#great job masking up though

[cosmosis]

based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you. 

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat. 

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.  

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy. 

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you. 

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do. 

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront. 

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say. 

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

 Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you. 

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person. 

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.” 

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission. 

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest. 

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears. 

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there. 

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it. 

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing. 

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you. 

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“ 

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates. 

You raise your eyebrow. 

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory. 

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.  

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article. 

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #lyla #atsv miguel o'hara #x reader #reader inser #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #yandere oc #possesive #misstycloud oc #yandere husband #vampire hunter husband #vampire reader #wife reader #vampire wife reader #yandere x reader #toxic #yandere husband x wife reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere imagine #fantasy #yandere human x vampire reader

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (II)

Summary: Things get complicated, but you find yourself sharing a bed with Miguel… once again. Too bad someone else is in the room.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Sharing one bed. Semi-public. Blue balls. Sexual tension. Mutual masturbation. Creampie. Implied cockwarming.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1. (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one, though)

You were fucked.

Extremely fucked.

Not only had the anomaly managed to slip through your fingers, effectively disabling the trackers scattered around, but you were also fucked, because now you were left to deal with the aftermath of a very intimate encounter with Miguel.

It was nearly five in the morning and the night was nowhere near being done. Fortunately, it had stopped raining, which helped with visibility and grip, and having Lyla assist you as in replacing the faulty sensors was also very much welcome.

“Sensor 24 up and running,” the AI’s sing-song voice announced, as the device bleeped green.

You leapt over the railing, shooting a string of web to the side of the hotel, so you could swing through the window.

As you landed with a clumsy thump, you noticed Miguel had already gotten back from his reconnaissance check.

He looked positively… pissed off.

Great.

“Lyla, call her,” her grumbled, checking his watch.

“Already did,” she announced, appearing by his shoulder. “Want me to run a diagnostics of the perimeter once again?”

“Do it in five minute intervals,” he said flatly. “The anomaly must be nearby.”

You removed your mask and considered sitting on the bed, but were soon reminded that not even thirty minutes ago, you were getting fucked by Miguel.

A shudder ran through your body.

“You okay?” he asked, his narrowed eyes on you.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

The problem with having impromptu sex was that now you were left to deal with the soreness between your legs, and the frustration of an orgasm that never came to be.

Did Miguel feel the same way?

Your eyes roamed his body, and you find yourself glaring at his-

“Hey! I need you to focus,” Miguel said with a snap of his fingers. “There’s still a chance we deal with it tonight.”

You were about to snap back when a loud distorted buzz filled the room, swirls of flashing lights nearly blinding you, as the inter-dimensional portal expanded quickly in pulsating waves.

Through came Jessica Drew, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel growled, pointing at Peter.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening in confusion.

Miguel wasn’t known to be a very patient man, and you reckoned his patience was now hanging by a thread. “I called for Jess. Not you.”

Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Easy, Miguel. We were both on the same mission.”

He straightened up, but crossed his arms. “Right.”

“Care to explain why I had to leave to be here?” she went on, resting on hand on her swollen belly. “How did you lose track of the anomaly?”

He exchanged a brief look with you. “The sensors didn’t alert us in time.”

That was true.

“Weren’t you supposed to be monitoring, regardless?”

“We dozed off,” you chimed in. “Momentarily! Just for a while.”

Not really true…

Jess glanced at you, suspicion written all over face.

“Sleeping on the job,” she then chuckled, eyeing Miguel deviously. “Didn’t think you’d ever do that, Miguel.”

He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “We weren’t sleeping. We were just resting our eyes for a moment.”

A blatant lie.

“What’s that on your neck?” Peter suddenly asked with a worried look on his face.

Oh….

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the tender hickey spot. “Bug bite.”

“Allergic reaction,” Miguel blurted out at the same time.

Fuck.

You shot him a murderous look.

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?”

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite,” Miguel said with a shrug, growing visibly annoyed.

A wave of relief washed over you momentarily. That seemed plausible enough.

But…

“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile. “What bug? A spid-”

But Miguel was already cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this!”

Peter walked to you, craning your neck to the side. “You should have it checked. It looks serious.”

Ah, Peter… ever the innocent.

“Jess, you stay with us,” Miguel says, dragging Peter away from you at once. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”

She frowned. “No. Peter stays. I need to get some sleep,” she said, patting her belly.

“No!” Miguel growled.

“Actually, I was thinking of heading back home,” Peter drawled out, rubbing the back of his head. “Mayday should be waking up soon.”

“And I’m pregnant,” Jess shot, holding her chin high.

Peter swallowed and fell silent. The deal was sealed.

“Lyla, any updates?”

The hologram popped up instantly. “No, boss.”

Jess glanced over at you one last time, before stepping into the portal once again. “You should really have that checked. Whatever bug did that seems… vicious,” she then slipped into the vortex, which vanished behind her.

You momentarily froze in place, feeling the dread of realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.

She knew.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter drawled out with a yawn and a stretch, disappearing into the bathroom.

The moment you heard rhe door click shut, you turned to Miguel.

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite?” you hissed.

He scowled deeply. “Because simply saying bug bite sounded ridiculous.”

“She didn’t believe it, regardless.”

Miguel was suddenly towering over you, his face twisted in annoyance. “Then why does it matter?”

“Because… you gave me a visible hickey!”

It was a silly thing to get upset about. There were worse things in life than having Miguel O’Hara marking you as a result of built up sexual tension.

But you didn’t want to give in.

“Got carried away,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…”

He cleared his throat. “But I have a problem.”

You looked up at him. “What problem?”

“Well…” he said, glancing at the bathroom door.

“Peter?”

“No!”

You clicked your tongue. “Then what?”

His placed both hands on his hips and glanced down.

Your eyes followed suit.

Oh.

Oh.

“What? Why are you… what?” you stuttered in disbelief at the sight of the outline of his hardened cock.

“Biology, remember?” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not going away.”

You somehow managed to tear your eyes from the impressive bulge. “Go jerk off, then!”

He had you walk back until you hit the wall behind. “It won’t go away.”

Had you just given Miguel blue balls?

“How’s that my problem?” you huffed, staring intensely into his crimson eyes.

“This is all your fault.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were blaming Biology.”

Before Miguel could retort, the sudden squeak of a door being swung open, had you slipped past him.

Peter emerged, eyeing you both. “Oh, I see what this is.”

Miguel had to move strategically in order to hide his raging boner from him. “What do you mean?”

“I know what’s up with you two,” Peter said, with a playful grin. “All the whispering and whatnot.”

Great.

Were you two that transparent?

“Huh…”

Miguel had pursed his lips.

Peter paced closer to you, eyeing you with a knowing smile. “You’re deciding on Jessica’s birthday present, right?”

You blinked a few times and heard Miguel exhale nearby.

“Right? I knew it!” he threw his arms in the air as if he’d just won the lottery.

In truth, you were simply baffled at how innocent Peter could be. The immediate weight that was lifted off your shoulders was enough to draw a laugh from you.

“Sure!”

“Of course, Peter,” Miguel said, voice dripping with his trademark sarcasm. “We went on this mission, so we could go through birthday checklists.”

A layer of pride settled on Peter’s face. “Ah! You’re growing soft, Miguel.”

You winced at his poor choice of words.

“But fear not!” he said as if he was about to fight off the anomaly himself. “We’ll take turns watching. You two can get some rest and properly plan it out,” he then pinched his thumb and index finger together and dragged them across his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Miguel didn’t budge at first, but you were all too grateful to stop this insane conversation altogether.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Of course,” he smiled widely, pacing to the open hotel window, leaping into the the sky night.

You shot Miguel one last look before slipping inside into the comfort of the bedsheets, welcoming the softness.

But you were sorely mistaken if you thought Miguel wouldn’t have followed you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two.

You had turned to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint, and leave you be.

But once you felt his erection pressing into your ass, you knew you were a goner.

There was something extremely empowering about having a man like Miguel be so needy and desperate.

He scooted closer until his breath fanned your ear. “Can you just…”

You scoffed, pride swelling inside you. “Go ask Biology to jerk you off.”

“Whawt?”

“You keep blaming it, so…”

Silence fell between you two.

His hand then came to grip your hip. “It’s you.”

“I didn’t catch that,” you said, feeling his thumb rubbing gently, as he pushed the top half of your suit increasingly higher.

He rolled his hips into you, letting out a shaky moan in your ear that had your skin raise with goosebumps.

You flipped onto your other side to fully face him, and Miguel immediately took your lips with his, kissing you hungrily.

His hand dragged the fabric all the way up until he managed to expose one breast, breaking the kiss only to move down to suck on your hardened nipple.

The thought that he might be too much vaguely crossed your mind. For the second time that night you were meeting a side of Miguel that you had never seen before.

A side you much preferred.

Your fingers dragged through his hair, silently praising him.

In no time, you watched his digital suit disintegrate, giving you full access to the beautifully sculped body underneath.

He gripped your wrist and lowered it until your fingers grazed his cock. Knowing fully well what he craved, you wrapped them around it, earning an immediate jerk of his hips.

“Miguel…” you moaned, letting him freely fuck your hand, spilling more and more precum.

He released your nipple and had his forehead resting on your shoulder, his hand on top of your, making sure you squeezed tighter and tighter.

It didn’t take long for your hand to be soaked with precum, making it easier for him to slide up and down.

You squeezed involuntarily and a gush of wetness spilled into your underwear, your body yearning for him to fill you up with his cock.

He moved his hips deliciously, and you focused on taking in the wet sounds that filled the room as well as his breathless grunts.

But such bliss was short-lived as you heard Peter bolting into the room with a swish of his web.

Well…

Miguel immediately stilled, letting go of your hand.

You didn’t let go of his cock, instead peeking over his shoulder only to find Peter rolling out a sleeping bag on the floor.

He then turned to face you, and your head immediately slumped against the pillow, eyes on Miguel’s.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Peter’s voice was but a whisper. “Your heart rate is accelerated.”

Ah… spider senses.

“Yeah… I’m just a bit tense… it’s fine,” you muttered, feeling Miguel’s cock twitch in your hand. “Go get some rest. I’ll take over.”

“Oh! Thank you,” he beamed. “Mayday has been giving us terrible nights, and I could use a few minutes.”

You watched as he fluffed out his pillow before settling down on his back with a yawn.

Miguel’s breathing has steadied momentarily and you eventually let go of him.

But he quickly got a hold of your wrist.

The implication of that action wasn’t exactly subtle and you widened your eyes.

“No,” you mouthed right away.

His crimson eyes had darkened and you spotted his fangs from behind his lips.

You shook your head vehemently.

This was a bad idea.

But as soon as Peter’s snores tore through the room, you felt your heart clench.

“Peter is right there… he will hear it!”

He pressed an urgent kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be quiet. I’ll help you be quiet,” he promised, pressing his cock further into your already soaked crotch.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as you were about to let out a low whimper, you felt his hand cover your mouth, effectively reigning it in.

“Quiet.”

The other travelled down painfully slowly, palm grazing your exposed breast briefly, before resting just above the waistline of your suit.

“You have to be quiet,” he warned in a barely audible tone.

You nodded and he lifted his hand from your lips.

“We shouldn’t…” you muttered under your breath.

But your words were not matching your actions, as you dragged your hand covered in precum across his hard chest, taking your time to gently rub his nipple with your thumb.

You thought Miguel had stopped breathing altogether, but soon realised he was merely attempting to hold back a moan.

His fingers quickly slipped past the the waistline, finding your clit and drawing small circles. You had to bite your lip hard to suppress a whimper, rolling your hips into him.

You found his cock again, gripping it desperately and giving him a few pumps that matched the tempo of his strokes.

The thrill of indulging in such experience even when someome else was in the room, and with the increased chances of being caught, merely added to the pleasure you were already feeling.

“You’re doing good,” Miguel praised you through a shaky breath. “So good…”

Impatience took over and you wiggled out of your bottom half of the suit, allowing you to grant him betterr acces, as hou parted your legs.

He immediately seized it and slipped one finger inside.

You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from groaning, eyes fluttering shut.

His breath was on your ear again. “Can you take one more?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. A second finger immediately joined the first one, slinding inside effortlessly.

Feeling that you had managed to keep yourself under control, you dropped the hand covering your lips to grip his cock.

“And another one?”

You shook your head, fearing that would be too much. He pressed a kiss to your neck with a sigh, as he fucked your hand in a slow rhythm.

The knots of pleasure in your lower abdomen let you know that you were headed towards the precipice. You kept on riding his fingers relentlessly, your mind suddenly hazy from the feeling of being so full of him already.

“I’m close…” he mouthed, his breath shaky and cock twitching.

He had bared his fangs, and you thought you’d combust on the spot, realising he was truly overwhelmed with pleasure.

Finding your voice again, you whispered sensually, “Where do you want to cum?”

His eyed widened, pupils fully blown.

Your hips faltered briefly, grazing your clit across the palm of his hand. “Inside?”

He pressed his eyes shut and dug his fangs into his lower lip. “I won’t last.”

“I know,” you moaned, dragging thumb across his tip, feeling more droplets of warm precum coating your skin.

Peter suddenly let out a loud snore that made you jolt.

“Are you close?” Miguel asked.

“I’ll be with you inside me.”

You shifted on the mattress, and he removed his fingers from you at once, a wet sound filling the room.

Your body shuddered from the loss, but you soon felt his tip proding your entrance.

Before you could take another breath, he jerked his hips and slipped past your fold effortlessly.

His hand was on your mouth again, and this time you could taste yourself, as he struggled to keep your moans at a minimum.

It was also evident the sudden position was taking a toll on him. His steady pace was faltering with each passing second.

You soon entered the familiar point of no return, feeling an intense wave of pleasure tear from within you, blinding your vision with each pulse and contraction. It took all of your not to moan out loud even against his hand, the few shreds of sanity having a hold on you.

Miguel joined you, clearly not able to withstand the rhythmic squeezes around his cock as you reached your high.

Your caught a glimpse oh him biting the back of his other hand hard. He would for sure draw blood with his fangs, but you couldn’t even stay properly focused.

He bottomed out as deep as he could, spurts of cum coating your squeezing walls.

The two of you were struggling to breathe, shallow pants surrounding you.

“Oh my god! Butterfly!”

Peter…

You jerked away from Miguel in distress but with him still buried deep inside you, catching a glimpse of Peter sitting on the floor, breathing rapidly.

“Go back to sleep. It was just a dream,” you said with a smile.

Miguel pulled you into an embrace. “You did good.”

“Me? Not Biology?”

He scowled deeply.

“You can slide out now…” you whispered with a yawn.

Miguel didn’t move. “I want to stay a little longer likes this.”

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words

fic masterlist previous five pt six next part

mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.

Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.

As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."

"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.

You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.

You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."

"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."

"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.

You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"

"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.

You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"

"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.

You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."

"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.

You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"

Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."

You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.

"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.

Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."

"Hobie."

But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."

;;

You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.

"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.

"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.

"Apparently I'm not fired?"

"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."

"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"

Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.

"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.

"Actually a lot has happened."

"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."

Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."

"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.

Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."

"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."

And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.

Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.

You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?

Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.

When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.

But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.

It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.

You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”

Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.

Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.

You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.

You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.

“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”

“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.

“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.

Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.

“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.

“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”

“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.

Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.

Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.

“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”

“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.

“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.

Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.

Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.

“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.

You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.

“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”

“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.

Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.

“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”

You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”

A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”

Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”

“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.

“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”

“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.

“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.

“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”

“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”

“And it still is.”

“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.

But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.

“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”

“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.

“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”

And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.

Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.

There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.

And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.

But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.

So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.

He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.

At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.

“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”

“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”

You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.

“Many people use phones for different thin—“

Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”

You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.

“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.

Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.

;;

A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.

You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’

“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.

“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.” You did feel bad.

“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”

“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.

“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.

You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”

“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.

“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.

“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”

“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.

“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.

You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.

“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Am I?” He again prays innocence.

“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”

“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.

“What?”

In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.

“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.

“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.

“Find what strange?”

“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.

“I’m not following.” You say slowly.

“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.

“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.

“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.

“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.

“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“

But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.

“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.

As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.

Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.

But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.

Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.

“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”

Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.

You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.

You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.

“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”

“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.

“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.

“Quiero ir a la feria.”

“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.

After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.

Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.

And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.

“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.

You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.

Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.

“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.

Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.

Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.

The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…

“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.

Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”

“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.

He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”

“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”

You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.

You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.

Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”

Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.

He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.

ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad

this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them

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#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman

[wttcsms]

these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

[cultrise]

HATE FUCKING. PROWLER!HOBIE

⚝ CONTENTS NSFW, rough sex (consensual), reader gets manhandled, a little dumbification, degradation, hobie has a frenum & a lorum piercing ᵎᵎ wc 2.5k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

24 days, 18 hours and 4 minutes have passed since you and your now ex-boyfriend, hobie brown, have broken up.

life being hobie’s girlfriend wasn’t always pink. he didn’t like to open up that much, you often felt like he kept secrets and he always ignored any problems that arose in the relationship. and even though you loved each other, even though the relationship was great overall and the sex was amazing, the last straw was finding out that hobie was none other than the vigilante ‘the prowler’, which was hunted down heavily by police.

it all happened when you came across a box of interesting gadgets and designs, detailed schematics and tools to use for building them. now sure, you had some suspicions for a while about what hobie’s actual job entailed but hearing it out of his mouth was like getting stabbed. it wasn’t necessarily the information that he was indeed the prowler that gutted you, but more-so the absolute audacity of this man to put his life at risk and lie to you about it.

it all ended up becoming a huge fight that lasted for hours, time in which you insulted each other to the bone, yelled until your lungs gave out and threw everything you could get your hands on at each other. you were devastated. sure, your relationship might not have been perfect, but how did hobie expect for you to trust him if he couldn’t trust you with a part of his own identity? the summary of the fight resulted into you two breaking up in an ugly way and having the worst meltdowns possible because of it.

now, after so many days, you had finally tricked yourself into believing the outcome was for the best. you had stashed every item that had ever belonged to hobie into a box and placed it into the corner of your closet, saying you’ll throw it out when you get the time. obviously, that never happened, as you always found new excuses not to. you were sure you hated hobie.

and in retrospect, hating him was better than acknowledging how badly still loving him hurt. you dreaded the nighttime because you knew the moment you cuddled up in bed you were met with memories and dreams of him that would just not leave you be. even his pillow had lost all scent of him.

you entered your apartment with a sigh, tossing your keys on the couch. it had been a long day, with a long shift at work and even though your stomach was rumbling and your house was a mess, the only thing on your mind was slipping out of those clothes and get into bed. as you removed your jacket you heard the sound of footsteps against the floor. you looked around, panicked. no.. must’ve been coming from outside? until, you hear it again.

you quickly grab a knife from the kitchen, holding it in a trembling hand as you make your way to the source of the sound: your bedroom. as you step in you see a tall, shadowy figure going through your closet and you raise your hand, to strike. with a sudden shift you feel a hand go to your wrist, a tight grip making you drop the knife to the floor. you were about to scream before one large hand dropped over you mouth and you felt the familiar scent of cigarettes hit your nostrils.

“what the fuck, woman? are ya’ insane?” hobie half-yells as he takes a step back, letting you take the information in. he was there. in front of you. in your room. he looked,, awful. “what the fuck are you doing in my house?” you say between grit teeth as his face softens and he sighs “i uh.. came t’.. get my stuff” his eyes trail to the prowler mask that lay on your desk.

“you could’ve called. i thought i was getting robbed!” you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrow “i did. y’blocked my fucking phone number!” oh yeah. you did do that. oops. you play with your fingers anxiously “right..” hobie says with a big breath as he turns around to the closet “okay, maybe stop going through my stuff?” you place a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. hobie watches you with wide, confused eyes.

“i wasn’t? i’m lookin’ for my stuff because i know this is whe’e you keep your shit! stop making a fuss out of anythin’ “ he groans as he turns again “oh, i’m making a fuss?” “oh great, there we go” hobie scoffs as you grab him by his jacket “you listen to me. you don’t get to come to my house uninvited and start bitching. now move over so i can give you your shit and leave. i’m sick of you” you push him to the side with a hiss, starting to look for his box of things.

hobie rolls his eyes, trying not to let his demeanour drop. he didn’t come over with the thought of getting back together, even if it was permanently on his mind. but hearing you treat him like that.. it hurt. he sat himself down on your chair, propping his legs up on the desk as he waited.

after a short amount of time you pull the box out, placing it on the table with a loud bang “there. it’s all in here” hobie gets up and starts going through it with pursed lips “is this?…” he asks wide-eyes as he takes out a studded bracelet with your initials on it, his first ever gift to you “yeah.. it is.. i have no use for it anymore so feel free to give it to someone else” you cross your arms, not meeting his stare.

hobie did not consider himself a sensitive person at all. yet in that moment it was as if glass shattered into his toracic cavity and pierced through his every muscle “give.. give it to someone else?” he scoffs in disbelief “i gave this to you” he says as he holds a hand out, trying to see if you’re going to take it or not. you shake your head after a few moments of hesitation “no. i dont need it. and in case you havent realised it yet, i hate you. so please, be on your way” you gesture to the door.

this time, hobie is overcome by rage “say tha’ again?” your eyes finally meet his, watching them get darker “what? that i hate you?” you almost feel hobie’s patience snap in half “you hate me now, d’you?” he spits out. you, however, hold your ground “yeah. i do. i think i made myself pretty clear” a hand flies to your wrist once again, pulling you closer “i think you need to stop lying to y’self”

you try to pull yourself away from his grip “hobie! let go!” the man just towers over you, his presence now more intimidating than ever “no. i am sick and tired of this bullshit. you hate me tha’ much? then why haven’t y’thrown this shi’ away?” he points to the box of things, making you bite down on ur lip “you want t’play that game? fine. y’re nothing but a liar” he hisses as you turn to him, in shock “i’m the liar?! me?! after all of the years you have lied to me about being the prowler?!”

hobie lets out a low chuckle as he moves away from you “you still hung up on that, huh?” “still hung… hobie, the main reason of our breakup was the fact that you lied to me! you led me to not be able to trust you, do you even hear yourself?!” hobie’s hand grips at the table, the veins on his arms pulsating. “i did that to fucking protect you! y’think i liked leaving secretly every night to patrol the streets just so i make sure y’re safe?! no! but i did it anyway. fuck…”

you blink at him in bewilderment. your lips part, but no sound comes out of your mouth as your neck goes dry “you want to say y’hate me? fine. go right ahead. i can lie like tha’ too” you had never seen him so angry before. your hands tremble as you try to reach for him, not because you’re afraid, but because you don’t know what to say. “hobie..” you choke out his name.

you don’t even realise when hobie takes ahold of you, pushing you to a wall and kissing you like he’s starved, attacking your lips and biting them every chance he gets. you don’t take long to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in even more as your teeth clash together. his hands roam your body, fingers finding their way to the zipper of your jeans before he pulls them off. you break off the kiss, lips parted and face flushed with need as you follow suit and take off your top and unclasp your bra.

hobie watches you as you do so before scoffing “hate me but are quick t’get undressed the moment i get handsy? fuck, this is such a joke” he grunts before picking you up with ease and throwing you on the bed, flipping you on your stomach and climbing on top. you’re so wet. you shouldn’t be this wet. anyone else would be absolutely terrified with the way hobie was acting. yet you knew him too well, you knew his frustration came from missing you so much, from you telling him that you hate him when you clearly didn’t.

his hands grab at your hips as your face gets pushed down into the mattress and you moan the second you feel his bulge press against your clothed pussy “hate me, yeah? you’re nothing but a needy slut, lookin’ fo’ attention” his hands travel to your breasts, pinching at your nipples. your body shudders at the feeling “p..please, hobie– “ “please? please what?” “i need you” “do ya’?” a low chuckle “ain’t that funny”

he moves one of his hands to you panties as he slowly drags them down to reveal the mess underneath. your arousal drips down your thigh “fuck me, y’re so fucking dirty. a dirty liar, that’s what y’are” hobie growls before inserting two fingers into your cunt. you grip at the sheets, a long moan dropping from your lips as you raise your ass up even more so he can go deeper. unfortunately for you, that doesn’t happen, as hobie’s fingers suddenly leave your pussy and he watches as your hole clenches around nothing, in desperation “she wants me so bad, doesn’t she?” he purrs as you whine.

with a tug at your shoulders he lifts your upped body up, making you turn around to face him “clean this shit off” he gestures before you obediently suck on his slicked fingers, looking up at him. hobie lets out a sharp breath as his dick strains against the fabric of his boxers “you hate me?” he asks when you’re done, before grabbing your jaw and pulling you closer “nah.. i hate you” and he turns you around, pushing your head back into the mattress as he slips his pants off.

soon enough he slams into you, fingernails digging into your hips as you moan in the fabric of your sheets “hob.. hobie.. ahh.. oh god!” you scream as you try to adjust to his size. it had been a long time since you had fucked him and taking him all at once was a bit hard to do. but you were so aroused you couldn’t think straight, you wanted him to fuck you so bad it quite literally hurt “strugglin’ t’ take all of me in? missed this cock, did you, you slut? fuck.. i hate you” he mumbles as he goes faster, his lips stuttering at every stroke.

you soon become to fucked out to even think as hobie’s tip pressed against you g-spot just right. you move a hand between your legs, pressing two fingers to your clit as you try to get off, moaning into the sheets “look at you, tryin’ t’get off like a little slut. wann’cum that bad?” you whine as your digits drag over your puffy clit, your insides being absolutely destroyed with hobie’s pace and the way his piercing’s rubbed against your gummy walls.

“it’s too much, hobie… please” you manage to get out as he lets out a low chuckle “you’re begin’ me now? y’can take it” and you realise he’s right, that it would’ve been so much more painful for him to pull out at that moment and leave you there, hot and bothered, unable to pleasure yourself the way he did. and you knew the reason that hobie didn’t pull a stunt like that was because he was close, maintaining his pace as he starts to fuck up his words.

“such a.. f..fuck… such a dirty whore.. i hate you.. mhm.. i hate you so much” he groans as he throws his head back, adam’s apple bobbing up and down “say you hate me” hobie says as he slaps your ass, the sharp sting making you whine “i… i hate you” another slap “say it properly” “i ha… oh god, hobie!” you scream as you feel yourself come closer to orgasming. another slap “properly” tears stream down your eyes as, with a final rub to your clit you cum all over his cock, ruining your sheets.

hobie looks down at you as you drop limp on the bed, panting and too fucked out to utter proper words. he watches as your mouth opens but no words come out and he smirks “pathetic, ain’t ya’?” you bite your lip as you close your eyes, the words finally escaping your swollen lips “i love you” and hobie’s eyes widen, his pupils dilate and his heart thumps against his chest. you raise yourself, propping your upper body on your palms as you push your ass back, fucking yourself into his cock. the action catches him off guard, making him let out a guttural grunt of pleasure.

“want you to cum in me” you look back at him, begging him to keep fucking you. it doesn’t take long for hobie to comply to your demands, this time, staying silent. you try not to think of the nature of his silence and the reasons for it as his hips snap into yours. his strokes quickly become uneven and hobie parts his lips, staggered breaths coming out from between them.

“shit..” hobie moans as he grips your hips again, body shuddering all over as he shoots his cum inside of you, watching it drip from your pussy as he pulls out. you turn your whole body around, your back pressed against the bed as you caress his cheek with one hand. his eyes close slowly while you caress his cheekbone “i’m sorry” you whisper as his eyes open again, deep dark eyes staring into yours. and suddenly, his whole expression goes all soft, eyes closing again “so am i”

“i love you, hobie” you repeat your former affirmation as he caresses your waist and pulls a blanket on top of you. his lips find their way to your forehead, applying three gentle kisses “i love you too”

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#✦— kinktober. #𐙚 — pages. #𐙚— dreamscape. #hobie #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader smut #prowler!hobie #prowler hobie #prowler!hobie x reader #prowler hobie x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober '23

[lnfours]

bucket hat protector ™️ | l.n

summary: a blurb about how you’re the only one lando trusts with his bucket hat

warnings: fluff, language, currently signing my soul over to this boy.

masterlist | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the garage was busy, buzzing with excitement as the start of the qualifying race neared closer and closer. you had seemed to somehow lost your boyfriend in the sea of orange, but the quick glimpse you got of the highlighter yellow bucket hat caught your attention. you made your way through, smiling as his eyes met yours and he reached out to pull you closer to him.

“there you are,” you smiled, “lost you for a second, but thankfully you’re very hard to miss.”

you tapped the brim of the bucket hat that sat on top of his curls. he smiled back down at you, taking off his hat before plopping it down onto your head.

“and now it’s your job to protect it with your life.”

you put a hand over your heart playfully, the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet snaking around your wrist, “lando norris is trusting someone with his hats? oh, it’s such an honor.”

he smirked down at you, “only you, baby. no one else.”

you smiled, reaching up and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. the smiles got too wide, your lips breaking the kiss as you brushed back a loose hair from his forehead, “i love you.”

“i love you,” he said, tugging the mask over his head before slipping the helmet on, “i’m serious about my hat though.”

you giggled, helping him do the straps under his chin, “i know, trust me, it’s in good hands.”

his eyes were squinted, a sign that he was smiling in the helmet.

“2 minutes!”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “good luck, i’ll be here cheering you on.”

he nodded, “i love you.”

“i love you.”

you let him slip out of your grasp as he made his way over to the car. as he walked by, you gave oscar a high five, a new pre-race ritual for the two of you, but this time he called back over his shoulder.

“he put you in charge of the hat? you’re a lucky girl!”

you laughed, backing up toward the back of the garage as they rolled the cars out to get started on the race. it was a rainy morning, which meant that this race was bound to get interesting.

once it had started, you kept your eyes glued to the screen in front of you. it had felt like it had been ages by the time Q2 came along, taking a deep breath as lando and oscar kept fighting their way through. you held your breath towards the end of Q2, only letting it go when both mclarens were now safely making their way through to Q3.

and it wasn’t long until you were cheering with the rest of the garage as lando finished Q3 in P2. you clapped, the biggest smile on your face as he made his way back into the garage, the team celebrating upon his arrival.

he thanked his team, eyes looking for you behind the familiar faces. but just like you had seen earlier, the highlighter yellow stuck out in the crowd of papaya. now he understood what you meant when you said he was the most identifiable out of everyone.

he made his way to you as you congratulated oscar, taking off his helmet and tugging the mask from his head. almost instantly, he was wrapping his arms around your waist, yours wrapping around his neck as he squeezed you against him tight.

“i’m so proud of you, you did great.”

sure, he he’d heard it before, but it always felt different coming from you. you could tell it felt different for him coming from you when you met his eyes and they were full of adoration.

“thanks to you,” he said, “not only are you my good luck charm, but now you’re my certified bucket hat protector.”

you laughed, reaching up and taking it off before plopping it onto his fluffy, messy curls, “it’s been an honor, my love.”

he leaned down and kissed you sweetly, “i love you.”

“more than the bucket hat?”

he scrunched his nose and twisted his lips in fake, deep thought. you laughed and hit his chest playfully, letting him take your hand as you made your way to the drivers room.

“i guess i can squeeze you at the top of the podium, right above the bucket hat and those little sausages.”

“so what, stroopwafels are P4?”

his eyes widened, “shit, we might have to do some rearranging.”

you rolled your eyes, laugh echoing through the hallway as he smiled down at you, “never change, lando norris. never change.”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris blurb #blurb #fluff #formula 1 blurb #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4

[cordeliawhohung]

pet!au part 2 | ghoap x fem!reader

simon brings you home

cw: stalking, panty/clothing stealing, drugging, kidnapping, non-con touching, nsfw, simon is a freak and johnny is pathetic

Things began to go missing in your apartment around July. 

They were simple things at first. Items that could easily be lost in some hidden crevice you wouldn’t find until you moved out of the place. At first, it started out with clothing, and they were usually items you wouldn’t pay much mind to. When you lost your favorite pair of underwear, you treated it just like you did with your mismatched socks. What a shame. You’ll just have to buy more later. 

Then a pair of underwear became a pair of shorts, which then became a bra, and then a shirt, and then your favorite sweater. It was the one you always wore when it was cold out, and though you hadn’t worn it for months, you noticed its distinct disappearance from your closet. Strange. You swore it was hanging up with the rest of your jumpers earlier that week. Perhaps you had put it in storage and forgot? You’d have to check some other time, you were going to be late to work. 

While you had been plenty attentive when it came to your missing clothing, there were many other things you didn’t notice. Like a shampoo bottle slightly out of place in your shower. Strands of hair untangled from your brush. New scratches on your deadbolt. The masked man who watched you exit your apartment. 

Simon had learned that when it came to obtaining pets, he needed to do the process slowly. Snatching you right off of the streets wasn’t going to accomplish anything if things were too unfamiliar to you. No, he needed to make sure you were comfortable. So he tracked down the brand of toiletries you used, your style of clothing, your sizing, everything. He found those exact brands and bought copies that would greet you when he would finally bring you home. 

Meanwhile, he had an impatient animal at home to satiate, so taking a few personal items couldn’t hurt. What better way to get Johnny acquainted with your presence than having him sleep with the pair of panties he had snatched from your laundry? He was certain he had caught the mutt jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock the other night, but he was just happy to not be pestered into fucking the pathetic thing, so he let it slide. 

There were more important things for Simon to do than fuck Johnny every time his cock got hard, which was often. That was going to be your job, as it seemed like you needed a new one based on the rejection email he saw on your laptop. Looks like that interview you had been dressed up for a few weeks back hadn’t gone all that great, and judging by the dead look in your eyes as you worked the late shift at the bar, you were desperate. 

Good. Desperate pets always made the best listeners. 

At least your top was nice that night. Something Johnny would certainly enjoy seeing you in. Some low cut tank top that attempted to fight off the sweltering heat that lingered in the small confines of the bar. Even Simon had to admit that he felt sweaty and claustrophobic in that place, yet he still refused to remove that thick balaclava. The perspiration caused the skin on your chest to become illuminated under the dull glow of the light fixtures above you, and you were too busy serving drink after drink to pay any mind to the strange bloke hidden in the corner. For such a perceptive pet, you couldn’t manage to see the forest through the trees. Always paid perfect attention to the head on the beers you served, and how clean your station was, but couldn’t taste the pill Simon had slipped into the soda you had sipped on that night. 

Of course, he was patient with it. Didn’t want to slip you anything too early into your shift. Your co-workers were bound to get annoyed with your absence and go looking for you. No, he waited until the patrons dwindled to just a small handful before approaching you to pay for the drink he hadn’t taken a sip of all night. Simon was well aware of the effect he had on people. He was a large man with unkind eyes and a bitter attitude, yet you still put on a brave face and smiled at him as you took the cash from his hand. Didn’t bother to check your drink for tampering before downing the rest like it was a shot when you returned. 

By the time the world started to spin and you felt your dinner from that night wanting to come back up to say hello, Simon was ready. With pupils blown so wide and dilated, it was impossible for you to think straight. Your body didn’t know right from wrong, and so when his arm wrapped around your waist, it didn’t fight against him. Everything you were had been rendered into nothing but a perfect, pliant mess for him. 

It wasn’t until Simon pulled in front of the house that he realized he might have given you too strong of a dose. You hadn’t stirred the entire car ride, and he had to check your pulse to see if you were still breathing, and he was slightly relieved when he felt the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He didn’t even want to imagine the whining he would have to hear from Johnny if he had accidentally killed you. Not to worry. It was best if you were asleep anyway. Johnny would certainly pounce on you otherwise. Cradling you in his arms, your limp body was brought into the house, and Johnny bounded out of the living room the moment the door slammed shut behind him. His eyes were as wide as saucers the moment they landed on your body. You looked so soft. He wanted to dive right into you. 

“Down,” Simon warned.

Johnny’s impatience was drowned out by the static that jolted through his body. This new excitement had his blood coursing through his veins with resurrected vigor. Refusing to give Simon any reason to deny him his new treat, Johnny trailed behind him like a good pup as he brought you into the bedroom. You were placed on the mattress with such care one could have confused you for some prized possession. If he wasn’t afraid you’d shatter, Johnny would have thrown himself on top of you. 

“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Si. A goddamn angel, she is. Please, can I? Let me touch her, I wanna touch her,” Johnny asked, eyes begging for approval. 

Before giving him a reply, Simon’s hand reached for his throat. The thick leather collar that adorned his neck always got twisted around one way or another, and he quickly straightened it out. Silver glinted in the dim lighting of the bedroom as Simon’s thumb swiped across his dog tag. Soap was the name Johnny proudly wore on his collar; one he never even dreamed of taking off. 

“Play nice, yeah?” Simon ordered. 

Johnny nodded, and once he had gotten his confirmation, Simon let go of the leather around his throat. Wasting no time appearing by your side, Johnny laid down next to your motionless body on the mattress where he enveloped you in his embrace. Had you been awake, you certainly would have cried out at his crushing grip, but your unconscious body didn’t know any better. It gave him no reaction as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck where he inhaled long and deep against your skin. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips grinding against your thigh, “smells like heaven too. Christ…” 

Wandering hands pawed at your body, taking things from you in your unaware state that you were sure to miss come morning. But how was he supposed to stop when your supple flesh felt like a divine comfort in the palm of his hand? Simon had gotten you for him. This was his right. This was what he had earned. 

“When will she wake up?” Johnny asked, not bothering to remove his face from your neck. 

“Dunno,” Simon replied, bored. “Have your fun, just don’t fuck her. You hear me, mutt? Keep that fuckin’ cock dry ‘til I tell you, yeah?” 

“Yes sir,” he answered, though it was impossible to fully hide the whine in his tone. 

As Simon’s feet meandered out of the room, Johnny only buried himself further into you. Hands under your shirt, hardened bulge against your thighs — he couldn’t get enough of you. Your scent was intoxicating, and he couldn’t hold back the groans that escaped his mouth while his lips pressed against your jaw. 

“Welcome home, Bonnie.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #dark content #f!reader #pet!au

[silverflqmes]

Hai!! I was wondering if you’d be able/want to/feel comfortable with writing a nsfw cloud x reader? Maybe something sweet, like their first time together as a couple. If you don’t like the request is fine ! I hope you’re having a great day :]

໒⦂ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

notes. hi anon, i have not written nsfw in some centuries so i hope this is decent cuz i definitely lost my touch😭 i wrote the reader as female since that’s what i’m used to writing, given i’m.. well, a girl😵‍💫 hope that’s okay with you</3

genre. nsfw + fluff

tw. virginity loss, hand job, fingering, riding, slight uh pillow princess cloud in the beginning..

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

cloud strife x fem!reader

it was quarter to midnight and the blond still could not find it in himself to sleep. not that he ever could, anyway.. but since he’d gotten with you, sleep came just a little more easily and the nightmares became less frequent.

tonight, however, was a slightly different case.

“cloud..” you mumbled sleepily, lifting your head from his back when you felt him shift against your hold. “still can’t sleep?”

remembering your presence, he blinked in the darkness, feeling your hand on his stomach, which he gently took ahold of, kissing the back of it. “sorry, having a hard time..” he paused to think of a vague excuse, if only to mask his embarrassment. “getting um, comfortable, right now.. nothing to do with you, though.”

his cheeks were twinged with pink under the sliver of moonlight that spilled into your shared bedroom through the curtains, but thankfully hidden from your stare.

while he had said it was strange for him to be the ‘little spoon’, part of him was grateful that he was now..

a pout came to your lips as you urged him to turn over, but he wouldn’t budge — adamant on not being seen. something was.. off. really off.

“cloud, come on- you can tell me. you know i won’t judge you for whatever reason that’s preventing you from sleeping.” you assured, smoothing the hand he wasn’t holding over his arm, comfortingly.

he shuddered unknowingly at the touch, hyper aware of your proximity to him — the way your body had pressed against his back and your light breathing on his neck now.

the fabric confinements constricted in protest, and he willed himself not to make any noises that gave away his sensitivity. why did it have to hit him tonight so suddenly? was it that lack of battling, with his arch nemesis no longer threatening the planet?

“i-it’s nothing.” he shook his head, attempting to steady his tone, but his facade was faltering. “just.. go back to bed, i should fall asleep in a moment or — a-aah.. aaah.”

panic crossed your features at the noise he made as you let go him within seconds, finally catching a glimpse of his expression to see he was not wincing out of agony.. but of pleasure?

curiously, your eyes slid down to his lower half to find him squeezing his legs together for dear life. oh.

“c-cloud, are you — ”

“yes-! fuck, i am..” he breathed out, turning his head to hide his shame in the pillow, but you turned him back over without harming him, pursing your lips together.

“y’know,” you began, heaving a sigh. “you could’ve just said you were feeling things- it’s a normal thing.. instead you had me thinking you had a bad dream again or something.” you shook your head, relief washing over you despite your scolding.

the former mercenary kept his gaze elsewhere, grumbling quietly under his breath. “it’s not so easy to say ‘i’m horny, do something about it’. feels awkward, okay.”

you found yourself rolling your eyes before you pushed yourself up, lavender colored sheets sliding off your body as you moved to situate yourself between his legs. “i suppose it’s blunt, but i don’t mind it. we’ve been together for over a year now.. and have known each other for several more.” you reminded him tenderly, leaning down to peck his lips softly. “if you needed ever needed to.. indulge.. i’m more than willing to do so, at your consent.”

cloud found himself shuddering at the words that spilled over his rosy appendages, rouge splashing across his his nose and cheeks at your boldness. while you had been confident, in contrast to how he behaved and presented himself.. this was a side he had yet to see from you — and goodness.

“but- it’s late..” he muttered back, aware that you had to wake up early to help tifa out at seventh heaven by daybreak. it was tedious work and he knew you weren’t one for getting up at first light.. cutting into your sleep felt criminal.

however your expression seemed unchanging, having made up your mind already, from what he concluded.

“and?” you pressed, hovering over his face. “i won’t be that long, and besides — we live in a society where coffee exists.” you reminded him, clicking your tongue before placing a hand on his hip. “i’ll be fine.”

his back nearly arched at the light caress, but he forced himself to be completely still, eyeing you with furrowed brows for a moment longer before exhaling. “are you.. sure about this?”

a quiet laugh tumbled past your lips as a knowing smile crossed your lips. “would i be offering to help if i wasn’t?”

it was a fair point, and although cloud wanted to continue denying himself for the sake of you getting rest.. he found himself succumbing to his intrusive thoughts the more he stared up at you.

“i guess not.” the blond concurred after a brief silence on his end, averting his mako tinted hues. “you’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

the eager shake of your head was enough of an answer as he closed his eyes in defeat. “okay, fine.. just take it easy on me, it’s..” he paused, pursing his lips together.

“your first time?” you finished in a hum before letting out a giggle when he didn’t answer. “it’s okay, i thought so.” you assured him, hooking your thumbs onto the waistband of his boxer briefs. “if it gets too much, you can tell me.”

a nod of confirmation was all that was needed for you to fully tug down his undergarments, a hiss leaving your lover’s lips as the frigid air caressed his most intimate part.

gingerly, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, never missing the gasp he failed to suppress as you pumped him slowly.

cloud’s hand flew to cover his mouth, eyes squeezing tighter as wave of ecstasy washed over him — gradually erasing the previous discomfort he’d felt.

in all his years, other than that massage back at the wall market of sector six, he’d never been touched in a way like this. a manner that sent bolts and sparks of pleasure down his spine, electrifying him in every possible way.

but the spiky haired male was too shy to ask for help on the rare occasions that he’d found himself pent up. all that fighting quelled any need for sexual release.. but now, with little to no battles to partake in these days, those late nights he’d spend away on deliveries were often occupied by his hand.

“f-fuck, y/n..!” he breathed out, feeling his legs tremble from the pleasure you had created.

you continued at an even pace, sliding your attention back over to boyfriend’s features when he called your name out. “does it feel good?” the answer was abundantly clear, though you felt the need to ask, anyway. couldn’t hurt to be safe.

he nodded his head rapidly, flushed skin glimmering under the glow of the moon. “ngh- f-faster, a-aaah~ please..” he whispered back pleadingly, tears gathering at the corners of his lashes.

it was truly a sight to behold — a part of cloud no one else had witnessed but you. and you had been the reason for his expressions, the noises he made — his reactions.. all of it was by your work.

wanting him to reach his high, to see the stars you had hoped he would see on your first time together, you quickened your ministrations, rolling your thumb over his tip. it was a little adventurous, but his moans was all the encouragement you needed to continue.

in an attempt to address your own aching heat, you slipped two fingers into the thin fabric of your panties, dragging them over your aching bundle of nerves before sliding them into your entrance.

a prolonged sigh escaped your lips, feeling your walls loosen around your fingers with each thrust while your partner became undone at the mixture of his own euphoria and the mere sight of you.

it made him strangely jealous, as he wanted to be the one to please you.

with a shaky breath, he reached down into the drawer of his nightstand for a familiar packet, carefully tearing it open when your breathing transitioned into panting.

you hadn’t even noticed that the self proclaimed ex-SOLDIER removed your hand from his cock, nor had you caught sight of him sliding a condom over himself.

no, it wasn’t until he grabbed your hips and brought you forward that you’d removed your hands at the brush of his tip against your clit, grasping ahold of his shoulders as a whine left your lips. “h-haahh~ cloud..” you drawled out in a needy beg, arching your back just slightly.

and that was all he needed to take you at last, sheathing himself slowly into your warmth.

he brought you impossibly closer to him at the squeeze of you against him, a staggered pant spilling past his appendages as he buried his face into your neck. “s-shit — was that too much?”

“n-no!” you refuted a little louder than planned, shaking your head. “j-just, one second.. a-and you can move..”

despite his worry, he took your word for it, exhaling lowly as he felt you shift.

with another sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder, allowing yourself to nod. “o-okay, i’m good..”

cloud took it as a sign to continue as he pulled out slowly before plunging back into your core at an equal pace, steadily falling into an appropriate rhythm.

the stars you had thought of before in regards to cloud’s pleasure entered your vision at last when he nailed that special spot of yours.

“a-aahh~! cloud-!”

your whines and cries of his name was fueling enough to continue hitting that same spot, feeling you crash down on him harder.

“almost.. t-there..” he reassured you quietly, and perhaps even himself as well.

the knot coiling in your stomach was on the verge of snapping, one thrust away from unraveling completely.

in light of that, cloud captured your lips in a climatic kiss, swallowing your cries of elation when you met your end at last.

covered in a sheen of sweat, the blond gave you two more thrusts before removing himself from your dipping heat, allowing you to collapse against him.

his breath was far from even, yours no better than his own as he gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half lidded. “we should.. probably clean up..”

a tired laugh escaped you, having put together several other phrases he could have started with.. but then you reminded yourself that this was cloud strife — your very awkward, but adorable boyfriend.

“don’t w-worry,” you assured, sucking in another dose of air. “we will..”

notes. good grief i haven’t written smut in ages, i hope this was decent.. i feel like i’ve lost my touch😔 but wishing you a great day too, anon! along with anyone else reading this filth🫡

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#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics. #cloud strife #cloud strife x y/n #cloud strife x you #cloud strife x reader #ff7 #ffvii #cloud ffvii #cloud ff7 #cloud strife smut #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #cloud strife imagine #cloud x reader #cloud x y/n #cloud x you #ff7 x reader #ffvii x reader #ff7 smut #ffvii smut #advent children

[marvelsmylife]

Not As It Seems

Pairing: Rhysand x reader 

Plot: to outsiders they see your life is perfect. Being mated to one of the most powerful high lords and named high lady of the night court everyone thought you were happy (including your mate). What happens when the mask you’ve been wearing finally falls and Rhysand discovers what’s been troubling his darling mate.

a/n This is based on this request. Let me know if you want a part two where Rhysand confronts the person responsible for his mate's suffering.

ACOTAR Masterlist

Prompt List

If someone had told you when you were younger that you would be mated with the high lord of the night court and given the title of high lady you would’ve laughed in their faces. Yet here you were, living every female’s (and some males) dream of being mated to Rhysand.

You met Rhysand one cold autumn morning. You had arrived at your job two hours ago at your bakery when Rhysand strolled in and requested one of every pastry you had for sale. You gave him a puzzled look and asked if he was sure: “Of course I’m sure. I could smell your delicious pastries a few blocks away,” Rhysand responded with a warm smile on his face.

A shy smile crept up on your face at Rhysand’s compliment. While you were used to everyone always complimenting you on your pastries, having your high lord compliment you made you go shy. “I’m flattered,” you sheepishly said while carefully placing the treats in the box.

A surprising look appeared on Rhysand’s face when took the box from your hands and took in your appearance. Mate Rhysand mentally told himself when he realized you were the female he had been dreaming about for as long as he could remember.

Not wanting to scare you off, Rhysand settled with simply asking you out to dinner before slowly revealing that you were mates.

He was grateful he did that. You built your relationship organically, and when he finally confessed that you were mates, instead of resenting him for hiding such a secret, you kissed him and told him how happy you were that you were mates. 

There was only one problem in your relationship, you rarely talked about your family and what you were like growing up. Every time he tried to pry into your past or family, you would always charge the subject or ask him to drop it. He was tempted sometimes to slither into your mind and see what was so bad about your childhood that you refused to talk to him about. 

He didn’t though.

He knew you would resent him if he invaded your privacy in that way just to get an answer. Instead, he’d change the subject to something more pleasant.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell Rhysand about your childhood. To people who didn’t know you personally, they thought you had a great childhood. But the people who truly knew you knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.

While you were still in contact with your mother, your relationship with her was complicated, to say the least. Growing up, your mother would display all the signs of a narcissistic parent. Always finding a way to make your accomplishments hers and insult you when you did something minutely wrong.

It got worse when you were an adult and opened the bakery you still operated. She didn’t ask; she demanded that you give her half of your earnings from the bakery to make up for raising you. You foolishly agreed to her demand even though you were barely making enough to support yourself when you met Rhysand.

Once you had your mating ceremony, Rhysand would beg you to stop working because he had more than enough and then some to support you, but you rejected him each time. You didn’t want to put the burden of supporting your mother on Rhysand, so you told him you just loved your work too much to close it.

Because you were under so much stress with not only running your bakery by yourself but also doing the duties a high lady is supposed to do, you found yourself stretching yourself thin. You couldn’t find a moment in your day to just sit and relax, and when you did, it was only for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, that manifested into you not wanting to do anything during the days you actually managed to get off and started developing depression episodes.

You didn’t want anyone to know you were silently suffering, especially Rhysand’s. He had so much on his plate, and you didn’t want to add to his worries. So you’d force a smile so no one would know; know that you were silently fighting with your mother because she was growing more entitled to your money. Your mental shield was always up and so guarded; not even Rhysand could penetrate it.

You finally hit your breaking point one afternoon when your mother stopped by your bakery and demanded that you tell Rhysand he needed to start paying her money as well. In her words: “His money is your money, and your money is my money.”

Not being able to contain your anger towards your mother, you unleash all the frustration you have had towards her for the past three centuries. By the end of it, your mother dared to slap you across the face and growled: “You ungrateful child! You would have nothing if it wasn’t for me! I should have been Rhysand’s mate so I could have that fortune you have, not you. But seeing as you are his mate, I’m expecting you to give me his money by the end of the week,” before storming out of the bakery and disappearing into the streets of Velaris.

You didn’t know how you managed to get home, but when you did, you had the inner circle panicked with the state you were in. “Y/n. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Mor asked, worry laced in her tone: “Azriel, Cassian, go get Rhysand he’s-”.

Azriel and Cassian were out the door before Mor had a chance to finish her sentence.

Mor and Amren meanwhile tried to get you to sit down with them, but you just brushed them off and disappeared into your bedroom. You knew they meant well, but you wanted to lock yourself in your room.

Not even five minutes later, Rhysand burst through your shared bedroom. Rhysand knelt down and cupped your face: “My darling y/n, please tell me what’s wrong? Tell me so I can help you,” there was a sense of panic in his voice.

“I’m tired Rhysand” you replied blandly. Rhysand remained silent as the other stormed into the room and watched the scene in front of them: “I’m so fucking tired of pretending I’m ok.”

@paankhaleyaar @amara-moonlight @favsrachz

#rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

can we get soft angst hcs of caine comforting a reader who entered the circus but found solace in escaping their old life?

Dang it didn't take long for the requests to come in haha, but yessss I'm eager to write for TADC now!! (just note my hcs/interpretations of the characters will change as more episodes come out).

.......

When you first arrived to the circus not long after Pomni, Caine was worried that you were going to freak out over trying to find an exit (that definitely does NOT exist).

So he just cuts to the chase and states you're stuck here forever. There's no exit doors or hidden portals or secret keys, so you can just give up on returning to your old life altogether.

But you don't look scared in the slightest.

Confused? Yes. Certainly.

However once you've taken in all this information, you just stand there with a smile and a relaxed posture--a display that concerns Caine a lot.

"They seem happy, boss.." Bubble whispers. "Is that a good sign?"

"Not sure. Never seen anybody react this way. Maybe they're just holding it all in and pretending to be fine when they're really no--WOAH, stop the presses!!!" His eyes bulge out of his head/mouth(?) as he sees the tears running down your cheeks. "You're crying more than Gangle does on Tuesday! Is it true that you were masking your emotions????"

"..huh? What..oh no!" You laugh and wipe away the tears, before explaining to the ringmaster that you were indeed very happy.

You spoke of how sad and dull your life was outside of this game.

It was your escape, a comfort, and you've been a huge supporter of its development over the years.

Even in your sleep, you never stopped thinking about it--you always had dreams of being in this very circus, having loads of fun with the other characters and joining their wacky adventures.

So to learn that (somehow) you became a permanent part of the game is literally a dream come true!

Of course, you weren't expecting the presence of the Abstracted and Pomni's constant freakouts, but you couldn't be happier.

Caine was surprised that you remembered so much of your old life (whereas poor Pomni couldn't even recall her own name).

But he sees you're content with starting a new life here in the Digital Circus and grins, eager to plan some exciting fun and games for you to enjoy.

He will, however, make a point to pair you with Pomni so you could help her calm down and show her that being in this virtual world wasn't so bad.

It's probably not the best idea, though, as nothing you say comforts her.

"I mean, your old life could've been really bad and-"

"But what if it was good? What if I had tons of friends and a great family and a successful job and.....oh god..what if I had PETS?!!!" She wails. "Who's gonna take care of them?!!!"

Had she remembered at least one little bad detail from her old life....persuasion would come a lot easier.

But Caine encourages you to keep trying anyways.

#clanask #anonymous #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc caine #tadc caine x reader #caine x reader #platonic #angst #headcanons

[the-black-manor]

Within Temptation

Author: The-Black-Manor

Demon x Trans Male Priest (Pre-transition)

Warnings: Rape, unprotected sex, stolen virginity

Kinks: Demon, priest, corruption, blasphemy, oral, excessive cum, oversized cock, monster cock, bondage, belly bulge, rough sex, age difference, size difference

Terms used: Cunt, cock, balls, cervix, chest, nipples, binder, cockhead, crotch, walls, entrance

Words: 4,002

Note: If you find any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO USE MY WRITING FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN READING. DO NOT PRINT AND BIND MY WORKS, DO NOT REPOST THEM, DO NOT COPY THEM, DO NOT FEED THEM INTO AI, DO NOT SELL THEM, DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

The young priest didn’t arrive at the old stone church until well after dark. He was exhausted from his long journey, but there was nowhere nearby to rest, and he certainly wasn’t going to rest in the church until he was certain there were no malevolent entities present. He stepped out of the cab and stretched before grabbing his luggage and kit and making his way through the crumbling, overgrown courtyard. The front door was unlocked, and he was silently grateful to the family that lived here that they’d remembered to keep it open for him before they fled.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The foyer was dark and foreboding. Previous owners had begun renovating the church into a home years ago, but progress had been halted when strange activity began after unsealing a walled-off room in the cellar. Scaffolding, canvas, tarp, rope, and all sorts of construction equipment had been left behind when the family and crew abandoned the location. There was a large industrial light nearby, and the priest switched it on. The room was no less unsettling bathed in white light. 

As he moved through the home in search of the dining room, dust that had since settled was kicked up once more and made the air hazy. The dining room would work well enough as a sort of “home base” while he investigated the claims of demonic activity. He was no exorcist, just a young priest sent to validate the claims. If he found evidence of activity, he would send for an exorcist. For now, though, all he had was himself, his bible, his crucifix, and his faith.

After he got himself settled, he descended to the cellar, to the newly-excavated room the family claims is a “door to hell”. He scoffed and shook his head. Not likely. A gas leak, perhaps, which is why he had a mask and detector with him. But the detector stayed silent, and when he felt comfortable enough to take his mask off, the air was clean, if a bit stale. He worked his way through the house slowly, paying great attention to each room, making mental notes if anything seemed “off”. 

The only thing he found unusual was that nothing seemed unusual. He shook his head. This was a waste of time. Still, he had a job to do, and he was going to see it through to the end. He kept going. The church was huge, more a castle than anything, and he eventually found his way upstairs to the bedrooms. The doors were all closed, except for one at the very end of the hall.

If there was ever a place to start up here, he supposed that was it. The dusty old runner beneath his feet muffled his footsteps, and he peered into the room as he approached. It was dark inside, but he could make out the silhouette of a bed with a canopy. He hesitated for only the briefest moment before stepping over the threshold and into the master bedroom. The windows either side of the bed were open just a crack, letting in a crisp, fresh night breeze that sent the linen curtains fluttering and rays of silver moonlight that provided just enough light to see by.

This room was different from the rest. There was no dust on the plush red duvet, no cracks in the stone walls or gunk on the windows. No tattered rugs or moth-eaten curtains. Whereas the rest of the church was obviously abandoned, this room looked well cared for. Lived in.

The door closed behind him and the lock fastened with a “click”. He whirled around, and his blood ran cold as his tired gaze met the glowing purple eyes of an undulating shadow. He took a step back. At points, the figure looked almost human, and then its silhouette dissolved and melded with the shadows around it, moving like ink in water.  It was both tangible and intangible, solid and smoke, man and monster.

Its eyes flickered like flame, and it glared at him, and then he thought he saw, for only the briefest moment, the hint of a sharp-toothed smile. 

“Hello, priest,” the entity greeted him. 

Its voice was deep and seemed to burrow into his chest and reverberate around in his rib cage. The priest gripped the crucifix around his neck and lifted it, wielding it like a shield against the darkness. The entity laughed, low and menacing. And then it was gone. Or so the priest thought. He gasped and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt arms snake around him from behind. The demon pulled him close, pressing its chest against his back, and ran its shadowy clawed hands all over the priest’s chest and stomach. 

“Release me!” the priest insisted, writhing in its vice-like grip. 

“Cute,” it cooed, its breath hot on the shell of his ear. “You think you have authority here…”

“In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to- mmph!”

The demon forced two thick fingers into his mouth, silencing him.

“Hush now,” it breathed as its free hand slid down his stomach to his crotch. 

It grabbed him hard and pulled him back into its bulge. He could feel it hardening against his ass. 

It let out a sound then that was somewhere between a purr and a growl. “What’s this?” it asked as it felt between his legs. “No cock? Does the church know about this?” it chuckled. “No, I think not. They wouldn’t let you be a priest if they did.” 

He held his crucifix so tight that the edges of the cross dug into the soft flesh of his palm. He repeated all the prayers he knew in his head, over and over. He wasn’t afraid, but he couldn’t speak with the fiend’s fingers pressing down on his tongue, so he couldn’t fend it off. All he could do was pray. Its claws dug into the flesh of his inner thigh, and then he was in the air. He landed hard on the bed, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. He propped himself up on his elbows, ready to run, and saw the demon approaching slowly, a predator stalking its prey. This was the most tangible it had been. It looked like a man, around six feet tall, with a slim body and long hair that flowed like smoke. He could make out no facial features except for those gleaming eyes, eyes that burned into his very soul and held him in place, like a deer in the headlights. 

The demon leaned forward to match his level, its face only millimeters from his. It breathed in deep, taking in his scent, and then a long, pointed tongue snaked out from behind sharp, wet teeth to lick a line up his cheek.

“Delicious,” it purred. 

It rested its hand on his chest, over his racing heart, and shoved him onto his back. Claws dug into his flesh as it tore at his vestments and binder and peeled them away. He snapped out of his fear-frozen state, and brought a leg up to try and kick the monster away. Something wrapped around his ankle, then his thigh, then his other leg, his wrists, his biceps. Inky tentacles held him down and spread him open, leaving him bare before the evil he faced. 

“What do you want with me?” he growled, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

“I want your body,” it responded simply, then ran its tongue over its lips. “And it is a beautiful body… Seems a shame to have such stunning assets and not put them to any use.”

He had to get out of here.. He sneered at the demon and began a prayer, voice rising in an attempt to drown out its booming laugh. It didn’t care for his prayers, his faith, his god. It crawled on top of him, and he expected its body to be as hot as the fiery pits that spat it out, but it was icy cold and sent a chill down his spine. His prayer was cut short as the creature forced that long tongue into his mouth and entangled it with his own. He writhed beneath it, trying to free himself from the tentacles’ grasp and the slimy intrusion. One of its teeth nicked his lip, and he tasted blood. The demon must have tasted it too, because another purr-growl rumbled through its chest.

It pulled its tongue from his mouth and licked up the side of his neck while the priest spat, trying to rid himself of its taste. And then its lips replaced its tongue, peppering kisses along his jaw, down his neck, across his collarbone. Its hands touched and grabbed and massaged every inch of him that it could reach, paying special attention to his chest, where it groped the soft mounds and pinched his nipples, rolling them between clawed fingers. Despite his best efforts, the demon’s ministrations were affecting him, and he keened, back arching, when the demon replaced its fingers with soft lips and sucked a sensitive bud into its mouth.

He choked back a moan as fire ignited in his belly. He could feel some sort of wetness leaking from his cunt and pooling on the bed beneath him, but he couldn’t close his legs or reach down to feel. Just then, he felt something hard knock against his cock, and he cried out as electricity shot up his spine. He thought it must have been the demon’s knee, but when he managed to lift his head to look down, the demon was straddling him, its knees on either side of his hips.

“No…” he whimpered, and his head fell back against the mattress. 

When it said it wanted his body, he assumed it meant possession, not…

“Get off of me!” he shouted, struggling with renewed vigor.

The demon didn’t reply, but it released his nipple with a “pop”, and traveled down his belly, kissing and licking every inch of the soft flesh there and on his hips as he made his way lower. The priest squirmed, trying to kick away the tentacles so that he could close his legs, but they only pulled them wider apart. Finally, the demon buried its face in his cunt and inhaled deeply. It flicked his cock with its wicked tongue, and then pressed the strong muscle flat against it. It massaged him expertly, and as his back arched and his hips bucked involuntarily, another tentacle wrapped itself around his midsection to hold him down.

“S-stop…” he panted. 

“Keep praying to your absent father,” the demon mocked. “I’m sure he’ll come to your rescue.”

His cock throbbed, his cunt clenched, his body ached for more.

“Don’t… ahh-”

The tip of its tongue prodded at his entrance, gauging resistance.

“A virgin?” it purred. “I couldn’t have asked for the church to send me a better gift.”

Fighting back was useless, so the priest closed his eyes tight and started up another prayer.

“That’s it,” the demon cooed. “What a good boy. So obedient.”

He cursed the creature silently and continued his prayer while it pushed the tip of its tongue just past his entrance. He groaned and balled his hands into fists. Its tongue was far bigger than a human’s, and he’d never had anything inside of him before. The stretch burned, but there was pleasure there as well, and he hated his body for reacting the way it was. 

It thrust its tongue in and out, in and out, and then buried it deeper. He cried out at the sharp pain, and then stumbled over his prayer as it hit something inside of him - a sensitive spot that sent pleasure shooting up his spine. Its tongue delved deeper, opening his cunt, curling and uncurling, thrusting, massaging, and pressing again and again and again against that spot. 

“Sto-op…” he tried to beg, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Its tongue suddenly retreated until only the tip was inside, and it used the meatiest part to press hard against his cock. 

“Ah!” he cried out in surprise as another shock of pleasure flooded his senses. 

The demon chuckled low, pleased with the reactions it was pulling out of this man of god. Its hands traveled up his sides and it took a breast in each one, kneading them in its large palms and rolling his nipples between its fingers. 

“Fuck-” he swore.

Its tongue plunged deep inside of him once more, all the way, until he could feel its lips and nose against his crotch. 

“Such a dirty mouth for someone so pure,” it mocked. “And you pray to your god with that tongue?”

“Shut up,” he tried to command, but it only laughed again.

“Have you given up on your prayers, little priest? I quite liked hearing them.”

Mocking. Always mocking. It should hate his prayers, not like them. It was only driving home the fact that the priest had no power over it, no weapon against it.

“Sing for me, priest.”

He clenched his jaw.

“I said, sing.”

It dug its claws into the sensitive flesh of his breasts, and he hissed in pain. He could feel warm blood pooling beneath its talons and running in rivulets down his sides.

“Our f-father, who… who art i-in…”

“Good boy,” it praised him, purring happily.

It ran its cold hands up and down his sides, and then traced soft spirals into his hips before it removed its tongue entirely. The priest was given only a moment to breathe before it was climbing over him once more. It pressed its lips to his neck, peppering him in soft kisses while one of its hands gave his cock the same treatment it had given his nipples. His body jerked, and a moan escaped his lips. The demon nipped at his collarbone, then soothed the bite with licks. It dipped a finger inside of his cunt just as it latched onto his neck, sucking a deep bruise into his pale flesh. A second finger joined the first, and then a third, stretching him wider than its tongue had. 

It’s preparing me, he thought. It’s stretching me open so it can fuck me.

And so it was. It added a final finger, opening and closing them with a scissor-like motion inside of him. And then it curled them harshly upward, pressing hard against that sensitive spot. He felt a spurt of something wet gush from his cunt around the demon’s fingers, earning a pleased rumble from its chest. It curled them again, and again, faster, harder, and the priest’s eyes rolled back in his head as he was overcome with pleasure. 

There was a tightening in his lower belly, and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking, his walls from clenching, his back from arching. The coil tightened quickly, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of these sensations, to no avail.

“No, please… Don’t!” he begged. “I can’t!” 

He was right on the very edge. One more second, and he’d-

The demon stopped all at once, removing its fingers and its lips, and pushed away from him to stand at the foot of the bed. The priest lay there, quivering and clenching around nothing, his cunt leaking and his chest heaving. 

“Silly boy,” the demon chuckled. “You think I’ll let you cum around anything other than my cock?”

It slapped his cunt hard, and the priest cried out in pain. It grabbed his hips and pulled them off the edge of the bed, then settled itself between his legs. He finally got a good look at what he was dealing with. Its cock was as black as the shadows that made up its body, massive - at least the size of his forearm, with a tapered, pointed head and thick, ridged shaft, pronounced veins, and precum leaking from the tip like a faucet. Below them swung enormous balls, bigger than any he’d seen even on the horses in the stable or the bulls in the pasture.

“Please…” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Please?” the demon asked. “Please what?”

It lined up and began to prod at his entrance. 

“Please don’t do this…”

It smiled that sharp-toothed smile.

“Ah, and here I thought you were begging me to fuck you.”

He forced the head in all at once, and the priest cried out in pain.

“It won’t fit!” he screamed, but the demon only laughed wickedly.

“I’ll make it fit,” it promised, and forced another inch inside.

The pain was blinding, and he fisted handfuls of the bedding either side of him to ground himself against it. 

“You’re so wet, I can slide right inside,” it teased. 

Another inch, a wider stretch. The priest saw stars every time he opened his eyes.

“Your body wants me,” it told him. “Otherwise your pelvis wouldn’t be opening so readily my cock.”

He shook his head feverishly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Yes,” it chuckled. “Your pelvis is opening up to allow me easier access, and your wet cunt slicked itself up to make pushing in easier. You want this. You want me.”

It snapped its hips forward, burying itself to the hilt in one swift motion. The priest screamed as it slammed against his cervix, but his voice seemed so far away, muffled by the ringing in his ears. It rutted into him, making itself comfortable inside of his body, the pointed tip of its cockhead nestling itself in the little dimple at the opening of his cervix. The tendril around one of his wrist loosened, and then slipped away, but before he could even think to try and throw a punch, the demon had his wrist in its hand. He was silently grateful for the relief on his shoulder as it guided his hand down, where it pressed his palm against his lower abdomen. There was a bulge there, and it moved beneath his hand as the demon rut into him. 

His cock… it’s so big it’s making my stomach bulge…

He clenched involuntarily at the thought. 

“You like that?” it purred. “I thought you might.”

It rested its hand over his, preventing him from pulling away.

“Why are you doing this?” the priest asked quietly.

“Why does anyone do anything?” the demon asked in reply. “Because I want to. Hush now,” it growled. “Enjoy it.”

But how could he enjoy anything when he was being violated so thoroughly? His body would never be the same after this. He would never be the same.

It gripped his hips tightly, but the priest didn’t move his hand from the bulge. Instead, he pressed down on it, though he wasn’t sure why. The demon hissed and its hips bucked forward harshly, pushing the priest upward on the bed. It pulled him back down and dug its claws into his thighs.

“If you make yourself tighter, you’re only going to make me want to fuck you harder. Unless that’s what you want?” it smirked.

“No!”

He didn’t know why he pressed down. He didn’t mean to, his hand did it on its own… The demon slid almost all the way out of him, and then pushed back in smoothly. The priest let out a long, low moan. The burning stretch had since given way to a pleasant feeling of fullness, and feeling that bulge in his stomach each time the creature bottomed out was doing something to him, making him feel things he wished he wasn’t feeling. 

It pulled out again, then slid in, then out, then in, setting a slow, steady pace, fucking him with its entire length.

“Sto-o-op,” he moaned, the word broken each time its cockhead hit his cervix.

“I don’t think you really want me to,” it chuckled. “I think you want me to make you cum.”

“No…” he whined, even as embers ignited in his belly. “Please, don’t…”

It laughed, low and menacing as it picked up the pace, fucking him harder, faster. It pulled him back against it with each thrust, burying itself as deep as possible, bruising his virgin cervix. Wet squelching and skin slapping against skin filled the air like a song, and the priest’s little whines and moans harmonized beautifully. The embers quickly ignited into a blaze, and the spring began to tighten once more. The demon’s hands slid from his hips. One slipped between his legs to pinch and massage his hot, hard cock, while the other rested once more over the priest’s own.

He didn’t see the demon’s wicked smile, so tightly his eyes were closed, but he felt its thrusts become harsher, faster, until it was fucking him like an animal, growling and panting, warm drool dripping off of its lolling tongue and onto his belly. It pressed down hard on the bulge. The priest released a high-pitched whine at the added pressure, and the demon growled low. 

“So fucking tight…” it breathed. “There’s nothing better than an innocent little virgin stretched around my fat cock.”

“Huh- uh….”

He couldn’t seem to form words anymore. His senses had narrowed until all his world consisted of was the monster violating his body and the pleasure radiating from his core.

“S..st-o-o-”

“Hmm? What’s that?” the demon purred. “Use your words.”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh.” His voice broke with each thrust.

“No, I didn’t think so,” it grinned and slammed into him like a jackhammer.

The priest tried to arch his back, but the demon’s hand held him down, and that somehow only made the pleasure more intense. 

“No… no, no, no,” he cried with each thrust as he rocketed toward the edge. “No, please!”

He came hard. His entire body tensed and curled in on itself, his cunt clenched and unclenched around the demon’s member, and he threw his head back and cried out. His eyes rolled back, his tongue lolled out, and his breath caught in his chest. The demon plowed deep, pushed itself in as far as possible, and then stilled as a feral growl rumbled in its throat. He could feel its cock throbbing, feel its heavy balls clenching against his ass as it released inside of him. Its seed was hot, and it flooded his cunt like a waterfall. It painted his walls white and leaked out past the demon’s ridged length to run in rivulets down his ass and pool beneath him, mixing with the slick that had gushed out of him earlier.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, a mixture of pain, pleasure, and grief, and it was all he could do to choke back his sobs in between gasping for air. He came down from his high much sooner than the demon did. It seemed like an eternity before the flood of cum finally stopped. It rubbed his belly softly over his uterus, thrust gently another couple of times, and then was gone.

The tendrils unwound themselves from around his body, the shadows retreated back into the far corners of the room, and the priest was left alone, a trembling, cum-soaked mess. His joints were sore from the unpleasant position he’d been trapped in for… how long had it been? He pushed himself off of the bed and unsteadily to his feet. It was only as a sliver of sunlight through the curtains lit upon his pale face that he realized it was dawn. 

Hours. That creature had violated him for hours. He wiped his tears and used the tattered remains of his vestments to clean himself up before descending the stairs back to the dining room. He got dressed and threw his things together as quickly as he could, then all but sprinted for the door. It slammed behind him of its own accord, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. 

All he could do was run and hope that whatever dark entity lived within that old stone church decided not to follow him home.

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks for reading!

#my writing #demon kink #blasphemy kink #corruption kink #demon x priest #demon x priest kink #terato #monsterfucker #monster kink #nonconsensual #oversized cock #oversized balls #excessive seed kink #virgin kink #age difference #size difference #primal kink #predator x prey

[eternalsams]

Irresistible ➻ Miguel O'Hara

pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Black Cat (fem)!reader

warning/content: violence, so much sexual tension, swearing, actual plot, mention of nudity, no mention of y/n (gets called Kitty a couple of times), some heavy make out sess

summary: Miguel is sent in your world where there is no Spider-Hero to help him, you're the only person he knows there and good thing for him, you can help him. Bad thing for him, you won't stop taunting him.

words count: 3.7k

a/n: English isn't my first language, so please take that into your consideration

"We don't need her, Lyla." Miguel groans at her as he walks through the lobby. "No, we don't. But you do." Lyla pops up on Miguel's shoulder with a grin. "Come on, she'll be of a great help, she knows her world better than anyone else here. Better than you." The little lady has a point, he had to admit it. He only visited a couple of times but didn't stay long enough to know his way into the thousands of cities. The only problem is that you were a pain in the ass for Miguel. Even though you were doing your job pretty fine, you were always torturing him with your constent teasing and flirting. It was just in your nature to annoy him. As another door opens before him, Miguel notices Hobie lying on a wooden box, fidgeting with his guitar. "Why don't we send Hobie there? I don't wanna see her and I'm pretty sure they would make a good pair." He grumbled before tapping on a screen for the last details. Lyla pops back up in front of him and crosses her little arms on her chest. "Because, you and I both know that they would make a too good pair. You can still focus when you're around her and you can discipline her as well." She chuckles, her laugh echoing in the lobby. "Is this about your kitty cat again?" Hobie chuckles as he tilts his head back and looks at his boss upside down. "Don't call her that." Miguel growls before setting the right coordinates on his watch and opening a portal. He puts his mask on and turns to Lyla. "You coming with me?" He asks her and she steps back. "Nah, I'm good here. Have fun with her!" She wiggles her little fingers in his direction before disappearing. Miguel sighs and steps through the portal, immediately feeling the rain pouring down on him. "Great..." He sighs and closes the portal behind him before jumping off the rooftop into a dark alley. He checks if anybody saw him and retracts his mask before changing into more casual clothes. That means old sweat pants, a white t-shirt and a sweater. He pulls the hoodie to cover his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets before walking down the streets. The neon lights lighting the dark streets and leading him to the place he knew you'd be.

When he finally recognizes your place he walks up the couple steps of your porch and hesitates knocking on your door. He knew how much you'd tease him for coming for your help. But when he checks his watch and sees the little time before the anomaly in this world would happen, it pushes him to knock on the door. He takes a few steps back and sinks back his hand into his sweater pocket. The door opens and he immediately regrets coming to you when he sees your smirk. "Well, well, well... Spidey." You lean on your door and run a hand in your white hair before crossing your arms on your chest. He says nothing, he doesn't need to, you already know why he's here. But you still ask. "Why can i do to please you?" He visibly grimaces at your choice of words and looks away. "I need your help..." He whispers under his breath. You perfectly hear him but that wouldn't be fun for you. "What was that? I can't hear you with the rain." You say as you cup your ear and lean a bit forward. He groans and looks back at you. "I need your help." He says more distinctively. You grin and steps back into your house. "Come in, then." You wait for him to pass the door and close it behind you. "I don't have the time for your little games." He says as he inspects his surroundings, making sure you won't trap him one way or another. He was used to it by now. "I know. But I'm pretty sure I can't really fight bad guys like this." You point to yourself and he seems to finally notice how you're dressed. Or how undressed you are. You're only wearing some loose shorts and a black tank top. And he didn't need to stand closer to see you didn't wear anything underneath. He quickly looks away as you make your way to your room to change into your suit. He uses this alone time to put back on his spider-suit and when he glances over at your room, he notices you left your door slightly open. On purpose. He can see you taking off your top and revealing your toned back, he could almost see the curve of your breast if you turned slightly to your right. He quickly looks away and clears his throat, checking for the umpteenth time his watch. "We don't have much time." He calls for you and you step out of your room, your combat goggles in hand. You look at him up and down, visibly satisfied by the sight in front of you. "Wow, looking good, Spidey! Have you been working out since the last time I saw you?" You run your fingers along his broad shoulders and down his firm chest. "Not your business. Can we focus on the mission?" You let out a faux-sigh and sit down on the table, rubbing purposely your foot along his thigh. He stares at you and looks down at your foot touching him. "Yes? Am I distracting you?" You ask with that oh so annoying smirk that get on his nerves. He swats your foot away with a grunt and makes appear a screen in front of you from his watch. "Micheal Morbius from Earth-386 decided to get too close to the multiverse doors and spread chaos around him." He informs you. "Any victim yet?" You ask, now focused on the mission. "No, only calls and damages. But I've already encountered one of them. They don't wait too long before shedding blood."

"Alright, where do you think he is now? And the most important question is, why do you need me with this? If it's only Morbius, you can take care of him by yourself. Hobie told me you've dealt with him before and it went great." You frown and jumps down from the table, looking around your living room to find something to tie up your hair. "How do you know Hobie?" He frowns and turns to you. "Wouldn't you like to know, Handsome..." You glance at him and smirk, tying up your hair and maintaining eye contact with him. Miguel bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cursing and looks away. "Morbius is mostly looking to feed off someone so maybe somewhere with some crowd where he wouldn't be too suspicious. Do you have any idea?" He eventually asks you. "Oh, so that's why you need me. You're like a lost puppy here." You laugh and he stares at you, telling you silently to focus back on the mission. "I have an idea where he might be, but you won't like it." You shrug and grab your keys before dropping them in a little pocket on the inside of your suit. Miguel raise an eyebrow at the action but doesn't say anything. "As much as I like seeing you in that suit, you'll need casual clothes for where we're going. "I already have casual clothes." You look at the pile of clothes he took off a little earlier and look back at him. "My grandma could wear this, this is not casual. Wait here..." You say as you walk back to your room. Miguel sighs and checks another time his watch, seeing the anomaly would soon happen if you didn't hurry up. You come back with a pair of jeans way too big for you and toss it at him before giving him a button down shirt. "Wear this. I'll wear something similar. We won't be recognized." Just as he was about to ask you something, you grab another pair of jeans and put them on over your suit. "Won't be very comfortable but if we need to change quickly, it's better." You grab a shirt and put it on, Miguel still staring at you. "Come on, Handsome! We don't have whatever you're doing." You grin and tap gently on his chest as he puts on his pants. You hear him groan and walk to the door, Miguel on your tracks, buttoning up his shirt. "You look great, honey." You smirk at him as you straighten his collar. "Where did you get those clothes?" He asks you, readjusting himself in the tight pants. "You don't wanna know." You smile up at him and pat his cheek before he fakes a smile when he opens the door to let you out first. "If you needed an excuse to look at my ass, that's a terrible one" You chuckle and pull you fur hood over your head. "So... Where to?" Miguel asks as he closes your door behind him and walks down the steps. You wrap your arm around his and start walking down the street. "I hope you don't have sensitive ears, Spidey. 'Cause you're about to hear some loud music." You look up at him and intertwine your fingers with his.

Miguel winces at the loud music around him, and just like you said, he didn't like it. He looks at you ordering a drink and you turn to him. "I guess you didn't bring your wallet with you. You want something to drink?" You ask him, leaning to his ear so he could hear you. To be honest, he could hear you even if you were standing at the other end of the club if he wanted but you wanted to be that close to him and he hated it. He doesn't respond and just stares at you. You turn back to the bartender and smile at him. "He'll take a water. Thanks." You slide a ten dollars bill on the counter and wink at the guy before turning back to Miguel. "We're supposed to stop Morbius, not get drunk." He scolds you, grabbing you by the arm. "I know, I know. Will you please let me go, people look at us strange." You grit through your teeth, that was the only thing you didn't like about him. He had a stick up his ass. He complies and grabs the glass of water the bartender hands him. You slightly smirk when he empties the glass in one go and sets it back down on the counter before grabbing your wrist and leading you over where the people where dancing. "You wanna dance, Spidey?" You tease him with a chuckle. "No." He simply says and keeps walking to the private tables in the back of the club. You notice a security guy looking at you weird and you trip purposely, holding yourself on Miguel's shoulders and giggling. He turns back at you and frowns, you only had one drink and he made sure it wasn't that strong, there was no way you could be drunk. He grabs you by the waist and makes you straighten up, looking at you in the eyes. "What's wrong?" He asks, worry painted over his face. You smirk a bit and his concern drops immediately. "I'm great, we just have to act normal." You explain but don't let go of his shoulders, holding him even closer. "And acting drunk is normal to you?" He raises an eyebrow. "In a club? Yeah, definitely. Come on, Handsome, take a seat." You pats his cheek because you know how much he hates it and push him a bit. "Wha-" He can't ask you anything and end up sitting down on a couch arm rest, you on his lap. "What are you doing?" He asks through gritted teeth. "Fading in." You smile and brush a few locks away from his face to look into his red eyes. "Use that Spidey sense of yours and find that vamp, will ya?" He clears his throat and wraps awkwardly his arms around you, closing his eyes and trying to focus on anything but the loud music and your ass rubbing on his crotch. He quickly re-opens his eyes and grabs your hand before leading you towards a table where a single guy was accompanied by three women. You tap Miguel's chest, making him understand you got this. You approach the table and untie your hair. "Hi. Is this the party I've been hearing about?" You ask innocently and you lock eyes with the guy. He stands up and you get a proper look at him. He's got long black hair, you can't really see his eyes but can definitely notice how dark they are. He's tall and skinny, but not the attractive way. "You're at the right place, sweetie." He smiles at you and you notice how chapped his lips are. He extends his hand to you and you take it before quickly pulling on it and punching him in the face.

The girls at the table scream and leave but you don't let go of Morbius's hand, not wanting to let him run away. Miguel is quick to join you and as he was about to yell at you for being so reckless, Morbius pulls on your hand, making you trip and you eventually drops his hand to roll on the floor and catch yourself up. You groan and take off your shirt before putting on your mask and shooting your grappling hook to the ceiling. You swing back to Morbius while Miguel make everyone leave the club. Your feet collide violently with the vampire's head and when you look back at Miguel, he's ripping off the shirt you gave him, revealing his spider-suit. He doesn't even care about his mask and stay exposed. He shoots his web to trap Morbius and struggles to keep him still. You grab a little bottle on your belt and remove the pin before jumping towards Miguel and tackling him behind one of the couch. The gas bomb you just set off explodes and you hear Morbius cough a little before he groans. "Fuck! I thought that would stop him." You grumble and roll off of Miguel before standing up. You look at your co-worker and notice his fangs. You've only seen them once and when you asked him about them, he ignored you. So you never asked again. You had your sensitive subjects and he had his. Miguel growls and jumps at Morbius before giving him a punch in the face and sliding his talons over the vampire's shoulder. You take advantage of his weakness to run behind him and wrap your arm around his neck, locking him against you. He struggles in your arms and Miguel approaches. "Move your arm." He says in a deep voice, making you comply. "He grabs Morbius by his hair, making him wince and lean over to his neck before sinking his fangs into his skin. You grimace slightly and you feel Morbius go limp in your arms. Miguel leans back and you look at him, curious. "What did you do to him? Did you kill him?" You let the vampire fall on the floor and notice his still open eyes. "Ew, dude, you're fugly." Your comment makes Miguel slightly smile before he quickly get back serious. "I paralyzed him." He simply says before tapping on his watch. A portal opens before your eyes and your lips part in awe. You knew where he came from but you've never seen where he came from. Miguel leans down and picks up the limp Morbius before throwing him over him shoulder. He was about to step into the portal before he stops and turns back to you. "You wanna come check it out?" He asks and you try to hide your excitement. "After you, I wanna check you out when you walk in front of me." You say and he chuckle, making you smile.

He steps into the portal and gets back into the lobby where Hobie is still playing with his guitar. "Don't you have something better to do?" He asks the younger man as he drops Morbius on the ground. "Oh, you're not dead. How did it go with your kitty cat?" Hobie asks, rolling down to stand up as he slides his guitar in his back. "Hello!" Your voice echoes in the lobby as you step through the portal before it closes and Hobie smirks. "I see it went well since we don't usually accept cats here." He chuckles and walks to you before shaking your hand. "Good to see you, Kitty." You smile at him and look around you, admiring the place Miguel founded all these years ago. "Welcome back!" Lyla pops up in front of Miguel and cocks her head to the side to glance at you. "I see the mission went well." She smiles at him. "It did? And ask Ben to take Morbius back to his world and make sure he stays there." He orders and Lyla nods before disappearing. Miguel turns back at you and quickly glance at Hobie. "I still don't know where you know him from and I'm not sure I wanna know." He pinches the bridge of his nose before he grabs something on a shelf and launches it at you. "Put this on or you won't feel good for long." You look down at the bracelets in your hands and put it on without asking any question. "Alright, come with me now." He leaves the lobby and steps into an elevator. You follow him and the whole way up is spent in complete silence. Neither of you dare to speak. Until you open your mouth. "We make a good team." You slightly smirk as you glance at him. "We do." He simply responds. "We should work together more often." You nudge him with your shoulder. "I don't think that's a good idea, actually." You roll your eyes out, the stick up his ass is back and went even deeper. "You're right, there's some things I do better alone." You look right in front of you and you can see from the corner of your eyes Miguel looking at you but not saying anything. "Some things?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. You hum in response and smirk at him. "Some things." You confirm. You hear him quietly chuckle and he shakes his head. "You're really something else." He murmurs under his breath. "Well, I hope I am. You spend your days with different versions of you, I do hope I'm different form you guys." Your fingers start grazing his and he looks down at your hand before looking back up at you. "Don't." You turn to him and take a step closer. "Why?" Your fingers play with the hem of his suit at his neck. You see his Adam's apple slightly bob and a smile stretches your lips. "Just don't." He repeats. You nod but don't step back.

"Kitty..." He says as a warning. "You've never called me that before." You cock your head to the side and play with his fingers. "Kitty." He says more sternly. "Spidey." You respond and that's the final stroke. He grabs you by the neck and smashes his lips on yours, taking you by surprise. You can feel his fangs nibble at your bottom lip and a mix of a grunt and a moan escapes you. He pushes you against the glass behind you and runs his hands along your body. That body that kept teasing him and he couldn't forget for years. He really did try to control himself as long as he could but you made it so hard for him to focus on the mission when you're constantly teasing him. He feels your fingers runs through his locks and tug at his hair, keeping him close to you. His tongue lick across your lips and you part them, finally tasting him after all those years. And does he taste good! One of your hands runs down his neck and holds onto his shoulder, trying to get him closer. His hands leave your face and go straight to your ass, kneading at the flesh. Your ass was just like he imagined it, you worked hard for your body to look like that and he wanted to feel every defined muscles under his eager fingers. He grabs you behind the knees and taps the back of your thighs. "Jump." He says between kisses and you comply, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back against the glass wall of the elevator and your chest flush against Miguel's. You could feel all of him against all of you and it was intoxicating. The singular ding of the elevator makes Miguel drop you back on the floor and he rests his forehead against yours, panting. His red eyes looking directly into yours. Your heart beating so fast and hard against your chest it hurts. The doors open and Miguel's body mostly hides yours, so the person stepping in knows he's not alone but can't recognize you. "Having some good company there?" Miguel recognizes Ben's voice and he can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I don't remember asking you anything." Ben's smirk drops and he clears his throat. "Lyla told me about Morbius, where is he?" He asks. "In the lobby." Miguel responds, still looking deeply into yours eyes and hiding you from the other Spider-Man in the elevator. You can't help but smile and you try to contain it by biting down on your lip. Miguel runs his tongue over his teeth to hide his smile too and drops his head on yours, his breathing finally steady. He looks back up at you and opens his mouth, looking for the right words. "We'll talk." He mouths to you and you nod, grabbing a handful of his suit and kissing him deeply before you heard another ding from the elevator. The doors open and you slip out of there, trying not to make any eye contact with Ben. "Was that that cat girl Hobie talks about?" The other Spider-Man can't help himself but ask his boss. Which earns him a glare from Miguel. "Take care of Morbius." He says before following you.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 imagine #spiderman #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfic #spiderman imagine #marvel #mcu #Spotify

[qatarsprint2023]

Kiss it better— OP81

In which Oscar just needs some gentle affection from his girlfriend after a frustrating race. — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, no use of y/n a/n: first time ever posting something on tumblr ahhh!! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! word count: 1.3k

Oscar Piastri was never the type of man to show his feelings openly by becoming loud or maybe even feeling a few tears prick in his eyes. No, he just... got quiet, hoping people wouldn't notice he was disappointed and maybe even a bit sad. Just like today. Well, this entire weekend really, if you were being honest.

It had started out okay at best. Qualifying on Friday had been brought to an early close by the sudden and heavy rain which left your boyfriend to start from P10 in the race on Sunday. Sure, it was alright, but not as good as Oscar had hoped. Saturday wasn't much better either, with the Australian also finishing in 10th place, meaning no points for him in the Sprint race.

Then came Sunday. And that was... well, pretty much a disaster, if you had any say in this.

The Red Bull up front made a solid getaway right after the lights went out and held his lead, while Lando impressively shot up into P2 from P6 in his McLaren. There was a big collision behind, though, between Magnussen and Albon.

You weren't quite sure what had happened, being too shocked at the errupting chaos out on track. Somehow Hülkenberg had collided with Albon, which had basically catapulted the Williams into the other Haas car. Unfortunately Oscar had also been caught up in the incident, suffering a broken rear wing after being clipped by Magnussen.

Red flags were shown and you calmed a bit when you realised that Oscar's race wasn't over just yet. The McLaren mechanics did a great job fixing his car, so he could start from the pits and still participate in the race. Eventually he finished last, in 14th, after everyone behind him had DNF'd and he was almost two laps behind everyone else.

And that was when Oscar got quiet and masked his overwhelming sense of disappointment and frustration with a nearly indifferent mask.

In front of the cameras he was simply a bit upset he hadn't finished higher after an accident that hadn't even been his fault, but on the inside of his brain he was oh so frustrated. Why did he have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? It had felt terribly embarrassing to be so slow and finish last after a couple of good races, but he didn't tell anyone about that. Not even you, even as you two went back to your hotel room later that day.

However you always knew when something was up with your man. Almost as if you had a sixth sense for lack of happiness or something like that. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes when he's upset, even when it would convince everybody else, his shoulders are just the tiniest bit slumped forward and he gets quiet. More quiet than usual.

As you entered your hotel room and the doors closed behind you with a slight click, the silence was hanging heavily in the air. You knew. You could almost physically sense his frustration, his disappointment, his anger at himself. He sat on the bed and didn't even look up at you, his gaze simply fixated straight ahead.

You slowly hung up your purse before taking off your shoes, just staying quiet and giving him some time to think and sort his thoughts. But after a few minutes you slowly moved to sit down next to him, your hand finding its way into his. The touch was soft. Gentle. It reassured him. He knew these hands would never let him down.

He hesitantly lifted his eyes, meeting your kind and gentle gaze for a second before they wandered back to the floor. He sighed and almost seemed to deflate, the disappointment and anger leaving his body as they were being replaced with something that was difficult to describe.

Silence filled the room as the two of you sat there on the soft mattress of the hotel bed, no words being exchanged for what felt like an eternity.

"Want me to kiss it better?" your soft voice that was as soothing and smooth as honey to his ears broke the silence.

Oscar's gaze was directed back towards you, his honey brown eyes filled with something you couldn't quite begin to describe, begging for you to somehow make everything disappear, to erase this entire day from the history books, as if that were even possible.

"Yeah..." he mumbled back in a whisper.

You reached over to cup his cheek with your right hand, making him lean against it as his eyes fluttered shut. You moved your head a bit closer to him and your lips hovered above his for just a moment as the tips of your noses brushed against each other gently. Finally you pulled him in and pressed a long, yet gentle kiss to his pillowy lips.

That soft kiss quickly turned into an attack of many, many small pecks all over his beautiful face in an attempt to make the Aussie break a smile. He squirmed a bit under the sudden wave of affection and tried to lean back to evade you, but his expression told a different story. Your lips against his felt comforting, safe, and most of all, reassuring, and he couldn't help but lean into the soft touch of your fingers against his cheek.

Your small and gentle kisses on his cheeks and eyelids and even his nose made him chuckle a bit and that was all the encouragement you needed to keep going. He tried to fight back with some pecks on your cheeks, nose and forehead, as if trying to say "I'm not a baby, stop that", but his soft laughter told a different story.

"S'many... you're smothering me..." he mumbled, still trying to avoid your kisses but failing miserably.

"'m not," you protested lightly as you kept brushing your lips against his skin, doing everything in your might to make him smile that gorgeous smile of his again.

"Yes. Yes, you are," he replied, his soft lips curling into a smile too, although he still tried to evade your kisses. Your little game made him feel good, if only just helping him momentarily forget about the recent bad race and the overall feeling of disappointment and embarrassment that had been weighing on his mind. You were always like this with him, the perfect girl to make all the troubles disappear and keep his mind calm, relaxed, and at ease, knowing he was in safe and loving hands.

After a few more moments you leaned in to press another kiss to Oscar's lips but missed them by a bit, so the act of affection landed on the corner of his mouth. Oscar let out a low groan as he shook his head and cupped your chin to turn your head, mumbling a soft "Hate it when you don't kiss me right..." against your lips.

That was true. He never liked corner of the mouth kisses. If it were his cheek he’d be fine with it, he gives those to you all the time. But the corner of his mouth?? It’s so close to an actual kiss that it's basically just you being a tease and he won't rest until he pulls you in for a proper kiss.

You giggle against his lips softly and pull back after that kiss. "Feel any better now?"

"Yeah, a bit," he mumbled as you pulled back, his hand that was still caressing your cheek dropping to your arm and you could feel him slowly nodding his head.

A deep sigh left Oscar's lips, a little bit of tension leaving his body now that you had kissed him more properly. His head tilted to the side and he turned his torso towards you, looking towards you and your eyes. A small smile formed on his lips, taking in your presence as he leaned in closer once again.

"Just one more..."

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #brazilian gp 2023 #mclaren #racing #motorsports #comfort #fluff #established relationship #f1 x reader #qatarsprint2023 #op81

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh fam yall I just had this idea instead of exiting the shower!

Danny and Dani are never seen together. Like ever by any other Hero.

It starts off as just Danny working with the others and then he goes home to tell Dani all about it. Or OR Dani really wanted to tag along with Danny to meet the others but hearing about how Superman was Danny is worried for her safety so it’s a “you can’t show yourself but you can come. If you promise me to stay hidden the entire time. Please” so she agrees and tags along. They both are probably very worried about the Justice League (since the ecto acts and the League aligned with the government)

Danny doesn’t join up per-say but he is like on call if they truly need help. Though normally he just shows up if they need him. They have no idea how he knows. Cut to one day Danny is unable to go so Dani goes in his place. Shes always gone with him so she knows everything he does right? Lord is Danny super worried about her, his protection obsession going into overdrive. He trusts her though and she goes.

Thing is shes also a bit worried about the League. She just shows up and tries her best to stay out of their way and get the job done. Then it happens. Shes called over with a “HEY! Phantom!” A deep breath to calm herself and she flys over. ‘It’s ok Dani they haven’t attacked Danny once. You ate gonna be fine’ kinda deal. Shes putting up a mask or smiles like Danny always does. She has seen him interact with the League tons of times so she can imitate his behaviour with them to a T.

This of course caused some confusion among the League “are you a girl?” And just like that she gets an idea. A great Idea! If they don’t know that there are two of them then one will always be able to save the other. Plus it would be funny. So she goes full ham into the bit. “Oh yea hehe its just how i feel.” Time to put on the sheepish Danny act of rubbing the back of her neck and looking away “I uhh hope you guys don’t mind me being a girl”

Bam they all bite. Saying stuff about being who you feel you are or whatever. Accepting her on the spot. Well accepting the fact that Danny can be whoever he feels right being. At least they aren’t complete assholes. Though The Batman is giving her this look. She decided to use that to her advantage. Better the team think the bat is homophobic than to get on her case. It works of course. If she learned anything from Vlad it’s how to put on an act. As she flies off she can even still hear the team berating The Batman for his old fashioned backwards ways. Takes everything she has not to giggle as she goes, can’t have Superman hearing that.

When she tells Danny about it he just giver her a wicked grin. It’s been ages since the gremlin duo had this kind of fun.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dani phantom #I know a lot of people like her name as Elli or whatever and I like that too but I can’t use it #are you gonna sit there and dead ass tell me they wouldnt wanna have as much fun confusing people as possible #yes im Danny and this is Dani #kills me #sure she would wanna figure herself out and reinvent herself without Danny in mind but can’t let this joke go it’s a too much fun #god I love messing with batman so much it’s so funny #his kids are gonna be teasing him for months about this

[ghcstao3]

Johnny likes art. Likes looking at it, likes creating it, likes learning about it. He’d always known he’d end up in something involving it at the end of everything, and that he does.

For a few years now, Johnny has worked as an art restorer. Primarily fixing up paintings, it’s pretty close to ideal work—he gets to study all sorts of new styles, and bring pieces back to life so they can be admired again, as they were always meant to be.

The only downside is that it’s freelance work.

At the very least, gone are the days where Johnny had to make a real effort to establish himself—but just because he gets better jobs now, doesn’t mean he gets better supervisors.

His current employer is a great example of this.

Johnny had been hired by a man named Ghost, real name unknown, to revamp a private collection of his for an absurd amount of money. Johnny would be an idiot not to accept—even when part of the terms included working onsite and with provided tools in order to get everything done.

The house—manor, more like—is beautiful, nearly as stunning as the eclectic collection or artwork Johnny is meant to repair itself. He’s greeted by a man going by the name of John Price, supposedly a dear friend of Ghost’s, here to meet Johnny since his employer wouldn’t be home for another day yet. He’s kind, not strange like Johnny thought anyone involved with this might be, and he introduces Johnny to the few pieces he’d be working with.

It’s… intriguing, to say the least. Because the pieces come from different time periods, but all look as if in the same state of decay. It’s bizarre, Johnny thinks, because all other artwork in the home is pristinely kept.

That isn’t to say he’s not grateful for this opportunity, of course.

John makes good conversation until he ultimately leaves Johnny to his own devices. First day progress is well along, and by the time Johnny is seen out, he’s feeling optimistic about this job.

Then he meets Ghost.

It’s like the atmosphere of the manor has entirely shifted around the man and his broad, imposing figure. Even eyes that share the warmth of coffee pierce through Johnny, and Johnny isn’t sure what to think of the mask that obscures most of the man’s face otherwise. His voice, low and gravelly, rumbles through Johnny as he makes inquiries about the previous day, about Johnny’s process, then dismisses him to continue his restoration.

Even though Johnny doesn’t see him again until the end of his work day, he feels like he’s being watched all the while.

The third and fourth days are the same. The fifth, Ghost surprises Johnny by sitting in the room for part of the day, though he offers no commentary between incoherent grunts and what Johnny hopes to be hums of approval.

The sixth day, Ghost asks, “What do you think happened to the artist?”

Of course, there’s no signature, so even if it was by an artist Johnny knew of, there’d be no indication.

But he considers the question anyway. Considers the painting, it’s clear inspiration in impressionism, it’s pale colours and light, flowy strokes. And yet, it seems contradictory to the style—the scene within is almost… angry, sorrowful. Like grief. Its problem had been a tear in the canvas and fading paint, nothing overly difficult or unsurprising for Johnny.

So he shrugs. He doesn’t look back at Ghost, maybe afraid of that gaze, of gauging any reaction.

“Hard to say,“ Johnny admits. “A painting doesn’t tell a whole story about its inspiration, let alone its artist. And not knowing any of the artist’s other work, or when it began and ended—it’s hard to say.”

Johnny can feel Ghost looming over him. He tries not to shrink in on himself too much, but it’s almost impossibly.

For a long moment, Ghost doesn’t speak. He barely acknowledges Johnny’s response, and Johnny wonders if he’d ever get one.

If he had said the right thing.

“Hm,” Ghost finally decides. Johnny can feel his presence straighten, putting distance between them. He says, “I’ll give you a hint.”

Johnny offers a slight nod, eyes fixed on the painting before him. He still doesn’t dare turn back. “I’m always happy to learn.”

“This artwork, everything I’ve hired you to restore,” Ghost says, “it’s all from the same man.”

Immediately, Johnny frowns. His gaze darts across the piece and the collection of others he’s meant to look at, all of completely varying styles and forms, before whirling around to ask something, anything of Ghost’s statement—but he discovers Ghost to have already left.

Well, Johnny supposes with defeat.

He doesn’t know if he should let himself become curious.

(part 2)

#um um um maybe a second part soon #(this is immortal ghost btw) #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing