#Oscar Isaac Character

[pedroscurls]

chance encounters | pt. 1

character(s): Benny Miller, fem!Reader, (very) brief cameos from the rest of the Triple Frontier boys at the end summary: You've lost your way after losing your best friend in a tragic car accident. So, you go back to the one sport that makes you feel closer to him. word count: 1.9k a/n: This story is very personal to me and pulled from some real-life experiences (maybe not exactly, but still). I know I said I wouldn't write anything within this time period with April being such a very emotional month for me, but I've found that this story is actually helping me through my grief. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading 🫶 warnings: very brief mentions of grief (which will be a reoccurring warning) series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

“Benny Miller. I’m the owner and potentially, your coach,” the man says with a charming smile. He’s tall, broad, built, and you can’t help but notice his deep blue eyes. There’s a sense of comfort that you feel when you look at him. He’s dressed in red shorts and a white t-shirt with a dark cap placed backwards on his head and you can see the dark blonde curls peeking out from underneath it. “Welcome to Miller MMA Gym.” 

“Hi,” you finally respond, saying your name to introduce yourself. Your hand grips the strap of your duffle bag that was placed over your shoulder. You feel slightly out of your element even though this is your comfort zone. Fighting is your comfort zone. 

“Nice to meet you. Let me give you a tour of the gym and then we can sit down and go over your goals and everything else. Sound good?”

“That sounds good,” you repeat. “Thanks.” 

Benny spends the next twenty minutes giving you a tour of his gym and you can tell just from the sound of his voice that he loves this sport and he has put a lot of thought into creating a gym where he can share with other like minded people. There are black mats in the entirety of the building with thick, red outlines at the edges. There are about seven heavy bags lined up along the wall with an octagon cage towards the back of the building. The gym is small, cozy, and it makes you feel like it’s a place where you belong. 

“This is a really nice gym you got, Benny.” 

“I know it’s not as big as other MMA gyms. We don’t have all the fancy equipment, the extra free weights, but I like that it’s small. Plus, I don’t just let anyone train here.”

“Oh?” you ask, brow arching. “So, I’m guessing this is a bit like a consultation?”

Benny nods. “I want to make sure we’re a good fit. This sport…” he sighs. “I want people who are dedicated, who will push themselves to the limit, you know? I don’t want to waste your time and I certainly don’t want you to waste mine.” 

“Makes sense,” you agree.

He removes his sandals and steps onto the mat. You follow him and set your duffle bag down, your feet touching the cushioned mats and your gently bounce on your toes before you sit down in front of him.

“How long have you trained for?” 

“Never actually had a coach or joined a gym like this, if I’m being honest. My best friend,” you sigh shakily. “He used to fight, was an amateur though. He taught me everything I know and always encouraged me to pick up the sport too.”

“So, what changed?”

“He died.” 

Benny offers you a solemn look. He bites the inside of his cheek and nods. He knows grief all too well and he had known the minute you stepped into his gym that there was something lingering within you, something that you wanted to keep hidden. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You had grown tired of hearing that. Why would they be sorry? What could they even do about it? It simply frustrated you. “Anyway, fighting’s always been something I felt comfortable doing and I don’t want to join an MMA gym where it’s all ego and trying to one-up one another.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Benny adds. “I’ve been to gyms like that and I fuckin’ hate it. I mean, we’re all there because we love the same sport. It can get competitive and sparring can get really bad… Which is why I like doing these consultations before even making a commitment with someone. I don’t want my gym to be like those.” 

You nod, the corner of your lips lifting only slightly, but as quickly as it rose, it drops. You always had to catch yourself whenever you felt an ounce of happiness or relief. It didn’t feel fair. It didn’t feel right to be happy when your best friend was gone. 

“Well, I want to fight, Benny. Competitively. I don’t know if I can even make it, but I want to try. Fighting is where I feel most at home.” 

Benny smiles. You see his blue eyes light up. Then, he reaches his hand back out to you. “Well then, welcome aboard. I’d love to have you, and I’d love to train you and be your coach.” 

The happiness flutters in your stomach and you force yourself to ignore it. You don’t smile at him, but your eyes - your eyes have always been so expressive. Your eyes soften when you look up at him, tears threatening to spill over, and you reach out to shake his hand. “I’d love that, Coach.” 

“Welcome to the team,” he grins. “Let’s see what you got.”

—

An hour and a half later and you’re dripping with sweat. You’re leaning back against one corner of the octagon, knees close to your chest as you rest your arms over them, trying to catch your breath. Benny didn’t waste any time assessing your abilities, but you welcomed the distraction and for the last hour and a half, you hadn’t thought about your best friend. 

“We got one more round,” Benny calls out. “Get back up, let’s go.” 

You let out a deep breath and nod, standing. You shake your arms to loosen them, feeling the fatigue slowly begin to settle in. You glance at the time and see it begin to count down. Once the round begins, the sound of a buzzer filters the small gym and immediately, you bring your hands to cover your face, standing in an orthodox fighter’s stance. 

Benny holds out the pads and calls out the following combinations:

Left jab, cross, left hook! 

Double jab, cross!

Right front kick, double left round kick!

Throughout the round, you’re moving in the cage, staying light on your feet and never crossing them. You don’t even notice the way Benny’s smiling down at you, so proudly and full of hope. 

“Alright, thirty seconds left!” Benny calls out. He notices how locked in you are, how focused, and he hasn’t seen someone as motivated in a first session as you. It gives him hope that you’re actually serious about competing. 

Left jab, right body kick! 

1-2 punch, left hook, right body kick! 

Again! 

By the time the round ends and the buzzer fills your ears, you’re breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your temples and the sides of your neck. 

“Holy shit,” Benny chuckles. “You’re amazing.”

“My stamina is shit,” you say breathlessly. 

“We’ll work on that,” he smiles. “Great job today.” 

You remove your gloves and sit back down, leaning against the same corner of the octagon as you begin to unwrap your hands. You see the initials on your wraps and you’re brought back to reality. You bring your hands to stroke your dampened hair back and away from your face, redoing the hair tie to pull your hair into a tighter ponytail. 

“That was– It felt like home,” you admit, looking up at him.

Benny chuckles and extends a hand for you. You take it and stand up, following him out of the octagon. “I’m excited about you, about this partnership. I think you’re gonna be great.”

You look at the time and realize that it’s already way past the normal business hours and quickly, you grab your duffle bag. “I didn’t mean to keep you here longer than you needed to be. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Benny says softly then adds, “I just realized we didn’t get to the paperwork side of things.” 

“I can come in tomorrow,” you say, draping the strap of the duffle bag over your shoulder. “And however much it is, I’ll pay it up front.”

Benny’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, wait–”

“I’m serious about this, Benny. There’s nothing I want more than to fight and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do that.” 

“Okay, tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock sound good?”

“Sounds great.” You shake his hand once more and he leads the both of you out of his gym. You look up at the sound of another man’s voice and see three other men - all of different statures - greet Benny with a smile. You don’t spend another second sparing each of them a glance, just now wanting to get home. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Benny calls out. “And I think I’ve got a great nickname for you.”

You toss your duffle back into the trunk of your car and shut it closed. You look over at Benny and notice all four men staring at you, but Benny’s the only one grinning. The other three, you notice, are staring at you with a look of hesitancy and curiosity. You take note that Benny’s the taller out of the four, but there’s another one that’s only a few inches shorter. He’s just as broad and built, the same blue eyes, but hair much shorter and slightly lighter. Then, your eyes veer off to the other two, your eyes lingering on one man in particular with a Standard Heating Oil cap placed atop of his curls. The other man standing next to him is the shortest, but he has just as big of a presence as Benny. His hair is greyer, but you have to wonder if it’s due to stress or if he’s much older than the rest of the group. 

“A nickname is too soon, don’t you think? You don’t really know me yet, Benny.”

Benny shrugs. “Let’s just call it a gut feeling.”

“Okay, so what’s the nickname?” 

“The Warrior,” he grins. 

You chuckle. You actually let out a laugh and for months, you had almost forgotten what it was like to laugh. It’s ironic really, almost like your best friend was taunting you from even beyond the grave. He had always called you his little warrior after everything you had been through and how you had never given up, always willing to fight your way through difficult hardships. But now… Now you can’t even imagine fighting your way out of this grief that has taken over your life. 

Benny then looks over at his friends, not realizing that he had forgotten to introduce them to you. “We can talk it over. I’m open to other nicknames, but it just seems right for you.” 

“We’ll see, Benny.” 

“By the way, these are my–”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach.” You interrupt him, not bothering to spare another glance at the other three men. You climb into your car and start it immediately, pulling out of the parking lot without another look at Benny or his friends. 

Benny turns to his friends and shrugs. “She’s got potential,” he begins. “I think she can make it big.”

“You say that about almost everyone, Ben,” Santiago chuckles. “Is she usually that… standoffish?”

“She just lost her best friend,” Benny sighs. 

“Damn,” Frankie mumbles. 

“And you think that it’s a good idea that she fights?” Will asks. “Emotions and all of that–”

“I think she needs this,” Benny admits. “And we all know how it is to lose someone close to us.”

“Does she–” Frankie sighs. “Does she have anyone else to rely on?” 

Again, Benny shrugs. “I just met her a few hours ago, but something tells me that she might be alone.”

“Fuck,” Santiago adds. “Well, is she any good?”

Benny nods. “Like I said, I think she can make it big.” 

“Well, whatever you need, we’ll be here,” Will says, clasping a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder. “Now, should we all get out of here and go get some drinks?” 

Santiago grins. “Yeah, let’s.” He nods in Frankie’s direction and adds, “Vamanos.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #garrett hedlund #garrett hendlund character #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character #triple frontier #will ironhead miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #story: chance encounters

[musings-of-a-rose]

Can I pls have "you made me a better person" with Santiago Garcia?

A Better Person

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 650+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Santi deserved to have some soft fluff love 

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Santi never thought he would settle down. He definitely dated, but no one seemed right, no one made him want to stay and look for no one else, no one made him feel special, important.

Until you came along. 

It was unexpected, a random encounter out in the world rather than at a bar or on one of those dating apps. You’d both reached for the same random flavor of chip on the shelf, Santi nearly choking on air as he took you in, his stomach leaping into his throat. He made small talk, flirted a bit, and oh my God when you laughed, the entire world laughed with you. He asked you out and you seemed shocked, like no one had ever asked you out before. 

That was a year and a half ago.

Inseparable, you and Santi had moved in together after a year, a big step that Santi had never thought to take with anyone else. But now that you’re here? Everyday? He was so happy he thought his heart would burst from his chest. Getting to wake up next to you every day was his own personal heaven on earth, listening to the little sleepy sounds he’d pull from you when he ducked his head under the covers and shifted between your thighs. He didn’t see how he could get any happier.

Well…there was one way. 

It was grocery day and Santi and you were at the store, picking up the things on your list and also checking out some new items. He seemed a little extra handsy today, always wanting to be touching you, his eyes nearly never leaving you. You turn the corner and head down the next isle, pausing to reach up for the same flavor of chips that you’d reached for when you met Santi.

“We gotta have thes-”

Words die on your lips when you turn around, seeing Santi on one knee, gently taking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Querida, before I met you, I was lost. I wasn’t the worst guy ever but I also wasn’t great. I’ve done some terrible things and I thought I was destined to just waste away, find no true love in this life. But then you came along and I was instantly drawn to you, falling in love the second you looked at me. I’m still shocked you agreed to go out with me,” He chuckles and you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. 

“Every day with you has been the best day of my life. You made me a better person, a person worthy of your love, and for that, I am forever indebted to you. And I want to spend the rest of my life, and whatever lays beyond, trying to repay you. Querida, will you marry me?”

Santi holds out a small black box, opening it to reveal the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen, exactly your style. 

“Oh, Santi! YES! YES I would love to marry you!”

The widest smile stretches across Santi’s face as he slides the ring on your finger, standing up with a slight groan that was cut off by your lips on his, applause from the other customers fading in the background as you kissed him deeply, arms wrapping around his neck. He pulls back, putting his forehead to yours. 

“I love you, querida.”

“I love you, Santi.”

Within a few months, you became Mrs. Garcia and never go a day without being loved. 

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics  

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x female reader #santi x you #santi x reader #santi x f!reader #santi x female reader #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfic #oscar isaac character fanfiction #oscar isaac character ff #santi garcia

[you-heard-what-i-meant]

Let Us Take Care of You - Moon Knight

Summary:

Reader is recovering from surgery and the Moon Boys are helping to look after her. Frustrations erupt when she makes a bad decision, and a truth from the Moon Boy's past is revealed (it explains a lot of their behaviour in this fic). Angst, emotional Moon Boys, fluff in the end. One use of the F word.

Notes:

Purely self indulgent! I wrote this four days after I had to have some fairly intense surgery, and Moon Knight was still being released weekly at the time and I really needed to have our Moon Boys looking after me. Descriptions are based on exactly how things felt to me at the time. Not Beta read, all strange occurrences are my fault! Posted on AO3 Here!

Steven had left you in bed with a promise to take the fastest shower he could. He was worried about leaving you at all, but they hadn’t even had the presence of mind to change their clothes since you were rushed into hospital 3 days earlier.

So when Steven opened the bathroom door to find the bed empty, worry was already creeping through his veins. It was replaced by the icy cold rush of panic and adrenaline when he heard a crash and a sharp cry of pain from the direction of the kitchen.

The events of the last few days had given the three of them many reasons to be grateful for the athletic condition their body remained in (thanks to their service with Khonshu, although that was a delicate topic right now), and as his legs gave an incredible burst of speed and his brain automatically steered him clear of obstacles Steven wondered if part of the power came from having two other people feeding energy and control into the body.

When he rounded the corner and found you hunched over against the kitchen counter, barely holding yourself up and your fingers in a white knuckled death-grip, he felt the blood drain from his face. Your name erupted from his lips in sheer panic.

“Oh God, love, what happened?” He’s doubled over beside you, his terrified eyes staring up into your face as one hand grips your elbow and the other tries to wrap around your shoulders.

Needless to say he’s shocked when you try to shake him off, your face screwed up against the pain in your abdomen and your breath coming in and out of your nose in short, sharp bursts. He notices the glitter of tears on your eyelashes. 

“I’m fine.” you grind out through gritted teeth. Your bravery is betrayed by faint tremors running through your body.

“What do you need me to do, darling?” The front of Steven’s body is pressed against your side, like he’s protecting you from an armed intruder, the grip of his arm around your shoulders and his hand on your elbow is firm. Through the pulsing red haze and burning heat of shock and pain, his presence is too much for your already overwhelmed senses to handle right now. The humiliation is starting to set in and with everything else it’s making you short tempered.

You try to push him away, but the movement sends another sickening flair of pain through your body and you can’t stop the choked whimper that escapes. Your name sounds broken on his lips as he almost whispers it.

“Just back off!” you snap, and you don’t miss the hurt that briefly crosses his face. Guilt prickles in your chest. “Please…” you add weakly. There’s a pause, and you work to fight away the pulsing darkness at the corners of your vision.

“Would you please let me help you? Please?” Steven implores softly as he puts a half-step of space between your bodies. His impossibly dark eyes are almost desperate as his hands move, one makes a warm presence as it strokes your back, and the other carefully pries your tense hand from the work top and grasps it. You can see his deep need to care for you, to protect you from harm, glittering in his eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to just sit around and have you guys run around after me.” You grind out, trying to ignore the screaming agony and flashing lights dancing across your vision.

“C’mon, love, it’s not like that. And it won’t be for long, you’ll be back up ‘n’ at ‘em before you know it.” Steven’s slightly-shaky words are meant to bring reassurance, but instead the pain and frustration digs itself in deeper and your temper gets the better of you.

“I can take care of myself! They said I only needed help for the first 24 hours. I’m already messing with your life. I’m not enslaving you to me like Khonshu-“ you felt the change before you saw or heard it.

“-For Christ’s sake you had emergency surgery three days ago!” Marc’s voice comes out in a harsh burst. You flinch slightly, sending pain through your body again, but you hear the fear behind his words. His hand on your back has stilled, the other is gripping yours tighter than Steven had.You can feel his strong pulse through your gripped hands, competing with your own racing heart. Suddenly you’re beyond overwhelmed, tears pricking harshly at your eyes as the pain seems to be refusing to settle and a strange mix of anxiety and anger bubbles in your chest at Marc’s reaction. Your legs have started to feel strange, like they’re being burnt but are numb at the same time, and there’s a blinding pressure building somewhere behind your eye sockets.

“Yeah, three days ago-” you challenge, only to be cut off by Marc.

“-They said you couldn’t be left alone for 24 hours! You’re signed off work for two weeks, and you’ve got 3 months of physio!”

His response, although factually correct, hits a nerve and your frustration explodes out of you in one last burst of energy. “Right I’ll just sit around like the damsel in distress so you can play hero! They said I could move around by myself after the first 24 hours, I just wanted make a fucking drink like a normal person!” The pain is still raging, your entire body tight like a strained rubber band, your breathing short and sharp. Yelling has used up the last of your energy reserves and you feel both the light-headed swirl of impending unconsciousness, and the prickling burn of a complete emotional meltdown coursing through your bloodstream.

Marc lets out a huff of air through his nose. For a moment he’s quiet, and you know he’s studying you, assessing how you’re doing. Maybe Steven and Jake are talking to him, because his hand resumes a gentle motion up and down your back and his voice is softer when he speaks again. Your eyes burn with tears and you have a futile hope that none are escaping.

 “I know baby, I know. Breathe through it, it’ll get better in a minute.” You find yourself starting to time your breaths to the motions of his hand on your back - no doubt his intention - and slowly the impending darkness and flashing lights fade out as the pain recedes from a raging inferno to a persistent stabbing feeling.

After several long, tense minutes, you attempt to stand more upright. You make it nowhere near fully straight, that will take days - maybe weeks - yet, but you get far enough to look into your boyfriend’s dark eyes. The fear is still there, but the shock and mis-placed aggression has gone.

“Do you think you can move to the table?” He asks gently, and you’re glad he’s giving you the agency to move by yourself rather than just telling you what to do or manhandling you himself. You take another couple of deep breaths and nod.

He slowly guides you to sit in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, one hand at your elbow, the other on your lower back. He never applies any pressure, just maintains an alert closeness as you make your way to the chair on your own terms.

When you finally reach the seat, Marc helps to lower you down into it, taking the vast majority of your weight and accounting for your inability to bend (or straighten) the middle of your body and your shaky legs. His eyes dart around your form constantly as he gets you settled. Under his -unintentional- scrutiny you feel the need to explain yourself.

“I just wanted to make some tea. I tried to reach up for the tea bags, but it hurt really suddenly and I knocked the mug off the counter and it was instinct to try and catch it... I didn’t think about it…” Your voice is small. Marc’s raised voice and outburst has made you edgy on top of the shock of the incident itself, and the pain has made you feel unsteady and sick. You suddenly realise just how rough you actually feel.

Marc sighs as he drops to a crouch beside you. He knows he’d be exactly the same, refusing to be helpless in any way. Hell, he knows he was exactly the same back when he was a mercenary, before Konshu and the suit.

“I get it, I do. But you gotta be patient. It wasn’t exactly minor surgery and you’re still on the heavy drugs. We can’t risk messing up the repairs they’ve done, and there’s no need to make it worse for yourself when we can help-”

“- I don’t want you all to-” you begin, shaking your head but Marc is already gesturing for you to stop.

“- don’t, baby, please. We can’t bear to see you hurting, especially when we’re right here and can help you so much if you’ll let us.” The burning compassion in his eyes kills the response you were formulating. You suddenly find yourself unable to meet his eyes.

Marc’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones and swiping away the wetness of traitorous tears. He looks -and sounds- close to crying himself. “Alright. I need to check your stitches, is that ok?”

You nod silently. Marc softly runs his hands down your arms, then carefully pulls up your shirt and delicately checks for any damage. There’s a long, stressful silence as Marc carefully manipulates the dressing on your stomach to see your wound better. You clench your teeth and focus on breathing evenly to prevent a whimper from escaping your throat.

“Looks okay, just a bit raw from the sudden movement.” Marc confirms finally, and as he lays gentle fingers against your skin to check for signs of internal bleeding or infection, you find yourself blurting out what’s currently on your mind.

“Is Steven freaking out?”

He glances up at the mirror, then focuses back on you. “Yeah. You know how he is.” His answer is surprisingly honest, and suddenly his head jerks up again, staring into the mirror steadily.

Marc is silent for a moment too long, glaring into the reflection of the mirror on the wall behind you. “What’s he saying?” You ask, an edge to your voice. Marc shakes his head, an annoyed look crossing his face. “It’s not Steven.” You blink. You’d only met Jake once.

Marc had fallen badly ill and wouldn’t accept any help. With a raging fever, violent cough and unable to keep any food or water down, Steven wasn’t able to convince Marc to either give up the body or accept help, and Marc was still the strongest of the alters when it came to control of the body. When it reached four days of not eating, the fever still hadn’t broken and Marc was no longer coherent. He was weak enough that Jake finally managed to take over. The two of you had spoken very little, with Jake struggling to maintain their failing body and only conscious long enough to refuse professional medical help and request whatever he felt they needed to get better (electrolyte drinks at first, then meal replacement shakes, and eventually soup. Open the window - another blanket - close the window - take the blanket away - around and around.). On the sixth day the fever broke, and finally on the eighth day an exhausted Jake surrendered the body to Steven, who carried them over the line to recovery.

“Okay, what’s Jake saying?”

A muscle is twitching in Marc’s jaw. “He wants to help.”

“Fine.” You manage a small shrug, tiredness starting to take over.

Marc gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. I don’t trust him.”

By now you’ve had enough. Your elbow thuds onto the table, forearm upright to support your heavy head as you drop your forehead into your open palm. Your other arm has found its own way to drape protectively around your swollen, sore abdomen. Staring at the floorboards you grind out “What the fuck is he gonna do Marc? Put a bullet in my head to put me out of my misery? Jesus, just let him help if he wants to. But if you and Steven want to take all the responsibility for putting up with your useless lump of a partner then… Whatever.”

Marc is silent for an unexpected length of time. You don’t really care to notice, the haze of an abused body making you miserable and strangely detached. Your attention is busy floating off somewhere outside your body when movement catches your eye and your boyfriend shifts to kneel right in front of you. His warm hand rests gently on your knee, and when he dips his head down to gaze up into your face it isn’t Marc you see. It isn’t Steven either.

You lift your head slightly. “Jake?”

Jake’s expression is sombre. “Honey, you’re not a ‘useless lump’, you’re recovering from some pretty heavy surgery.”

Your expression is almost dead, but tears spring to your eyes again as you tilt your head towards the smashed mug “kinda useless -“ then gesture towards your uncomfortably swollen stomach “- kinda lumpy.”

Jake looks incredibly sad. You suddenly wonder how many times he’s heard Marc’s internalised self-hatred, whether he tried to comfort him only to find himself talking to a metaphorical brick wall. He gently squeezes your thigh. “I know it sucks right now, okay? I know you’re uncomfortable, and in pain, and I know it’s wearing you out.” He pauses, and you can see the minuscule movement of his throat as he swallows.  “We know you’ve been struggling for a while, even before the surgery, and not just with the physical stuff. We can see it. But we really want to help, honey. We’d put you in the suit if we could, I swear. So please let us help however we actually can?”

You find yourself having to divert your gaze from his, reminded too much of the fear in Steven and Marc’s eyes earlier.

“Honey?” Damn Jake and his incredible perceptiveness. You sigh.

“Is… I’m sorry I made Marc angry.”

You see Jake’s startled recoil in your peripheral vision. You feel it in your soul. Then he’s leaning in closer again, his hand squeezing your thigh so firmly you wonder if Marc is back. The voice that whispers your name like a prayer is all Jake, though.

“You - you didn’t make him angry, honey. He just - we just need to make sure you're okay.”

You don’t answer, and there’s a few beats of silence before Jake lets out a sigh like he’s been holding his breath for hours. He shifts his weight slightly, and on the edge of your gaze you see his head drop.

“There was no care for us, no-one to make sure we were okay when we were growing up. Marc especially took the worst of it - and there was no help for him when he was in pain, no-one to try to ease his suffering other than me and Steven, but it’s the same body so it wasn’t ever really a relief. We still feel the pain even when we’re not in control, y’know?”

Your brain boggles at his words. You notice him nod his head slightly, you wonder if he’s talking to the others in the headspace, then he raises his head with a movement so decisive you can practically feel the resolve rolling off him in waves.

“And it terrifies us to think that you might feel the same way - that you might be hurting, or scared, or just down, and think there’s no-one to help. Because we will do anything, give anything for you. So please, please let us help you. Please?”

You lift your head, stunned. Jake’s face is so sincere, the tears that threatened to fall earlier start to trickle down your cheeks in earnest. Jake's thumb is rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he patiently waits for your answer. Unable to find words, you slowly nod. He nods in response; a small, lopsided smile easing the tense lines of his face.

“It’s not forever. I know it feels like it right now, but they said you can go back to work in two weeks. And I think that means we have an excuse to spend some quality downtime together, y’know?” Jake’s thick accent adds a suggestive edge to his words.

A bark of a laugh escapes you, and you feel the tension in your face ease slightly. “Well.. We can’t do that until at least week four, so you’re out of luck there.”

A stricken look passes across Jake’s face in a flash, but he quickly smothers it with a smirk. You feel a frown twitch through your eyebrows before Jake speaks again. “Damn, I guess we’ll have to get started on that ‘watch list’ we’ve been making. And the doctor said to eat whatever you want, whenever you want while you’re on those good drugs, so I really hope you want a lot of take-out…”

You snort out a laugh but it’s short lived, the mirth washing away like the tide. That look you caught sight of is bothering you. “Jake… what was that look just now?”

Jake feigns innocence. He’s terrible at it. “What look?”

“Just now, right after I said we couldn’t…” You trail off leadingly. He doesn’t take the bait.

“You mean my sexy look?” Jake wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. A smile breaks across your face but it’s fleeting and you’re not letting this drop. Your tone is almost one of warning.

“Jake…”

The look on your face seems to say more than your words or tone ever could. Jake sighs and drops his gaze to the floor. When he looks up at you again a few seconds later, his expression is serious.

“I wasn’t suggesting that. I wasn’t even thinking about it -”

“-Jake -”

“ - I would never think that was okay. Not right now. Not any time you're hurt, or just don’t want to -”

“ - Jake - “

 “ - You know that right?”

You sigh. Jake’s being so powerfully sincere it feels like all three of them are speaking to you as one. Maybe they are. You gently cup his face in your hands, having to use your grip to pull him closer as you can’t bend nearer to him. He follows willingly, kneeling up to bring his face an inch from yours, his hands snugly tucked against the chair under your thighs so he doesn’t put any pressure on your body at all.

“I know. and thank you, all of you.”

He genuinely looks confused. “What for?”

“Everything.” Giving him no chance to argue, you press a -very gentle - kiss to his lips. His response is so careful it makes you want to cry again, especially when he eases away after just a few seconds. Resting his forehead against yours, your entire vision is swallowed by his deep, incredibly dark eyes as he murmurs. “Siempre, mi angel.”

#moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #Moon Knight fan fiction #Moon Knight fanfic #Moon Knight fan fic #steven grant #marc spector #Jake Lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #Steven Grant Angst #Marc Spector Angst #jake lockley angst #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac Character

[casinocarpediem]

Cecil "*distracted, looking at the wedding platter of food*

Harry: ... you wanna continue??

Cecil: yes–

Harry: 's alright

Cecil: got a lil hungry

Harry: we just ate????

Cecil: I said I'm sorry 😒" Dennis

#🤯 random #cecil dennis #oscar isaac #revenge for jolly #cecil dennis revenge for jolly #cecil revenge for jolly #cecil dennis rfj #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #correct quotes #HAHA #hes so fuckable

[guruan]

Request : Any Oscar's char that you like but not from Moon Knight.

It was hard to choose! I don't like all of them the same way, but I really like the characterization of a lot of them! I think I've already said it before, but is just that I loveee drawing him having the same 'base' face and still looking different for each role!!

Anyway, I decided drawing Jonathan because I SUFFERED for that man. Even to this day I cannot talk about that man without ranting how much that show affected me LMAO

And also, just look at the poor little man, he looks so nerdy, and kind, I just love it

Guruan's 1k followers celebration

Man I really was tired yesterday, drew him like 3 times and I didn't like any of them

Now I like it 😊

#guruan's 1k followers celebration #fanart #sketch #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character #jonathan levy #scenes from a marriage

[ivystoryweaver]

Moon Boys Fun ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

#moon knight poll #polls #oscar isaac poll #oscar isaac character #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight system #moon boys

[fake-bleach]

all mine | miguel o'hara x reader

summary: You have an unspoken rule with Miguel O’Hara. He takes care of you, he provides for you, and in return, you let him take what he wants.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), literally porn no plot, unprotected piv sex, implications of free use but also not rly, slight choking, dirty talk, roughish sex, no foreplay (straighttt to it), use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, girl, etc), coming inside, i think that's it lolll, !no atsv spoilers!

i know this isn't p but i watched spiderverse last night and had to get him out of my system + i adore oscar isaac <3 working on two joel fics rn so expect those :)

ao3 link | masterlist

The ruffling of your sheets weren't nearly enough to wake you from your sleep. But, the pressure of Miguel's body on yours was.

It always was.

"Hey, baby.. It's me," he whispers in your ear, his hands and arms practically consuming you as they roam across your entire body. With you laying flat on your stomach, his hips and chest press so tightly against you.

It runs chills down your spine; the force of his pent up cock in his rigid suit as the sultry voice fills your hazy mind, barely wakening from your deep slumber. His lips plant desperate kisses on the back of your neck, lowering the more he lifts your flimsy pajama shirt up and up and up.

He never did really like you wearing anything to sleep.

Your sluggish murmurs barely register to him, a soft, “Mmphf," and "Miguel.." making him almost instinctively say the same words he always does when he comes to you.

"Yeah.. Missed you too, cariño." He mutters out, his hands already reaching for your shorts to lower them along with your panties, not taking a single second to waste. The small kisses he plants on your lower back never slow, giving you that bit of reassurance which almost sends a surge of energy through you.

He was always so needy with you; never putting much effort to make any small talk. He was here for a reason and you knew that.

But, you didn't mind it one bit.

The cool air from the sudden exposure on your skin sends shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble just enough to force a faint laugh out of Miguel's throat.

It's that same laugh that makes you crave him; the deep, heavy tone of it making your eyes flutter open with need already soaring through you and your core.

His fingers trail down to your inner thighs, almost teasing you with the gentle glide of the tips, wanting to force those little noises out of your mouth, which he successfully does. Your faint whines just make him grin, knowing that you need him.. just as much as he needs you.

He drifts them over your soft folds, nearly hissing out at how wet you already were. It makes him chuckle, your whimpers growing louder the more he touches you. "Already soaked for me, honey? Bet you were just waitin' for me to come see you.." He whispers out lowly, his lustful eyes fixed onto your glistening cunt.

His fingers take their time, faintly pressing against your entrance and swiping through your lips, gathering the wet slick that you were so graciously providing for him.

It always makes this so much easier for him.

You moan out, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his body and the movement of his free hand releasing his cock from his suit, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He desperately guides the tip of it through your folds, getting ready to indulge himself into your warm heat. The feeling of his cock pressing into you makes you groan, gripping onto the sheets as butterflies flow through your stomach and core, hole clenching around nothing.

You needed him so bad already, just like you always did.

Mouth falling open, you whimper out, "please.." and all it does is make him laugh, smirking as he glances up at you. "Need me that bad, baby? Barely getting started.." He rasps out, nearly pressing the head of his cock into your cunt, but just enough to get him a taste of you.

He groans out, his hands now moving up to squeeze your ass eagerly before slapping it. The harsh sound and the sting of it makes you cry out, thrusting your hips against the sheets in attempt to get some kind of friction.

"Fuck, missed this pretty pussy.. Gonna cherish it.. fuck it.. just like you need, honey." He lets out with a faint hiss, taking his time to start pushing his cock inside of your tight hole. The girth of him makes your walls constrict around him, gripping onto him tightly as he presses himself into you, each inch making your jaw fall wider and wider.

You've been at this too many times with him, but you never get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

It doesn't take too long until his hips are flush against your ass, the tip of his cock piercing so deeply inside of you and filling you up to the brim. It has you letting out small pants, eyes almost rolling all the way to the back of your head at how heavy the air feels around you, how full you feel.

Your face lays on the bed, the side of your cheek pressed against your pillow as your eyes gaze onto Miguel's hips and large body nearly covering you entirely. He licks his drying lips, staring up at you for a moment to look at your face.

He coos at you, almost patronizingly. "Too much?" he teases, "Fucked you so many times, baby.. n' your cunt's still so tight around me."

His head tilts down to stare at the sight of your walls wrapped around him and slightly pulls out as he lifts your thigh up a bit, just enough to see you clench around him involuntarily. It makes him groan; the feeling of your warm pussy enough to wash all of his problems away.

That's why he was here, anyway.

His hips begin to create an unrelenting pace, slowly yet surely making your entire body push and pull into the mattress over and over again, every force of his cock hitting you harder each time.

The echoing smack of his hips slapping against your ass and thighs fill the room entirely, along with your moans growing louder with each thrust. The recurring sting of his skin leaves you breathless, letting out small gasps as you grip onto the sheets tighter.

Miguel doesn't take a second to rest, making sure he slams his cock into your cunt to the brim, using every inch of your hole as if it were only his to use.

He lets out short, hoarse moans each time he enters you. The squelching noises your soaked pussy gives out makes him smack your ass, your slick coating his cock and nearly running down your thighs.

The sounds make your cheeks burn, his mocking laugh forcing a groan out of you as he moves his body forward to lay his chest on your back now, the weight of him keeping your waist and stomach flush into the bed.

The pressure of him feels intoxicating, your breath hitching as he leans his mouth towards your ear. His grunts are the only thing that you can hear now, along with the faint sounds of the constant slaps of his hips against you. It's so filthy, yet you crave it every time with him.

His grunts now turn into whispers; faint, heavy breaths that you can barely process from how full and fucked out you felt.

It's almost like you're going in and out of consciousness, hardly registering what he was saying, until you hear, "Good fucking girl.. Lettin' me use you like this, fuck, taking such good care of me.."

You whimper out in response, his words making that heat in your stomach and core rise. The praise, yet degrading things that Miguel tells you always leave you wanting more.

His hips begin to slow down now, instead taking his time to pull his cock out of you, letting the tip of it rest against your entrance. Lifting his head from your shoulder, his eyes travel from your bare skin back to your ass. He shoves himself back into you, harder with each thrust so you can feel every inch of him, taking you completely.

You cry out at the intrusion, the harsh force making your eyes roll back as you whine out his name. The push of his cock reaches that spot deep inside of you, forcing your eyes wide open at the overwhelming sensation.

His name on your tongue drives him insane, lifting one of his hands from your ass to reach underneath the weight of your head, wrapping his fingers around your throat. He feels your heart pounding beneath his fingertips, his grip on you tightening just to see you gasp with his eyes fixed on your face now.

He moans your name, his coarse voice making you tighten around him, "There we go, sweetheart.. Think I hit a spot, yeah?" He murmurs out, your groans giving him the answer he needed. The repetitive movement of his thrusts never relent, Miguel making sure that the pace and aim of his cock stay the same.

Your body shudders at the feeling, sending waves of pleasure through your core as you feel him buried to the hilt. You breathe out, desperation seething out through your teeth, "Yeah, Miguel, s-shit, yeah..", feeling your orgasm build up the more he fucks you.

"That's it, honey, let me hear you say it.. Who's fuckin' you this good? Who's gonna make you come, baby?" He pants, thrusts growing faster as he chases his own release, needing to come with you.

Another smack of his large hand on your ass makes you gasp out, eyes shutting tightly as you force the words out of your lips, "You, Miguel, fuck, s'always you.. no one else.."

Your confession goes straight to Miguel's cock, pride growing at the knowledge that you give yourself to him and only him. He grits his teeth, groans slipping out of his mouth while he reaches between your stomach connected to the bed, pressing his fingers against your clit.

"Yeah, baby? I'm the only one who can fuck this pretty pussy, that right?" He urges out of you, hardly processing his thoughts before he can speak them, "You're mine to use? Mine to fuck when I want, huh?"

His words mixed with the pressure of his fingertips on your clit, pressing small, tight circles on it has you moaning out spurs of nonsense; mindless, fucked out noises, with the way his cock slams inside of you over and over again. You feel so full, the heat and coiling inside of your stomach and core increasing.

You whine out, biting your swollen lips, "F-Fuck! Yeah, yeah, m' yours Miguel, all fucking yours.." you breathe out, "Yours to fuck, whenever you want.. Yours to use; whatever you want, Miguel.."

Admitting that shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

You never thought you'd be able to speak like that, much less degrade yourself in such a way; not until he came into your life.

Not until he ruined you for everyone else.

His chest presses tightly against your back, lips back in your ear as he grunts into it, "That's my girl.. knowing your fuckin' place, that's right.." His hands press into the small of your back, forcing your stomach into the bed. You didn't think it was possible for you to feel even more full, but the way he buries his cock to the hilt has you seeing stars.

The quick circles on your clit with the force of his hips has your stomach tightening, coiling up as your walls constrict around his cock, making you come without any warning at all.

Your head lifts, pants and moans escaping your throat with your eyes shut. Miguel's voice encourages you, his fingers on your clit slowing, though his hips never let up. He lifts his chest off from your back to gain better leverage now, hands gripping onto your ass as he pounds himself into you.

The pressure of his cock into your sensitive, spent cunt has you wailing out, whining at the overstimulation. Miguel just uses you and your abused hole, chasing his own release as his cock twitches. "Shit, honey, gonna come, gonna fill you up, fuck," he groans out in rushed breaths.

You clench around him involuntarily, the spasms of your pussy and orgasm hardly to your own control, letting out, "Fill me up, baby, ruin me, please.."

Your words were enough to push Miguel right to the edge, the sudden halt of his thrusts making you gasp out as he buries himself deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick streams of come. He lets himself fall against you, chest pressed into your back with his hips up to the hilt of your hole.

The mix of your heavy breaths and his pants fill your ears and the entire room, the air filled with the scent of sex as you both fall from your highs. Your chest fills with air, heaving up and down with each breath you take as you stare at Miguel, taking in his figure entirely.

You could never truly allow yourself to actually feel for him; you knew that would never be wise, but you can't help the words that escape your mouth.

"Stay tonight?"

Miguel just lifts his head to look into your eyes, giving you a small, tired smile. "Yeah, honey.. Thank you..” he breathes with a press of his lips to your shoulder, “I needed this.”

"I know."

-

a/n: idek if this made any sense bc i wrote it so quick but idgaf i need him <3

-

reblogs are appreciated!

send me requests & i might write it for you! :)

wanna be on a taglist? fill out the google form in my pinned post!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #spiderverse smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #fake-bleach #my writing #i need him so bad

[pedroscurls]

chance encounters

WIP | ao3

character(s): Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Will "Ironhead" Miller, Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Benny Miller, fem!Reader

series summary: You've suddenly and tragically lost your best friend and can't handle the grief. Until four strangers give you a glimmer of hope that things will (and can) get better. (ultimately a story about working through grief with the help of our four boys from Triple Frontier)

series warnings: grief, mentions of death, violence (through the act of fighting - come on, it's an MMA story basically), fighting, minimal physical descriptions of reader (i will do my best to keep it as neutral as possible!), cursing and inappropriate language, mentions of PTSD and substance abuse, mma/kickboxing/muay thai jargon (each chapter will have its own separate and detailed warnings!), mutual pining (frankie and fem!reader)

a/n: I know I said I was going to take a hiatus from writing because of what this month means to me personally, but I've found that writing this story has actually helped me deal with my own grief... Also, I'd like to think I have moderate knowledge in the fighting game (started out training as a boxer and now I'm doing muay thai / kickboxing), so if something seems wrong, let me know! Anyway, this story is very special to me. I hope you enjoy it.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund character #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #story: chance encounters

[musings-of-a-rose]

Love Is the Drug

From @purple-amaranthe :

Hi! If you're still doing Steven Grant requests, can you do a Steven Grant x reader, with some singing thrown in? (Like love is the drug thing 😊) thank you so much! ❤️

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader

Word Count: 450+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So I know my asks are technically closed for a bit, but this was pm’d to me and I immediately had the thought (with a little help from @mermaidxatxheart). And I’m so in love with soft Steven.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

This. This is what he loves to come home to.

No matter how long or hard his day was, no matter how much Donna got on him, how annoying the customers were, it doesn’t matter when he gets home. Because he gets to come home to this.

To her.

Steven quietly opens the front door, setting his keys in the bowl on the side table that she had put there for him before gently closing the door behind him. He can hear you beyond the wall of books that serves as a room divider. The water is running and he hears clanks as dishes are knocked around, adding to the feeling of home that he gets whenever she’s here. 

But more than that - she’s singing. 

Steven absolutely melts when he hears her singing. The way her voice washes over him, making his worries disappear, the hardness of the day being scrubbed from the inside of him with every note she sings. 

Love is the drug, got a hook on me

Oh oh catch that buzz

Love is the drug I'm thinking of

Oh oh can't you see

Love is the drug for me

Steven tiptoes to the edge of the book wall and peeks around the corner, the faint music coming from the radio she has sitting on the windowsill becoming slightly louder. Her hips sway in time with the beat, her arms moving with the act of washing a cup, the sight of her along with her voice sets him completely at ease. 

He walks up to her and places his hands on her hips, chuckling when she yelps, flinging soapy water at him before she realizes it’s Steven. She elbows him slightly in the ribs and Steven lets out a small grunt, the smile never leaving his face. 

“Cheeky man, sneakin’ up on me like that! The nerve!”

Steven laughs, lowering his head to kiss that spot on her neck that makes her weak.

“I may be cheeky, but only for you, love.”

“Well aren’t I the lucky one then, eh?” She laughs and it lights him up. Spinning her around to face him, his fingers brush her cheek as their eyes meet. 

“No way. I’m the lucky one, love.”

He leans forward and places a soft kiss to her lips, her fingers finding their way into his shirt, gripping at him to pull him closer. His hand moves to the back of her head as he pulls her closer, his other arm winding around her, holding her to him. Gentle kisses turn into something more as hands start picking at clothes, little groans and grunts coming out as they move towards the bed, dishes long forgotten as Steven shows her exactly how she makes him feel. 

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  

#moon knight #moonknight #steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfic #oscar isaac character fanfiction #oscar isaac character ff

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, brief mentions of sex, oral sex.

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 2 PART3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel that comes home tired of another day at the spider society, dealing with more than he can take on.

Needy Miguel that feels the weight of the multiverse on his shoulders and feels empty inside when he opens the door of his room and nobody is there to greet him and comfort him.

Needy Miguel that drags his feet to bed exhausted, disengages his suit and lays flat naked on the bed, his body drained of energy.

Needy Miguel that tries to drift off to sleep but thoughts of you earlier on the day when you were together on a mission start invading his head, making him hot and bothered.

Needy Miguel that even though he’s tired and he know he’ll regret this in the morning gives his already hard cock a couple of testing tugs and immediately moans and squeezes his throbbing member at the thought of how good the curve of your ass looks in your spider suit.

Needy Miguel that dry fucks his fist angrily out of frustration of not having anyone that can satisfy him, not having a warm body against his, at the frustration of not being able to tell you how he feels about you, about not having the opportunity of fucking your sweet cunt instead of his own fist like every other day when he finds himself at this exact same situation.

Needy Miguel that stitches his eyebrows together as he thinks about how your moans would sound probably like heaven as he fucks you senseless, picturing your legs spreading out for him, your inner thighs full of bruises that he left after eating you out and making you come on his tongue at least 3 times before he buried his fat cock deep inside you.

Needy Miguel that decides to finally reach out for the lube and drip down some drops, moaning and arching his back at the sensation of the cold substance against his hot head.

Needy Miguel that likes to edge himself, likes to fuck his fist fast to then slow down and just rub his thumb against the underside of his weeping swollen red tip making his legs shiver and whimper in need.

Needy Miguel that plays with his balls with his free hand, pulls them down, kneads at them, stretches them and brings them together as he feels a sweet relief from that.

Needy Miguel that changes positions in bed and closes his eyes, resting his feet flat on the bed to meet each violent and fast tug of his hand with a thrust of his hips as a loud groan erupts from his chest and resonates all over his penthouse.

Needy Miguel that was too tired to even notice that when he threw his gizmo next to him in bed, he accidentally called you, the live feed option turning on, making you witness everything; hearing each moan and sweet sound he made, praising your name over and over again until finally loads and loads of thick cum ran down his knuckles when he met his release.

Fair for me to say you’re gonna probably have an interesting chat with him tomorrow.

AN: This is my first post writing smut for Miguel, I had a revelation about him after I woke up knowing that I dreamed about him but sadly I don’t remember what it was about 😭😭

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fics Masterlist

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #oscar isaac characters #spidersona #spiderverse oc

[whaddayadothatfor]

Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

#marvel x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #marvel smut #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spider man smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac smut #y/n

[guruan]

hiii hello, i adore ur art and how u draw the moon knight boys, so if ur still taking requests, may i ask for a sketch of another oscar isaac character, llewyn davis from his movie inside llewyn davis? i'd love to see my disaster guitar man in ur style and i don't think i've seen u draw a bearded oscar character, so i'd love to see ur take on him!! tysm for ur amazing art and congrats on 1k!!

Hi theeeree!

Thank youu ❤❤

UGH LLEWYN

I loveeeeee his looks in that movie, the neat beard, the curly hair, and the clothes aasdfasdfgasdg Really really love it all. I also feel so bad for him- asdfasg

Anyway- Llewyn

There's some movies that I still need to watch, but I know his characterizations and looks for almost all of them, and I appreciate them all hehe

Guruan's 1k followers celebration

(Yes, I'm accepting requests all this month- And it's ok to send as many as you want 👀)

#guruan's 1k followers celebration #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis #sketch #request #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character

[potatowilde]

✨️ EP. 05 ASYLUM— “Marc?!” “Steven?!” Prompt 5/6! ⁠🌙⁠

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You can also find me at: IG | X | Ko-Fi

#art in the wilde #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #marvelfanart #moon knight fanart #steven grant #mcu #moon knight mcu #mcu fanart #moonknight fanart #oscar isaac characters

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions,  and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.” 

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms. 

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3. 

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms. 

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected. 

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care. 

It also wore off in 24 hours. 

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans. 

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach. 

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised. 

The other two were different, they had… other urges. 

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data. 

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.” 

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much. 

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long. 

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.” 

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that. 

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?” 

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased. 

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.” 

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost. 

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?” 

He nodded and held his arm out to you. 

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen. 

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.  

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him. 

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped. 

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?” 

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him. 

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms. 

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid. 

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins. 

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip. 

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this- 

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red. 

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him. 

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible. 

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time. 

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut. 

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound. 

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense. 

Almost. 

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this. 

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name. 

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect. 

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. 

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch. 

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret. 

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up. 

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once. 

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum. 

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'. 

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth. 

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist. 

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh. 

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this. 

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating. 

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release. 

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you. 

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release. 

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating. 

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest. 

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side. 

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough. 

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second. 

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative. 

It shouldn't take long. 

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes. 

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work. 

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. 

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others. 

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful. 

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back. 

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine. 

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick. 

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level. 

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful. 

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core. 

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check. 

It doesn’t last long. 

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in. 

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on. 

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts. 

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got. 

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words. 

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper. 

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going. 

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust. 

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end. 

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change. 

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory. 

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down. 

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure. 

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade. 

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before. 

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless. 

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans. 

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you. 

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal. 

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears. 

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength. 

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips. 

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength. 

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements. 

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze. 

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes. 

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either. 

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside. 

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully. 

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control. 

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat. 

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly. 

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip. 

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him. 

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you. 

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat. 

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him. 

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in. 

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight,  his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin. 

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release. 

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily. 

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat. 

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter. 

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin. 

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly. 

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. 

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside. 

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm. 

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves. 

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-” 

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs. 

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation. 

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you. 

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw. 

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.” 

.

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time. 

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated. 

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down. 

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?” 

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now. 

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin. 

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath. 

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently. 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Happy to help.” 

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand. 

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused. 

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.” 

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong. 

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation. 

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe. 

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul. 

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.  

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered. 

You frown and shake your head, confused. 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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[pedroscurls]

chance encounters | pt. 2

character(s): we got all the Triple Frontier boys in this chapter (obvi except Tom). Benny Miller, Will "Ironhead" Miller, Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Frankie "Catfish" Morales, fem!Reader summary: Days blend together and it's become three months since you started training with Benny, and you use fighting and training as a distraction from your grief. It's when you're alone when things become too much. Luckily, Benny books you your first fight and your mind remains focused on winning (rather than dealing with the loss of your best friend). word count: 4.1k a/n: While I do train muay thai/kickboxing, I don't think I'd ever be able to fight (even when sparring in class I'm always so nervous lol), anyway... I hope you guys enjoy. We're going to delve deeper into Reader's grief in the next upcoming chapters and a certain someone might be able to help... warnings: grief (and Reader doing a poorly job at coping with the loss), violence - it's Reader's first fight!, mutual pining between Frankie and Reader series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

It had been three months. Three months since you started training with Benny at his gym. Three months since you started fighting again. 

But that also meant it had been a total of six months since you lost your best friend. They say that days get better, that they get easier, but why does it feel like you haven’t gotten any better at all? You’re stuck in this same pattern where the only joy and excitement you feel is when you step foot into Benny’s gym. When your glove hits the heavy bag. When your leg connects with the pads that Benny holds. But as soon as you leave, you’re back to square one. 

Every morning and every night, you lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your mind refuses to shut off. You’re afraid to close your eyes because when you do, all you see is your best friend. You can hear his laugh. You can see his smile. You can imagine him here. 

And you hate it. You hate it because when you do open your eyes, you’re back to reality. You won’t ever be able to hear his laugh or his voice again. You won’t ever be able to see him smile or have him physically here with you. 

All he is now is just a memory, haunting you day and night. 

Benny has been so patient with you and you had gotten to know more about the three men you saw three months ago. The other blue-eyed man turned out to be his older brother, Will. He was quiet and reserved, but just like Benny, whenever he smiled, you felt a sense of comfort and security. 

Then, there was Santiago… or Santi, he liked to say. He was just as outgoing as Benny was and he certainly wasn’t afraid to let you know how attractive he thought you were. It was meant to be a compliment and it would have usually made you blush and smile, but instead, it just earned him a curt nod before you walked past him to start training with Benny. Since then, though, Santiago had always tried to make you smile or laugh and there had been a few times where he succeeded, but as soon as the smile touched your lips or the laugh escaped you, you shut down. It didn’t feel right being happy. 

And lastly, there was Frankie. He was just as quiet and reserved as Will was, but there was something about him that was soft and welcoming. You couldn’t explain it. In fact, he was the only one you hadn’t really spoken to. He liked to keep to himself, but there were certain gestures or actions that made you feel safe with him. He would hand you your duffle bag when you were getting ready to go home, give you a towel when you were drenched in sweat, and he even went so far to order food one night when you had mumbled that you hadn’t eaten all day. 

Today, just like any other day, you step into Benny’s gym. Music is quietly playing and you see all four men wrestling on the mats. It didn’t seem like they were taking it seriously and you can hear their laughter echo the walls of the gym. It makes your heart flutter for a moment because even in the midst of your own grief, these four men managed to sneak into your life and begin to make a home. In fact, you couldn’t even begin to imagine life without them. You knew your best friend would have gotten along with them just fine, especially Benny. And it pains you because your best friend isn’t here to enjoy this with you. 

“Oh, hey!” Santiago calls out, finally being overpowered by Benny as he lands on his back with a thud. “We were just messing around.” 

“And I won,” Benny grins, climbing off of Santiago and standing up. 

“You’re like thirty pounds heavier than I am. Of course you won.” Santiago rolls his eyes, but lets out a chuckle. 

“It’s all about technique,” Benny winks. “Anyway, I thought I had you scheduled to start in an hour.” He says to you. 

“Right,” you sigh. “I just figured I could come in early and hit the bag. If that’s okay?” 

“You sure you won’t be tired?” Will says, sitting up as he and Frankie both try to catch their breaths. “You’re always training. Are you getting any rest?” 

“Trying,” you admit quietly. 

Frankie’s eyes soften immediately. Since the moment he saw you, he could see the sadness in your eyes, the void that is now left within you after finding out that you had lost your best friend. Loss was something he and the rest of the guys were all too familiar with, especially with being in their line of service, but that didn’t make it any easier. Frankie had numbed his grief and his pain with drugs and alcohol that it got to a point where he almost lost everything, he almost lost himself and it was his friends that brought him back to life. It wasn’t easy, but without them, he knew he wouldn’t have made it. 

“Well, we’ll get out of your way. Go ahead and warm up,” Benny says. He and the rest of the guys stand up to give you space on the mat and Frankie is the last one to brush past you. He hears you let out a shaky breath and for a moment he pauses, stands right next to you. 

“Hey, are you–” he quietly begins. 

“Gotta train,” you interrupt, moving past him. 

Frankie sighs and nods, following the rest of the guys towards Benny’s office in the back. Once inside, Benny hands him a bottle of water and sits down on the couch along the wall, glancing over at the door every so often. 

“What’s up, Fish?” Santiago asks, arching a brow. 

“I don’t think she’s okay,” Frankie points out. 

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Benny says. “But if she doesn’t want to share, then we can’t force her. We all know what that’s like. You especially, Fish.” 

Frankie tightens his jaw, running a hand through his unruly curls. “She’s struggling. You guys saw me struggle and still forced me to–”

“That’s because we have history, hermano,” Santiago interrupts. “We’ve only known her for a few months. We can’t just– We can’t just insert ourselves in her life when she’s made it clear that we’re all just… Acquaintances?” 

“I was going to surprise her, think maybe it’ll cheer her up, but I booked her first fight for this Friday.” Benny says. “I think we’re all more than just acquaintances, but it’s her grief and we can’t push her on it.”

Will nods. “We all grieve differently. We all know this. Just give her time. If she wants to talk, she’ll reach out to one of us.” 

“And how are you sure?” Frankie asks.

Santiago, Will, and Benny all share a look with each other before they turn their attention to Frankie. They can all visibly see the concern in his features and it’s only then that they realize that’s probably something more to this. 

“Okay, what’s really going on, Frankie?” Santiago asks. 

“Nothing,” Frankie waves off. “I’m just– We’ve all been in her shoes and we had each other to get us through it.”

“You like her,” Benny slowly grins. “You’ve barely talked to her and you like her.”

“Oh, shut up. I barely know her.” 

Will chuckles. “But you like her?” 

“I’m just trying to be nice, okay?” Frankie sighs. “It’s nothing like that.” 

“You like her,” Santiago chuckles. “To be honest though, she does stare at you a little longer than everyone else.”

Frankie rolls his eyes. “Okay, you know what, I’m leaving.”

“But wait,” Benny chuckles. “You gonna say bye to her?” 

Frankie’s jaw tightens and he playfully punches Benny’s arm, shaking his head. “You guys are assholes.”

“But you love us,” Santiago grins.

“Debatable,” he mumbles. “I just think… Maybe it’d be nice if we got her some flowers or cake or a card? I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“She doesn’t seem like the flowers kind of girl and she can’t have cake.” Benny says. “A card might be a good start," he teases. 

“Great, you’ll be in charge of that, Fish,” Santiago winks. 

“Bye,” Frankie says with a shake of his head as he leaves Benny’s office. He walks down the hallway and hears the sounds of the bag and exhaled breaths. He sees you hitting the bag with such speed and precision; Benny was right. You did have potential to become a legitimate fighter. Frankie enjoys watching you train because you’re so dialed in, so focused that everything around you just seems to disappear. Just like it is now, you’re light on your feet, bouncing on your toes as you deliver punches and hooks to the bag, finishing with a knee or a high kick. It’s impressive. You’re impressive. 

He doesn’t stay long, doesn’t notice the way that your shoulders sag forward when the round ends. It’s almost like your body reminds you of the grief that encompasses your entire being. To be honest, fighting was a way for you to distract yourself from the grief and loss of your best friend. You’re not dealing with your grief. Instead, you’re pushing it as far back as you can, trying to focus on other things because you know that if you put your attention on the fact that your best friend died, you won’t be able to pull yourself out of it. 

—

Friday rolls around and you’re in the locker room, warming up. It’s your first fight and Benny seems more nervous than you are. Your hands are already wrapped and you’re shadowboxing to keep your muscles warm, bouncing on your toes and switching stances from orthodox to southpaw. Frankie, Will, and Santiago enter the locker room just a few minutes before your fight begins. 

“We wanna wish you luck,” Will says, pulling you into a gentle hug. “We know you’re gonna do great.”

“Thank you, Will.” 

Santiago looks at you and smiles. “Make sure this pretty face doesn’t get beat up, yeah?” 

You roll your eyes, the corner of your lips lifting just slightly. “You never quit, do you?” 

Santiago chuckles. “With you? Never.” He winks. 

Frankie then walks towards you. He’s wearing his Standard Heating Oil cap as usual and he lets a small smile line his lips. “Be safe, okay, hermosa?” 

Hermosa. The pet name slips and Frankie bites his lower lip. The tops of his ears begin to burn, turning red in slight embarrassment. He brings a hand to rub the back of his neck and even you are taken by surprise by the pet name. It brings a sense of warmth in the pit of your belly though and instead of waiting for Frankie to pull you into a hug, you wrap your arms around him and let out a shaky exhale. With Frankie, it’s almost like he can tell what you’re feeling, can read how you’re doing, and right now, Frankie’s arms tighten just enough around you that makes you feel safe, that makes you feel like things are going to be okay. 

“Alright, my little warrior,” Benny grins. “Let’s get out there.”

My little warrior. There’s an immediate shift in you and you pull away from Frankie immediately. He goes to say something, but he notices the look on your face, the distance in your eyes. You’re no longer here with him, with them, and he knows that your mind is elsewhere. 

But he can also see the way your eyes glaze over with unshed tears, threatening to spill out. Instead, you take a deep breath and put in your mouth guard, allowing Benny to slide on your gloves.

You’re walking out of the locker room and down the hallway, eyes focused straight ahead of you as the four men remain behind you. You’re supposed to feel excited, thrilled for your first fight, but all you can think about is your best friend and how he wasn’t there to be able to watch you. You clench your hands into fists, your gloves tightening around your hands and you shake your arms loose, seeing the octagon as the crowd cheers and boos. 

The cutman inspects you, making sure that you have your mouthguard in and your gloves tight and secure. Afterwards, the cutman then spreads petroleum jelly across your face - your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your forehead, your chin. They are the most common areas to be hit so the petroleum jelly is to help prevent cuts and tears from the impact that you’re sure you’re about to take in this fight. 

Once the cutman finishes, you turn to Benny and he pulls you into a tight hug. You’re closest to him, especially with him being your coach, but he hasn’t yet known your full story yet. “Stay focused,” he says, pulling away. “You got this.” 

You nod and gently tap his chest with your gloves before you turn to see Will, Santiago, and Frankie flash you a thumbs up from their seats in the front. You enter the octagon and let out a deep breath, your opponent staring down at you with narrowed eyes. You feel the nerves settle in, leaning back against the cage of the octagon as the announcer begins to announce your opponent’s name and her current record. You’re obviously the underdog, with this being your first fight, no one in the crowd (except for Benny and the rest of the guys) believe you can win. 

“The Warrior!” you hear the announcer exclaim and immediately, you feel a shift within you. All you can do is focus on the woman on the other end of the octagon, eyes staring straight into her and the rest of the crowd disappears. The referee calls the both of you into the middle of the ring and you step forward, shifting between your feet as you keep your eyes solely on the woman in front of you. 

“Are we clear?” the referee says after having told you both the rules. You both nod and you reach out to touch her gloves, but she just rolls her eyes and steps away, not bothering to give you the respect you had given her. 

You both move back to your corner of the ring and within seconds, the bell rings to signal the start of the first round. You move closer to the middle of the ring, seeing her do the same as you keep your hands close to your face. She delivers several low kicks that take you a while to check, your leading leg beginning to throb in pain. 

“Check those kicks!” You hear Benny yell from your corner of the octagon. It’s taking you a while to get the groove of things, still bouncing on your toes. You notice the woman has a habit of dropping her hands every time she kicks you and you know that you just need to time it right. 

Your leg is beginning to bruise and it’s becoming a bit difficult to stand on it, so you switch stances to southpaw, keeping most of your weight on your right leg now. 

“Come on!” 

“Just end the fight already!” 

“She’s not even that good!” 

You can hear the crowd and it only fuels you even further. You try to remember Benny’s training, try to remember your best friend’s teachings, and they both had told you to be patient. The right moment will present itself. 

There’s fifteen seconds left in the first round and so far, you know you’re losing. You’ve only thrown a few punches that haven’t landed. You can hear Benny screaming, begging for you to just do something instead of standing there and taking the hits that you don’t need to take. 

The woman puts more pressure and backs you into the corner of the octagon. She clinches her hands around your neck, pulling you close enough to deliver a knee to your abdomen. It hits you straight in your core, knocking the wind out of you that you drop to your knees, falling backwards just as soon as the round ends. 

You stand up slowly, walking towards your corner and sit on the seat that Benny sets down for you. You’re breathing heavily and it hurts, dripping with sweat as your abdomen begins to bruise and throb in addition to your left leg. 

“You’re losing,” Benny says, lifting the bottle of water to your lips to give you a gulp. “You said you wanted this. You said you wanted to fight. What the hell is goin’ on?!”

You shake your head, tightening your jaw as you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused on the other woman and her team. 

“Those kicks–” you begin. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’ll do better. I’ll finish it in this round.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.” 

You stand up from the seat, even with twenty seconds of rest left. “She drops her hands when she delivers a kick, Benny. I’m trying to find an opening.” 

“You’re gonna get your ass kicked just waiting for something to happen. Be proactive. You know you’re fast. You know you’ve got the power. I know you can win this fight. Do you?”

You nod and look up at Benny. “Yes, I do.”

“Then fuckin’ win!” 

The referee waves in your direction, signaling that the next round is about to begin. Benny looks down at you and his eyes soften for a moment. 

“You can do this,” he says. “Believe in yourself.” 

You nod and begin to bounce on your toes, the pain you’re feeling taking a backseat as you stare at the other woman with a tightened jaw and narrowed eyes. 

Then, the bell rings and the second round begins. 

The other woman rushes towards you and you use your footwork to easily move away from her punches. You see her leg begin to lift and her hands drop. This is your moment. You deliver a quick jab that connects with her face and she stumbles backward. It isn’t enough to drop her, so you push forward. 

“There you go!” Benny exclaims. “Just a 1-2! She felt that!” 

You remain focused, delivering just a simple 1-2 punch that continues to connect with her face. You step back to give you enough space to deliver a high kick to her right side, seeing her drop her hands to block the kick which gives you an opening to deliver a hard left hook across her chin. 

You put as much strength as you could behind the hook, hearing the sound of your glove connecting with her chin echo throughout the building. She falls immediately on her back and you quickly scramble to mount her. Her arms cover her face as you just begin to ground and pound, delivering hammer fists to her face. 

Then, you feel the referee come between the both of you, waving his hands in the air to stop the fight. 

You won. Holy shit, you won! 

Benny runs inside of the octagon and lifts you up, cheering and laughing. “You did it!” The rest of the guys rush inside as well, staring at you with excited eyes and grins. 

The other woman finally stands up and the referee holds each of your wrists, waiting for the announcer to announce you as the winner. Once your hand is raised in the air, you feel tears threatening to spill over. The other woman comes to you and reaches out to give you a one-armed hug. 

“Great job,” she says. “That was a great fight.” 

“I’m sure my leg is gonna hurt like hell for the next few days,” you say with a slight smile. 

The other woman chuckles and nods, turning around to walk out of the octagon with her team. 

You turn around and look at Benny, Will, Santiago, and Frankie. Seeing them stare at you with smiles finally makes the dam break and tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Benny’s the first one to pull you into a hug, holding you so tight that it provides the comfort you didn’t know you needed. 

“Your best friend would be proud,” he whispers and it only makes you cry even harder. He and the rest of the guys lead you out of the octagon, hearing the applause and cheers from the crowd as you begin to make your way back to the locker room.

—

After your fight - and after freshening up and taking a shower - you meet the guys at the local bar that they normally frequent. You’re limping slightly, the bruise on your left leg a painful reminder of the leg kicks you endured during the fight. With each breath, you feel your side twinge with pain from the knee your opponent delivered at the end of the first round. 

You keep your hair down and past your shoulders, dressed in a black slip dress that reaches past your knees and sandals. You’re glad that your face didn’t take much damage, but you’re sure that your body is going to be in a lot more pain tomorrow. 

Tonight, you feel like you can celebrate… But also because you didn’t want to be alone. 

Stepping into the bar, you see the four men in a booth in the corner and they spot you immediately. Their eyes slightly widen at the sight of you and you can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, your cheeks heating up at the way they’re looking at you. 

“You clean up nice,” Benny chuckles. 

“I’m not in spandex shorts and a shirt, drenched in sweat,” you tease, sliding into the booth next to Frankie. 

“You look great,” Frankie blurts out. 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you say quietly, looking over at him. 

Santiago, Will, and Benny look between the both of you and arch a brow before the three of them stand up to walk towards the bar. “First round will be on me,” Will says. “What can we get for you?” 

“Glass of white wine, please,” you answer. 

When the three of them leave, there’s an uncomfortable and awkward silence that fills the air between you and Frankie. He scoots closer to the inside of the booth to give you some space and he lifts the glass of beer to his lips. 

“You were great out there tonight,” he finally says. 

“I got my ass handed to me in the first round.”

Frankie chuckles. “But you didn’t give up and you came back in the second round.”

“Guess you can call it luck.”

“It wasn’t luck.” 

You shrug and look down at your hands. “I just saw an opening and took it.” 

“You work hard and it paid off,” Frankie says. 

“Trying to,” you mumble. “It’s been hard.” 

Frankie leans forward, elbows resting on the table as he looks over at you. “Benny mentioned your best friend…” he begins quietly, eyeing you to make sure that he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. When he realizes you weren’t going to stop him and change the subject, he continues. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

Even six months later, that phrase still frustrates you. Even though it’s meant as a way to offer condolences, it’s never brought you any comfort. 

“Yeah,” you shrug. 

“I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt. “I try not to think about it, about him.” 

Frankie nods. “You know, all four of us are prior military. Special Forces.”

“Really?” you ask, brows arching. You didn’t know that, but it does explain how close and tight knit they are. 

Frankie nods again. “We lost one of our buddies a couple of years ago. There used to be five of us and now,” he sighs. “Anyway, I just– If you ever need anyone to talk to, we’re all willing to listen.” 

“You ever get through it?” You ask. “It’s been six months and I feel… Stuck.”

Frankie shrugs. “You just learn how to deal with it. Learn how to live life without them.”

“But what if you can’t?” you say quietly. “What if you aren’t sure how to deal with it? How to live life without them? Then what?”

Frankie sighs. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Would your best friend want you to move forward? Would he want you to be happy?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t ask him.” You sigh quietly and gently reach out to rest a hand on Frankie’s arm, feeling the muscles flex underneath your fingertips. “I’m sorry. I don’t–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says softly, reaching over to rest a hand over your own. “We all deal with it in our own way. I hope you know, though, that we’re all here for you.” He looks into your eyes, staring deeply. “I’m here for you.” 

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