plum-writes

[plum-writes]

❦🝮 ♡︎Submissive Miguel Ohara♡︎🝮❦

ఌ first of all, no matter how prideful or closed off this man may be, he wants to be taken care of

ఌ he wants to be held, pampered, and be able to let go of all the problems weighing on his shoulders

ఌ he just wants the bliss that comes with no thoughts in his head

ఌ he does so much, for you, for New York, for the Spidey Society, for all the universes he works so hard to protect, that it comes as no surprise that it takes a toll on him

ఌ basically he needs to be fucked so good that he can’t think anymore, just feel

ఌ feel you

ఌ and he’s a little scared at first at how badly he wants that

ఌ to the point where he’s having thoughts and fantasies that are so deprived and needy he has to make sure they don’t become more than that

ఌ how could he explain that he wants to be used and abused in any way possible by you so badly, he aches almost every night, fucking his cock into his hand imagining it’s you???

ఌ he couldn’t- could never- so he keeps it a secret. until he cant

ఌ it all started with a back massage

ఌ he came home from work pretty late, so tired that his mind was muddled mess and his body was just going through the motions of his usual routine

ఌ it was obvious with his sluggish movements, and low, delayed grunt when you softly greeted him with his usual kiss home

ఌ you knew he was too drained to do much right now, and that was where you took the initiative to take care of him

ఌ something that made it even harder for him to keep the little secret to himself

ఌ but you didn’t know that, and he was too tired to refute your help like so many times before

ఌ so when he finished eating dinner and you gently led him to the bedroom, giving him another kiss while gently telling him to hop in the shower he didn’t brush you off

ఌ he didn’t tell you not to worry about him like he usually would

ఌ he was all too happy to obey you

ఌ and when he finished he certainly didn’t complain when you led him to lay on his stomach on the bed, telling him that he was going to get a massage for being so good, and hardworking that day

ఌ for working so hard to help provide for your beautiful home, for New York, for the universe

“Oh, Miguel, you’re so good to everyone. Doing so much for everyone, you deserve a reward for doing so good- you deserve everything, amor.”

ఌ the way his belly lit up had him waking up like a bucket of ice cold water was thrown onto him

ఌ he knew what this would lead too, how him being too tired to control himself, would reveal the part of himself that yearned for you

ఌ he had no idea how you would react to that and he didn’t want to risk any negative reactions he might get from it

ఌ but your hands and words just felt so good

ఌ you had him talk about his day, his words interrupted with muffled grunts, and the deep breaths that left his mouth when you would rub a tender spot on his back, making him loosening up

ఌ he decides at that moment that this is all worth anything he might let slip that night if he could just revel in your tender hands for a few more moments

ఌ you and your magical touch

ఌ he groans softly at the way you rub his back with caring hands, your weight a comfort from where you’re sitting atop of his thighs

ఌ the kisses you plant at the top of his shoulder blades leaving his skin tingling and buzzing, while your hands gently knead his lower back, your little knuckles digging into his tight spots

ఌ it makes him want more

“Aye, bebita. Treating me so good.”

ఌ you smile at his words, leaning down and angling your head to kiss his bushy brow, laughing lightly when his hand reaches back and tugs at the shirt you’re wearing

ఌ you readily take it off for Miguel, just clad in your panties now

ఌ He moans even more at the feel of your peaked nipples brushing against his flushed skin when you lean down, your kisses traveling up to his neck and ears, getting any peek of his face that flits through where he’s burying his head in his forearms

ఌ he chuckles lowly, and hums appreciatively when you squish your body fully on top of him to wrap your arms around his larger frame in a hug

ఌ he can feel your chest squished to his back, a wonderful feeling, your lips setting a blazed trail all along his body

ఌ his muscles relaxed and taken care of

ఌ he feels absolutely consumed by you and he loves it

ఌ and it just seemed to get him in that headspace

ఌ he starts breathing heavy when he feels you grip him tight, his sweats tightening at his groin area when you suck a spot on his shoulder, your teeth slightly nibbling and grazing his skin

ఌ your hands soon start drifting all over his half naked body, weight becoming heavier on him when you press yourself further to his back

ఌ he feels your panty clad pussy press against the side of his thigh, and he huffs heavily at the slight wetness that slides your panties messily

“Take it off mami, want to feel you, please.”

ఌ his voice is a gravelly, raspy, and delicious whimper

ఌ it’s not like anything you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth from the time you guys have been together

ఌ youve heard deep grunts, and throaty groans, slightly high pitched huffs, and even some quiet whines hidden deep in his voice when you guys have sex

ఌ but a whimper as sweet and needy as this one? This is the first your ears are blessed with the sound

ఌ you pause minutely, and even though it’s only for half a second, he notices right away

ఌ you feel him go stiff once again, and you just know his eyes are wide and brows furrowed, silently panicking to himself

ఌ he’s silently beating itself up at letting go of himself, of letting you see a side of him that would surely make you want to leave. Who wants to be with a man who acts like this from a few fucking sentimental words and little touches?? His mind screams at himself

ఌ he’s oblivious to the smile that stretches your lips, your hand continuing its journey to slip under the waistband of his sweats to grip is pretty, hard cock

ఌ you pick up right where you guys left off as if nothing is amiss, but your voice is notably more firm and throaty; it’s obvious how fucking excited you are about the new dynamic presented between you two

“What is it, Miguel? You wanna feel me that bad?”

ఌ you grind down on him, already soaking through your panties and you know he can feel the wetness on his skin already

ఌ he let out a choked off whine his arms tensing, and he stuffs his head further into them

ఌ he’s trying to be quiet. You don’t want him to

ఌ so you grind harder, and one hand leaves his shoulder to his hair and you slide your fingers through the soft tufts of hair. you grip gently and firmly tug his head up to look at you

ఌ his eyes are lidded, glassy and preening at you, cheeks red and lips parted just slightly

ఌ god you want to devour him

“Let me take care of you.”

ఌ that is the first time Miguel lets himself be fully vulnerable with you

ఌ you ride him deep in to the sheets that night, pulling more moans and whines from him that do nothing more than make you drip desperately for him

ఌ you feel drunk on him, almost feral at the way he’s so easily reduced to a whining, needy mess under you

ఌ you don’t think either of you have even came that hard together

ఌ this sparks an onslaught of many nights like this to come

ఌ you’ll know when Miguel gets in one of these moods, whether he vocalizes it or not

ఌ he’ll be surprised at how well you read him, momentarily quiet when you come up behind him and start kissing his back, hands drifting to the band of his pants with a whisper of

“Let me take care of you, bebito.”

ఌ oh man does he fold whenever he hears those words

ఌ he’ll gladly let you take control, content to just lay down and let your lips travel wherever they want to go

ఌ this often leads to times where he gets a little demanding 

ఌ he begs and whimpers, whines and complains, will grasp and grab you, becoming so fucking needy that he can’t help himself

ఌ so he becomes a bit of a brat

ఌ he’ll be all whining and pouting, looking at you with such a desperate glare that shows how determined he is to get what he needs anyway he can

ఌ the first time he made you snap, he cried

ఌ and crying during sex was a euphoria he didn’t know he ever needed

ఌ being suffocated by your thighs for hours because he was too impatient to wait for you when you came home, bugging you during work

ఌ not letting him touch himself as punishment when you walked through the door, angry and pent up from the many voice mails and texts he left you- both on your home and work phone

ఌ degrading him with words that made his chest flush, and cheeks red like a tomato

“So fucking needy, Miguel. I’ve spoiled you too much haven’t I? You’ve become such a needy little brat, demanding everything from me, so. fucking. greedy- oh- right there!”

ఌ him loving the dirty words spewing out of your mouth, and loving your harsh touches even more

ఌ you guys aren’t strangers to each of you having scratches and bruises from sex, but him feeling absolutely unable to function after you’ve fucked his brains out??

ఌ he loves it so much it makes him cry

ఌ he loves the bite marks, hickeys, scratches, bruises, hand prints, and any little thing you leave on him, such actions never failing to make him moan

ఌ you guys have definitely done pegging

ఌ and he fucking loved it

ఌ the prep before consisting of you eating his ass like it was your last meal and then fingering it like it was your pussy was something he didn’t think he could ever enjoy so much

ఌ and then when you’re fucking him, the rubber, wet dildo hitting his prostate with every slap of your hips, he didn’t even know he could ever feel that good

ఌ he also loved the intimacy of it all

ఌ you interlocking your guys fingers when you devoured his ass made his breath hitch

ఌ you licking and sucking his balls while fingering him and looking up at him with such love where he was laying on his back on the comfortable bed made his cock squirt

ఌ you stroking his back and thighs when you probed the tip of the rubber dildo into him made his heart and stomach flutter

ఌ he loves you and just this fact makes sex with you so much better

ఌ he’ll never get over the way you make his breath hitch with just a look instead of a touch

ఌ or how you’ll be so caring and loving even when you’re riding him so roughly he’s sure he won’t be able to feel his dick tomorrow morning

“A-aye, fuck… oh carino, asi~”

ఌ his moans turn so high pitched, it’s like the most beautiful melody written just for you

ఌ he gets a little embarrassed sometimes when you see him like this- just the fact that you have the power to reduce him like this makes him a bit flustered and overwhelmed

ఌ but then you’ll assure him that you love it when he’s like this, kissing and hugging him around his broad shoulders when he refuses to meet your eyes after he’s recovered from properly being fucked out

ఌ and then he’ll realize he loves it too

#miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #sub miguel o'hara

[plum-writes]

❤︎︎❥🝮Praise kink with Miguel Ohara🝮❥❤︎︎

He loves it.

He needs it.

He craves it.

He cant hold in his wanton moan when he’s pumping into you from behind, his arm under your neck and shoving your back against his hard chest as you gasp out how ‘fucking good you’re making me feel, papi’.

Your words make him even more feral, and he shoves you guys further into the bed, twisting your face with his hand so he can kiss you, your neck craning back to meet his full lips. It’s a messy, possessive kiss, full of tongue and teeth and spit. Its sloppy and uncoordinated, translating just how hungry you make him feel.

‘¿Si, mami? Making you feel that good?’ He growls against your lips, and your hand flys out to clutch his neck, to keep him closer to you as you sigh out a ‘yes baby, making me feel so fulllll.’

He’ll feel empowered by the praise and won’t stop rutting his hips into you, grasping you closer to him with one hand, his other sneaking down to swipe at and rub your clit tenderly. It’s soaked where you guys are connected, so wet that he’ll feel your wetness cling to his fingers when they brush at your clit. Already there are strings of your juices that cling at his pelvis, and the sight is so erotic, Miguel groans at the sight. He won’t be able to stop himself from sucking his fingers into his mouth with a dirty little moan that has you clenching harshly around him with a choked off little gasp. Your legs tense, knees bending and back arching against his hard chest as you feel the slippery slide of your guys’ sweat against each other, making you feel even more needy for him.

‘Miguel, Miguel, Miguel, pleaseeee baby…’ you beg for him like a broken record, whining so prettily for him.

This makes him shove his cock in harder against you, grunting in your ear. ‘C’mon, tell me how good I fuck you, bebita. Tell me how good you feel.’

You shout out when he thrusts extra hard inside you and pinches your clit at the same time, the pain mixed with pleasure combination making you breathlessly smile and loop your arm backwards to grasp his neck.

‘Fuck! You know how good you make me feel, Miguel- oh! So. Fucking. Good.’

Miguel huffs and groans, his hips moving faster and fingers rubbing and swiping wetly against your clit, your own hips bucking against his. He hits that sweet spot inside of you, and you let him know with an abrupt shout, making him angle his thrusts to hit that spot every time from then on. He feels his climax approaching fast, his balls clenching and cock pulsing in your wet heat, and your words doing nothing more than furthering the familiar tightness growing in his belly.

‘Oh Miguel yesyesyes, so good.’

‘Just like that Miguel, fucking love that-‘

‘Oh baby, I love you, I love you, fucking my pussy so good-‘

You guys both cum not too long after that.

And in the afterglow of the moment, after you guys get all cleaned up and he pulls up his sweats and you put on his t shirt that fits more like a short little dress on you, he’ll bask in the sweet words that you’ll still be muttering in his ear.

You’ll crawl towards him when he sits back on the bed, a big smile on your lips as you wrap yourself around him, shifting yourself on the pillows gathered at the headboard where he’s leaning back against. You curl your leg around one of his meaty thighs, and drape an arm over his chest while the other goes up to play with his mussed, bedridden hair. And then your precious words start.

‘Oh you made me feel so good baby.’

‘Always making me feel so good, no matter what.’

‘I love you Miguel, so much. The only one I love.’

‘The only one that can make me feel this way.’

‘No one else.’

He soaks it all up with half lidded eyes, and a little smirk on his face. The arm that’s wrapped around your waist pulls you closer. He kisses all over your face, his smirk turning into a fond smile at your giggles, and the feel of your arms wrapping around him to pull him even closer to you.

He loves these moments, loves when you whisper sweet nothings in his ear while rubbing his chest, finger stroking the planes of his body, holding him close to you. Often times, these moments also leads to more sexual rendezvous. He’ll slip his hand between your thighs to finger you till you cum with his name on your lips, or suck your tits under his your shirt while you give him a handy through his pants. And sometimes it’ll lead to him fucking you again just so he can hear all the dirty little words you still have for him. Anything to hear those beautiful, fulfilling words fall from your mouth.

‘You make me feel so good, Miguel.’

And what Miguel doesn’t know, is that most times you can see right through him. You can see his desire to want to know how good he makes you feel. How he’ll want you to express just how much you need him. How much you want him.

So in the middle of your litany of praises, you’ll climb over his lap, slow and sensual. You’ll tug his sweatband to free his cock and you’ll ride him just like that. Your hands cupping his face, hips grinding slowly and intimately against his with your mouth never ceasing the onslaught of love ridden words.

You love him.

And you have no problem letting him know.

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara drabble #atsv miguel #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fic

[plum-writes]

Black Noir x Piano!Player!Reader

Summary: Black Noir is known for having a knack of taking over the piano when anyone from your agency is sent to play for Vought. You’ve been warned of this, and although you have played for Vought before, you’ve never come across the mysterious hero. Something you are very grateful for. But your luck can only last for so long.

A/n: this baby doesn’t get enough love so I had to write something xx

Your fingers were on autopilot as they played the music for the prestigious party. Your ears mindlessly listened to the gossip and conversations around you as you played. The music was rather somber, the conversations consisting of information you’d rather not ever know, and no one was really paying attention otherwise to the notes you played. No one ever did, really.

The music at these Vought parties served as a filler. It was there to ward off any awkward moments, and fill a light vibe in the air between the many governing officials that more or less put up fake appearances when interacting with each other. It was just background noise to the dull, materialistic atmosphere that surrounded the party. You had done this same routine every time you were scheduled to play for Vought, and almost every time things went the same.

You got hired to play at a party by Vought for 5 hours, sitting all night long at the piano, and had a 30 minute break in between your hours. The same routine you followed whenever you were booked by Vought. No one came to check up on you throughout the party, or really make sure you were playing the music, and you were in charge of making sure you didn’t skip your break.

So it wouldn’t hurt to kick things up a bit now, would it? Not like anyone would notice, or more likely care, would they?

Your fingers fluidly transferred the slow melody into an upbeat one, your hands now dancing over the keys instead of gliding over them, a jubilant tune washing over the party. You let a little smile break your professional exterior, and your rod straight posture used when playing, relaxed slightly. As expected, no one turned around at the change of the music, too invested in their conversations to notice or care. And a little selfishly, you preferred it this way.

You played on and on, taking this opportunity to practice some music you had been rehearsing on your downtime, those moments being the only times where you spared a glance towards Madelyn Stilwell and the other Vought officials, seeing if they noticed you weren’t playing the pieces of music they requested of you. Of course, they didn’t even so much as twitch their heads in your direction, and your posture relaxed some more, this comfort allowing you to play the unapproved music for longer than what was allowed. But no harm, no foul right? No one noticed you going off script, so why not take advantage. If only you knew about the hidden eyes that were watching you from the shadows.

After about an hour of passing the time indulging yourself, you fell into the light flow of music again and went back to the scheduled sheets of music. You huffed slightly, a little disappointed at having to quit the lively tunes, but keeping the self satisfied little smile plastered on your face as you played on. After all, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to play something else other than the same 12 melodies.

So yet again, you fell into the muscle memory of the notes, eyes glazing over in the disassociation that came with doing a repetitive action, mindlessly humming the notes lowly to yourself. So blissfully oblivious and unassuming of your surroundings at the time. So when looking back at this moment in the future, you would want to slap yourself for not noticing the approaching figure that had snuck up next to you. Because you really should’ve with how many times you had been warned.

You quickly choked on your hum when you felt the weight of someone else sit down next to you on the bench, and your ghost of a smile immediately vanished when you spotted the black combat boots placed closely to your own black professional shoes.

You knew exactly who it was.

How couldn’t you?

He was somewhat infamous to you piano players who were always scheduled for Vought. The many tales of Black Noir’s taking over the piano when someone was playing for the party was one too many. Thomas, a man who played for Vought more than you, warned you many times about Black Noir’s tendencies.

“Aye, he has a knack for sitting down next to you, and just waiting for you to leave.”

You swallowed to yourself now, hating how you were in the same position right this second, your body quickly feeling a buzz that urged you to run. The only thing stopping you was the memory of the next words Thomas had told you.

“Don’t fight him on the piano if it ever happens to you, lass.” His face was uncharacteristically serious, dulled down with a grim expression, his Scottish accent losing the playful hitch it always had. It scared you a bit, quite honestly, never having seen Thomas act this way.

You had tilted your head at Thomas then, looking down, and thinking about it at the time. Of course, you would never fight Noir on the piano if he had ever done what he had done to every other piano player that played for Vought. You were so scared of the advantage supes had on you that you equated fighting any average C-List supe to fighting Homelander. But the way Thomas talked about it, holding a more serious tone rather than a bitter one of having to give away their working time just cause a supe demanded gave you a more chilling feeling than anything about them.And when Thomas had continued, it just solidified your thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter if he butts in just two hours after you started playing, and you don’t get paid for the rest of the night- It’s better not to cause any problems at Vought, lassie.”

God, did you ever agree with Thomas right now more than you ever have before.

You were tense, so tense next to Back Noir, playing with a rigid frame, and resolutely keeping your eyes on the sheet of music in front of you even though you didn’t even need to read it. Your heart was beating fast and you wondered minutely if he could hear it before scratching that thought out of your brain, and finishing the rest of the notes of the melody. The keys faded out, the music slowly dying, and you rested your hands on the keys for a few more moments after the song ended before raising them up. There was another beat of silence as you sat impeccably still, and his eyes burned the side of your face.

You turned towards him with a stiff neck, heart jumping at seeing him already looking at you. It made your hands tremble, and you clenched yours fists tight as you forced the words out of your mouth as you gestured to the piano with a small flick of your eyes. “I- it’s all yours, sir.”

You got up, trying not to make it obvious that you were in a haste to leave and at the same time trying to get the fuck away from him as fast as possible, but a gloved hand gripping your wrist had you paralyzed again.

Your breath stopped. Why? You screamed to yourself. This never happened to anyone else, Black Noir always let them leave without any struggle, what is so different about now??

You gave a trembling gasp, and turned towards Black Noir calmly. You gave him what you hoped was an inquisitive look, but you knew yourself too well to know it was anything but. Especially because he was looking at you dead in the eyes, his black mask creating an unnerving stare that you tried your best to meet. Your head snapped down at his hand that gently placed a little piece of paper on the piano keys.

‘keep playing’

You felt your breath slowly release itself, and you looked towards him again. He was still staring at you in the same way as before, but this time you felt a little less threatened.

It’s okay, it’s okay, he didn’t threaten you, and there’s too many witnesses for him to do something, right?

After a few moments of calming yourself you slowly nodded at him, your once fleeting stance relaxing some. He released his hold on your wrist, and you turned towards the keys immediately with a seat, sitting down a few more inches away from him. Your body felt a bit more grounded, and face turning more composed. Your heart was still racing, but one glance towards the person next to you let you know that he could honestly care less about that. Just play, that’s all you have to do and then he’ll leave you alone. With another deep breath that you would later chastise yourself for being so obvious, your hands started pressing down on the keys, and you resumed playing the songs Vought gave you. Though, the melody hardly went past the first eight notes because you quickly stopped when a hand reached out to grab your wrist again, this time harder to stop your from playing. You abruptly stopped with a fearful gasp, and harsh press of the keys that had some people glancing over before they looked away again.

You internally screamed to yourself, knowing that if Noir suddenly decided that he didn’t want to be so calm, no one would come to your help. You don’t allow yourself to know much about supes, but you know that they get away with almost anything.

Your head snapped up at him, and you couldn’t even hide the fear written all over your face if you tried. He placed another note next to your hands.

‘Play what you were playing before’

What the fuck? You desperately thought to yourself, immediately racking your brain for what he could mean. Is he talking about the song I played before he told me to sit back down-?

‘Not the Vought songs Play from before’

You had a look of realization on your face before you looked up at him again. He was looking at you straight in the eyes, and you felt your cheeks flush for just a second.

He heard you playing your other songs??

You felt like crawling under a rock, because dammit you thought no one had noticed you indulging in your guilty pleasure of being unnoticed at these parties to stray off script- something that would surely get you in the hot seat since Vought was notorious to always making sure everyone was sticking to directions. Instead, you swallowed the newfound terror stick in your throat and, nodded once again and turned back to the keys.

You were still so tense, your heart was still beating against your chest like a sledgehammer and you felt the weight of Black Noir’s presence weighing so heavily on your head that it felt impossible to play right now. But even so, you forced yourself to.

Your hands started dancing over the keys again, and the only reprieve you felt in this suffocating situation was that you had to focus more intently on the notes since they came from memory, and it helped you ignore the person sitting next to you. As time passed, you got more and more comfortable, and you eventually fell into a steady rhythm, transitioning into the different melodies with more emotion now. Everything started to feel a bit more natural, and a little less forced.

Next to you, you noticed how Noir leaned his head back slightly, sitting up almost as rod straight as you were, hands resting on his thighs as he slightly swayed his head to the music. You could see him tapping his fingers along to the notes on his thighs, almost as if he were playing on the keys and not you. He was listening to the music. He was listening to you play the music.

It made you more nervous than you’d like to feel right now.

Especially when people started now glancing at you two.

You could imagine the picture you two made, with Noir clearly enjoying the music with a lax posture, and you with your rigid one, fingers flying over the keys with your pale face. You would’ve laughed with how comical and absurd this all was if you weren’t solely involved in this.

You’re grateful when Madelyn Stillwell comes over and puts on her PR smile, informing Black Noir that he is needed for a charity event, notably meeting your eyes when she says this.

Yes, yes, take him. I won’t keep him from you.

You keep playing as she tells him, just lightly pressing down on the keys so as to not play over their conversation, eyes resolutely staying away from them. You do feel Black Noir turn towards you, his eye grazing your side profile, and you try not to look up once again.

“C’mon, Noir. I’m sure you’ll see her very soon again, we don’t want to bother her any longer.” Madelyn’s voice carry’s over you like a cold chill, making you shudder and clench your jaw even tighter.

She talks about you like you’re not even there, and she talks to Noir like a child- no. More like a dog, you conclude. Her mother knows best tone grates on your nerves, and you can hear the demanding undertone it carry’s when she talks to him.

You don’t know why you feel for him at this moment, why you feel for all supes that have to always be on a tight schedule for publicity. It doesn’t last long when you remember they’re supes and will always have more privileges than you and everyone else you know.

So you’re not too torn up when Noir gets up, and turns to follow Ms. Stillwell. They both leave you alone at the piano, playing with tense fingers and not even bothering to care about the timing you come in nor about how you press the keys too harshly and lightly at some points. You’re finally able to breathe, able to relax without a killing machine sitting next to you.

You’d say you’re allowed some leverage on your poor playing.

You sneak a look at the clock on your wrist, and finally let out your shuddering sigh of relief.

Only two more hours, and you can go home.

Only two more hours.

*

Once the two hour mark hits, you’re closing up with a small, light melody. One that you admittedly rush through, and as soon as the last note hits, you don’t wait for it to reverberate all the way before you’re closing the lid of the piano and getting up. You push in the bench, and straighten your work suit as you rush to the exit doors.

You walk briskly to it, smiling quickly, and nodding your appreciation to the few people who half meaninglessly praise your playing. You open the doors of the room with a desperate push, greeting the muted hallway like it’s your savior.

You feel so much better already.

You go to the elevator, and as the doors are closing you don’t know why you expect Black Noir to come out at this moment, but you do. You’ve been feeling it ever since he sat down next to you, expecting him to influence a preemptive event after all this, and you wait with baited breath as the doors close. Your stomach is turning in anxiety and fear, and you’re just waiting for the moment he comes in and- shit, you don’t even know- kill you or something. It’s something you’d most expect to happen at these Vought parties.

You were paid to much attention to to not have something happen, right?

The doors close without any interruption, though, and you go down to the bottom floor alone without anything happening. You immediately walk outside when you reach your designated floor, not wanting to push your luck. You don’t heed the front desk clerk who is wishing you a good night, feeling a bit rude but needing to get home as soon as possible.

You get in your car and practically race home, driving a little over the speeding limit, and swerving your turns. When you reach your house, the porch light still on, and nothing looking too disturbed, you park in the driveway and sit in your car for a few moments in the dark.

This is when you feel like you can breathe.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you feel a bit better. When you had came home last night you reasoned to yourself that things weren’t really as bad as it had felt in the moment. I mean, Noir could’ve done a lot worse, couldn’t he? And he would’ve if he wanted to surely, maybe he just really liked your playing and that’s why he decided to stay by your side for who knows how long. You got lucky, luckier than most anyone you knew.

So when you sit at your table, little dog rubbing by your feet, and a steaming cup of coffee blowing against your face, you don’t feel lucky when you open your phone and see new text messages in your box from multiple people. There’s one from Thomas, one from your hard ass boss, and one from an unknown number. They all vary in tones that an anxiety fueled pit twists your stomach. You open them before you can think, hoping that reading this messages will calm your cramping stomach. It doesn’t.

Thomas: Lassie, what’d you do?? Everyone’s going bonkers right now

Giovanni Cruz(boss): You must’ve made quite the impression at Vought. Good job, this is the type of work I’m expecting.

Impression? Your stomach dropped, and you looked at the message from the unknown number, seeing part of it in the little notification box. Before you can allow yourself to stay scared, you open the text message.

Unknown: Congratulations! Vought was very impressed by your piano skills, and our Party Planning Committee has decided to book you for all of our events this fall. Here are the dates and times, along with the prices we are offering…

You didn’t even bother to finish reading the whole text message, your phone slipping from your hands, and thumping onto the table. You were motionless, your hand limply hanging in the air where you were holding your phone, and eyes wide and unblinking as you just processed what the fuck Vought had sent you.

After a while, you started laughing.

Because when you would go back to play for Vought three weeks later, and you played a new sheet of music filled with the songs you had played for Noir last time, you didn’t even have to feel his gaze to know he was the one who wanted you back.

And when he sat down next to you on the bench, content to listen as you played, you were surprised to find yourself less tense. Less scared. You didn’t think he’d hurt you.

You hoped you weren’t wrong.

***

Thank you so much for reading <3<3 Thinking about doing a part two but idkkk, maybe🤭

#black noir #black noir x reader #black noir x you #black noir the boys #the boys x you #soldier boy x reader #butcher x reader

[plum-writes]

Mfs be like "oh he's my babygirl<3" or "he whimpers fr" or "submissive and breedable". And then the whole character tag is like FULL of that character being dominant and topping the reader. Ummm?? Excuse me, but I thought we were gonna be making them ride us until all that's left are pretty little tears, nonsensical babbling, constant begging, relentless whimpering, knees buckling, thighs trembling, hips twitching, frantic gripping, feverish sobbing, and loud moaning, all from a hot, needy mess desperate for release???

[plum-writes]

Submissive Kylo Ren Blurb

A/n: writing this little blurb because Kylo Ren is literally so submissive, like, he would so whimper and do anything to get you off and keep you happy, no one can convince me otherwise. There’s literally not enough fics of him being subby and all puppy eyed for you. Like, this man hasn’t ever had the touch of a woman, he’s a soft baby when it comes to that xx

Notes: smut, sub!Kylo Ren, soft!dom!reader, p in that v, whimpering, begging, edging, praise

“P-Please…” Kylo squeezed his eyes shut, his thighs tensing and trembling at the same time as he tried to control himself. He felt so deliciously sore. He grit his teeth and whined again, his deep voice coming out thick and airy,“Pleeeeease, I’ve been so good- ah!”

He cut himself off when you squeezed down harder on him, grinding your pelvis on top of his, a wet squelch ringing in his ears beautifully. He squeezed his fists, clenching them by his sides(you ordered him not to touch you, wanting him to be good and listen to you, seeing how far his self control could go when it came to you. It was dwindling fast.) and couldn’t help the little buck his hips gave. He whimpered and opened his eyes to look up at you. They were shining softly with how fucked out he was.

“Please…,” he spoke again, softly and gently, panting out shaky breaths and looking at you pleadingly. You huffed a smile at him and stroked your hands from his stomach up to his chest.

You knew exactly what he was begging for.

It was the same thing he’d been begging for for the past hour. The past hour that consisted of you riding his thick cock into the bed, grinding against his face until he was glistening with your wetness from the chin down, making him finger you until his whole had was dripping with your release and then making him suck it into his mouth.

The last hour of you cumming endlessly on him cause your sweet little puppy was being so good for you. Making him laying down and just taking it, successfully not losing himself simply because you didn’t give him permission to.

He listened to you, to any little thing you said, no matter what hell he felt when you kept persistently pushing him to the edge and then taking away his relief. He listened cause he didn’t want to do anything to disappoint you, not even a little bit. Like the good boy he was.

So you decided to indulge him, concluding that he had been so good for you- the best for you, that he finally deserved the relief he wanted.

You leaned down, pressing your naked chest against his and feeling his cock throb at the close contact he so desperately craved.

You cupped his face sweetly between your hands, smile growing at how he desperately leaned into the touch, and you brushed your nose against his. You nuzzled him for a few moments, purring at the way his long lashes brushed your cheek when they fluttered closed. They were so wet that they were getting clumped together, his lips so plump from him biting them, and you sucking on them, that you couldn’t help the throb your cunt gave.

God, he looked like such a pretty mess right now.

You gave featherlight kisses on his lips, and whispered against them. “I think you’ve been such a good boy for me. Haven’t you, baby?”

He whimpered, leaning in to try and get even closer to you, slowly nodding his head once he registered your words. You smirked at his dumb expression, and indulged him by giving him firm little pecks, starting on his lips and then scattering them all over his face. You spoke in between them.

“I-,” a kiss on his lips “think that you-,” a little kiss below his jaw that had his mouth dropping open “deserve-,” a last wet kiss on his ear before you whispered headily in it “a reward.”

He gasped and leaned up slightly, hunching over in pleasure, his hands flying up to grip your back when you revealed that you were finally gonna give him release. You let it slide when his eyes looked into yours, all wet and pathetic, and so pleadingly, begging with his wrecked voice, “Please.”

And how could you refuse him?

***

Thank you all so much for reading<3<3 there’s not enough fics of men being blubbering, whiny subs and I just had to indulge🌚 hope you guys enjoyed💖

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo smut #kylo fanfic #sub kylo ren smut #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo x y/n #ben solo #star wars fanfiction