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runa-falls · 2 days

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what a mess~

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader cw: smut, established relationship, superhuman stamina, overstimulation, cum EVERYWHERE, 'use a condom, it's too messy X(', 'bitch stfu i'll show you messy'..., so many sheets, reader is a pushover (bc I WOULD BE TOO) wc: 1k + a/n: i um... just take this and I'll go to a corner of a room and think ab what I've done.

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Having a superhero boyfriend is great – he gets you discounts at your favorite restaurant, he easily carries you home after a long night out at the bar, he saves you from getting kidnapped by his arch-nemesis for the fourth time this month (though isn’t that his fault in the first place?....) – but there are aspects of the relationship that you didn’t consider before.

Apparently, with great power comes great… stamina.

To put it plainly, Miguel’s (sex) drive is unheard of. You better clear out your schedule for the whole day because he can go for hours. And most nights, you can barely sit up after he fucks you.

You like that – or you did when you could afford to be sore every other day. You like how enthusiastic he is – how much he wants you. It makes you feel desired and beautiful. But it’s not just the intense workout you risk every time you steal a kiss that turns into more – it’s the number of times he can…finish.

Every time you think he’s finished, he’s still hard and thrusting into you, overstimulating you until black stars start to fill your vision.

It’s a mess in the end.

You lay on top of him, filled to the brim, dripping all over his lower stomach and onto the sheets under you, breathing so hard you’re sure you’d rupture a lung. You feel like you’re barely conscious on the bed as your heart beats harshly against your chest from how hard you came. Hair sticks graciously against your forehead as your eyes struggle to stay open to see Miguel, who gently pulls out and watches his mess spill out of you.

He whispers sweetly of how well you took him, how pretty you look all fucked out, how much he loves that he can turn you into a blabbering – mindless whore. Being the possessive man he is, he attempts to shove it back in, using two of his thick fingers to gather and push his essence back into you, hoping that, against all odds, it’ll take, despite the fact you take your birth control religiously.

Of course, when he sees how your thighs shake and squeeze around his hand from the overstimulation of him fucking his fingers into you after you just came, he immediately gets hard again.

He gazes down at you with apologetic red eyes as he bites his lip under a sharp fang, “I can’t help it when I see how wrecked your pussy is for me…”

It’s nice – it’s hot – but you end up having to change the sheets 5 times a week. He’s insatiable… well ok, you’re just as thirsty as your boyfriend, but the amount of maintenance you need for each session is ridiculous. You basically gave up washing your sheets after every fuck, and instead ordered several identical sets of bedding to make the process easier.

Many sheets have been destroyed beyond recognition. Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but the amount of cum-stained sheets in your linen closet is insane. How are you supposed to hide this if you were to have guests over?!

After staring at the layers of folded-up and stained sheets that you’ve accumulated over the past few months, you decided you were going to do something about it.

You can still have fun without the mess.

…right?

—

Miguel has you on your back at the end of the bed with your legs resting on the crook of his arms. You have on a cute little nightgown – white to symbolize purity (though what you were about to do was far from pure) – with nothing underneath. It was one you bought just to get a reaction out of him – and now you got it.

He holds you open for him, regarding you like he would a special gift – though there’s nothing to really celebrate (unless you count his raging erection). He breathes harshly against your neck as he paints your skin with kisses and nips. You’re nearly folded in half with how closely he’s pushed against you, but you can barely recognize the mere tinge of soreness in your legs with how fluidly pleasure seems to travel from his lips down to the apex of your thighs.

Miguel O’Hara, the strong, independent Spider-Man, is truly a mess in front of you. His once neatly ironed tie now hangs loosely around his neck, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and his hair a tangle of unruly curls. His fingers, now caressing your body, are already dripping in your slick from when he forced a couple of orgasms out of you right when he got home.

You find a sense of satisfaction in the disheveled state of his appearance, relishing how his once meticulously groomed demeanor has been disrupted – how his eyes transition from their usual chocolatey brown to a striking blood red, how his lips swell sweetly with lust.

Miguel groans deeply as he grinds his clothed hardness against your wet center, “Mm…I want you so bad.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants, sighing as he releases himself from the tight fabric. No underwear?

“Wait, Mig." he pauses his movements, waiting patiently – prepared to do whatever you want. “Get a condom.” …Except maybe…that.

“Condom?” He could barely hold back his sneer, but you could faintly hear the growl vibrate from his chest.

“Mhm, we’ve been too messy lately. We can’t just keep buying new sheets every week!”

“...We could…”

“Miguel!”

“I don’t see what the problem is… this is just how it is.”

“But it’s too messy.”

“I thought my baby likes to be filled up…”

“...I-I mean, I do sometimes, but –”

“Don’t you like it when I get you all messy?” He leans in close, distracting you from denying him. “Have you dripping with me for days?” He presses closer, and you can feel his hard cock slip against your wetness, dragging against your sensitive clit.

“Miguel.” You whine.

It’s so hard to deny this man.

“How about we just try to be more careful, hm?” He presses against you gently, nearly entering you, but not quite. It feels so good, the tip of him barely stretching past your entrance.

“Okay…j-just this once though…” You surrender with a whisper.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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its-avalon-08 · 5 hours

Note

HI! i know you are on brk, so do write this whenever you want, take all the rest you need carlos x norris!sister

age gap of about 3 years

angry lando, secret dating, angst then fluff

im backkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!! im so thankful for all of the adorable messages, thank sm for the support, without you i would not be able to do this! p.s get ready for post spams because your girl had too much ready!!!!

give me a chance (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x norris!sister!reader

✦ genre - angst, fluffy ending

The tension in the motorhome kitchen was thicker than the stale coffee Carlos was reheating. You, Lando's younger sister by three years, fiddled with your phone, stealing nervous glances at Carlos. He nursed his mug, a self-conscious hand brushing over the small, purple mark blossoming on his neck. It mirrored the one blooming on yours – a secret souvenir from a stolen kiss in Monaco the previous weekend.

"We should be more careful," you whispered, pushing the stray tendril of hair that kept escaping your ponytail back behind your ear.

"Yeah," Carlos agreed, his voice low. "But seeing you in that dress..." He trailed off, a blush creeping up his neck.

A laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. The memory of you slipping into the tiny hotel balcony, the twinkling lights of Monte Carlo sprawling beneath you, still sent shivers down your spine. Just as Carlos leaned in for another kiss, the door swung open and Lando burst in, interrupting your stolen moment.

"There you two are! Let's go, debrief's about to start."

Relief washed over you, momentarily eclipsing the disappointment. Keeping your relationship with Carlos a secret had been stressful, but Lando finding out was your worst nightmare. He was fiercely protective of you, the age gap somehow making him feel more like a brother than a sibling. He'd never approve of you dating a teammate, especially someone older.

The following days were a tightrope walk. Stolen glances across the paddock, whispered jokes in between briefs, unsupervised moments – it was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

Then came this morning. Lando had been glued to his phone all breakfast, oblivious to the way your hand instinctively brushed against Carlos's under the table. But just as your fingers intertwined, Lando looked up, his gaze landing right on your neck. His eyes widened, then flickered to Carlos, who was sporting a matching mark.

The silence stretched, thick with dawning realization.

"What the…" Lando finally sputtered, his voice a strangled whisper.

Then, a volcano erupted.

"Y/N! Carlos!" Lando slammed his phone on the table, the clatter echoing off the metal walls. "What is this?!"

"Lando, it's not what—" you began, but he cut you off.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" His voice was laced with a fury you'd never heard before. "You two? Since when?"

Carlos opened his mouth to speak, but Lando wasn't done.

"I can't believe this! You, Carlos? You're supposed to be like family!"

"Lando, please," you pleaded, standing up. "We can explain."

"There's nothing to explain!" He threw his hands up in the air. "This is a disaster! You know I wouldn't have approved!"

"That's exactly why we didn't tell you," Carlos said, his voice surprisingly steady. "We were afraid of this reaction."

"Afraid? You should be ashamed!" Lando glared at both of you. "This is unprofessional. This makes things awkward. This messes with everything!"

And with that, he stormed out of the motorhome, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the entire vehicle.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You looked at Carlos, his expression mirroring your own – a mix of guilt, fear, and a stubborn determination to fight for what you had. You knew this wouldn't be easy, but one thing was clear – the secret was out. And the real race for your relationship had just begun.

The slam of the door echoed through the motorhome like a thunderclap, leaving behind a silence that vibrated with tension. You stared at the empty doorway, tears stinging your eyes. They spilled over unchecked, tracing a warm path down your cheeks.

Carlos reached out a hand, hovering hesitantly in the air before settling on your shoulder. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with concern.

You turned to face him, tears blurring your vision. "What have we done?" you choked out, the question a ragged whisper.

Carlos flinched. "We… we just tried to be happy," he defended, his voice strained.

"But look at what it's done," you sobbed, gesturing towards the doorway. "Lando's furious. This is exactly what we were afraid of."

"We can talk to him," Carlos insisted, his jaw set. "Explain things better."

"Explain what, Carlos?" you snapped, a spark of anger igniting through your despair. "That we broke his trust? That we jeopardized everything for a few stolen moments?"

The anger in your voice seemed to take Carlos aback. He recoiled slightly, the hurt flickering in his eyes a fresh wound.

"That's not fair, Y/N," he said, his voice low. "We both knew the risks. We both wanted this."

"Maybe I shouldn't have," you mumbled, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Carlos's eyes widened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Maybe this whole thing was a mistake," you said, your voice cracking. "Maybe we should have just—"

You couldn't finish the sentence. The regret in your voice, the implication that you wished you'd never let things go this far, ripped through Carlos like a punch to the gut. He felt a lump form in his throat, his own tears threatening to spill.

"Y/N," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't say that."

But you were already shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. "I can't do this anymore, Carlos," you said, your voice breaking. "This is tearing everything apart."

Without another word, Carlos turned and walked away. His broad shoulders slumped, his steps heavy with unspoken hurt. He didn't look back at you, and as the door to his room slammed shut with a dull thud, you sank to the floor, the weight of your words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You had just broken his heart, and in that moment, you weren't sure if you had broken yours too.

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Regret, a bitter taste on your tongue, pushed you to find Lando. You found him on the balcony, overlooking the bustling racetrack, a world away from the storm brewing inside you. The sight of him, usually your confidant, now felt daunting.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him hesitantly. "Lando," you choked out, hating how shaky your voice sounded.

He turned, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into a guarded expression. "Y/N," he said simply, offering no invitation to sit.

You stood awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers. "Lando, I…" The words stuck in your throat. "I messed up. Big time."

The anger you'd seen in him earlier had morphed into a wary curiosity. He crossed his arms, waiting for you to continue.

Taking another deep breath, you launched into a monologue, your voice trembling. "It started with his eyes, Lando, the way they crinkle when he smiles. And his smile, oh God, his smile makes my heart skip a beat. And then there are his hugs… warm and safe, like a place I can always go home to. And his kisses," you whispered, the memory sending shivers down your spine, "like fireworks, Lando, exploding with a kind of magic I've never felt before."

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "I love him, Lando. I never knew I could love someone like I love Carlos."

As you spoke, a figure appeared in the doorway, frozen in place. It was Carlos, his face a mask of pain, each word a fresh blow to his heart. But he couldn't tear himself away. He needed to hear it all.

You continued, your voice thick with emotion. "I panicked, Lando. I thought this would ruin everything, for you, for the team. But all I see is broken trust and a pain I caused the man I…" Your voice broke, a sob escaping your lips.

Lando watched you silently, his initial anger replaced by a flicker of understanding. He took a slow step towards you, his expression unreadable.

Then, to your surprise, he pulled you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "It's okay. You love him, I get it."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Just… promise you'll take care of each other. And promise me you won't keep things from me again."

A choked laugh escaped your lips. "I promise, Lando. I promise everything."

Suddenly, you felt a warm presence behind you. A tear slipped down your cheek as you turned to see Carlos standing there, his eyes red-rimmed, a tear tracing a similar path down his own face.

He didn't say a word. He simply walked towards you and pulled you into his arms, his embrace a silent promise. You buried your face in his chest, tears streaming down as the weight of the last few hours lifted.

Lando stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. He watched for a moment, his heart heavy but strangely at peace. "Alright, lovebirds," he said, his voice gruff. "Let's not turn this balcony into a waterfall."

You both pulled away slightly, but Carlos kept his arm wrapped around you, his touch a warm anchor. You looked up at him, his eyes glistening.

"Thank you, Lando," Carlos said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Just don't break her heart," Lando warned, a hint of his usual playful banter returning. "She's the only sister I've got."

Carlos nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on you. "I won't," he vowed, his voice a husky whisper.

And you, nestled in Carlos's embrace, knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn't face them alone. You had love, forgiveness, and a newfound understanding – a foundation strong enough to weather any storm.

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didhewinkback · 2 days

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likes to watch

these photos required a blurb out of me sry it took 800 years but heres 4k of smut from the something old universe

---

You flicked off the lights of the ensuite, throwing the towel into the hamper as you headed over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the bedroom, lotion in hand. It’s been a long week, culminating tonight with what felt like the longest work dinner of your life, capped off with desperately needed drinks with the only two coworkers who get it.

You barely saw Harry all week, two ships passing in the night as you dealt with extensive crises at work and he spent his days doing his unemployed side quests. He had texted you once the show was out, seeing if you wanted him to pick you up on his way back but you were already home by then, hopping in the shower to scrub the corporate small talk away. You tightened the rope on your robe and took a deep breath, more than ready to be in that bed and as far away from this week as possible.

You heard the front door open, immediately followed by his whistling. It was a tune you didn’t recognize but it still brought a smile to your face, the impact the show he just saw had on him seemingly immediate, even if he wasn’t conscious of it. His whistling is almost instantly drowned out by Sammy’s barks, and you can almost picture the scene as you hear it. Him crouching to greet the dog, his “‘s only me, Sammy! Just saw you a couple hours ago mate, ‘m not back from war” before a softer “yeah, yeah I missed you too.”

You place the lotion on the dresser, squirting it into your palm and rubbing it into your face and neck as you listen to him coo at the dog. It’s a few minutes before you hear his footsteps down the hallway, his knuckles on the door as he pushes it open and you look over at him, almost choking on air when you get a sight of him as he leans against the doorway, smiling over at you.

He looked good.

The beard and hair both growing in nicely, the mullet look you were tentative about at first really doing wonders on you now. And the fit?

The fit.

The blazer over the tight fitted tee, tucked into trousers that made his legs look like they went on for days. You couldn’t help gaping a bit, your eyes roaming up and down as you got a good look.

“Like the fit?” he asks with a laugh, your grin widening as you lock eyes.

“Love the fit.” you say, your eyes snagging on the words emblazoned across his chest, squinting as you try to read the lettering. “What’s the shirt say?”

He smirks, keeping his shoulder pressed against the doorframe as he uses his free hand to pull one of the lapels of the jacket open, helping you read the words 'I like to watch'.

You huff a laugh, smirking as you look back at his face, eyes staring back at you with a twinkle, a glint, and not an ounce of shame.

“Cheeky,” you murmur and if possible, his smirk only deepens, your stomach twisting. You just stand there, staring at each other for a few moments. “You look fucking fit.”

“So do you.” he says, eyes simmering as they sweep slowly down your body.

“Me?” you ask incredulously, looking down at yourself. “I’m wearing your old robe.”

“Meant what I said,” he shrugs, unbothered as he pushes off the doorframe and makes his way over to you.

His hands come up to frame your face as he leans in to kiss you, stealing a few in rapid succession before pulling away and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You wind your arms around his neck, holding on as he rubs a hand up and down your back, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling back to look at your face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you say, leaning up to kiss him again. “Missed you this week.”

“Me too. You had a long week, huh? How was that dinner?” he asks, snorting a laugh when you make a face. “That bad?”

“Three of us immediately ran to a different pub the second it was over because we so desperately needed to talk shit,” you say, feeling warm down to your toes when he honks out a laugh. “The ballet was good?”

“So good,” he says, pulling a hand from your waist to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek before pressing a kiss there. “Really inspiring. The movement and the music - just the way they use their bodies to tell a story, express an emotion. Made me think about how much I need to stretch.”

You snort.

“Made me think about more than that, y’ ninny.” he says, pinching your chin between his index finger and thumb when you laugh. “‘M just saying, It really moved me in a way art hasn’t in a while, so I’m excited to see what comes from it.”

“Mmm, me too,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You haven’t called me a ninny since we were, like, 12.”

“Felt right in the moment,” he says with a smirk and you laugh, shaking your head before reaching for the lotion on the dresser and he whines when you move out of his embrace.

“I’m almost done,” you say, “Just be two seconds.”

You lift your leg, resting it on the pouf beside you and you hear his sharp intake of breath when the sides of your robe fall back, revealing the skin of your naked thigh. You go to squirt the lotion onto your hands when his hand clasps around your wrist.

“Let me do that,” he says quietly, taking the lotion from your hands as he presses a slow, soft kiss to your cheek.

He sits down on the pouf, looking up at you with a warmth in his eyes, the promise of more. He taps his thigh, before curling his hand around your calf, bringing it up so your foot rests on his thigh, your knee in line with his shoulder. He smooths his hand over your skin, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in to press his lips to your thigh. He closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath and losing himself in the moment, as he slowly drags his lips up along your skin. He pulls back after pressing a kiss to your knee, squirting lotion on his hands before working them up your legs, rubbing it into the smooth skin, kneading the muscles. You have to reach out a hand to hold on to his shoulder for support as his hands move up under the robe, before sliding back out.

He places your foot on the floor and grabs the other, giving it the same treatment, taking his time to kiss up along your inner thigh before he works the lotion into your skin, fingers digging into the muscles until they loosen under his touch. You can’t take your eyes off him, feeling your breath quicken as he moves his hands over your skin, eyes not wavering from yours as he goes higher and higher, just shy of where you suddenly need him the most.

He smirks when you deflate slightly as he puts your other foot on the ground though he immediately makes up for it by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in between his legs, lips twitching at your sharp intake of breath. He rests his chin on your belly, looking up at you. You bring a hand up to drag through his hair and he leans into the touch, his hands holding you tight before loosening their hold, slowly moving up and down the robe, squeezing as he goes. He presses a kiss to the terry cloth fabric covering you before pulling at the tie, sighing happily when it comes undone, the robe falling open to reveal your naked body underneath.

He leans in slow, taking his time to kiss along your belly as his beard scratches your skin. His hand slides up to grope at your breast, arousal pooling in your stomach when you feel his tongue dart out against your stomach. He groans when your hand tightens in his hair as he switches hands, bringing one hand to grope at your bum while the other works over your other breast. Christ. You just stand there, practically panting as he makes you melt underneath his hands and mouth, taking his time to suck a mark by your ribs.

“Missed you so much this week,” he murmurs against your skin. “My hard working girl.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down into this lap and burying his face into your neck, kissing a slow line up your neck.

“Smell so nice,” he murmurs, his hot breath making you squirm, your naked thighs sliding on his trousers. “Feel so soft and warm.”

His lips find their way up your jaw, nose brushing against your temple as he presses a slow kiss to your cheek, his hands slowly moving up and down your body, getting lower with each pass.

“Is this what the ballet inspired then?” you ask, breath catching when his hands knead your bum.

“No, this is all you, darling,” he murmurs against your cheek. “It’s always all you.”

His index finger draws back and forth on your jaw before turning your mouth towards his. He brushes his nose against yours, once, twice, wide grin breaking out when you let out a frustrated whine. His hand cups your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s been mere minutes since he last kissed you, but it somehow feels like ages, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact before pressing in for more. Your hand sliding up into his hair as his mouth opens, his tongue rolling over yours in a smooth pass, making your thighs clench against his. Each kiss somehow deeper than the last, each of you pouring all you have into every kiss, every swipe of tongue, every lingering press of lips until you’re both gasping for breath.

“Need to touch you.” He pants against your cheek before taking your mouth again.

“Please - oh.” you gasp against his lips as his hands trail down your body, inching closer and closer to where you’re wet for him before he freezes, stopping suddenly.

“I - fuck. I’ve still got lotion on my hands.” he says breathlessly. “Trying to be sexy but don’t want to - like if I stick these inside you, I’m gonna give you an infection or summat.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, feeling his stomach shake with laughter as he mutters apologies against your temple.

“Ruined the moment haven’t I?”

“A bit of a dip in the momentum, I’d say” you say and he sputters a laugh.

“Just let me - gonna wash my hands. Just don’t want to - feel like that would be itchy later on down the road.” he says and you groan before laughing again. “Sorry, darling - sorry - just give me a mo.”

He kisses you quickly before sliding you off his lap and shuffling to the ensuite as you take a deep breath, the unexpected break making you aware of your racing heart, the ache between your thighs. You can hear the sink and his frantic scrubbing, shaking your head as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, huffing a laugh as you take in the sight, the open robe, the messy hair, the sections of your neck where your skin’s been rubbed raw by his beard.

You hear the sink turn off, can hear his footsteps making their way back into the room and turn to face him. He stops in his tracks when you look at him, murmuring “wow” before shaking his head slightly and closing the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist once more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to kill the vibe. But ‘m all clean now, ready to just -” he pauses, jabbing his two fingers in the air, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “get up inside you now.”

“Jesus Christ.” you honk out a laugh as he tightens his hold on you, giggling into your neck.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” he apologizes through giggles. “Had y’ right where I wanted yeh a few minutes ago, let’s get back to that, yeah? Let me make you feel good.”

He leans in, lips brushing against yours as he mumbles “Back to our regularly scheduled programming” that has you laughing against his mouth.

“You are so stupid.” you say before he shushes you and quiets you with kisses, pressing his lips to yours firmly before sucking on your bottom lip. He dives back in for more, licking into your mouth slowly, letting you fall back into the rhythm you were in before only this time it's more charged somehow. He’s a man on a mission as he pulls away from your mouth, kissing down your neck, his tongue darting out for a taste.

“Yeah but y’ love me, right?” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin. “Y’ think I’m funny? That I look nice?”

You hum noncommittally as he pulls you closer, though you find yourself taking in his outfit once more, eyes scanning him from top to bottom, snagging on the parts you like best. When you look back up at him, his eyes are dark, hungry, his jaw clenched as he brings a hand up to cup your face.

“Do y’ have any idea how you look at me when y’ like what I’m wearing?” he says, practically growling, his eyes lit up in the way they get when he’s got his mind set on something, a chill rushing down your spine at the thought of that something being you. “Not even sure if I can describe it…makes me feel like I’m on fire.”

He pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb, holding you in place as he claims your mouth, taking his time to kiss you so thoroughly your head spins.

“Sometimes when I’m, like, nervous about an outfit, I’ll picture your face seeing me in it,” he says when he pulls away. “The way you look at me - the way you devour me with your eyes. Makes me feel like I can do anything. Y’ make me feel so good about myself, the way you want me.”

“I do - I do want you” you say breathlessly, his confession making your heart race, the never ending pattern of his hands and mouth making arousal pool in your stomach. You’re needy and wet -

“Gonna show me?” he murmurs against your mouth, smirking when you nod. “Me too. Gonna show y’ how much I want you. How much I always want you. I always -”

You moan, cutting him off with a hard kiss, your tongue swiping over his in a way that has him groaning into your mouth. You pull him impossibly closer, your hands sliding up his blazer covered arms and over his shoulders, weaving your hand into his hair as you sink deeper into the kiss.

He pulls away slowly, panting as he kisses your jaw slowly, tongue darting out to taste your skin.

“Turn around,” he mutters lowly, spinning you in his hold until your back is against his chest, his hands splaying across your stomach. You look up to see that you’re both now facing the mirror.

Oh.

“Let’s get this off,” he murmurs, pulling the robe up and off your shoulders, letting it crumple in a pile at your feet. He pulls your body up against his as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, running his hands up and down your body. His eyes dragging up and down your reflection, feeling like molten lava as they take you in. “God, look at you.”

The momentary instinct to look away from the mirror, to hide from the reflection of your naked body is immediately overpowered by the sight you see, your naked body against him in his suit, his clutches turning white knuckled in desperation as he drags his mouth along your neck, mumbling praise into your skin without ever breaking eye contact with you. Where this should be a vulnerable situation, instead you feel dead sexy. Amost turned inside out with how much you want, how much you need him. You can feel how much he wants you, how he’s already hard for you, just from this. You can see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. And fuck if it’s not the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

Your chest is heaving as he pauses his ministrations, resting his hands on your lower belly before bringing one up to clutch at your jaw, instantly covering your mouth with his. You wind your arm around his neck, hand grasping at the hair at the nape as he groans into your mouth, fingertips sinking into your skin.

He slides his hand down and you gasp against his mouth as you feel his fingers sliding through your folds.

“Fuck - feel that?” he groans as his fingers lightly circle your clit, your hips twitching towards his touch. “I know, I know. Gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kisses you deeply once more, before pulling away and guiding your head back to face the mirror.

“But I want you to watch.”

He hooks his chin over your shoulder, dark eyes never wavering from yours as he draws circles on your clit, kissing you on the shoulder when you moan.

“Yeah - let me hear you,” he groans as he continues to draw circles on your clit, increasing his pressure the more sounds you make.

Your stomach burns with arousal, feeling a deep ache in between your thighs as he teases his fingers over your entrance before bringing them back up to your clit. He does this over and over, smirking at you in the mirror before you finally break, a whimpered “please” that has him clenching his eyes shut for a moment. Seeing his reaction in the mirror makes you just about lose your mind. You slide your hand up his arm, clutching at the muscles that flex beneath your palm as the fire burns in your belly.

“‘M right here, baby. I got you.” he murmurs, resting his cheek against your temple, facial hair scratching into your skin as he dips his fingers lower, sliding two fingers into you with ease. “Fuck - all this for me?”

You nod, barely able to swallow back a moan as he works you over with his fingers, fucking them into you deeper before he reaches the spot that makes you cry out.

“Fuck, H -”

“That’s it,” he groans, his palm rubbing over your clit as he curls his fingers deeper. You’re practically soaking his hand but can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, not when he’s making you feel this good. You can feel your abdomen tighten, knees weakening as he brings you closer and closer to your high. He presses his palm down hard on one particular stroke that has you shutting your eyes and leaning your head back before he tuts.

“Eyes on me, baby. Want you to look at me when you come.” He smacks a kiss to your temple when you open your eyes. “‘S my girl.”

He doubles down on his efforts and what was once a slow burn is now a raging fire. Your eyes never waver from his as he murmurs endless streams of praise into your ear. You’ve never been so on display and you’ve never felt hotter as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge. You can barely make sense of the sounds you’re making, trying desperately to keep your eyes open, finding yourself transfixed by the way his brow is furrowed in concentration, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his eyes never move from your reflection, sheer determination as he takes you apart.

Your chest heaves as you try to get a breath in but he’s overwhelming all your senses. You clench down on his fingers and it’s the guttural groan you get in response that sends your right over the edge with a curl of his wrist. You see stars as you come, hand sliding along his jacket sleeve as he mutters praise into your ear, working you through your high until you’re batting his hand away.

You watch breathlessly as he slides his fingers out and brings them up to his mouth, eyes locking with yours as he sucks, moaning at the taste. You spin in his hold, crashing your lips to his as you wrap your arms around your neck. His hands immediately adjust, big palms squeezing your bum as he kisses you deeper. You slide a hand up into his hair, pulling as he opens his mouth wider and you give as good as you’re getting. You pull your mouth away, moving to kiss along his jaw as you slide a hand down his front, fingers dancing over his pecs before sliding down his abs, smirking when the muscles jolt at your touch.

Without pulling your mouth away from his neck, you unbutton his trousers and slide your hand inside his briefs, sliding your hand along his length, gasping when you feel how hard he is for you. He grunts when you start to stroke him, fingers digging into your skin when you lean up to say in his ear, “Need this inside me.”

He moans, leaning down to capture your lips with his before walking you backward into the mirror, hand coming up to cradle your head from hitting it.

“Want it like this,” he mumbles against your mouth, hands coming to squeeze at your hips. “Want y’ against the mirror.”

He spins you around, your chest pressing against the cool glass as he takes a step back and pulls your hips flush against his so that only your hands touch the mirror, your back arching to put you back on complete display, giving you a vantage point of everything. His eyes sear through you as he drags them up and down your form, knuckles clutching and eyes darkening as he visually devours you.

He nudges your heels apart with his foot, spreading you wider as he pulls down his trousers and briefs, just enough to pull himself out. Making no moves to take off any of his clothes. The image alone sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re so close together, you can feel when he strokes himself a few times, knuckles dragging against your bum. He looks up at you, shaking his head almost in disbelief before leaning in to press kisses along your spine, palms dragging up and down your spine.

“Look so hot like this,” he mutters, bringing one hand to rest on your hip while the other wraps around his cock, guiding it towards your core. You both moan when he slides the head against your entrance. He taps it against your clit, hand tightening on your hip when you gasp, eyes locking with yours. “Ready?”

“Need you.” you moan out and he pushes into you in one swoop, sliding his hand up your back to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you back as he thrusts forward.

“Christ,” he groans, taking it slow as he thrusts into you steadily, letting you get used to the stretch. “Feel so fucking good.”

You lock eyes in the mirror as you push your hips back, meeting his thrust halfway, brow furrowing as his mouth drops open from the feel. His grip on your shoulder tightens and suddenly, It’s hard and fast instantly, the sound of your skin slapping against each other reverberating through the room. You can’t take your eyes off his reflection. The clench of his jaw, the vein in his neck bulging as he pulls you back onto his cock over and over.

Your hands slip on the glass with the force of his thrusts, fire licking up your spine at the reflection in front of you. The way his muscles bulge under his clothes, the way his clothes look against your naked body. The way every clash of your hips punches out a sound from him that makes your stomach twist, how a particular circle of your hips has his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Prettiest thing I’ve seen all night. Love watching you. ” he grunts out, brushing your hair away from your sweaty nape, letting the cool air hit it before wrapping his palm around the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin. “Gonna make me come. Y’close?”

You nod, words failing as each drive of his hips brings you racing to your finish for the second time tonight.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. C’mon.” he murmurs. “Wanna watch you come on my cock.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than you’re bringing your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that have you practically whimpering. He’s muttering encouragement as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His hand slipping from the back of your neck to the front. One squeeze is all it takes for you to come, feeling your walls flutter around his cock as you moan.

“So good for me. Such a good girl.” he grunts, squeezing his hand around your neck once more as he pistons his hips, before moaning lowly, coming hard as you feel him spill inside you, squeezing your neck as he collapses onto your back. He places on hand next to yours on the mirror for support, panting against your head as he catches his breath. His hand not on the wall dragging up and down your spine, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you both come down from your high.

He squeezes your shoulder before pulling out, tucking himself back into his pants as you push off the mirror, turning to face him. You smile at each other, huffing out laughs before he pulls you towards him, cupping a hand under your jaw as he captures your lips in a kiss, tongue smoothing over yours.

“That was fucking hot,” he murmurs before claiming your mouth again. You hum in agreement, sliding your hand up and into his hair, fingers looping through sweaty strands as you kiss each other deeper.

The kisses slow, eventually. Your racing hearts returning to their normal pulses, hands grazing each other’s bodies slower until you both pull back.

“Do you think that’s how everyone else ended their night at the ballet?” you ask and he barks out a loud laugh, eyes crinkling around the edges as he tilts his head back.

“Reckon so.” he says, pulling you in closer and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I gotta take Sammy out.”

“I’ll come with you,” you say, heart flipping when his grin widens. “Just gimme a sec.”

You kiss him quickly before heading off into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. How well fucked you look.

You head back out, grabbing an old shirt of his and gym shorts from the dresser, feeling his eyes on you as you quickly get dressed.

“You’re not going to change?” you ask, looking over at him as he shrugs.

“My girl likes my fit. Trying to see if I can get lucky twice in one night,” he says, grin widening as he holds open the door for you, hand on your lower back as you make your way down the hallway. He wraps his arm around your waist, slipping his hand up under your t-shirt, splaying his hand against your belly.

And yeah, he probably will.

---

a/n: did not edit this whatsoever needed to get it out in the world bc i had been working on this for so long. and its absolute filth i could not bring myself to read back. lmk what you think !

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #i dont even know what this is it is filthy as hell im worried it sucks #hope u like it lmk what u think #can u believe this is 4K

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zoropookie · 2 days

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WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — ONE

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

"Yeah, I understand that it's the third day I haven't paid my rent, I'm telling you my banks been closed."

Your voice to your landlord, Kamisato Ayato (who is also your boss), on the phone reeked with desperation. And yet, even though this was the case, you still had time to snack on chicken strips at a picnic table.

"(L/N), there's nothing else I can do, your extension is up. I need a payment by tomorrow." His voice crackled through the phone, stern but never sympathetic. "I have other tenants to consider."

"Wouldn't have guessed that one." You laughed as a jab at the other, a thin veneer of your humor and the intense need to scream gnawed at your mouth. “You’re rich as hell telling me that you have other tenants to consider, but you’re still making me clean toilets? Couldn't give me a promotion to accountant or anything? I know about 16 of your slimy practices.”

“You're being dramatic.”

“The only other tenants are Itto and Yoimiya with her dad. This is a side thing for you with how often my shower head is broken.” Your eyes dulled. “If anything, I should be telling you to pay me.”

The other end went silent, as your boss Ayato cleared his throat. “I never said it was free housing in the lease.”

“Ooh, slimy practice number 17! Hey, maybe if you make it to 20, I can wring 700,000 mora out of you.”

“You can make as many threats as you want, you still haven't paid in time. I can’t keep extending deadlines for you.” Ayato’s voice hardened. “If you can’t pay by tonight, you will have to find somewhere else to stay.”

You felt helpless in the moment, but still managed to hold on to the call for just a few more seconds. “Really, Kamisato.” Your voice dulled. “You’re going to lock me out of my apartment, keep me in a Halloween costume, and deny my valid reason just because I didn’t pay up 1,000 mora? Me, who cleans your event hall everyday.”

“Perhaps you should have been more conscious of your money management. Please be more responsible in the future, (L/N). Good luck to you.”

And with that, he hung up. You let out a growl of frustration and slammed your phone down on the picnic table. It happened to bounce up and land face down on the floor. You gasped lightly, reaching quickly to pick it up as you checked it frantically.

Cracks up and down the screen of your phone you still managed to be making payments on. "Wow..." You stared at the cracks in disbelief, feeling a disastrous amount of weight that prompted you to throw away the greasy chicken strips. You've been going to this place for so long to save money that you wondered if you were ever really saving anyway.

You gathered your thoughts quickly before continue your walk back home. You had just came back from a big Halloween party that your neighbor Yoimiya invited you to. You weren't listening entirely, but she was yapping hard about this concept about soulmates and how it's been actually proven that what the mark you were born with yadda yadda yadda. Because of this, anyway, she had made these weird concoctions that made the fireworks different colors. From purple, orange, green, and so on to get everyone in the spirit.

You were too scared of her to say no; one of these days you were convinced she's going to accidentally make a nuke and kill everyone. You'd rather not make an enemy if it meant you had a chance living in her oddly huge bunker (how did she make a bunker underground her bottom floor apartment?).

If anything, your spirit was crushed as soon as you left the party. With how the only guy blowing up your phone was Ayato and he just wanted the money that he gave you back, and looking like a very horrible version of an 80's professional acrobatics instructor with an equally as bad haircut, you were pretty much having the worst Halloween night of your life.

Especially seeing your crush for 13 years, Xiao, kiss the literal only other guy at the party, Venti. How long were you even waiting to get your chance? He didn't even know Venti that well compared to you, and he was probably crushing on him just because he could sing. And now you have the very moment that you were happy to not in the blink of an eye, so miserable seeing it that you could swear you felt yourself sober up.

And to Creep by Radiohead blaring in the background, they were kissing to one of the most unconventional songs you can kiss to. For what may have been a song for them to remember their first kiss was a song that you wanted to shove an ice pick through your ear canal every time you heard it now. You guessed the soulmate stuff Yoimiya was talking about was true. They saw the exact same mark on each others wrists...

You could sing too, probably even better than he could. Singing isn't even that hard.

As you started singing a very off-key and melancholic version of Teenage Dream by Katy Perry to prove yourself right, you weren't even worried about the long winded alleyways and dark streets you were weaving through. The eeriness of the night was mocking, but comforting. Long, distorted shadows, making the streetlights cast them oddly.

Your footsteps echoed against the narrow walls of the alleyways, a gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine and stretched the night on. You kicked a pebble absentmindedly, watching as it skittered along the cracked pavement. It was ironic being at a party you actually felt comfortable being at and getting your hopes absolutely shattered in the meantime. It seemed so out of reach from what did occur.

The sight of your apartment was a burden, and even though you were guaranteed going to be kicked out tomorrow, you didn't want to linger on the reminder any longer.

As you were about to climb the steps, you paused once you heard something similar to a whine. It was faint when you first heard it, almost blending in to the light pollution of the street. You turned your body towards the nearby alleyway, awaiting for another noise to confirm your delusions. Moments passed, each second stretching into eternity. Just when you were about to dismiss it again, another cry of what sounded like a man alerted you, followed by a groveling sound that sounded similar to a guttural gurgle.

Hell. No.

Now usually, you would mind your business and go to sleep with a knife in the bed next to you. You were not a stickler for being the person in the horror movies that said 'let's go see what it is'! But you weren't entirely convinced that the neighborhood was terrible, and with your current dilemma? Maybe dying a horrible death would feel better than whatever you're about to go through in the next twenty-four hours.

But at the same time...you weren't convinced that whatever is doing that wasn't an injured puppy or something. You may have had a heart for what happens to animals, but you aren't stupid.

#zoropookie #wywdfl #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you #self insert #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you

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jrow · 3 days

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May Prompts (26)

Day 25 here. Start from the beginning here.

Manipulation.

He is master of manipulation.

It comes easily to him. Perhaps too easily. In recent years, he’s made a conscious effort to avoid manipulating those he loves (most of the time), but jerk clients and suspects? That’s still fair game. And a touch fun.

Getting constable moron to run was easy enough. It’s not that a chase is entirely necessary—they could have simply waited for Mycroft’s minions to arrive. That’s what John was likely planning, engaging the moron in meaningless small talk. But, they are doing this his way.

Besides, John loves a chase.

“And now you are spying on John. Worried he’ll remember?” was enough to get the moron running. And it was oh so easy to manipulate him to take off west, down the pavement. No roofs today.

The moron is fast, but not all nimble, knocking into people has he tries to weave between them. John is slower but far more deft on his feet, easily avoiding any barriers, be they human or otherwise.

As for himself, well, he’s both fast and nimble, but right now his focus is divided between ensuring John is okay and trying to manipulate the chase to their advantage.

Run. Run. Weave. Run. Weave. Jump. Force the moron towards the road, no chance to turn down an alley.

John is keeping up but his smile is evolving into a wince. This has gone on far too long.

But there it is. The library, always his saviour. He digs deep and finds a burst of speed, running up between idiot and the road, forcing him into left, through the front door.

“You guard the entrance,” he yells to John. They both know it’s a ruse to allow John to sit down and rest, but they can pretend.

“Right,” John says, hands on thighs panting for breath. “You go!”

And he’s off, manipulating the chase so they move up the stairs and into the stacks. He puts on bursts of speed when needed to push the idiot towards the small meeting rooms. The other patrons and staff keep their distance as they run. The police have surely been called but Mycroft’s team will arrive first.

Finally, they reach the back. He detours quickly to pull the fire alarm and the siren sounds loudly. The three meeting rooms empty, the people rushing to the exits.

The moron has nowhere to go, but continues past the fleeing patrons and into a meeting room. Tries to close the door.

But, he is there, pushing his way in.

“Nice try,” he says. “The police are on their way. It’s over.” He realises he still doesn’t know the constable’s name. He realises he doesn’t really care.”

“Look, I have money,” the moron starts, “if you help me get out of here. Then I’ll be gone—won’t set foot in the city again. Think about it, I have loads of cash and jewelry… would really help out that little girl.”

The mention of Rosie makes him see red. “Don’t you dare,” he spits out. “Don’t you move an inch. You are a lucky man, you know. If John had died or been badly hurt, you would not have got out of this room alive.” He forces himself to stay guarding the door, fighting the urge to rip the moron from limb to limb.

“Please,” the moron pleads, sounding genuinely terrified and looking on the verge of tears. Good.

He stands guard and says nothing, working to keep his rage in check. Mycroft’s team will be here soon and will be appropriately aggressive in their arrest. After a couple of minutes that feel like an eternity, he hears heavy steps running towards them.

“Hands in the air!” someone yells, pushing past him and entering the room.

The moron continues pleading. He turns around and makes his way back downstairs. Back to John.

Five years ago, he’d be desperate to be part of the interrogation. To understand every element of the moron’s crimes. Now, he just wants to get his family and go home.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024

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gloomwitchwrites · 13 hours

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Hi you beautiful person, I'd like to send in a request for the 1k Follower Celebration 😊 I'd leek to read about the CoD men and sllep positions with a chubby reader. I always imagine Price cuddles when I can't fall asleep, how his beard would tickle, how he'd stroke my hair aside to give me a forehead kiss and sternly tell me to fall asleep. Or maybe falling asleep on top of Soaps muscles and listening to his heartbeat, or watch Gaz do a face cleanse before snuggling. Or lying next to a stiff and unmoving Ghost just to wake up with him curled around me *sigh* T'is would be the dream.

Thanks so much, love ☺️

Oh, you absolute sweetheart, thank you so much! I love this prompt so much! And with a chubby reader? Yes! We need more representation in that regard. I hold all my weight in my hips, thighs, and butt, and it makes me so self-conscious all the time. Maybe that’s why I always dive into scenarios like your prompt and imagine being loved and appreciated for what I have. In a way, you’ve already answered the prompt a bit, but I will absolutely add to it. Thank you for sending this prompt in! I appreciate you so much!! <3

I did keep some of the descriptions vague so that readers of all shapes and sizes can see themselves snuggled up with any of the 141!

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

1k follower event rules

Word Count: 813

There are some suggestive themes in this, so, per that warning, MDNI

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

John Price

John loves to cuddle. He loves touching you. He loves being close. Doesn’t matter if you can’t sleep or he can’t, John needs to be touching you. It’s almost an impulse to do so. The moment you or him slips under the sheets, John is reaching out, his large hands grasping, dragging you against him.

John will always be big spoon.

With you wrapped up in his arms, there is nothing sweeter. His beard his prone to scratching your skin but you don’t care. What matters is how he can make you feel. If you can’t sleep, John will do everything in his power to soothe you through gentle words, soft touches, and even softer kisses. There is only intimacy with no intention of initiating anything. He only wants you to be comfortable.

If John is struggling to sleep, all he needs is for you to curl up against him, and to run his hands over your body. He loves squeezing your thighs and hips, running his hands up and down your legs. He only wants his hands full of you, to know that you’re with him. It grounds him. Makes him calm.

That is how John likes to fall asleep. Upon waking, he might shift a bit, but he’s still touching you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

More like Kyle “Skincare Routine” Garrick. This guy loves routine and he wants to do routine with you before bed. While a his and her bathroom sink setup is lovely, he prefers one sink and mirror just because he doesn’t want to be far from you. Face cleanse? Got it. Hydrating mask? Can do. Doesn’t matter as long as he does it with you.

Kyle also enjoys a shower before bed and will often pull you in with him just to have some intimacy. It’s not necessarily for sexual reasons, but to just spend a little extra time with you that he doesn’t always get during the day.

Where John is a full on cuddler, Kyle likes more of a snuggle, and prefers being little spoon. He loves feeling your cheek pressed to his back and your arms around him. Kyle is quick to hold your hand and kiss your knuckles before the two of you drift off.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap wants you as the blanket.

He doesn’t need the comforter, a weighted blanket, or any of the bedsheets. He only wants you draped over him at bedtime. Your warmth and body pressed against him is soothing.

Soap prefers it if you’re both naked during bed. Skin against skin is what he loves best. Again, it’s not always a sexual thing (although he totally takes advantage when he can) but an intimacy thing. He wants you almost on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest, to feel your heartbeat along with this. Soap wants to be able to rub your back and kiss the top of your head.

As much as it is for him, it is also for you. It provides a sense of safety and comfort. While the muscles can be a bit hard to lay on, Soap does have some softness in his chest and stomach. Yes, he is all muscle, but his body is built from years in the field. This isn’t a gym rat body. This is pure strength and protection. Even if you’re the blanket, there is something comforting about it.

However, by morning, the two of you are significantly shifted. Might still be snuggled up but likely no longer a blanket.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost is a boulder. I truly believe this man is a stiff, unmoving board at bedtime. He gets into bed and is asleep almost immediately. Ghost is the kind of guy that could fall asleep anywhere and everywhere on command.

Ghost also as a habit of either going to bed before you or after you. It’s not habit more like it depends on the day he’s had. If he’s the one who is in bed first, this man is an unmoving rock. He also spreads out which makes attempting to move him even worse. So, you end up curling up around his unmoving form.

On the opposite side of this, when Ghost goes to bed after you’ve already fallen asleep, he does his best not to wake you. When he slides into bed beside you, he might brush your hair out of your face or admire you for a bit before settling in beside you.

However, in the mornings, Ghost is always curled around you, one arm draped over your waist and curled under your stomach to keep you snuggled against his body. You never know when he does that in the middle of the night, and Ghost never knows when he does it either. It just happens in his sleep, like his body craves you and simply needs to pressed close.

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