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runa-falls · 9 months

Note

FREE USE WITH MIGUEL? LIKE ANYWHERE ANYTIME?

a/n: YES NONNIE, ANY--FUCKING--TIME. AND HERES ONE OF THOSE TIMES :^) idk if this is free-use or feral!reader or both. anyway, just enjoy it lol. like every time, this got away from me

special thanks to mona (@whatthefishh) for letting me scream this shit to her over discord + for helping me figure out exactly what 'free use' is lol

cw: smut (18+), free use kink, small very small bit of somnophilia (CAN'T ESCAPE IT), non-explicit oral (m-receiving), afab!reader, mentions of ovulation (+ period) horniness, fingering, cockwarming, fucking w/ multiple orgasms, the same Spanish pet name used over and over, reader is basically a bothersome cat, writer is so all over the place it's confusing.

wc: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a quick thot but wtvr)

---

miguel is a gracious boyfriend, he practically lives to please you. so when you approach him in the middle of the day with nothing but his shirt draped over your figure, he has a hard time rejecting your advances.

sure, he tries, but every time he gives you what he wants.

you're spoiled, really.

miguel works at home as much as possible. he hates having to leave you before the sun rises, walking away from a perfectly cozy bed and wet cunt (😳).

miguel convinces himself that Spider HQ can survive a day or two without him on site. he has several capable Spiders that do most of the heavy lifting for him and LYLA isn't afraid to take charge, sitting her holographic ass in the boss' chair.

he can set up mission plans and keep track of everything from his laptop, and he's always on call if he is needed for anything. the only issue is that working remotely doesn't work when he can't get anything done.

he's trying to go over notes from a meeting that was held earlier this morning.

he was supposed to be there, but you physically wouldn't let him out of bed. he swears you're a Spider yourself with the strength you have when you're especially needy and sleepy.

he smelled it when he woke up in the middle of the night to you mouthing over his boxers, that decadent sweetness that indicates you're ovulating.

you were desperate to get a taste of him, to fill that unbearable emptiness inside of you, whimpering with relief when you finally feel his fingers bury themselves in your hair to push your further against his bulge.

he learned early in your relationship that your insatiable appetite for him increases tenfold during your window of fertility (don't even mention your period). and so does your need for sleep. so he caters to your needs accordingly.

you passed out after convincing him to fuck the heat out of you, to snuff out the fire until your neediness recedes. apparently, the only time you aren't horny is when you're sleeping (though that isn't true... you wake up horny all the time??).

you've been sleeping soundly ever since, utterly exhausted by his thorough support, but he knows that once you wake up, you'll be crying for him again.

he crawled back into bed with you after telling LYLA to take over for the day, but after a few hours of almost suffocating because of the way you curl up on his chest like a cat, he got up to get some coffee and finish some computer work.

as soon as his warmth left you, you fussed. eyes still closed as you whined and moaned for his body. he shushed you, gently smoothing down your bedhead until you settled.

it didn't last for long.

you padded out of bed with bleary eyes, clearly looking for him when you walked into the living room. he offered you a quick "morning, cariño." before focusing back on his computer. he had to limit as much contact with you as possible if he wanted to finish his work.

just a few more pages and a couple of emails, and then he can give you all the attention you need.

his shirt brushes against your thigh like a summer dress as you make your way through the room.

he looked adorable with his loose white long sleeve on and black dad-glasses. his hair is still curly and fluffed, telling you he wasn't planning on leaving you anytime soon.

you shuffle over to the couch, sitting next to him with a sigh.

he doesn't react.

somehow, the minimal recognition that you're there, his adamant refusal to look at you, turns you on as much as it irritates you.

he's really trying his best to be a good boss, hm? trying to resist a temptation that's barely a foot away from him.

it makes you feel dirty and deprived. you blatantly rub your legs together, urging him to look. your gaze washes over his sharp jawline watching as it clenches at your soft coos.

"...baby."

"'m working, amor." his voice is still soft, despite the efforts he's taking to ignore you.

you huff.

"but--"

"not right now."

you scoot closer to him, strategically allowing the hem of his shirt to ride up on your thighs. so he's really going to make you do it...

you tug at his sleeve, taking his arm away from his work (though it doesn't look like he was working on much at all, he's been sitting on that exact page for 5 minutes now).

"not right now, mi vida..." he protests lightly, but he doesn't move away. he's not even trying, you think.

you smirk at his empty words. you can see the way he's looking at you: your messy hair, bare legs, the shadow of his shirt hiding away your most sensitive spot. his breathing grows heavier and so does his stare.

"i have work--" miguel is always so soft and sweet to you, melting in your hand though he has all the power to stop it.

"please, miguel? just one, for me?" his lips part as you place his hand against your bare thigh, slowly dragging it upwards until it meets your center.

he doesn't take his hand away, doesn't even pull back a single inch, instead, he instantly complies, cupping his warm hand over its entirety. he chokes out a low groan. you're not wearing anything underneath.

"ok, i guess if it's only once..." he whispers, already breathy. he's leaning over you, almost on top of you, forcing your legs to spread impossibly wide.

he watches as his finger rubs against your slick center, spreading your wetness until you're glistening for him under the late morning light. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, eyes flicking up to your face to witness the small o your mouth makes as he presses in deeper.

his mouth waters as he fingers you, he wishes he had enough time to go down on you, and taste your slick straight from the source. he knows how much you love it when he fucks you with his tongue and suckles on your clit. but no, he has work to do. he needs to get you off so he can finally focus.

"this what you needed, cariño?" it's all but growled into your space, his voice low and taunting. all you can do is nod with bleary eyes as your hands grip onto his thick bicep for support.

he adds another finger and thrusts them into you quicker, angling them just so his palm can gently nudge at your clit. he can feel you tightening around him already, fluttering with each pass that he makes against your g spot. he presses harder, drinking in your choked gasp and shaking thighs.

you're so wet, spilling over his fingers and dripping against his hand. the noises between you are deafening. a mixture of sopping thrusts, heavy breathing, and quiet mewls fill the still silence of the living room.

he's so good at this, too good at this.

how can he make you fall apart with just his hands, caress every sensitive nerve with a single stroke?

you're at the cusp of euphoria. your body, filled to the brim with pleasure, urges you to let go, to take what you want. but you don't want to. you want to stay at the edge forever with his hands on you, to be at the center of his affections, always just one breath away from transcendence.

you're not ready for him to stop touching you anytime soon, you realize. you still need it and after you'll need it again. you need him.

his glasses start sliding as he looks down at you, dropping until they're barely at the tip of his nose. he's focused, eyes locked on how he fills you again and again.

his fingers speed up, expertly aiming against that special spot inside of you. your hips rise from the couch, needing him as deep as possible. then it all falls apart.

you cry out, back arching and eyes rolling. your body is barely touching the couch under you and it feels like you're being lifted up by unknown forces as you reach your climax. white fills your vision and heat thrums through your limbs. you can't hide your one orgasm from him, it's too intense.

before you could recover, he slips his fingers out of you.

"alright, honey, we're done." he casually sucks your essence off of his fingers before propping his glasses back to the arch of his nose.

"ok, ok, i get it. you're busy." you pant, still pulsing from your high. and...he's already back to work. he wasn't kidding when he said he had stuff to do. "i'll just...be sitting here."

so you watch him get back to work, or you try to. the incessant scrolling, typing, reading, and muttering thoughts that accompany his work is usually enough to put you to sleep. it's an unusual lullaby that's attached to him. one that brings you the comfort of knowing he's near.

but he's hard.

he seems so relaxed, so content to work, but his erection presses so desperately against his sweats, outlined perfectly by the grey fabric.

so how could you not touch him? he clearly needs your help... and if he doesn't, then you need it.

you want to be good, you do, but when he types so effortlessly like that with the fingers that were just stuffed in your cunt, or when he looks over his dad-glasses to look at something like a hot fucking nerd, you can't help it.

it's been, what, 12 minutes? that's enough work for the day in your opinion.

you start slow, hesitantly, watching to make sure he's not looking at you (though he can clearly see you from his peripheral vision). you stand up on the couch right next to him. you're a bit unstable on the squishy cushions so you use his shoulder for support.

he looks over at you, confused as to why you decided to walk all over the furniture like a toddler.

you carefully maneuver over his arms to settle yourself on his lap. you're a koala around him, holding your torso to his, looping your arms around his neck and sharing your shimmering lustful body heat. he grunts when you scoot even closer to him, your bare pussy pressing entirely against his covered cock.

but he ignores it.

he doesn't say anything, barely even moves, and just continues to work. you pout a bit, but let him. you convince yourself that you're content with just sitting here and enjoying his company (despite the large distraction that pulses against your pussy, pressing so sweetly under your needy clit).

you listen to his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, the occasional sound of tapping keys. you nuzzle against the soft shirt that stretches over his chest. you're fine.

it's not like you're leaking all over his sweatpants, leaving a puddle at the apex of the fabric. you're not crying on the inside, so empty and fluttering around nothing. you're fine.

until you arent.

you lazily lift your hips above his, nearly head-butting his chin in the process. his arms lift to help you get settled, hands resting on your waist, as patient as ever.

you reach below you and he stiffens. he wasn't expecting you to--

your hand buries itself under his sweats, delicate fingers brushing over his erection. he breathes out your name when you squeeze him teasingly before pulling him out.

"what did i say?" he grunts, hand swiftly wrapping around your wrist. the words are lost on your ears as you caress the silky steel in your fist. it pulses at your touch. he needs this.

he says your name once more.

"you're working."

"then why are you trying to fuck me?!"

"i'm only going to sit on it." you give him an innocent look. you slowly lower yourself so your dripping center meets his before sliding your glistening lips over his hardness. "won't move or say a thing, promise!"

"cariño..."

"just wanna warm you, baby." you position him right against your entrance. "is that so wrong?" you lower yourself before he can say anything else.

you take him easily with how wet you are, and he fills you perfectly. he sucks in a breath at the feeling then growls out, "don't move."

well, you do move (is anyone surprised). you move a lot. but he moves too. harsher and more competitive. who the hell fucks competitively?

you moan over him, bouncing on his cock eagerly. his hands hold your waist, guiding your movements just how he likes it: fast and hard. his laptop, somewhere on the other side of the couch, is forgotten and probably long dead by now. so much for working at home.

you've cum at least four times already, but who's keeping count (you're not. you're so fucked out, you have to manually breathe now.)

he won't let up anymore. you asked for it and you're getting it.

"do i gotta fuck you to sleep, hm? is that the only way you'll leave me the fuck alone and let me work?"

you only admit now that you're eyes were definitely bigger than your stomach. you're practically drooling as he takes control once again, snapping his hips from under you, harsh and punishing. as if this is a punishment.

he has to carry you back to bed that afternoon. he couldn't just leave you on the couch, naked and shivering. plus you'd be a distraction with your bruised hips and fucked out cunt.

you murmur adorably in your sleep as your body unconsciously nuzzles further into his arms. he places you lovingly on the bed and you immediately curl up. he sighs, brushing your hair out of your face because he knows how much you hate it when it gets in your eyes or tickles at your nose during the night.

you look so cozy and comfortable. but so alone in this huge bed.

he debates laying down with you, only until you're in a deeper sleep.

maybe just a few minutes?

LYLA had a few choice words when he woke up in the morning....

#anon #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv #2099

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dreamingofbucky · 10 months

Text

IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself.

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore.

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want.

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice.

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder.

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read.

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles.

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance.

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved.

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat.

He finally replies. “I had to see you.”

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words.

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex.

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck.

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.”

Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sure they do,” you quip.

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point.

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough.

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be.

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously.

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability.

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you.

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know.

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore.

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger.

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?”

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment.

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic.

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious.

“Nothing happened. You happy?”

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.”

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around.

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.”

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads.

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring.

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–”

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters.

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed.

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.”

“It was for me, sabes esto.”

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite.

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore.

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him.

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.”

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point.

“I needed to see you one last time.”

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?”

He nods.

“What do you mean, Miguel?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that.

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.”

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly.

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.”

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?”

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.”

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.”

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply.

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters.

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.”

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.”

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it.

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath.

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it.

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe.

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.”

His words aren’t registering in your brain.

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.”

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest.

“Finish then,” you push.

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs.

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.”

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his.

“You hurt me,” was all you could say.

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.”

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods.

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?”

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be.

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees.

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life.

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?”

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.”

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.”

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms.

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment.

“I can’t repair what’s been done.”

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.”

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone.

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.”

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement.

“Can I?” He asks softly.

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could.

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips.

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod.

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time.

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one.

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds.

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths.

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod.

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for.

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck.

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past.

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him.

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally.

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp.

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that.

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand.

“Need you,” he pleads.

“You have me,” you assure him.

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat.

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.”

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now.

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation.

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch.

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined.

“So big,” you gasped.

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?”

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it.

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too.

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way.

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust.

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts.

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.”

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy.

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you.

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?”

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.”

“I know,” you confess with a smile.

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon.

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest.

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.”

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you.

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse #spiderman #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Note

dunno if imissed thurs thots bc time zone is an arse but i pilled an allnighter and needed some smit to keep going bc coffeee aint doing it job anymore so heres a copy paste of my idea from when i was actuallyawake

hallo! so taking a page from the spider verse movie, what if reader did yell out a safeword? there is an “aftercare for a red moment” hole in the fic community (or im just blinded by the algorithm who knows)

So this is a really interesting concept, and also a good way to discuss proper sex practices, so thank you anon!

For those unaware, the color system (Green, yellow, red) is typically associated with BDSM practices. Green is all clear, yellow is slow down/change tactics, and red is full stop, change into aftercare mode. However this system is not exclusively designed for kink related practices, it can be a useful tool for even vanilla sex. Please remember to always check in with your partners and obtain enthusiastic consent before engaging in sexual activities. I am not an expert in this area, so please remember to do your own independent research if you are curious about this topic.

(Warning: Uncomfortable sexual scenarios and use of safe words, please read at your own discretion)

The Color Red

(TF 141 reacting to you using a safe word during sex)

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

You’re not really sure what does it, but something inside you drops abruptly, without warning as Soap’s hand wraps around your throat.

There’s not even any pressure, just a heavy grasp that circles under your jaw but it’s enough to make something in you rise in panic, blood chilling and breath seizing inside your chest

He’s still hunches over you, your legs wrapped around his hips, brow scrunched in pleasure, voice dragging as he tries to angle himself just right to graze against the soft spongy part of you he knows will make you go boneless in his arms

Whatever pleasure was tightening low across your hips dies as a cold, fearful wash of dread takes its place, the world spinning as you drop fast.

“Red.” You croak, voice trembling, abruptly, entire body going rigid with panic.

It’s over in an instant. Soap knows what the word means, is trained to respond at the first instinct of discomfort, and within a blink his hand is gone, his weight off of you

You curl over onto your side, eyes wide and shoulders trembling, wetness still on the inside of your thighs but air rising sharply as hyperventilation threatens to take over

Soap’s weight is off the bed, giving you space, but when he notices your breathing he kneels beside you at once, eyes brimming with worry

“Hen, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He coos softly, words echoing as a steady stream, a reminder to his nearby presence. “You’re safe, we’re done. Breathe for me, You’re alright.”

“Johnny.” You gasp, reaching for him, and he obliges instantly, maneuvering you both so he sits against the headboard and puts your head into his lap, positioning a pillow underneath it.

“I’m here.” He reminds you, a hand stroking along your shoulder in soothing circles as you try to control your breathing, listening to him breathe alongside you. Deep inhale, hold for 4, out for 7. Repeat.

“What do you need, hen?” He asks after a few minutes, after the panic has faded to a dull bite, once you stop shuddering and instead curl into an exhausted heap at his side.

You sigh out a shuddering exhale, feel his thumb graze across the top of your shoulder. Gentle, patient, devoted.

“You, Johnny.” You tell him at last. “Just you.”

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

“Red.”

You gasp it out unexpectedly in Gaz’s bed, hands secured above your head as he bends over you, three fingers curling inside you, smug smile plastered over his face as he tries to wring another orgasm from you despite you telling him you can’t, and him finding another, another anyways

Now, however, it’s finally too much, and when he presses just right the sensation it summons is less pleasurable and more aching, stretching an overworn muscle that leaves something twisting unpleasantly inside you

“Oh shit, doll.” He gasps at the word, and slowly withdraws his fingers to not cause you additional discomfort. You whine, but the sound catches in your throat, pleading and tender. “I’m sorry, shh, take a breath for me.”

He reaches up above you, pulls at the rope and it comes loose easily, allows your hands to sink into the pillows and reduces the strain on your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, I got you.” He murmurs as you shudder, face contorting at the unpleasant ache inside you

He drags you into his arms, and you don’t complain at all, curling into his steady frame as he tucks you against his chest

“You did good.” He tells you at once, reassuring, gentle. “Promise you did good. Just take your time.”

You nuzzle against the coarse, curly hair of his chest, feel him stroke a hand against your back as the ache inside you dies to a low murmur

“I’m okay.” You tell him after a few minutes, taking all the time you need to fully relax into his embrace “It just…it was so much.”

Kyle exhales then, a breath you didn’t realize had been holding. His form goes a little lax against you, relieved by your words

“I’m sorry, doll.” He tells you at once. “I should have stopped sooner.”

You shake your head a little, remind him gently “That’s what the colors are for. I’m alright, just-” and you wince. “Tender.”

You feel him smile into your hair, mouth tugging just an inch, his body warm, solid, reaffirming against yours

“We can fix that.” He tells you softly. “How about I run you a bath and get you cleaned up, hmm?”

You nod, pause, and then crane your head up to plant a kiss against his lips

“Sounds wonderful.”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Sex with Simon can usually be an intense, emotional affair, an experience where you try and carve space within each other through touch, seeking a balm to the brokenness, soothing to the fear and hurt

Yet there are also times when you both just need release

Which is where you are now, face down, his hands hauling yours behind your back, hips slapping against your pelvis with a rapid, brutal intensity that’s going to leave you pleasantly sore for days

His voice is a grinding, rumbling presence that doesn’t allow you to drift entirely off, forcing you back into the presence of him. A hand tangles in your hair, presses you down into the sheets as he growls lewd, filthy praise down at you

Yet there’s a hint of malice to it, and normally you’d welcome it, send it right back to him, teeth bared and spirit a bright flame that burns against his darkness

Now, however, each word seems to puncture through you, as he hisses ‘Slut. Pretty little whore.’ down at you

You want to take it, want it to feed the coiling need as he buries himself inside you, but tonight it sounds almost like Simon means it.

It hurts.

It forces you to drop so fast it gives you whiplash, mind reeling and you have to remind yourself to say the word that bleeds across your tongue.

“Red.”

Simon stops instantly, removes his hand from your hair like he’s been burned.

You barely even notice, caught in your own turmoil of thoughts, trying to find your way out of the labyrinth. You don’t even notice as he pulls out from you, but the sudden emptiness only feeds the fall, makes a sob curl in your throat as you try and fail to swallow it down

He’s gone from the bed, you notice, and if anything it makes you panic more.

“S-Simon.” He try, voice wavering, and as if you’ve summoned him he appears back at your side, his voice gentler now but strained, guilty

“Here, pet.” A hand against your spine, a feathering touch given only as a mild offering before you give him permission to touch you, to which you gasp “Please.”

The touch becomes firmer, fingers pulling at the rigidness coiled in your frame, and after a moment there’s the cool touch of a washcloth that wipes the sweat from your skin.

“Y-you didn’t mean it, did you?” You try at last, not moving yet, knowing he’d only hush you back into stillness, make sure you didn’t push yourself too fast too soon

Simon takes a moment to process, realization washing over him at why you invoked your color.

“No, never.” He tells you, voice a little distant, and you know the faint unhappiness that colors his own voice isn’t for you but for him, tearing at himself for causing you hurt

You take care of him too, knot your fingers between his in tender reassurance, reminding him that even as he hovers at your side, you stay beside him too

Captain John Price

You’re trying to soldier through it, the pain that wraps around your thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder, braces it on the broad planes of his frame

Your hands are fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as Price forces his tongue into your cunt, fingers digging red marks into your opposite leg. There’s pleasure coiling n your core with every stripe of his tongue, dragging whimpering moans from your throat

It’s soured, however, by the wrapping on your thigh, the stitched bullet hole radiating pain. The sharp ache drowns any potential pleasure that rises inside you and you try to grit your teeth against it, force it down in pursuit of the warmth of price’s breath against your folds

You can’t. You can’t do it, not with tears beginning to well in your eyes and the sounds coming from transitioning into whimpers of pain.

“John.” You manage, strained, and for a moment Price is so absorbed in his task he almost doesn’t hear you. “J-John, red. Red.”

Price’s head shoots up, his ears attuned to that word specifically, and when he does you see slick coating his chin, his eyes flickering brightly in worry.

A sob bursts from your chest at the sight, dragging with pain, eyes hot and wet as you press a hand to the red blossoming bandage.

He surmises the situation quickly, and instantly he’s rising off you, nearly vanishing from you entirely, giving you a bit of space before sitting back down beside you and gently bending your leg onto his lap

“Shh, it’s alright love.” He reassures you, a hand reaching up to stroke at your sweaty forehead, against your brow bunched in worry. “I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out even as his fingers knead into your calf. “I didn’t- it hurts.”

“Never apologize for using your colors.” The captain tells you sternly, and he holds your eyes on him, levying you with a disciplining stare that ensures your compliance. You nod, sniffling, and it makes some of the grimness melt from his eyes, tendered with affection

“Where are your pain meds?” He asks then, a hand gently tracing over the bloodied bandage, and you nod to the bedside drawer.

He nods absently, one hand still braced on your leg, the other reaching past you to withdraw the bottle from the assembly of items there

“You’re going to take these.” He tells you without question, drawing your gaze back to him once more. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then get something warm in your stomach so they go down sunny, yes?”

You sniffle and nod at him, still feeling a little embarrassed, still in pain. Yet it’s softer now with his touch as his eyes turn to you fondly.

“Might even get you some hair of the dog for good measure.” He offers, and it at last summons a shy but warm smile from you

------

Again, if your partner every signals they are uncomfortable during sex, stop, talk, and proceed as needed. If anyone ever disrespects you signaling you are uncomfortable or blatantly ignores your safeword, do not engage with them further. Stay safe, stay sane, and stay consensual

#simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #cod imagines #fucking outing myself with this post rip #Minors I will fucking steal your kneecaps don't even fucking look at this post I will block you at lightspeed #mdni #18 + only #minors do not interact #minors dni #my writing #my headcanons #blank blogs dni #don't ask me how I know this I've spent too much time researching #also before you ask yes all the cod men respect safewords that's not even a question

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reveluving · 26 days

Note

Sweats nervously...

Erm..obesesive stalker! Graves x reader...🧍🏻‍♀️

Drops this and runs away

(headcanon by call.me.c0k3 on tiktok//)

WAIT COME BACK

WHO’S GONNA READ THIS THING I MADE NOW!!!!!!!!

Includes: mentions of s~mut; voyeurism, dubcon, mutual masturbation (minors DNI!), allusions to taking out those who wronged you, lovestruck!Graves takes it one step further in this one.

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Good news, we can go about this with both shy!reader or operator!reader wise. So, STRAP IN.

Generally, just know that he has the means to learn about you with a few clicks on his computer, and he will use that to his advantage. That doesn’t mean he won’t be able to catch every little bit about you just by talking to you, of course. No doubt he’ll learn more than enough surface-level information about you within the first five minutes of you talking.

Way more than the average strangers meeting each other for the first time, only to forget the other’s name within days. Plus, the Phillip Graves knows how to talk, but this isn’t some lady he’s trying to sweet talk for the night and then be on his way hours later. No, those days are over, and he never particularly enjoyed them anyway.

You, on the other hand, were a spice of life. The darling he never thought he’d find, the dream he had locked in the back of his mind years ago because he thought with how tainted the universe is, including himself, it was just false hope at this point.

So, for you to just suddenly appear before him, be it as the unassuming beaut next door or the stunning force to be reckoned with, oh, he is going to make sure you know that he’ll treat you the way you deserve.

Even if how he goes over them behind the scenes can be a little… extreme.

He wants to make the best impression on you. Will he totally change his personality and appearance just for your approval? Well, no. If you find out the guy who’s been trying to impress you isn’t really being himself, then he knows it’ll be an immediate turn-off.

And as excessive as the things he does may be, he also wants this to work. For the relationship to bloom, to flourish as best and as genuine as possible. He’s never cared for anyone like this since… ever!

He knows the name of the guy, no, the kid that broke your heart years ago. Growing pissed the longer he read the conversation you had with your girlfriends, about his cheating and even fault you for his ‘last resort’, all because you had dreams to chase, priorities to focus on.

Apparently, he’s now a big name in his town. Perfect. Nothing a little exposure of his company for money laundering and inhumane working conditions to the press couldn’t do the trick.

Or in terms of the shy!reader, the bogus buyers who never paid you for the floral arrangement you made the entire day. Easy, he’ll just anonymously transfer all of their savings to charity or some pet shelters nearby. You adore pets, and those teens clearly didn’t need the money anyway.

He made sure to take note each and every one of them, of anyone who wronged you for future reference.

Other than private parts of your life, he enjoys scrolling through your social media; fixated on pictures that had you in it, even imagining future photos or videos you’d take together once you two get together. No matter how many people were in it or what it was about, his eyes go straight to your figure. Screenshots aren’t uncommon, either, especially cherishing the genuine joy in your face.

Then, there are the things you love.

He knew you’d adore the things he bought for you, regardless of what suited your fancy, like dresses, lipsticks, books, random knick-knacks. Anything. He traced the history of you scrolling through the store’s website on your phone via his system, buying the ones you lingered on the longest. He knew you’d like the restaurant he brought you to on one of your dates, not necessarily because it was fancy, though that was the icing on the cake, but what made your eyes sparkle was the fact that it specialized in your preferred cuisine. There were the little things too; your favourite songs, how you prefer the cake from bakery A to bakery B because the latter’s more dry, or even the irresistible smile on your face whenever he looks over at you with an amused raise of his brow.

Hell, even quirks that you never knew you had!

Then, there were the… nasty ones. Absolutely filthy.

The kinds where he wished he wasn’t just the tiny camera on your vanity table or the tampered lens on your phone when you tossed it to the side, frustrated as you tried to chase after the peak of your orgasm. Yearning to help you, to give you what you were aching for when your fingers, pillows or toys weren’t enough. He’s never been so frustrated, his cock pulsing in his hand for more, even if he was handling himself a bit rougher than usual as he watched your gorgeous body arch and thrash on the sheets.

The tiniest last grain of shame he had vanished the second he heard you moan out his name, and oh, how the stars have aligned in his favour.

If he wasn’t sure before, he sure as hell is about his ways now. He’ll make sure he’s the man of your dreams, if not, better.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

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jasntodds · 8 months

Note

Ok but the gifs you just posted of jay... Mmmmm yum. He looks too good, could you imagine him coming in late at night from patrol taking off the red hood gear and laying with you and him talk about how much he loves you in that voice and look like that. Then he's like can i make you feel good?? Ughhhh Just a thot.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason comes home from patrol with only one thing on his mind: you

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, oral (f!receiving), idk I wrote this at 4am lmao

Words: 2,006

A/n: Anon is talking about these gifs and I, too, have some thoughts™️

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason has two moods when patrol gets a little messy. Sometimes, it’s like it triggers something he begs so desperately to forget. It’s as if all the memories and fears kick down his front door and barge in without ever asking for an invite.

They intrude on his space of peace and calm like a disease wreaking havoc through his nervous system. It’s not usually pretty when that happens. But, other times, it’s as if those memories knock. The fears knock softly and look at him with hope that one day things get better. It’s as if they’re just looking for a way out and Jason is the helpful type. Those nights, he’s not angry or worried or scared, instead, he’s caring. And the only thing left on his mind as he walks through the door, is you.

Jason is always caring towards you. But, on those nights, nights like tonight, it’s always a little more. Nights like tonight are harsh and cruel reminders of what he faces and what the victims face. They are harsh reminders, not that he ever needs one, that in a second, everything can change. Everything he cares about can disappear again. He can disappear from you again. And all he wants to do is be near you.

You stir awake as Jason walks into your bedroom. You can see the shiny, reflective red of the helmet coming from the hallway. A sweet and tired smile tugs at your lips because he’s home. You never really sleep well when he’s out.

“Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to wake you.” Jason mutters as he takes the helmet off.

“‘S okay.” You mumble, watching him strip the rest of the suit off. “Come to bed.” You stretch out an arm as you watch Jason smile.

It's something warm and tender pulling at the corners of his lips as he glances to the floor and then back to you. A twisting and pulling, gnaws at the bottom of his stomach and all he wants is you.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jason’s chuckle is low and quiet in the room as he comes into bed, sliding right up behind you as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

Jason presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder…and then another one….and another one. He can hear you hum in front of him. Jason’s arms are strong around you, keeping your back pinned to his chest as he places a kiss to your neck. Goosebumps erupt down your spine.

“I love you.” Jason’s voice is groveled and thick against your skin.

“I love you, too, Jay.” You whisper back and Jason swears he can hear the smile on your face a he places more lazy and gentle kisses along your shoulder and neck.

You remember the first time he told you. The thundering and banging of Jason’s heart had come to a stop like it hit a wall straight on going 100mph as the words left his throat. You swore it was as if it had pained him to actually say them. But it didn’t.

It didn’t hurt to say them, it just terrified him to let those words exist anywhere outside of the dark and paranoid corners of his mind. But he said them anyway because you always told him so casually, effortlessly in such a way he was almost jealous of how effortless it was for you to say it. You said it often and softly, never even expecting him to be able to say it back but then he did because he does love you. He had always loved you and he needed you to know.

Since then, since he said those words and you gave him this wild and eager grin before catching his lips in a kiss, he says it freely now. The words fall from his lips as he’s never known any others. He tells you often, regularly, and lazily. It's become effortless for him, too.

“I love you.” Jason mutters again. “So much.” He keeps pressing kisses over your shoulders. “Ya know that, right?” Jason asks.

“Of course, Jay.” You hum softly and tenderly. “I love you, too.” You say it again because you always say it back. You swear you’ll never let him forget that you do. You know how he thinks and sometimes, those dark and twisted voices are cruel to him

Jason’s grip over your middle loosens as he slides a hand under your tank top and you shudder against him. The pads of his fingers run along your stomach gently. He traces his way up until his fingers almost dance right under your breast, just close enough to tease you as his lips are still pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck.

“Can I make you feel good?” Jason’s voice is rough against your ear, his fingers tracing below your breasts so softly you almost miss the touch.

Warmth spreads to your pussy, contracting around nothing as he asks. It’s a realization of how empty you feel without him. You'd be lying if you said watching him strip from the Red Hood gear didn't always do something to you. The suit is fitted so well and it always makes his muscles look perfect. The black and red compliments his skin in such a way it always sends a fire bubbling through your stomach.

But it’s so early, and you have work a few hours.

“It’s four in the morning and I have to work in a few hours.” You want your voice to come out sterner than it does, a betrayal from your own vocal chords.

“Please.” Jason asks, this time the pads of his fingers trace along the top of your breast as you close your eyes, pushing your ass into him. Jason nearly growls into your neck. “Then we can sleep. Just wanna make you feel good, princess.” His words are absolutely drenched with lust as they hit your ears.

His cock is trapped in his boxes but you can feel his length, hot against your ass. Jason is careful with his fingers, nimble and gentle over your breast, nearly just hovering. He thinks of every way he can make you feel good, completely ruin you right here and right now. He’s almost desperate to hear you moaning out his name in a way that always gets his cock twitching and pulsing.

You hum softly, running over just how much sleep you can get. It’ll never be enough but your mind starts swimming as Jason bucks his hips against you. Your pussy throbs and aches, the tiredness slowly fading away from your mind. He always knows how to get you to unravel, though it’s rarely much effort on his part.

“If I’m late again, I’m blaming you.” You mumble.

You can feel the rumble of Jason’s chest as he chuckles. “That’s fine.” Jason peels himself away from your back and you groan at the sudden cold that rushes over you.

Jason pulls the blanket back before he turns you onto your back as you let out a squeal. His chuckle reverberates around the room as he slides down to position himself between your legs.

Hunger grows in the pit of your stomach as Jason presses soft and gentle kisses along your knee, pulling your legs apart. His mouth moves down your inner thigh and you squirm against him. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he pins your hips in place to keep you still.

"Thought you were tired?" Jason mocks, offering a quick glance your way and you can see the green of his eyes turn into something dark and eclectic, fueled with cockiness.

"Shut up." You mutter, hitting your head back against your pillow.

Jason kisses his way to your underwear. He presses a kiss to your cloth-covered clit and you have to bite back a moan as your hips buck desperately towards him. His chuckle is low and is followed by something you can only describe as a growl.

"Look at you, princess." His eyes flicker up towards you and you want to dive into his eyes and let yourself drown into him. "Soaking already."

You roll your eyes, hands coming to grip his hair in a desperate plea for him to shut up and get to work. It's a snicker this time that leaves his lips as he slides his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off in a quick motion.

He goes back to placing kisses to the mound of your leaking pussy and then to your hips. The burning sensation grows in your stomach as your eyes start to burn. He knows what he's doing. He always knows what he's doing and he's good at it.

"Jay." You whine, looking down at him. His eyes meet yours and you think you might burst into flames. "C'mon, please."

A flash of a smirk comes to his lips as he slides a finger through your folds, just teasing your pussy, never taking his eyes off you. He watches your mouth part as a soft and sweet gasp leaves your lips. Your grip on his hair tightens and he loves to watch you fall apart, come completely unraveled with the smallest of touches.

“Think you’ve been waiting for me like this all night.” Jason coos, effortlessly teasing your leaking pussy. Jason breaks eye contact to kiss your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. A jolt close to lightning shoots through your body as you let out a raspy moan. “That right, baby?” He flashes that signature grin of cockiness your way and if he weren't so good at it, you might actually want to bite it off of his face.

Jason is cocky and it's not something you'd normally find attractive but there's something in the way he executes it that he sends you into a spin. Jason makes the cockiness attractive and he always backs it up. He's not cocky for no reason and he knows it.

He presses the flat of his long along your pussy, licking all the way up before sucking your clit back into his mouth. It twitches against his lips and your head starts to spin. Your hips buck up but Jason pins them back down, his hand strong and sterny against your flesh.

“Gonna make you feel so good, princess.” Jason coos against you, his breath against your sends a chill down your spine.

Jason moves his tongue, tracing letters against your clit, finding the rythym he knows will get you to unravel into a mess beneath him. He slots two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to the second knuckle until he feels the spongey patch inside of you.

Your head spins and you think gravity might cease to exist if he lets go of you. Your fingers grip and tug his hair, trying to bring him closer to you as the pressure fills your stomach.

Jason's ears collect every gasp and pretty moan that leaves your lips, his name sounding like the closest thing to heaven he's ever heard. His fingers soak up your juices until the pressure finally becomes too much as you're calling out his name in quick succession, your thighs trying to clamp around his head until Jason presses them back down into the mattress.

He works you through your orgasm and only comes up for air as you nearly beg him, your clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Told you I'd make you feel good, baby." Jason's toothy grin glistens in the low light.

You shake your head, your eyes lust-blown. But, he catches the hint of a grin pulling at your lips. "My turn." You gesture your hands lazily at him for him to up towards you.

Jason tilts his head back as a chuckle rumbles through his chest. His eyes lock with yours, his pupils blown but there's something soft in them. "I love you." Jason mutters, climbing his way back up to you.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #red hood smut #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #alex answers #Anonymous #dc fanfiction #request

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alecvolturiswifeforever · 11 days

Text

Leather Gloves | D.V x READER

warnings: smutty undertones i guess?! a little sexual tension and stuff idk (not proofread and i wrote it quick so😭)

based on mine and @agirllovespancakes thots!!! also, the gif!!! ALSO HER AMAZING DOING!!! anyway ;) surprise?!

…also if anyone wants a smutty part ill write it, i was just too sleepy to be bothered to write it rn 😭😭

ʚɞ

Pressing a finger to his lips he beckoned you into silence, tugging himself through the window of your bedroom. A silent squeal left your lips, eyes bright and a wide, happy smile plastered upon your lips as you bounded over to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, bouncing on your feet as he chuckled at your obvious excitement.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi!!” You momentarily forgot his warning, covering your mouth in embarrassment and squaring your shoulders for a moment when he hissed at you. Your body was tense as you watched your mate listening for any sound of movement from your sleeping family. When he heard none, his eyes moved back to you, sending a scolding look.

Demetri sighed at the lopsided smile you gave him, unable to be mad at you for more than a second whilst he wrapped you in his hold, humming proudly as you curled into him and allowed him to brush his hand up and down the back of your head affectionately.

“What am I going to do with you, you little brat?” Face flushing at his words you looked to the floor, and he smiled. “Oh? You like when I call you that? My bratty girl.”

He watched your face flush a deeper crimson, attempting to bury your face in his chest to seek some sort of protection from his smug grin. He didn’t allow you to, pulling you away to brush a leather clad finger down the side of your face. As you felt the material glide across your heated skin you whined, glaring at the leather that restricted you from the feel of your mate and Demetri laughed again. Leaning down, he gave you a look of faux disappointment.

“What have I told you about those little whiny noises you make…?”

Not allowing you to answer he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, tongue instantly prodding at your closed lips. Parting then at his desire, he deepened the kiss a little more until you were whining once again. His hand - still covered but the cool leather of his glove - now brushed the hair back which had fallen over your shoulder, now draped over your collarbone. You huffed in annoyance and pulled away to make quick work of tugging the glove off. You grabbed his hand, making a move to pull at the material before he was growling at you menacingly. You pouted up at him.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl.” Confusion washed over you until the vampire lifted his hand to your mouth, eyes prompting you to tug it off with your teeth. “Go ahead, baby.”

You kept your eyes on his as you leaned forward, teeth stroking against the material before you bit down on it gently. As sensually as you could, you slowly tugged it off, eyes remaining on his the entire time. He watched you carefully, arousal instantly washing over him at feel of your lips, and he feverishly tugged the other off himself and threw it to the side, taking the other from your hands to give it the same treatment. Grabbing your hips and slamming his lips onto yours, he kissed you as if you might disappear from his arms.

With a whimper you kissed back, tongue brushing against his own. It wasn’t long before he was kissing down your neck, kneeling in front you to kiss the entire way down your body before leaning back up to kiss your lips again.

“Fuck-“ He whined against your lips, pressing another desperate peck against them before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. Fleetingly pulling away, he admired you for a moment, pressing another soft kiss to your thigh. “You’re so beautiful - my beautiful girl.”

You looked down at him, a soft, loving look that could’ve brought him to his knees instantly if he wasn’t already kneeling in front of you. You sighed with a content smile.

“I love you, Demi…”

He smirked.

“I love you so much more, my darling. Though…perhaps you can show me just how much you love me, hm..?”

Oh…

ʚɞ

tag list: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes @icefrozendeadlyqueen @iloveslasher @julesofvolterra @volturi-stuff

#demetri volturi #demetri volturi x human #demetri volturi x reader #for demetri #demetri volturi smut #volturi fan fiction #demetri volturi imagines #volturi imagines #the twilight saga #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight volturi #alec volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #volturi #twilight renaissance

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danielverstappen · 26 days

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I'm so sorry but your tag about max doing numbers on of on that gifset made me think of a maxiel au where they're roommates and max does of, then max is looking for someone to fuck him and daniel needs some money (for weed or whatever) so he agrees to do it with him even though he's supposedly straight. so they do one of those "I got fucked by my straight roommate" vids and it pops off so they just have to keep making more :)

holy fuck anon!!!! possibly toxic but what if it turns out DANIEL is the one sending max all that money (secretly from a wealthy family?) and max overhears daniel saying he needs weed and thinks daniel needs help so he offers and daniel’s brain short circuits and he CAN’T say no and suddenly he’s actually having sex with max and all of a sudden it’s not just “if i’m just watching it it’s not gay” it’s actually very gay now and he’s also lying to max and they keep doing it because max’s numbers skyrocket but he notices his favorite person (idk how OF works) isn’t there anymore because daniel CAN’T watch themselves and feels like shit for doing the thing anyway and SOMEHOW max finds out and uploads a solo vid and says daniel’s username (are there usernames?) and daniel finds out max has known for quite a while and he gets mad then max gets mad then they have angry sex and figure out their problems and daniel realizes fuck i love you don’t i and max says yes of course daniyul finally it has taken forever for you to notice and they live happily ever after

also if you haven’t read twitter thots au by @fourmula1 you are missing out!!!

(this is what the ask is referencing for anyone wondering)

#i am not gonna reread and just post this #but yeah this is a real fic in my head now #maxiel #maxiel fic #asks

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hyunsvngs · 3 months

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Hey I heard you are sick, so this is a reminder to drink some water and take medicine if you haven't already, our times are different so i dont know what it is for you rn but just treat yourself well and get better soon!!

that being said, i have some thots to keep you occupied if you like

the first is alien!jisung agenda, can you imagine how cute itd be if while he was fucking you soooo hard that his lil tentacles wrapped around you and held you close to him? that'd be so sweet, he just wants you to be as close as possible while hes pumping you full of his eggs <33

the second thought is.. longer. its hyunsung (is that the name of hyunjin x jisung??) x reader. so they dynamic would be dom!fem!reader, switch!hyunjin, and of course, sub!jisung. just imagine being at work, having a fairly good day until your phone pings with a message from your groupchat with the boys, its a video from hyunjin showcasing jisung on his lap, them both hard through their sweats, grinding against eachother. its only a few seconds long but hyunjin sends a short message after "jisungie is so desperate... what do you want me to do with him noona?"

of course, you send him a message back, instructing him to make jisung cum in his boxers and make him lick up the mess. Afterwards you instruct hyunjin to tie jisungs hands behind his back and put him face-down-ass-up on the bed and make him wait, sending a sweet "I'll be home soon boys, play nice"

They so exactly that, sending you videos of jisung cumming and of hyunjin getting jisung ready for you. When you get home you can tell jisung is already in that delicious headspace between "not knowing if its a punishment or praise" and "no thoughts-head empty". *time skip cuz im lazy* It ends up as that hyunjin fucks jisungs little hole while you fuck hyunjin with his favorite strap of yours.

Hyunjin is by far, the loudest which is saying something compared to jisung, but to be far hes getting it from both ends. He's crying telling you things like "m-mommy its- its too m-much i-.. i-im gonna c-cum please please mommy ohh p-please" all the while youre still abusing his hole and directing his hips to fuck into jisung properly whispering in his ear "i dont give a fuck whether you cum or not, but you will keep fucking jisung until he cums, you understand?".

My man almost cums on the spot after that, only cumming a few seconds later, crying and moving so much from the overstimulation, but you keep fuckign into him and making him fuck jisung until he(jisung) cums again.

after that LOTS of after care cuz yk its nearly more important than the actual sex. you tell the boys how much you love them and how well they did and you treat them with chocolate and a nice face and ass massage cuz yk they both SORE from that hahaha

anyway those are just my thoughts and i thought youd like them <3

*unedited (im lazy)*

-moose anon <333 (get well soon!!!)

JESUUUUUUS HOLY SHIT? IM IN LOVE WITH THESE THOUFHTS THANK U SO MUCH JESUS CHEISG

#juno’s asks ♡#moose anon 💌#asks: jisung #asks: hyunsung #monsterfucking!

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goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

bruises (m.m.)

pairing: matt murdock x gf! reader

summary: matt comes home, battered and bruised. you take care of him, like you always do, but he asks for something more, just this once.

warnings: mentions of injury; some angst because... of course; fluff as well because matty boy is whipped with r; loving, soothing, we want matt murdock to be happy!!; some self-deprecating thoughts by matt, but those are remedied!; this is short but sweet <3 (also unedited, lol sorry i’m sleeping x)

wc: 2.1k+

note: my first matt fix and agh, i loved writing it, i love matt!!!! thank you to this sweetheart of an anon that requested this :)) always down to hear anyone and everyone’s thoughts (or thots lmao) about my favourite devil

He should’ve been back already. The clock was nearing four in the morning, and you could already hear the incessant beeping of the garbage truck making its daily round down your street.

But this was what he did, what he had to do – at least that’s what you reminded yourself, over and over, whenever your heart dropped too low for your liking.

Matt Murdock had a knack for making you worry, and though you always got that sudden urge to scream, shout, push him into a room and lock the door forever – anything to keep him safe from the outside world that was always out for him, one way or another; you knew you couldn’t keep him from himself. It was his guilty conscience and wounded soul that forced him into the suit every night, fighting whatever monster the streets threw his way, and you could do nothing but kiss him before he left and wait for him to return.

There was a crash in the living room. You cursed your past self for placing the new picture frame you’d bought – your favourite photo of you and Matt encased inside its ornate borders – right by the window sill. Matt was an expert at orienting his way around a room, especially one as familiar as your apartment, but sometimes (more than you’d like to admit) he came back with a few too many chips in his armour.

You were waiting for the day, silently praying it never came but you prepared yourself anyway, when those endless cracks finally met, causing the entirety of him – of Matt – to collapse into himself. It scared you shitless, how could it not? Watching the man you loved get pulled apart by otherworldly horrors; come home battered, bruised, for a city that never truly appreciated all he sacrificed – it was a kind of physical, visceral ache you could never truly describe.

“Fucking– fuck!”

You scrambled to shove your feet into your slippers, shivering against the cool air that invaded the apartment from the window you’d left open for him. Matt stood, hands clenched into fists, clad in a stark but somehow faded crimson. You always moaned about how the colour made it hard to easily identify any blood and injuries on him, and Matt had insisted it was for the best because “--you already worry too much, sweetheart.”

“Matty?” you called out gently, driving your feet into the wooden floors loud enough for him to pinpoint your location.

“Why are you up?” he asked, though you could hear the scolding tone in his voice from miles away. It was when you got closer, until you were right in front of him with only the broken shards of glass separating the two of you, that you noticed the bleeding gash down the right side of his face.

“Your face– Jesus Christ, Matt.” You used the toe of your slippers to push the dispersed glass to the side, setting a mental reminder to clean the mess up properly once you’d had a chance to look at your injured idiot of a boyfriend. He stayed quiet, knowing he could say nothing to stop you from worrying.

And he could hear, could feel how your heart was racing, like you’d run a marathon or watched those scary movies that always kept you up at night – but, he thinks, those would be easier than this. Than him.

So he stayed quiet, knowing better than to argue with you when you got like this – highly alert to every one of his responses, no matter how imperceptible or minute. Sometimes, he wondered if you’d also survived some freak accident and come in contact with hazardous materials, because your ability to sense everything about him often rivalled his own exceptional abilities.

But it wasn’t an accident or extraordinary powers that you had, he’d have to remind himself. It was love.

You loved him so fully, deeply, generously – the kind of all-consuming love he’d never even considered could be his. Until you.

“Did you eat?” he asked quietly as you led him into the bathroom, pushing the cover down on the toilet and sitting him on it. The impressionistic painting he usually viewed the world through was messier than normal, a few more smudges and dark spots – like someone had dropped a bottle of ink across a canvas – so he could only vaguely listen to your practised movements.

You didn’t respond, so he cleared his throat, whispered your name pleadingly into the suffocating silence.

“Not now Matt.” He sighed, eyes flickering shut as he slumped back, head resting against the tiles. “I’m going to clean up your wound, then you’re going to get into the shower while I make you something to eat– then we can talk, okay?” Your words were strained but steady, like you were fighting back the anger you so desperately wanted to hurtle his way.

He nodded, unsure if you were even watching him, but grateful for you and your comforting presence and anchoring voice.

Matt felt your delicate fingers tilt his face to the side, exposing the wound dangerously close to his ear. He felt hopeless, like an ant trying to escape an imminent watery grave. Despite having only injured his right ear, he could feel the tight grasp he had on reality slipping too fast through his fingers.

He was grappling in the dark for something solid, something to hold onto instead while his senses rested, healed, caught up with the world around him– and before he could truly spiral out of control, you kissed him, delicate and warm, on his forehead.

“You’ll be fine, Matty, just let me take care of you,” you reassured him, squeezing his shoulder extra hard as you wiped the alcohol-soaked cotton bud across his cheekbones.

“Okay,” was all he could manage, choking on emotions he couldn’t decipher, not when he was still drenched in blood and floating, or drowning, he wasn’t sure.

It didn’t take long for you to disinfect his wound, clean the blood staining the skin of his cheeks, jaw, down his straining neck.

You helped him into the shower, knowing that after particularly difficult nights (which you were starting to think this night was), he needed some time to himself, to analyse his feelings, and unscramble the puzzle pieces until the picture was complete. While Matt showered, you returned to the living room, broom in hand as you sweeped the glass into the trash, bending down to pick up the photo that had been in the frame.

It was from your first few months together, on a seemingly ordinary day when you’d gone to Josie’s to meet Karen and Foggy. Of course, Foggy had something unintentionally hilarious and you laughed so hard, your face had flushed a dull red and you’d knocked over your drink into Matt’s lap.

He hadn’t even noticed, too busy enraptured by the sound of your laughter. He would tell you, later on, when things were getting muddy and you were on the precipice of giving in, letting Matt go even though it was the last thing you’d ever want to do. To your surprise, to everyone’s surprise, really, as Matt was ever the self-sacrificing, tortured saint – but he fought for you, begged you to stay in an entirely feverish, manic manner.

Matt explained how, that night at Josie’s, he’d promised himself that every night, he would go out into Hell’s Kitchen, and every win, every lose, every brutal beating, every far and few night he’d return unscathed – they were all so he could hear you laugh like that again.

He wasn’t always the most vocal about his feelings. Early on in your relationship, you never knew when he was hurting, worried, angry, sure, but even the moments of joy, excitement, love– you were never sure how he felt. But he’d learnt to share them, would lie in bed with you and whisper three good things that happened to him that day, and two not so good (always more good than not).

You heard him now, calling your name from the bathroom. Like shining a light on his emotions, Matt was also learning to ask for help. He didn’t have a choice in that matter, at least. When it came to nursing him back to relative health, you’d burrow your way past whatever bravado he was exuding and force him to accept your willing, insisting, hand.

“All done?” you asked over the pour of water, reaching past him to turn the shower off. He nodded silently, gripping the wet tiles and waiting, patiently, for you to wrap a towel around his waist. You held onto his arm, guiding him to the bedroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you handed them to him – black briefs for him to sleep in, “and I’m just going to go make up a plate for you.”

He smirked at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was masquerading his true feelings or was genuinely back to his cheeky-self. “Clothes? You only handed me briefs?” he pointed out.

Even with his senses scattered, he knew, simply from past experience, that you were glaring at him. “Ha– Ha– Ever the jokester,” you noted sarcastically, pulling the gauze from your bedside table to wrap up the exposed wound so it wouldn’t get infected. Matt flinched, not expecting for your touch to be so gentle after he’d teased you.

But he wasn’t exactly in a state where that teasing could lead elsewhere, and while you were ordering him to get into bed, it wasn’t for whatever context those words were usually heard in.

“I’ve got to have my fun as well,” you tacked on at the end as you left the room. Matt smiled at himself, letting the towel drop so he could shimmy his briefs up his thighs. He did as you asked, sliding under the silk covers.

It was when he laid down, melted into the sheets and surrounded by the smell of you – jasmine from your soap, sunshine, parchment – that the pain returned, tenfold. That familiar pricking in his chest, like someone was stabbing a needle into his already struggling heart, over and over again. He’d tried to explain it once, and you couldn’t figure out a logical, medical solution to the peculiar pains of his.

Matt had to explain that while the pain wasn’t physical, it wasn’t something modern medicine could fix. It was far deeper, darker, dirtier – he was caked in thick layers of inexplicable aches and agonies, and while some might have turned to something harder, easier to hide beneath (and he definitely partook in those indulgences when you were nowhere to be found), he quickly realised that the softness of your arms were enough.

They were the only medicine he’d ever need – you’d slapped his chest when he’d used that line to avoid going to the emergency room after a particularly jarring bullet wound too close to his lungs.

He called out your name, fingers ghosting over the empty side of your bed. He could feel the residual heat of your body there, from when you’d been sleeping before he’d crashed back into your shared home.

You came rushing in, a plate of lightly seasoned, roasted potatoes wobbling in your hands. (strong flavours left him reeling for hours so he avoided them when he could). “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doc–”

“No– no, sweetheart. I just want you to come to bed,” he confessed hesitantly, unsure of himself suddenly as he played with the corner of the sheets.

You sighed in relief immediately, abandoning the plate of food on top of the dresser – he never ate it anyway, somehow forcing whatever delicacy you’d conjured up into your mouth, instead. “Yeah, Matty, I can do that.”

Tugging back the blanket, you slipped in next to him, Matt wasting no time in curling into your side, relishing in the heat and security that emanated from you, the kind he could get lost in if he wasn’t careful. It took everything in him to coerce his body to loosen in your hold, ease away the tension that threatened to keep him up.

“Can I get you anything?” you whispered into his hair, tracing lazy patterns into the skin of his upper arm with one hand, while the other brushed back and forth, at the spot right under his ear that would have him liquefy completely.

His head was tucked against your chest, intact ear listening close to the muted thump of your heartbeat. He counted every inhale, exhale, breath you took – he couldn’t rest until he knew you were alright, knew he hadn’t pushed you close to that precipice once again.

“Hold me, please,” was all he said. He felt your heart skip a beat, but on the outside, you only kissed his forehead, touch soothing him into a somewhat undisturbed sleep, the first he’d had all week.

reminder that the reblog + comment button is right next to the like, so please use it! <3

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil angst #daredevil fluff #daredevil: born again #marvel #nmcu #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu #charlie cox #my writing #bruises

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