughter)

“She looks like her name would be Estella. Or Estrella.” (Estrella means Star in Spanish)

“I like Omega. It’s a cute name.”

Moving onto Phee

“I like her, she’s voiced by Wanda Sykes. I like Wanda Sykes, she’s funny as hell.”

“She really liked Tech.”

“She and Tech deserved better.”

“In my mind, Tech is not dead, he’s happily married to Phee.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I know.”

“Pobrecita, she didn’t see him around.”

Moving onto Cid

“Isn’t that the puta that snitched them out?”

(Puta means bitch)

“Yeah.”

“Hm. She’s a witch for that.”

BONUS:

CAPTAIN REX✨✨

“…”

“…”

“Que guapo.” (How handsome.)

“…”

“RIGHTT.”

“But he’s a captain?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh no. I can’t go cheating on my Captain America. America’s ass. He’s the only Captain in my life.”

“He can be your space Captain. Space’s ass.”

“Space’s ass.”

“Space’s ass.”

OKAY THANK YOU FOR READING THIS 🙏🏽🙏🏽PRAYERS FOR THE FINAL EPISODE IM SCARED GUYS WE NEED A HAPPY ENDING 😭 😭 🙏🏽 I NEED THEM ALL TO BE WELL AND OKAY AND SAFE OR ELSE I’LL BE A MILITARY WIFE IN MOURNING

[leclercskiesahead]

Pobrecito (piarlos) tracker 2024 after how much fun it was keeping track of last year’s timeline of interactions

Anyway guys for most of last year I was writing ‘probecito’ instead and no one called me out???

- March: at the Bahrain GP fan forum Pierre says he thought the most impressive part of Carlos’ pancake tiktok (implying he has watched said tiktok) was Carlos flipping the pancakes

- this shoulder bump

- talking about the appendix in the AusGP full access

- April: Pierre posting this pic on the first slide in Japan

- May: trying to hold hands????? Hand inside the jacket??

[pedges]

“joel “tex mex is better than anything southern california has to offer” miller “

okay…but i need them to fight on who has the better mexican food (it’s California)

NO BECAUSE. i got tears in my eyes hold on latino joel miller got a vice grip on me

-

“you angelinos got the biggest gotdamn heads, i swear,” joel is grumbling, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear, but you do anyways. he’s sitting there, stabbing his food with his fork like it owes him money, a furrow between his brow and the cutest little pout on his lips. it’s a bit entertaining if you’re being quite honest, because you do this every once in a while just to push his buttons and get a good giggle in. it works—every. single. time.

“s’not my fault you can’t accept the truth,” you say simply, shrugging your shoulders. if he looks at you, and you’re wearing an innocent, impish little grin, well, it’s only because he’ll kiss you twice as hard later on. “i’m not saying it’s bad, joel, just not as good.”

“which is the same as calling it bad.” joel is hard and sturdy as he speaks, but he’s not being mean—you know that. he does just the same sometimes when he riles you up by telling you the astros are better than the dodgers. which isn’t true, you tell him, and his smirk is always as cocky as the one you’re wearing now.

“pobrecito. it’s okay to admit you’re wrong sometimes, mi amor,” you coo. you reach over for his hand and giggle when he swats it away. “you’ve never even had los angeles mexican food, or been part of the la versus san diego debate—so, really i don’t think you have room to talk.”

“‘mi amor,’” he mocks, but you can see the way the pet name makes his eyes soften. it’s minuscule, but you’ve got a keen enough eye to tell. that, and hours of looking at joel’s face has trained you well. “you think i won’t book a ticket to lax right now just to prove you wrong?”

your grin grows as your raise your brows at joel. “you’re bluffing.”

“you’re messin’ with the wrong texan, little girl,” he says, setting his fork down so he can cross his arms and stare you down. you have to ignore the tingles that run up your spine just because this has gone to a completely different level. you don’t falter.

“okay, do it then,” you challenge.

“okay.”

“okay.”

—

the flight to los angeles is three and a half hours long.

sarah, tommy, and god be your witness—

when you’re sitting in some hole in the wall in the middle of east los angeles, grinning from ear to fucking ear, you’re sure joel is going to murder you (or at least something akin to it) later on if the stone faced glare he’s wearing is anything to go off of. that, and the clean plates in front of all three of the millers. (tommy is muttering something about how it’s time for mimis, poor thing.)

but god bless whoever’s abuela is back in the kitchen, because you also know this means you were right.

“say it.” you let out a hmph, arms crossed triumphantly over your chest. “say i was right.”

“cállate,” joel grits. the corners of his lips twitch though, and you smile even wider. “you’re so damn lucky you’re cute.”

you snort, lean over to kiss his cheek, and yeah—you were right.

-

-

(something something sarah says the astros are in town something something joel loses a bet)

[maxchael]

Cold Hands, Warm Coffee

October, 9/23

Some more writing. I like this one a lot more than my first one

Heather’s voice took over the cafe, cool and confident. It was a quiet fall morning and the three University students had just been let loose for a weekend. Heather lived quite far and went to a different university entirely. She still always came by when Alejandro asked.

The air was scented sweetly with pumpkin spice and apple pie. It was sort of overwhelming for Jude, who was invited, but felt unwelcomed. Heather and Alejandro spoke with purpose. They spoke with utmost enthusiasm and endearment. Jude hugged himself tight;it was colder than he’d like. His head bounced back and forth between the other two’s conversation.

Alejandro spoke with his hands, his words, his eyes. He was an incredibly articulated person. Heather, on the other hand, spoke what he meant. She was quick and to the point, sometimes using body language. Jude knew this because he has third wheeled far too many times.

“What’s up with you?” Heather asked, pointing right at him.

Jude grumbled “are you not cold?”

“I’m not anaemic, Jude” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Well I am”

Alejandro interjected “We’ll get our drinks in a bit”

“That would’ve been great if Judy here didn’t get a cold drink” her tone was incredibly demeaning.

Jude frowned and melted into his seat, biting down on his entire bottom lip;earning a little laugh out of Heather. His hands shook violently, as well as most of his body. Alejandro snaked his hand up Jude’s sleeve, smiling, a slight crease in his forehead as he did so.

“We can trade drinks, mi amado” he comforted.

Heather gagged, pointing at her own mouth “you two are insufferable.”

Jude mumbled and bit down on his thumb, “It’s not like it means anything.”

Alejandro clicked his tongue and stared at Heather before they went back into a quiet conversation. They usually spoke about personal matters, classes, and family lives. Jude didn’t enjoy talking about himself, he just enjoyed being around Alej. Sometimes he worried that Alejandro liked Heather more than Jude himself. He most likely did.

Their drinks came out, and immediately the three broke into giggles.

“Okay, Alexander,” Jude laughed.

“How could they possibly mess that up? That bad? Really? I can’t believe people” Alejandro groaned

“Well it’s Jude’s now anyways. A warm drink for your amor” Heather tilted her head with an

eye roll, her hair falling over shoulder. There was a comfortable silence.

“I got you that sweater, Didn’t I?” Heather grinned “it looks really good on you”

Jude felt his face flush, it wasn’t often he got compliments, especially from HEATHER of all people. “Thank you” he looked to the side, at Alejandro, who was sliding over the warm drink. Jude reached out for it, and the other enveloped his hands with his own.

“Jesucristo! You really are cold, pobrecito” he cooed. They held each other's hands, both wrapped around the warm drink. A warm feeling pooled into Jude’s chest, He looked right at Alejandro. His beautiful silky hair was tucked up into a bun, and his eyes were half lidded and fiery.

“Ugh! If you guys are going to kiss, just do it!” Heather complained loudly, getting a few looks from others. They both quickly snapped away from each other, Alejandro more so collected, but Jude looked like a scared animal. His face a blotchy crimson and his eyes wide as he took a sip of his drink; both hands around it tightly.

A warm drink for his cold hands, and also maybe his cold little heart.

[hearts4osita]

Hi! I was scrolling on my tik tok and saw a couple of videos with oldies playing and I started thinking..what would be some oldies Zoro would play for his s/o? Would there be a song in particular he dedicates his s/o to? I 💓 your work btw!! Glad to see you back! ^_^

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ zoro x oldies (zoro oldies music headcanon)

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ a/n:OMG YESSSSS YESSSS!!!! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE TURN IT UP!!! BITCHESS!!! Gracias amor!! I’m so happy to be back. tell me bear is American without telling me bear is American: SPRING BREAK lemme stop embarrassing myself anyways!!’ Thank you so much for loving my work! I love you!

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ - so for zoro I definitely think about so many oldies for him so he’s such a physical top and emotional bottom fr y’all can’t tell me otherwise

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ I definitely think smile now cry later by sunny and the sunliners “i smile for my friends and cry later.” Those lyrics hit him the hardest because he’s not that type of person to show his true emotions to anyone but to his crew mates and his s/o.

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ somebody loves you by the delfoics is a song he’ll for sure dedicate to you and play for you. Because it’s a good song in eyes

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ what would your daddy say by the earles inc. is a must to play when he’s sharpening his swords, or humming while taking his naps in the crows nest.

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ ahora te puedes machar (Spanish version of i only want to be with you by dusty spring) cover by le surfs. he’ll proudly sing this song in the shower. if sanji hears him singing along, by walking in and eagle screeching. pobrecito chopper to have to help sanji recover from zoros ass beating, but it’s worth it in his eyes

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ im your puppet by james and bobby purify: yes just yes. once he’s in love there’s no one else in his eyes but his s/o. he’s a man of his word. no one else just you

˗ˏˋ꒰🎧꒱ the tears of a clown by smokey robinson and the miracles. zoro has clown energy sometimes don’t even try to defend him. it’s cute for him to be obsessed with oldies tbh