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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 2 months

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Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

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madmutts · 5 months

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me when Rayman

#angelo txt #hea au #captain laserhawk #help help help #I feel like im making this too public #but i dont care #im going wild #feral even #gnashing my teeth #hes such an asshole #but with a cause #a relatable purpose and drive behind his asshole-ness #im going crazy #still havent watchedf the show #but the clips and edits... theyre enough to feed me

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bluecoolr · 9 months

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That scene where Severen gets back up and hisses after getting hit by a ray of sunlight has me in a chokehold.

[Edit:]

YOU SEE WHAT I FUCKING MEAN????

#ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL #rewinding that scene in my mind like it's a rented vhs i do not intend to return #the TEETH #the vampires might not have had fangs (correct me if i'm wrong) but bill paxton absolutely fucking DELIVERED with the mouth acting #i love him #shiny new man for my collection of others #near dark #near dark 1987 #severen #severen van sickle #vampires #ASHFHIDISIEWLALA I NEED SOMEONE TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS MOVIE PLEASE #blue confessions #edit: that's creature acting at its finest

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mettywiththenotes · 2 years

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I would like to see Toga bite and suck somebodies blood like a vampire. I don't think we've ever seen her actually bite someone for blood, except herself

Every time it's just been her using needles, or drinking vials, or even drinking from a straw

So yeah. Toga bites the fuck out of somebody and drinks like a feral animal please

#i mean is there even a reason she doesn't actually bite someone?#is it so the blood doesn't get contaminated or smthg?#or is toga set on not being the deviant her parents thought she was?#like yeah she'll attack someone and drink their blood but she draws the line at ripping skin with her teeth like a feral animal #OR maybe she just doesn't want to get messy #idk #anyway i want to see her go off and bite someone #bnha #toga himiko #correct me tho if she has done that before i just don't remember #mettys posts #metty posts #EDIT: i have been reminded that she bit and sucked the birds blood when she was little #but there may be a reason for that #its in the reblogs check it out if ur interested

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khimerism · 2 years

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and he: ( and this was almost unbearable ) he saw me see him, and I saw him see me.

( and oh, the monster in me hungers for the beast in you )

#✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — visage. ❝ her wild feral stare / her dark hair.#✧ ⥼ 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 — karigan nightingale. ❝ when your teeth meet in the flesh of divinity.#ty to sei for editing these #long post *

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devihashi · 2 years

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hampter on head

#art #traditional art #edited #feral character #sfw furry #teeth #hamster #am at work on break rn #only got 15 min left #don't have much to post bc im tired so this is kinda old

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shegetsburned · 3 months

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face-sitting w. satoru gojo ༘ ೀ⋆˚

.nsfw.

satoru gojo is the type to get off to your cunt against his mouth.

it’s this one special spot, this one sensation that makes him go crazy. the way he feels when you’re spread out on top of him, leaning your weight against his face, is indescribable.

he’ll most likely ask for it. satoru’s undoubtedly used to being in control and in his comfort zone. he’s the strongest after all. but when he’s with you, he wants nothing more but to suffocate while his lips and tongue are working to pleasure you. it’s a euphoric feeling. almost ecstatic.

he’s holding your thighs down, squeezing them on both sides of his head before engulfing his tongue into your cunt. it’s already dripping wet from the work of his fingers minutes earlier and the taste makes so him hard.

he knows how to work his way between your folds, nibbling at your clit with his teeth when he retracts his tongue. he makes sure to not leave one spot unattended, loudly sucking on it. it leaves your back arching, trying to hold onto whatever you can to keep composure.

you can hear a deep exhale when he leans back just to catch his breath with his tongue still dangling out of his mouth. his eyes are staring at the feast that’s in front of him, debating which spot he should attack next. not that he hesitates but he has so many ideas and ways to satisfy you.

but what does it for him, what awakens his soul, what makes him go absolutely feral, what transcends his whole body with excitement, building up through his entire being and leaving him as a pleading mess is the moment you start rocking your pelvis against his face. the sound escaping from your trembling lips while you ride him is enough for pre-cum to make its way out and stain his pants.

then it happens, while you’re rubbing your lower body back and forth against his lips, his mouth stimulates your clit and you can’t help but put more weight so you can finally release yourself upon him. he feels your walls clench against his tongue once you reach your climax.

his grip tightens around your thighs once he feels you’re close, hurrying his tongue to go deeper. the only thing he wants at this very moment is to taste everything you’re gonna release.

“look at you, soaking wet just from playing with my mouth. good fucking girl. you did so good— so fucking good.”

satoru does everything so well, and eating you out certainly isn’t the exception but there’s always a tiny little selfish reason behind his eagerness to bury himself between your legs.

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hyunievie · 3 months

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okay wait this isnt a drabble or anything but OMGMFM i need jisung so bad actually like i know sex with that man is the most nasty desperate sex ever i need him so horrendously bad.

his hands would be all over you, your tits, your hair, your hips, your wrists, his grip would be bruising, focusing on nothing but the feeling of your tight, warm cunt sinking on to his throbbing cock, he would let out the most delicious moan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

he would get so pussy drunk :[ clinging to you so tightly as his hips snap into yours, every inch of his body aching with need, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as you bounce on him.

as soon as your hips started to falter in the slightest, he would push you on to your back, pinning your wrists to the bedsheets beneath you and going absolutely feral, his length driving in and out of you with such intensity that you would be rendered speechless, your mouth parting with a silent scream as your nails dig into his biceps.

"fuck fuck fuck, so fucking wet 'nd tight- tight around me, fuck, god i'm gonna fucking cum, gonna fill you up so good baby, fuck."

he would babble mindlessly as he continued to piston in and out of you, so lost in pleasure that he didn't even notice you came already, five minutes ago.

i know hanji would be sososo obsessed with marking you, your skin would be littered in hickeys and bruises, his grip always harsh and unforgiving during sex. he would love seeing you in his hoodies and tshirts, the thought of you wearing something of his because you wanted to smell like him? immediate boner.

and i know he LOVES to eat pussy, this man worships your pussy like it was jesus itself, he could spend hours with his nose pressed against your clit, his hands wrapped around your thighs as his tongue swirled and sucked at your entrance, he knew how to make you cum in less than five minutes.

basically what i'm trying to say is han jisung is hot as FUCK and i would sell my soul just for a minute with this man. this is what watching jisung edits on tiktok does to a woman.

#kittys ranting #kittys writing #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut

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feral-teeth · 11 days

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“Why not?” 🦌

“I wish you were a girl…” ☀️

#saltburn #saltburn movie #felix catton #jacob elordi #feral teeth Saltburn edits #saltburn edit #oliver quick #barry keoghan #feral teeth edits #my edits

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emmyrosee · 7 months

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@bontensh0e YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

———

“Wait, why is this guy fine as hell?”

Leaning against the island in the kitchen, just a few feet away from Keiji eating happily at the table, you see a head instantly shoot up from reading his book, to starting at your skull.

He doesn’t say anything. He merely watches.

You sink your teeth into your lip with a small blush, moving the shirt collar up to cover the lower part of your face, “Gods really like him, apparently.”

Once again, Keiji says nothing. You wonder, briefly, if he stopped caring, with the roll of his eyes you love so much, but when you let your gaze flick back over to him, he’s still staring. Blinking unamused, and watching intently from behind his glasses.

“I wish I could be that hot,” you sigh dramatically.

“You are hot,” he scoffs, standing up and cleaning up the small setting he made for breakfast. There’s an annoyance laced in his voice, one you’d miss the jealousy in if you don’t know him well enough. “Besides, who cares how someone online looks? It’s almost all editing anyways. You’re thriving naturally.”

You flash him a coy smile, “I wish I could agree, but…” you sigh as he starts to make his way over. “This guy is just so hot.”

“It better be one of the Miya’s,” he mutters, and you let out a string of laughter as you duck your phone away, just before he leans in for a look. His nostril flare and his eyes bulge subtly, but he takes a deep breath in and places his mug in the sink to wash it. “You know I don’t mind you admiring others- but it’s 7 in the morning. Too early for such feral descriptions.”

“Would you rather me admire you at 7 in the morning?” You coo.

He finally cracks a smile and a small laugh, “I always want you to admire me.” You hum and slowly make your way over to the sink, turning your phone towards you both. He looks at your screen once, then looks again when he realizes it’s him in your recording camera, hair ruffled and glasses low on his nose, an Ocarina Of Time shirt that you bought him years ago hanging from his torso.

His cheeks burst in an absolute flush, teeth sinking into his lip shyly as he continues to wash the cup. It was clean forty seconds ago; now he just doesn’t want to look at you.

“You’re fine as hell, Keiji,” you hum, planting a kiss to his scarlet cheek.

“Shut up, you ass,” he grumbles around the unbudging smile.

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amuseoffyre · 9 months

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A succession of thoughts:

there was too much made of the memory editing for it not to be relevant at some point in S3: between the people Crowley couldn’t recall, the threat of memory erasure directed at Gabriel, Gabriel’s amnesia, the constant looming Book of Life warning

given that Nina and Maggie are mirrors for Az/Crowley, I’m sus about their first conversation we see on screen where Nina recalls Maggie’s order of choice and Maggie happily says “You remembered!” only for Nina to go “Yeah, lots of drinks up here, but I only remember the regulars.” But very next scene when Maggie tries to give her name, Nina goes “Yeah, I know, Skinny Latte.” I have Forbs A-Boding

Speaking of which, Aziraphale’s diaries that he kept for many hundreds of years, collecting and collating and storing all his many many years of memories and recollections in. Which will be stored in his bookshop. By someone who has been told that reading books is a good thing to do.

Related to which the repeated presence of The Crow Road is also too prevalent to be coincidence. A story about piecing together what happened to someone by going through their papers? In a story where we already have 600+ volumes of a character’s papers available and ready to be examined?

I don’t know what Neil expected, lobbing a show with all these tidbits to a feral english/film nerd with a taste for literary, textual and visual analysis. I am Well Fed.

Just wait until I sink my teeth into all the mentions of A Tale of Two Cities.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #the tropes are crunchy #good omens spoilers

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jayybugg · 2 months

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dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #fem reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #smut #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter

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cherryredstars · 4 months

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I have a slightly filthy request

Can .. can we just

Talk about Miguel with a chubby gf…

Like she is squishy everywhere has belly, squishy upper arms, thighs, Soft shoulders chest….

And this man just… bites everything, everywhere

no he doesn’t do it to help her insecurity he genuinely just does it cuz it feels good to him. (Reader doesn’t mind tho)

He just sees her in a top and shorts for the first time cuz bebe is feeling more confident and chomps cuz squishy … basically yuuh

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Content, Body Descriptions

Summary: Bites and bites and bites.

Word Count: 485 (Not Edited)

He can’t help it.

The urge is almost instinctual. Primal. It makes his fangs ache, maybe even itch to some degree. He’s tried to reframe for so long. He doesn’t want to scare you with it. He only ever wants you to enjoy it, just as much as he would. He’s been a good boy about it, too. He’s polite, gives you your space. Only ever goes as far as simple touches and nuzzling against your neck and body. Good boy things. Good, calm, domesticated things. None of that feral beast stuff.

But there is just so much a beast can handle before it snaps.

For him, it was seeing you in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

It’s gotten hotter, lately. The AC is not doing an adequate enough job of cooling you down, and you dread the idea of wearing your usual attire of oversized, concealing clothing. So when you walked into the living room, pudge spilling out from your clothing, Miguel wasted no time pouncing.

You let out a yelp as he grabs you, pinning you against him and the couch. Your head is slightly woozy from his fast movements, but you get barely any time to refocus as he begins nuzzling you. You huff out, a scolding on the tip of your tongue when he opens his mouth and bites. Hard. A startled and pained gasp leaves you, feeling his sharp fangs puncture through your skin. The bite is still wet from saliva when he pulls away, and you can feel the indents left on your skin.

“Miguel!” You cry out, looking at him in astonishment. “What the fuck?!”

Miguel doesn’t reply. Instead, his fingers snake down to the bottom of your tank top, hastily pulling it up just below your breasts. You let out another yelp as he bites down on the fatty flesh of your stomach, the hotness of his tongue slightly grazing. He does it again, and again, and again. On your stomach, arms, thighs, calves. Anywhere he can reach.

You can only watch his orange cat behavior, yelping with each sharp nick of his teeth. He tries his best to soothe them with licks, only making them more shiny as they begin to discolor your skin. You’re sure you look like a badly used chew toy when he finally pulls away.

But that isn’t the end of it. No, of course it’s not. Miguel leans down to your heat, he can smell the musky scent of arousal from his attention wafting from the skin. His hands rub up and down your thighs as he licks his lips, eyes traveling up to meet your face.

“Oh, cariño. I think you’re really going to like this.”

And the next thing you know, his fangs are puncturing through your shorts and underwear, the tips of them grazing your soft skin.

He plans on devouring much more tonight.

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nrdmssgs · 8 months

Note

CONGRATS ON 500, you 100% deserve it and more !!! 🥹🌷💐 i just love your art and work so, so much!!

if it's alright, can i request 37 with könig? my husband, i need him !!!! 😮‍💨

Masterlist List of prompts What? An author, who practically inspired me to come here and start writing? An author, who gifted me the biggest brainrot for many sides of König? Sends me a request? Orla, I am such a huge fan!!!!!! I love your style, love your bold, picturesque oneshots, love your eagerness to discover so many themes. I owe you so much, you don't have an idea. I made a text and a picture in case, you don't like the text. Sorry, I'm fangirling and I'm nervous)

Does it make you nervous, when I stare?

Pairing: KonigxReader Warning: this is NSFW. And König here is not the shyest guy on Earth, because this is colonel edition.

Oh, the things, you would let this man do to you. Unspeakable, ungodly things. Things so unhinged, you wouldn't mention them even after a few rounds of shots with your besties.

One sight of his fingers tapping the tabletop during the debriefing, and you can't think about anything other than the salty taste on your lips, left by his thumb. It would take him just one word, or maybe even one glance to make you cover his index and middle finger in saliva, as he would slide them against your tongue. You'd be so good - standing on your knees for him, sucking his fingers so eagerly, fighting your own gag reflex.

One glance thrown at his forearms, tightly hugged by black cloth, and you imagine his massive hands picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. You'd freeze, learn to hold your breath for as long as he wants, until you'd feel only the brush of his mouth against yours and the grumble of his impatience when he pushes in. The intoxicating thickness of his tongue against yours would be a taste that would rocket to your core and melt you from the inside, as he'd hover over you, pushing apart your legs with the brush of his massive thighs between yours. He'd take and take and take. And how obediently will you keep giving him anything, he demands.

Looking at his hips is a serious danger. Slick outlines of his muscles, his fingers brushing up and down his lap, black holster straps spanning his thigh make you go absolutely feral. You'd be standing still, feeling his low growl with your entire body. You'd hold your hands high against the wall and arch your back, so he can have access to every single part of your body. You'd accept him reminding you, with each his hungry thrust, where your place is: wrapped in his arms while he rubs you senseless, his teeth on your neck leaving you on the edge of pain.

All that fantasies you could hide from König, if it wasn't for his eyes: deep cold silver light, sparkling with interest, every time, he caught you staring. You couldn't make yourself look away: his stare was a predatory gaze, luring you closer, easing you into a thought of coming closer, stripping you of any bit of self-preservation instinct. Yes, when he caught your eyes - König took his time, ravishing in a sight of your desperate blush, letting go of you and turning his gaze away only when you were literally choking with shame, trying to drive away the visions that he awakened in your mind. This man was to become the end of you, and every next day it was only harder to fight that feeling off.

So when you hear, he is expanding his team, it feels only natural to surrender and use this ghostly opportunity to get closer to him. You know, your chance to join the team, his inner circle, is almost zero. By no means, you can be considered a poor professional, but the Colonel is a legend here. He doesn't want just 'the best' he wants those outstanding even from the best. And your personnel files scream 'just good' at best. But you have a motivation, the one so strong and specific, that maybe only you here have. Your obsession with König is pushing you to the darkest void, you were too scared to come to earlier - the threshold of his office.

"Come in." His voice at it finest: not too loud, not too harsh, all honey and slumber. When he wants, he can be mesmerizing as a siren.

You clench your hand into a fist behind your back, thus trying to calm the trembling that is rolling up to your knees.

"Just don't look him in the eyes, and it would be ok. Hands, yes, you can bear looking at his hands and not lose it. Afterward you can have whatever you want - your toys, your fingers, your cushions... Just look at his hands, breathe deep, and it all will be alright." Your inner monologue is interrupted only when he is pulling a folder from your hands, obviously tired of waiting for you to finally give it to him.

"What do we have he- oh..." Your breath hitches, you practically hear an uncanny smile spreading across his face.

"Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel?*" König sounds amused. And although you don't entirely understand, what he said - you get the message and nod, not daring to look him in the eyes.

"Very good. I could use such a treasure..." He flips the pages and clicks his tongue when some of your personal indicators impress him. And before you manage to exhale, he adds: "But I'll need to test you. See, if you are... ready."

"Anything, Colonel!" You blurt it out and immediately shut your mouth, realizing that it might sound ambivalent. But that's enough to make König raise from his seat and lead you from offices to firing range.

You blame it upon a rush of blood to your head, but you pass his test with flying colors. Physical tests, advanced weaponry, strategy, even sparing with König leaves you alive and just a little trembling.

The thing, that breaks you, is not even a test or a check. It happens late in the evening, when you two end up in the locker room. You just need to remove one layer of the tactical gear you were using, you'll still have your shirt and jeans on. But you stop, paralyzed, seeing out of the corner of your eye how König leans against the wall, arms folded on his chest. His gaze, you feel his gaze: lingering and hungry.

"What's wrong, treasure? Are you hurt?" You are afraid to answer and reveal your trembling voice, so you just shake your head.

"You don't know, how to loosen those straps? Want me to help you?" Again: you only shake your head, hiding your gaze.

"Is it my eyes, that make you that nervous, Schatzi*?" His accent thickens, voice drops low, as he steps closer.

You instinctively lean back, but hit the wall behind you. He takes one more step towards you and places his hand between the wall and the back of your head, so that you don't hurt yourself occasionally. But very soon, he guides you to finally look up at him. There it is: silver light, that you can never look away from, once you saw it.

"Talk to me. There can be no secrets inside my team." His voice is soft once again, but you know, it is a trap. And you fall for it.

"I just get distracted. Don't worry, Colonel, I'll learn to ignore it or to live quietly with it. Sorry..." Your voice, your entire body, is trembling.

"There's nothing to apologize for." Something sparkles deep inside his eyes. He moves his veil up, so you can see his lips, and leans right to your ear. "In fact, how about you come at the same time to my office tomorrow, treasure? After all, you've proven, you can be so good for me... It's my turn to convince you, I too can be good for you, Schatzi."

Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel? - Little one wants in my game?

Schatzi - little treasure

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melodygatesauthor · 11 months

Text

Miguel O’Hara - Vampire Edition - Random Horny Thot #1

NSFW - Consensual Non-con - Somno (kinda?)

——

Miguel’s fangs aren’t the result of the spider genetics as you’d originally thought. Not at all. He’s a vampire, it’s that simple, and that complicated all at once.

Your boss pisses you off one day. Never again. Someone hurts your feelings or tries to cause you physical harm? He makes sure their body is never found.

Miguel comes home after an unsatisfying feeding -likely interrupted so he had to discard the body quickly-, lips still coated in blood, eyes dark and hooded from the high. You’ve never seen him like this, in fact, you never talked about where he gets his food, he just…does, and you know better than to question it.

“Need more…need…” he’s growling like a feral creature. His eyes flick to you, sitting in the bed with the blanket pulled up to your chest.

“M-Miguel?” You stammer, eyes wide in terror.

He’s looking at you, pupils dilated and scanning over your body rapidly. He’s breathing so heavy that his broad shoulders are heaving with every inhale. He gets closer to the bed, bearing his teeth so you can see them glint in the faint moonlight through the bedroom window.

You think that by offering yourself to him, crawling to the edge of the bed with your neck exposed for him, it might end better for you, and you are right. He’s not gentle with you though, not that you expect him to be. Not when he’s like this.

He’s got you against the wall within seconds, sharp fangs buried deep into your neck and a hand covering your screaming mouth. You feel the blood coming out, and then you feel his lips over the holes he made, sucking against your skin and draining you.

He’s never been aroused while feeding before, but fuck he loves it when you whimper and cry like this. It reminds him of all the times he’s had his too big cock stuff inside your too small hole. He rids himself of his suit, pressing his erection between your legs hungrily, prodding at the apex of your thighs. You’re Keeping them closed, body tense from the pain of the feeding.

“Let me in honey,” he says in a low, gravely demand. “Fucking open your legs or I’ll open them for you.”

You tremble, doing as he tells you and then suddenly feeling so full of him you can hardly stand it. He looks at your face on the first thrust. His lips and chin are coated so thickly in blood that you gasp sharply through your nostrils, mouth still covered by his large hand…you wonder how you’re still alive.

You don’t even make it to your climax before you’re unconscious in Miguel’s arms, limp while he continues to rut his impossibly fat cock into you at an unrelenting pace. He’s done drinking from you, knowing he’s already taken too much, but it feels too good to stop fucking you.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, despite the fact that you can’t hear him, “you’re okay honey I’m so close. You’re so good to offer your body up to me like this, letting me take what I need.”

When he comes, you don’t feel it, but he’s making the most feral groans and grunts he’s ever made, spilling inside of you like you were a vessel made to take his seed. You’re so perfect, so warm in his arms, and most importantly, you are fucking delicious.

——

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara noncon #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #melodys random thots #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara

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