#& touch them up as paintings later on? hmm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siriuslovebot · 10 months

Text

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪ 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇 ➸ 𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: smut (18+, minors dni!), oral (f!receiving), shy!reader, unprotected sex, praise kink (kinda), some teasing, dirty talk, etc.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: sirius really likes it when the reader wears his clothes.

𝑨/𝑵: hi everyone! i’m very excited for my first post on this blog. please go easy on me as i’m a bit rusty when it comes to writing (also this is completely unedited, so apologies in advance for any mistakes). i’m still deciding how i want to format these posts, so forgive me if it’s a bit of an eyesore. i also accidentally posted this on my main at first, so if you saw that... no you didn’t ;) as always, lowercase is intended. feel free to send me a request if you like. feedback is always appreciated!

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 3.1k 𓂃♡₊⭑

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺

“is that my shirt, dove?”

the low, silken gravel of his tired voice startles you as you sit perched in the little window seat of your shared bedroom, the window thrust open to let the night breeze in.

“hmmm?” you muse, distracted as you slowly paint a top coat on your toenails. you fan them with one hand as you glance behind you. sirius stands in the doorway, lithe figure leaned against the frame as he watches you. his shirtsleeves are rolled up over his forearms, hair skirting his shoulders messily, eyes foggy from a long day at work. a soft smile plays over his lips, quieter than his usual wide, wolfish grin.

he nods towards his shirt draped over your frame, the fabric pooling around your hips to expose the fabric of your panties. “been looking for that all over,” he says simply.

you make a sheepish face, twisting the cap onto the bottle of nail polish. “‘m sorry,” you mutter, smiling apologetically. you turn towards him, bare legs dangling over the edge of the seat. you are a sight for sore eyes; his gaze trails over your exposed skin, eyes darkening as they trace your figure draped in his shirt. a warmth blooms in your stomach as you watch him watch you. the look is familiar–though it never fails to send your chest aflutter.

“want me to take it off?” you ask, mostly because you’re at the point where it’s getting hard not to squirm beneath his hungry gaze. the silence is deafening, unspoken words bubbling to the surface. you have the sudden feeling that sirius may not be as tired from work as you thought.

“not at all.” there’s that mischievous glint behind his eyes, darkening the clear grey to a stormy shade. you sit another second, skin burning as his eyes rake over you, and then you stand and pad over to your vanity.

sirius should be getting undressed, preparing for bed. he’s too busy watching you. his eyes skirt over the curve of one bare shoulder as you return the little bottle of polish to its rightful place. you swipe a hand through your mussed hair, trying to ignore his attention. he always knows how to get you squirming, the easiest ways to set your cheeks alight with embarrassment. he lives for it, watching his shy girl crumble between his fingers.

it seems he can’t contain himself any longer as he approaches you, fingers sidling up beneath the hem of the shirt. his lips are on you in an instant, pressing gently against that irresistible patch of exposed skin on your shoulder. a sigh falls from your lips and you melt into his touch. you close your eyes. his calloused palms knead over the flesh of your hips, earning a soft groan from you.

he smirks against your skin. “quiet tonight, hmm?” his breath fans along your neck as he kisses up towards your ear. goosebumps rise on your skin, a shiver threatening to snake down your spine.

“it’s late,” you mutter. there’s a knowing second of quiet, both of you knowing you’ve fooled around much, much later. you’re flustered, trying to deflect his teasing words. the butterflies fluttering in your stomach have long since morphed into flames, burning like your skin as you wait for his next move.

“you want me to stop?” his whisper is soft, the undertone of huskiness becoming feather light. you shift, eyes meeting his in the reflection of the vanity. his eyes are clear, curious. you know he’d stop at the word, no questions asked. but he knows you better than that, knows the way your legs twist together at the feeling of his hands holding you firmly means you don’t want him to stop. sirius wagers you would beg him not to stop, if he wanted you to.

“no,” you shake your head. there’s that grin again, and his lips are back on you. a sharp breath slices the air as he nips at your skin with his teeth. “sirius–”

his grasp tightens at the gasp of his name. he chuckles quietly, snaking a hand up over your stomach. the rough pad of his hand finds your breast, kneading it in his palm whilst his other hand holds you firm against him. he’s hardening behind you, bulge pressed against your scantily clad frame. his gaze is still trained on you in the mirror, dragging over the lush sight of your flushed face, your lips parted in small pants, the dark look in your eyes. he loves watching you fall apart at his smallest ministrations. more than half of his pleasure comes just from working you up like this, pushing you to the brink without even trying.

“please,” you manage, voice constricted as you writhe against him. the ache between your legs is incessant, throbbing as you watch his salacious expression in the mirror.

“please what, my lovely girl?” he sucks a dark mark into the soft patch of skin behind your ear, earning a cry from you. he rolls your nipple between his fingers. you chew on your bottom lip, hips rocking as best they can despite his hold.

“sirius–”

there it is again, his favorite sound in the world. but he doesn’t give in so easily. you know better.

“words, please, darling,” he mutters. the arm caged around your stomach loosens for a second, his flat-palm tracing down your stomach. he’s approaching the place where you need him most, but he’s not going to give in until he gets what he wants.

you whimper at his teasing, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. “please,” you rasp desperately, “just touch me.”

“ah,” he tuts at you, “but i am touching you…” the jest in his voice goes unnoticed by you, your head swimming as he inches closer and closer to your center. you wonder, in the back of your foggy mind, if he’ll give up without those magic words, if he’ll send you off to bed with soaked panties and a fluttering stomach. surely not…

you contemplate being a brat, refusing to tell him what you want just to see how far you can push it. but you know he’s tired, and the need growing in your center is becoming almost unbearable. you let your pride crumble and you force yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror. “your fingers–your mouth, merlin–” your voice is choked as he smirks and gives in, his middle finger delving into your slick to circle around your engorged clit.

“there’s my obedient girl,” he says approvingly, the praise in his voice like music to your ears. you cry out, voice cracking as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves with expertise. he knows your body like the back of his hand, knows exactly what drives you crazy. the pad of his finger dips further down, swirling through the mess of juices shining on your lips.

mewling moans tear from your lips as he works you towards the edge. his lips are attached to your neck, abusing your skin to the point of saccharine tenderness. rosy marks bloom over your skin. his hand falls away from your breast to toy with the hem of the shirt, lifting it up in the front just enough so that he can watch himself pleasuring you.

“fuck, take it off, please,” you plead, hips bucking against his hand.

he shakes his head, releasing another patch of bruised skin with a hearty pop. “can’t,” he says, “wanna fuck you in it…” he mutters, voice low. he drags his teeth over your shoulder again, and then his fingers are slipping out of your panties. you whine at the loss of contact, your thighs clenching together automatically at the lack of stimulation.

he pats your bum gently, head nodding in the direction of your bed. “go on, dove,” he says, “lay down f’me…”

you do as he says, your heart thumping in anticipation. your legs are already quivering, weakened from his skilled fingers. he’s taking his time, watching as you sprawl back over the mussed blankets, frame draped in his clothes. he’s never been so enamoured, the sight of you wearing something of his just furthering his claim that you’re his sweet little angel. only, it makes him want to fuck you like you’re his little slut, makes him want to split you open on his cock and make you cry for hours and hours.

you get comfortable, spreading your legs to reveal the soaked-through fabric of your panties. he groans, running a hand through his dark hair before he begins unbuttoning his shirt. the dark fabric is discarded quickly, though he doesn’t bother removing his trousers as he kneels on the bed between your legs.

“sirius…” you breathe, aching for him by now. he’s observing, hands gently massaging the skin of your legs starting at your ankles. you squirm, following his gaze to the fabric plastered to your core. a second passes, and he dips his head between your legs, hands splayed over your thighs to keep your legs apart. a shrill cry comes from you as he licks a long stripe up your center, tongue gently flicking around your clit through your underwear. “please!”

he smiles, against you. “so sweet,” his voice comes as a whisper. you tremble as his eyes meet yours, the stormy grey churning with lust for you. teasing you, he places tiny kitten licks against your center, just enough friction to have your hips rolling up into his mouth. but he’s stronger than you, and he’s got you right where he wants you. he has a knack for turning you into a whining, wriggling mess, drunk on his touch.

“i– fuck, i can’t take it,” you hiss through clenched teeth at his teasing. you watch him through hooded eyes, biting on your bottom lip so hard that it hurts. he catches your eye, swirling the flat of his tongue over your clit. your back arches off of the bed, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

“poor baby,” he says, tongue swiping over his swollen lips. he sits back on his knees, using one hand to flick open the clasp of his belt. “shall i send you off to bed, then? let you get your beauty sleep, hmm?” his eyes flicker with amusement. his other hand rubs soft circles into the silken skin of your inner thigh. you breathe sharply at the needing ache between your legs. you need him inside of you, badly enough you feel as if you could burst into tears.

“no, why would i–” you start, shaking your head. he narrows his gaze at you, a warning. you know what he’ll do if you act like a brat, and although you’d enjoy it you don’t think you have the energy tonight. he pats your thigh softly, then finally, painstakingly drags the zipper of his trousers down.

“be m’good girl then, yeah?” he prompts, moving closer as he palms his bulge through his boxers, then drags the waistband down just enough to let his length spring free. you hum at the sight, licking your lips as he swipes a thumb over the angry red tip, spreading a bead of precum over it. he spits into his hand, pumping the moisture over his cock before positioning himself above you. two of his fingers push the fabric of your panties out of the way, and he drags the cockhead through your folds, coating it in your arousal.

a high-pitched, breathy noise graces his ears as his length drags over your clit. you bring your hand to your face, pushing your sweat-slicked hair off of your forehead. he breathes sharply above you, brows screwing together as he nudges your entrance with his length.

“need you, siri,” you say, pleading. “need you inside me so bad…”

“i know, dove,” his voice is soft as he leans down, peppering kisses over your face. “been dying to stretch you open since i got home.” he pushes into you, a chorus of pleasured sounds destroying the quiet in your bedroom.

you cry out, the feeling of him pushing into you driving you mad. it’s been ages since you last had him inside of you, and there’s a sliver of pain as he bottoms out inside of your dripping cunt. waves of pleasure accompany the sting of the stretch, and your eyes flutter as he rocks slowly into you. he’s watching the way his cock splits you open, low grunts coming from deep in his chest. he shifts, one hand pressing on your lower stomach, thumb swirling over your clit. you cry out, head falling back onto the pillows. the other hand lifts one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest.

“oh my fuck–” you cry out, hands reaching for him, fingertips finding his as they dig into your fleshy thigh. he holds your leg there still, hooking one finger with your own without even thinking. his pace is steady, and his cock is dragging deep against your walls. you’re fluttering around him, doing your best to keep your eyes open and drink in his blissed expression.

“look at you,” he grunts, brows pulled together as he snaps his hips into yours with particular force. “makin’ a mess everywhere, dove…” the fabric of his trousers and exposed patch of pubic hair are both shining with your juices, and you’re sure there’s a damp spot pooled on the sheets beneath you. he’s eyeing your swollen cunt, his thumb massaging a steady pattern into the bundle of nerves. you clench around him involuntarily, your insides so swollen and tender that you imagine you can feel the ridges of his veins pulsing against your walls.

your orgasm approaches unrelentingly. he leans back onto his heels, the angle causing the head of his cock to prod at the spongy flesh of your sweet spot. stars bloom at the edges of your vision, and his name breaks from your lips in a hoarse cry.

“siri, i’m close,” you sob, your voice shaking. you feel his hips snap against yours, skin slapping in the quiet night as he drills you into the mattress. you bunch his shirt up in your free hand, wringing the fabric desperately as you hold onto him with your other hand. the fabric smells of him, like cigarettes and cologne and something woody, and it drives you even closer to the edge. he’s taking over your senses; the sight of him hovering over you, muscles in his abdomen clenching and rippling as he fucks into you is enough to make you scream on its own.

“oh, is m’good girl gonna come for me? gonna make a mess of my cock, are you?” that silken voice drowns out everything else in the world. sirius is the only thing on your mind, his ministrations setting your body aflame. pleasure courses through your veins, spreading through your whole body until it’s all you can do to keep yourself from screaming until your throat goes hoarse.

you cry for him as you come, your entire body seizing and shivering as he guides you through your release. “that’s it,” he says throatily, “oh, you’re doing so good f’me… look at this sweet little cunt pulling me in…” he’s groaning at the feeling of you tightening around him, closer to his own orgasm by the second. you’re still shaking, riding the waves of one of the longest orgasms of your life, and you’re sure a second one is piggybacking on this one, not far from sending your body into violent tremors.

“siri, it– ah, it’s so sensitive,” you breathe, voice weak. he’s continued his pace both inside of you and on your clit. he’s determined to drain ever ounce of pleasure from your body that he can, his eyes watching your cunt weep around him with pride.

“you can take it, dove,” he soothes, voice soft. “just one more f’me, can you do that? make me happy, love, just one more…”

“one–one more?” you breathe, jerking as he slows his hips, allowing you to feel him inside of you more intensely. your mouth falls open involuntarily, your features crumbling into pure bliss as he nods. his movements grow more erratic as his release approaches now.

“one more,” he repeats, leaning down over you to place a gentle kiss on your lips. his tongue drags over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. the kiss is messy, teeth gnashing and tongues swirling as he fucks you with renewed vigor. the coil in your stomach tightens again, and his movements quicken.

you’re both drenched in sweat, shaking, as his pubic bone drags over your clit. both of his hands are now pinned to the mattress, caging you in on either side of your head. your hands slide over his ribs, up his back, nails biting into the skin as your second orgasm washes over you.

he’s not far behind, hips meeting yours with a force that is almost painful, though you’re far too distracted by the fireworks blooming behind your eyelids. you feel him spill into you, hot seed pouring into your soaked cunt and making your thighs shake. his groans are hoarse, a couple grunted curses and growls of your name joining your chorus of moans in the room. he sits up once you’ve both ridden out your high, heads swimming as he watches his cum spill from between your legs when he pulls out.

“my lovely girl,” he mutters, swiping a finger through the mess between your legs. the mix of your arousal glistens on his finger, the sight making your head spin as he brings his digit to your lips. you open your mouth, tongue darting out to swirl around the pad of his finger. you moan at the tang of your mixed release spreading over your tongue. he chuckles, leaning over to swirl his tongue against yours in a heated kiss. you’re panting when he finally pulls away, nipping at your jawline before he sits up, stretching his arms above his head. the sight of him, shimmering with sweat, scratches adorning his ribs and shoulders, hair curled up around his hairline and ears from the humidity, makes your stomach do flips. you shift, leaning up on your elbows as he pads away from the bed.

“where are you going?” you wonder, frowning at his departure. he’s in the bathroom, the sound of the shower quickly following his footsteps. a second later, he returns to the bedroom.

“gotta get cleaned up, darling,” he says. he tugs on one of your ankles as you lay there, and you oblige despite the fatigue in your limbs. “c’mon, let’s get this off.” he tugs at the hem of the shirt as he directs you into the bathroom.

“can you wash my hair?” you ask, yawning as he pulls the shirt over your head.

“‘course i can, dove. now, in we go...”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black fic #maurauders era #smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #slb.works #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders smut

2K notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

Let Me Pamper Us, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: After a day apart, Y/N just wants to spend an evening with her boyfriend.

A/N: This video was used as inspiration.

Masterlist

While away for Spring Break, Kelce and Topper miss their best friend. Rafe would never admit to missing anyone except his angel, yet he still agrees to go on Discord with them and play some Call of Duty. Y/N is okay with exploring Sicily by herself for the day. She returns to the yacht to find Rafe still on call with the boys. She pouts a little. Being by herself for the day is not a problem, but she wants to spend the evening with her boyfriend. Instead of asking him to hang out with her like a normal person, she takes out one of the mud masks he bought her. She ducks between his arms and uses the plastic brush to paint the mud on his face. At the cool feel of the mask, he jerks away. “What is that, Angel?” he questions, going to touch his face. She grabs his wrist, “Don’t, it’s a mud mask. I think a spa night would be fun.” He hmms at her words, informing his friends that he has to go. He exits the game and wraps his arms around her waist. “If you wanted a spa night, then you should’ve just told me. Let me pamper us, Angel.”

His headphones are thrown onto the desk and he takes her hand into his. He leads her to the living room’s couch, turning on the TV for her. He puts on Bones for her before heading to the master bedroom’s bathroom. Curiosity fills her and she just wants to see what he is doing. Half an hour later, he comes back into the room with a robe on and one for her in his hand. He asks her to strip, helping her put the fluffy coat on.

Their feet pad against the tiled floor and she finds the bathroom lit by candles. He tells her to wash her face in the sink and then places her on the counter. His hand rips open the face mask sheet. He sticks his tongue out as he smooths the cool sheet against her skin. “There. All done,” he whispers, kissing her neck. She smiles, “Thank you, Rafe.” He squeezes her hand and keeps holding it while he finishes putting on his mud mask. His eyes spot the towel headband he bought for this spa night. “Oops, I forgot to put this on,” he apologizes and slides it on her head. She giggles at the fact that he knows so much about her spa day routine, “It’s okay. You are doing amazing.” He grins at her reassurance and leads her to the tub. He shrugs off his robe, helping her do the same. As he gets into the tub, the water splashes a little over the edge of the ceramic. He holds his hand up to help her get in and she slots herself between his legs. Her back rests against his chest. He drapes his arms over her shoulder, giving her a kiss on the cheek. They soak in the water and each other’s company for a few minutes. Eventually, his fingers weave through her hair. The pads of his fingers dig into her scalp, eliciting a moan out of her.

She snuggles back against his hold and kisses the inside of his wrist when he goes to massage the front of her skull. “I’m sorry I stopped you from playing your game with the boys,” she worries out loud, the guilt is getting to her. He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s okay, Angel. My eyes were getting a little tired anyway. I played the whole time you were gone.” She gives a small nod. “Did you at least eat lunch?” she worries.

“Yeah, I eat the leftovers from last night. I missed you though. Do you know what you want to eat for dinner?”

“Yeah! I found this great little place. It looks so intimate and the food smelt delicious. We can go after our spa night.”

“Sounds great, Angel.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee

541 notes · View notes

tasteracha · 1 year

Text

painting

word count: 1.9k

pairing: lee minho x reader x kim seungmin

warnings: afab!reader, double penetration, minor degradation, reader is referred to as good girl, unprotected sex, smut - MINORS DNI

synopsis: you did something wrong. or, alternatively, 2min are possessive.

“you know what you did,” are the first words spoken to you since you walked into the apartment that you shared with your two boyfriends. the words come from seungmin’s mouth, but the anger is written clearly into the lines of minho’s face. they’re mad.

it took five times of you asking what’s going on? before they caved and told you, wanting to keep you on your toes for as long as possible.

apparently, talking to your male coworker outside of work was a no-no, and you had just arrived from a work outing smelling like the one cocktail you had hours ago.

it’s a game that the three of you play - you know you didn’t actually do anything wrong, and they’re not genuinely angry. they would never try to control you like that, and you wouldn’t stand for being told who you can and can’t be friends with. you would never cheat on them and they knew that. it just sends a thrill of exhilaration down your spine to think about them being so possessive that they don’t allow you to even talk to other men, that they could control your every move and decision and that you would let them.

you’re sitting on the couch between them, and you waste no time leaning over seungmin’s lap to drag him into a kiss. you whine when his lips stay solid and closed under yours, even when you peek your tongue out to swipe at his bottom lip.

“c’mon, you know i only have eyes for you two,” you try, rubbing at his shoulders. minho drags you up with strong hands at your waist, and you feel weightless for a moment before he pins you to his body.

“you take what we give you,” he says into your ear, his voice deep and biting as he mouths at your neck. your breathe leaves you in one whoosh and you fall limp into his arms.

seungmin stands next, leaning in close to you and sliding a hand through your hair. good girl, he doesn’t say, the only bit of praise you’re going to get for a while. he takes your hand, releasing you from minho’s arms as he leads you to your shared bedroom, the clean california king welcoming you when you step through the door.

you’re dragged to the bed and unceremoniously thrown onto it, seungmin’s hands already removing your clothes as minho follows behind and digs through the drawer you keep your sex toys in. he hasn’t said what he’s doing, and the anticipation makes you shiver. maybe he’s going for the handcuffs? you certainly hope so.

“dumb baby just wants a cock to fuck, doesn’t she?” minho answers the question you didn’t ask when he presents a ribbed glass dildo to seungmin. “doesn’t even care whose it is, hmm?"

“clearly she doesn’t deserve ours,” seungmin hums in response, finally freeing you of your panties, dropping them into the pile of clothes he’s created on the floor. you hope he knows that he’ll be cleaning that up, later. he spreads your legs apart, fingers digging into your thighs even though you’re pliant under them.

“this is our property.” he almost snarls, and you jolt when minho’s cold fingers pry your folds open, rubbing at the slick there. “no one else is allowed to touch this.”

“it’s so wet,” minho bites, condescending and mean, making you shiver under his touch. “is this what happens when you’re spreading your legs for everyone? can’t stop yourself, can you?”

you’re manhandled onto your knees next, everything moving so quickly that you don’t know which hands are seungmin’s and which are minho’s. you shake your head, their words hitting your muddled mind late, swirling like a hurricane and leaving you overwhelmed in the best way.

minho’s hard behind you as he positions himself against your back, his bulge digging into you while he lines the dildo up at your entrance. he pushes it in fully, in one single swoop; its thinner than either of them, there’s no stretch or burn from how wet you are, but the fullness punches a breath out of you. he wraps an arm around you when you double over, keeping you in place as he starts up a quick pace with his wrist.

seungmin presses himself up in front of you like a soldier taking position, his clothed cock pushing against your stomach as he gives you the kiss that he denied you earlier. his hands come up to your breasts, squeezing them between his long fingers; you know its for his own pleasure and not yours when he avoids your sensitive nipples completely. you have no room to move, no space to meet minho’s hands with your hips or rut into seungmin’s bulge.

you’re fully sandwiched between them, but neither of their cocks are in you and its unfair.

“please, min” you stutter out, helplessly riding minho’s hand as much as you can. it does nothing to increase the stimulation, and you want to cry with how desperate you are for anything right now. you don’t even know who’s name you’re calling out, the syllables spilling from your lips nonsensically.

“hmm, i don’t know,” minho says, putting his chin on your shoulder, resting it there in a way that would be irritating if you weren’t so fucking turned on that every touch to your skin makes your nerves sing. “what do you think, seung? does she deserve to come?”

“she seems to think that just anyone off the street can give it to her as good as we can.” seungmin says in lieu of an answer, trailing one hand down to rub at your clit anyways. “doesn’t look like she knows who she belongs to.”

“no,” your voice cracks, tears escaping out of the corners of your eyes as minho continues plunging the toy into you, just enough to please but not enough to make you come yet. you feel the heat building anyways, your stomach tightening in anticipation. “i’m yours, yours, please.”

“say it again,” seungmin growls, rubbing harder. “tell us who you belong to.”

“you, only you!” you cry out as you come, letting out a choked sob as you collapse against seungmin’s shoulder. minho fucks you through it and you shudder against seungmin as you ride it out, sighing when he relents and removes the toy from your pussy. he holds it up to your mouth, but before you can seungmin is taking it between his lips, sucking your juices off of it and moaning around the glass. your eyelids flutter as you take it in, hyper focused to keep it in your memory for as long as possible. minho blinks at him in shock when they meet eyes, mouth open as he takes in the image with as much reverie as you are.

you’re transfixed for so long that you don’t take in minho unzipping his jeans and lining up behind you, but you do feel it when he fucks straight into you, driving you further into seungmin as your body adjusted to being impaled again.

“going to take both of us,” minho breathes out, not moving, letting you warm his cock as seungmin deposits the dildo onto the bed and takes his own cock out, already hard and leaking. “going to fill this pussy ‘til there’s no room left, take what’s ours.”

you nod frantically, the thought of both of them inside of you at the same time sending your head into the clouds. you’ve only done this a few times, they prefer to watch the other fucking you like a personal show, but every time you have it’s ended with you seeing stars.

seungmin fucks into your thighs a few times, the wetness between your legs gathering on his cock. you clench down around minho when his head catches on your clit, still sensitive from your orgasm, and the older moans into the back of your neck and fucks up into you like he can’t help it. when seungmin pushes the tip of his cock up against minho’s you can’t help but tense at the thought of the stretch.

“shh, baby, relax,” seungmin croons, breaking his character for a second when he feels how tight you are. “we’re going to take good care of you. we always do, don’t we?”

and he’s right. they’ve never done anything you didn’t want to, always left you the option to say no, always put your pleasure above their own. made sure that you’re comfortable and happy and sated before focusing on each other, like you’re their entire world. his words make your body lax, knees going weak as you lean backwards into minho’s strong arms and let seungmin finally push up next to minho. you close your eyes at the feeling, a little overwhelmed but not in pain, and you shudder as minho reaches around you to rub at your stomach in comforting circles. you feel so full, completely claimed by these two men, at their mercy with no other option but to let them use you.

“such a good girl, hmm?” minho says, sweeter than sugar as he starts up a slow rhythm, letting you adjust to both of them being inside of you. seungmin follows, pulling out as minho pushes in, taking turns fucking into you like a well oiled machine.

“so good,” seungmin pants, hiding his face into your neck as he bucks up, hitting your walls perfectly, making your legs shake under you. every thrust sends sparks shooting down up your spine, like he’s playing an instrument with practiced precision. “such a perfect fucking pussy.”

“gonna come,” you warn, grabbing onto minho’s hand and lacing your fingers together. seungmin’s fingers grip at your waist, pushing you down onto them harshly.

“come, baby,” minho reaches around you to rub at your clit and seungmin sinks his teeth into your neck as they continue fucking into you. “come and show us how perfectly we fill your pussy, how we can do it better than anyone.”

you come right on their cocks, choking at the feeling of pulsing around two cocks, and you feel your vision black out for a second as your eyes roll to the back of your head. if they weren’t so close you surely would have collapsed; your limbs feel like jelly, like the strings holding you together have been cut clean.

you’re pushed back down onto the bed until you’re laying down, staring at the ceiling with dizzying blinks. they frame either side of you, flanking you like angel wings as they fist their cocks, leaning over your chest. their hair is sweaty and matted to their foreheads as they breathe heavily; they’ve never looked prettier.

“going to cum all over you, okay?” minho strings out, panting like he’s been running for hours. his voice is softer than it’s been this entire time, the thought of coating you in his release washing over him fondly.

“cover you up, show you who you belong to,” seungmin follows before leaning over to catch minho’s lips between his own. you can see their tongues swirling around each other’s, and heat pools between your legs again as you watch them. they moan into each other as they come, strings of white painting your chest and tits in quick strokes.

they release each other when they’re done, leaning into the other’s neck for a minute as they catch their breath. when they separate they’re both staring at you, eyes hungry despite having just come all over you.

“so beautiful like this,” seungmin murmurs, one hand on minho’s back while the other rubs their mixed cum into your skin. minho reaches to run his hand through your hair, scritching at your scalp with blunt nails. you melt further into the mattress, completely fucked out.

“our pretty painting.” minho agrees.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #lee know x reader

2K notes · View notes

random-thot-generator · 2 months

Text

Better Not to Know

KYLE GAZ GARRICK x FEM READER

Summary: A chance encounter with a handsome stranger in a night club leaves you longing for more.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected P in V - fr tho wrap it up ya filthy animals, random hook-up sex, breeding kink?- hmm... yeah, fem breeding kink, a moody touch of angst, some pining, my usual brand of smut, only half-assed proofread- embrace the imperfections, no use of Y/N

(Notes: Just another smut purge with pretty boy Gaz, along with some angst added in for @tiredmetalenthusiast . I didn't forget, I just get easily distracted. Hope you like!)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Chaotic, strobing lights and throbbing, hypnotic bass. Dim shadows writhing en masse on the dance floor, a dense forest of waving arms and swaying bodies. There is heat and sweat and sex layered thick in the oppressive air with just a hint of danger to heighten alcohol-dulled senses.

The danger you're seeking lurks at a corner cocktail table on the outskirts of the dance floor. He's somehow managed to sprawl with natural grace over the unwieldy, tall chair, lounging like a king on a throne. One heel is hooked on a rung, the other resting on the floor, his body one long, continuous masculine line that pulls the eye up to a face that's both wicked and angelic. His smile is pure sin, his dark eyes appreciative and knowing.

Oh, yes...

This is what you came here for tonight. To hell with the drinks and dancing and your girls' night out. This is what you really need. This man, this demigod currently eye-fucking you from across the room. A coy smile curls your painted lips as the two of you lock eyes.

Ten minutes later, you're pressed up against the graffitied partition of a bathroom stall, legs wrapped around his surging hips, whimpering as he snaps and grinds them with brutal precision. Your fingers glide over dark skin sheened with sweat, hungry mouth seeking the hot cavern of his as he spears you to the wall with a particularly hard thrust. The rhythmic clink of his belt catches your ear, a lewd accompaniment to your gasping breaths and the constant slap-slap of flesh on flesh. It debaucherous and filthy and you can't get enough.

He stares into your eyes when he tells you to touch yourself, pinning you with a smoldering look that has your cunt clenching in response. Nostrils flare and teeth grit, his strokes growing sharper, deeper, more unhinged with each passing second. He's fucking you with feral abandon, a wild light flashing in his eyes as he nears his release. He's growling, gnashing his teeth, mouth hovering at your neck as he fights the primal urge to bite, to mark, to claim.

"This is mine. My pussy," he snarls at your ear, and holy fuck! That possessive, dark tone in his voice sends your mind reeling, turning you into a desperate, needy, grasping thing. Speaking coherently at this point is out of the question, but you nod your confirmation with dazed enthusiasm. Hell yes, this is his pussy. He can claim it and any bloody thing else he wants, just so long as he doesn't stop fucking you.

"Come for me," he demands in a low, guttural voice, and you do. God help you, you do, like a bitch coming to heel. "Fuck, that's it, pet. Just like that. Bloody fuck—"

The rest of his words catch in his throat, and with one last violent thrust he stills, his entire body tensing, muscles trembling with the strain as his fingers clamp onto your ass and drive you down onto his cock, holding you in place as he empties himself inside you. His cock pulses hard enough to make you moan at the feel of it, your eyes rolling back in your head. You know it's bad form to not use a condom, dead stupid of you both, to be honest, yet you can't deny the truth.

You wanted him this way, raw and real and messy. It's insane, pure unadulterated nonsense, but you relish the feel of his cum inside you. You'll regret this decision come morning when you're slinking into the chemist's shop for a Plan B pill before popping into the clinic to get tested. Right now, though, it's all you can do not to purr in decadent satisfaction.

His kisses are errant, artless things landing haphazardly across your collarbone, your earlobe, your cheek. His lips then cover yours, his tongue unfurling in your mouth to slide over yours in a sensual, intimate coupling, and something inside you blooms warm then spreads out to all your extremities. His nose bumps yours in the sweetest way, and you're enamored with him, just like that.

The bathroom door opens, noise flooding into the quiet space between you. Two drunk girls dawdle at the sink, comparing notes on the blokes they've chatted up, deciding which ones they'll be taking home later. His brown eyes sparkle with barely contained mirth, lips quivering as he holds in his laughter. He's so bloody beautiful. You drop your head to his shoulder, unable to look at him any longer without saying something stupid like, "Come home with me."

You bite your tongue and wait.

The sink runs, the hand dryer blasts, and then the two birds are walking out, leaving the lingering scent of cheap body spray and pink hand soap in the close, heated air. The tap drips, his belt buckle jingles, and the spell is broken. He sighs, placing a chaste peck on your lips, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

Time's up.

Legs sliding down his muscled flanks, you lock your shaking knees to support you, inner thighs quivering. His cum is a tangible reminder of his claim on your body, as much as the smell of his cologne and sweat on your skin, as much as that poignant, sharp ache in your battered cervix. He fucked you hard and he fucked you well and he made certain that you'd remember him for days to come. What more could you ask of a man like him?

"Ya alright, pet?" he murmurs, his voice so deep and smooth and warm that it raises the fine hairs all over your body. The man is sex personified, a carnal feast that's left you sated but still craving more. You've never been with anyone like him, and it scares you a bit, the effect that he has on you. You were right about him; he's dangerous.

You hum in the affirmative and smile, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. You lower your lashes to hide your confusion, too flustered to speak. You can only imagine what sort of goofy, cock-dumb expression you're wearing. His sigh of satisfaction gusts over your face, the backs of his long fingers brushing over your cheekbone. "So lovely," he mutters, like an inner thought spoken aloud.

Silly cow that you are, his words make your heart flutter.

"I'm fine. More than fine," you finally answer.

You chance a glimpse up into deep brown eyes with striations of amber and copper that catch the dim light. Your gaze drinks him in, flickering over his long, curling lashes and wing-like raven brows. You're melting at the sight of the most sensuous mouth you've ever seen on a man, not to mention a smile so brilliant, it turns you inside out and dumps your heart on the floor. It's only the scar beneath his left eye that detracts from his ethereal, masculine beauty, that proves that he is, in fact, a mere mortal.

"Perfection," you whisper, skimming your thumb over the scar. Your meaning goes for both the man and the sex, but he can take it however he likes.

He fumbles at the latch and opens the stall door, keeping a hand at your lower back as you toddle out on coltish legs. You drift to the mirror to see what the damage is, oddly proud about the mess he's made of you. You swipe the mascara from beneath your eyes and dab away the smear of lipstick at the corner of your mouth. Your hair's a bit of a tangle, but who's going to notice or care at this late stage of the evening?

A tremulous smile appears on your face when he steps in behind you, large hands curling 'round your hips as he presses his full length against your back. His warmth seeps through the thin material of your dress, his mouth hot and wet as it skates up the column of your throat. "You were bloody amazing, love," he breathes at your ear, chuckling, pleased, when you shiver. He gives your bum a light smack that turns into a protracted, possessive squeeze. "Love your arse," he mumbles to himself, then gives his head a shake, stepping away. "I'll, uh, see ya around, yeah?"

"Sure," you husk out, knowing it's all a lie. These soft words and kind glances are nothing more than routine hook-up etiquette— always try to part ways on friendly terms. You know this role by heart, have played out this scenario so many times that you can recite all the inane pleasantries in your sleep.

Only this time, you wish the words were true.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his weight shifting between his feet, then he winks and stuns you with another one of those mega-watt smiles. Stepping to the door, he takes hold of the handle but then pauses, his eyes drifting over you one last time. He seems on the verge of saying something, but his beautiful mouth presses into a thin line, the corners turned down. He takes in a long, slow breath then heaves it out with a wistful sigh. "Take care, love."

"You, too."

You offer up a brave smile and hold up a hand in farewell, though a pang of disappointment rings hollow inside your chest as you watch him step through the door and disappear. The racket from the club pours into the room like dirty flood water, and the sudden urge to go after him has you shuffling your feet. Then, with a pneumatic hiss of the closing door, the obnoxious noise is muffled again to a dull and distant roar, and your reason returns.

How pathetic would you have looked, chasing after him like some clingy, lovesick girl. Your fingers tighten on the edge of the sink as you peer into the mirror at your reflection. You're surprised by your forlorn expression and realize you feel a little sad now that he's gone.

Once you return to your seat, you ignore the chatter of your drunk friends, instead panning your eyes over the crowd. You're hoping to spot his familiar silhouette among the anonymous bodies but can't find him, again. He must have left, his mission for the night now complete, you think with a touch of bitterness. No point in sticking around, right?

You fancy that you could pretend he was just a drunken fever dream, nothing more than a figment of your inebriated imagination, if not for the dull ache that still resides deep in your core. Oh, he was real, alright, as real as his cum in your panties and the sore throb of your bruised cunt. You know in your heart of hearts that it will take weeks, maybe even months for his memory to fade. The thought is depressing.

"Think I'm gonna call it a night, ladies," you tell the bleary-eyed trio seated around the table.

Your friends fuss and protest, trying their best to coax you into one more drink or at least another dance, but they're too drunk to really see the state of you. If they were just a little bit sober, it would be more than obvious why you're so set on leaving; you're completely fucked out, decimated, ruined. You hug each of them good night and promise to text the group chat when you arrive home.

Cold air smacks you in the face when you step out of the club. You inhale a sharp, icy breath, fog condensing in front of your eyes as you release it. You can feel the chill wind seeping through the seams of your coat, feel how it settles deep into the marrow of your bones. You suddenly feel achy and tired and near desperate for the warm safety of your own bed.

A glance up and down the sidewalk reveals the lack of waiting taxis, so you pull out your phone and order an Uber, cursing the wait. Huddling deeper inside your coat, your let your thoughts drift back to that brief but memorable encounter in the loo. For once, you regret not getting a bloke's number, and now you can't help but wonder if that's why he paused before leaving. Had he wanted you to ask him for it?

Unfortunately, you'll probably never know.

It's probably for the best, you tell yourself. A handsome bloke like him would undoubtedly complicate your life. He's the type of man that makes a sane, independent woman want to bake cakes and make babies. He is dangerous. You knew it when you first saw him, and now he's proven it to you. Already the 'what-ifs' are rattling about inside your tired brain. It's a good thing he left when he did, otherwise...

Yeah, you're definitely better off not knowing.

Your phone chimes, notifying you that your Uber has arrived, a faded red hatchback pulling up to the curb seconds later. You check the driver's ID then climb into the backseat, sinking back into the cushions as the car pulls back into the light flow of traffic. It irritates you that you still feel that little inkling of sadness. It's such a haunted, lonely feeling.

Damn, you think, staring blindly out of the window. I wish I'd asked for his name.

part 2

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod gaz x reader #gaz x reader #gaz smut #cod gaz smut #cod smut #cod mw2 #cod mw3

154 notes · View notes

b-o-e · 10 months

Text

Welcome Home love language head canons :)

surprise!

Wally

Giving: words of affirmation

Wally is good with his words when he is sure about something. This comes into effect when it comes to talking about his feelings for you! He is quite poetic when he wants to be. Words flow off his tongue as smoothly as butter, singing sweet songs of praise and lines of love to you. He could woo you with ease. He likes it when you get a little shy, looking to the side. He likes it even more when he gets to see the flustered look on your face when he directs your attention back to him.

“My, don’t you look stunning tonight,” Wally studied your appearance with nothing less than a look of pure awe. You smiled, cheeks turning pink at the attention.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Darling,” you joked lightly, looking to the side to hide your embarrassment. Only moments later, his forefinger was under your chin, gently tilting your head to make your gaze meet with his once more.

“Hmm… that colour really brings out your eyes,” he murmured sweetly, his face mere inches from your own. Your cheeks burned as you gaped slightly at the close proximity, frozen in surprise before you ducked your head down to hide in the crook of his neck.

“You’re such a tease and you know it,” you grumbled, well aware he was embarrassing you on purpose.

“Ha ha ha, I can’t resist. You know I mean every word I say to you, my love.”

Receiving: quality time, physical affection

Wally loves spending time with you, no matter what it may be that you are doing. If the two of you are having a picnic, if you keep him company while he is painting, if you go for a walk with him, he loves it. Especially if you talk! He loves to listen, and to make conversation in return, too. Overall, anything and everything. Even though he doesn’t sleep himself, he quite enjoys sleep overs! It brings him comfort and content to know that you’re simply there, spending time with him. He just really finds peace in having your presence around. Something he’s a bit more shy about is physical touch. Although he isn’t super used to it, he loves to be held. He likes your hugs (despite usually having a hard time returning it), your arms around his waist, your head against his chest or stomach, your lips pecking his cheek, your hands gently cradled in his, your thumbs brushing against his face… he simply loves to feel your touch.

Howdy

Giving: physical affection

Howdy has four arms. You already know that he is the best hugger in the town! He loves to wrap you up in his embrace. An absolute cuddle bug, no doubt about it! No matter what, if you two are near each other, at least one of his hands are probably on you. Resting on your hip, holding your hand, pressing against the small of your back, sat on top of your head… always! He is certainly partial to having you in his arms, though. You’re bound to feel safe and secure within them.

Receiving: physical affection/acts of service

As said before, physical affection! He just loves it! Anything! Hugs! Hand holding! Kisses! CUDDLES! He loves it all, as long as he gets to feel your touch! Along with this, Howdy loves it when you do things for him, completely unprompted. Helping out with stock, sweeping up a mess on the floor, letting someone know where the item they’re looking for is when he’s busy with something else? Even though he feels bad about it when you do (he makes sure to reward you!), it means so much to him that you're so willing to do him a favour. How thoughtful of you!

“Oh, shucks. You didn’t have to do that for me, bug!” Howdy said. His arm hooked around your waist, carefully bringing you closer. “You treat me so well, don’t you?” he hummed with a smile.

“You know that it’s nothing, no big deal at all,” you chuckled, leaning into his chest.

“No matter how big or small the favour, it doesn't mean any less to me. Thank you, bug,”

“You’re very welcome, big guy,” you giggled.

“Now,” one of Howdy’s sets of arms wrapped fully around your waist, his lower hands finding the bends of your knees. He picked you up, holding you against him as he grinned down at you.

“I could go for some cuddle time, snuggle bug! How about that?”

Barnaby

Giving: physical affection

Another snuggler! Barnaby is #2 when it comes to the best hugs in the neighbourhood. His big, fluffy, warm arms are around you every chance he gets! Sometimes, he likes to be a bit of a tease and use your head as an armrest. The moment you’d like him to stop, don’t worry! You don’t need to tell him twice. Barnaby loves scooping you right up into his warm embrace! You are 100% his teddy bear when it’s time for an afternoon nap. Good luck getting out after he falls asleep!

“Ah, would’ja look what we’ve got here?” Barnaby’s voice came from behind you. Big blue arms snaked around your waist, lifting you right off of the ground.

“B!” you tried to push his arms away, to no avail. “I was talking to Sal and Jules,” you whined, said neighbours of yours laughing as you squirmed in the inescapable embrace. Barnaby yawned dramatically, one arm leaving your body to cover his mouth. You were basically being held like a football, now!

“Thanks for findin’ my teddy, you two! Means the world. I’m sure we’ll see ya around, yeah?” he waved at Sally and Julie, who giggled as you accepted your fate. Barnaby chuckled a little as you went limp, headed to his house. “I could use a nice nap out on the hammock, y’know? How’s that sound, bear?”

“You’re a pain in my rear, B.”

“Awe. I love ya too, toots!”

Receiving: words of affirmation

Barnaby is a funny guy who is always trying to make those around him feel happy, but sometimes, he can get pretty self conscious. Was he being too loud? Was he coming off as too lighthearted? Was he being funny enough? Was he being annoying? It brings with great relief when you put these worries of his at ease. When you laugh at his jokes and tell him how funny they were, when you assure him that you know he cares, when you take him seriously while others only see him as a joke? It simply means so very much to the big ol’ dog. When you cheer him up after he’s been feeling down, you can bet you’ll be getting loving snuggles for days!

Eddie

Giving: words of affirmation

This southern man is full of pure southern charm, whether it be intentional or not! He is a sweet talker, naturally so, always so incredibly kind to you and those around. You will hear constant compliments from the mailman, such high praise, and so much reassurance! He gives you a confidence boost for sure.

“Why, to what do I owe the pleasure of stumblin’ among this pretty little peach on such a fine day?” Eddie leaned against the fence in your front yard.

“Good morning to you too, Eddie,” you chuckled, cheeks pinkening.

“Good morning, sugar,” he smiled in return. “How goes it today, hun? You’re lookin’ gorgeous this mornin’,”

“Eddie, I literally just rolled out of bed,” you snickered, straightening up his crooked hat for him. He must have taken a stumble. Nonetheless, he leaned over and pecked your forehead.

“I said what I said,” he grinned.

Receiving: acts of service, words of adfirmtatiojn

Eddie is forgetful, that is no secret at all. He always tends to accidentally leave something behind. His hat, a letter or package meant to be delivered, pens, so many things! When you remind him or bring them to him, he is so thankful! Another thing well known about Eddie is that he is quite the klutz! Although most times he manages to catch himself, he does occasionally trip and get hurt. When you gladly help him out with his injuries, he falls in love with you just a little more. Especially if you kiss it better! Sometimes, he gets pretty bashful about it. When you tell him you don't mind one bit and that you’re willing to go above and beyond for anything he needs, his heart flutters with joy!

Frank

Giving: quality time

Frank can be very quiet and reserved, keeping to himself. He enjoys his quiet time, but even more so, he enjoys his quiet time spent with you! He appreciates someone that he can spend time with little to no words shared at all, or a whole lot of them if you’re willing to listen to his rambles, so if you feel the same, he greatly appreciates your company. He often seeks you out for your presence in these cases. When you are doing something together, chances are, he will tell you some of his favourite facts about the butterflies around, the subject of the book you are reading, etcetera! He thinks that you are neat, so will tell you and teach you about this neat stuff to express his feelings toward you.

“At first, this butterfly may appear to be a monarch. Although, if you take a closer look, you can notice this line on the hind wing, which means that it is not actually a monarch, but a viceroy butterfly instead,”

You and Frank sat side by side, a book open between you. You two were in the garden, backs against a tree, watching for any cool insects that came to check out the plants.

“Is there a reason why they look so much alike?”

“Well, monarchs are poisonous to eat because of a toxin in milkweed they consume when young. Their appearance allows predators to know they’re not for eating. Viceroy’s copy this appearance to keep safe from predators as well,”

“Is there anything you don’t know about butterflies?” You chuckled, peeking at him.

“There’s always more to learn,” He smiled. You smiled back, shaking your head in amusement.

“I like it when you teach me. you describe things better than any book ever could,” you told him. His cheeks reddened, and he shifted his position slightly.

“I like teaching you. It makes me happy that you’re so willing to listen. I know I’m quite ‘nerdy’, Julie tends to make a point of reminding me, so it’s nice to have someone who shares the same appreciation towards things like this as myself,” Frank admitted, plucking at some grass. “Basically, what I’m trying to say… thank you. I appreciate it, a lot,”

“You’re more than welcome, Frank,”

Receiving: gift giving, quality time

A new book? For him? About his favourite subject at the moment? You bet he is jumping with joy, cheeks flushed and a smile on his face! He’s so happy! A new butterfly net, after his last one broke? (darn it, Julie!) Wow! You just always know how to make his day. Along with this, Frank enjoys spending time alone to unravel sometimes. With you, though, he enjoys it a lot as well. When you come over, a book in hand, sitting down next to him and quietly reading with him? He loves moments like those.

Julie

Giving: physical affection, acts of service

Julie loves, loves, loves, hugs! Any moment they get, their arms are wrapped around you! If you two are walking together, you can bet that her hand is in yours or your arms are interlocked. She likes to run errands both for you or with you, as well! Oh, you want a snack from Howdy’s? She’ll come along with you to keep you company! You’re not feeling well? Don’t worry! They’ll go fetch you some soup from Poppy! You are their favourite person, they’re more than willing to do whatever you need.

Receiving: physical affection

Julie likes receiving hugs and such as much as giving them! Sometimes, they’re a little nervous that they’re being a little too clingy, too touchy. When you return her acts of affection though, she is reassured that you aren’t feeling this way! Either way, if you simply told her, she would understand and tone it down a notch. Anything to make sure you’re comfortable! Another thing that they like is if you play with their hair! Run your hands through it, put it up for them, braid it, whatever you feel like! It’s one of their most favourite feelings in the world.

“Can you play with my hair, please?” Julie leaned towards you, flashing you the classic puppy eyes. “I need some help with brushing it!” She claimed, holding a brush out towards you. With a light hearted sigh of amusement, you took the brush from her, sitting down with a smile.

“C’mere,” you patted the space between your legs. She gladly plopped right down, getting comfy as you started on her hair, beginning at the ends.

“Thank you!” She said, chipper and happy that you complied. You slowly dragged the brush through her hair, fingers following behind, carefully untangling any little knots.

“You’re very welcome,” you smiled, noticing how much her body relaxed into yours. She basically melted under your touch, sinking back against you. “You really do like this, don’t you?” you snickered softly.

“I really do,” she admitted shamelessly, grinning. “I can’t help it! It feels so nice and calming. Plus it gives me an excuse to spend more time with you!" she added. "Reminds me of when I was a kid as well,” she released a soft sigh, seeming to think back to when her siblings used to help with her hair.

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled, knowing she missed them sometimes. “I don’t mind at all. I enjoy it,”

Poppy

Giving: gift giving/acts of service

Poppy is a gift giver and a favour doing. She loves it! Baking your favourite treats for you, quilting a cute new blanket for your couch, crocheting a comfy sweater for you, everything of that sort! Definitely her favourite thing to do. She loves those activities on their own, even more so with the intent of gifting them to her fellow neighbours, and even more so with the intent of gifting them to you!

“Oh, good mornin’, hun!” Poppy exclaimed, pleased to see you at her barn. “I didn’t expect you to stop by today. I’m glad, though. I was actually just finishing up some baked goods for you,” she ushered you in with a smile.

“Poppy! You didn’t need to,” you returned the smile with ease. Everything she did tended to put one on your face, afterall.

“You know I love to, though. It keeps me busy, gives me something to do! A break from all the chaos the others always seem to get up to. Goodness, some days I feel they’ll give me a heart attack!” She held her feathered arm over her chest for emphasis.

“I certainly understand that,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Thank you, Poppy.”

Receiving: acts of service

Now, despite enjoying doing things for you all the time and seeing it as no big deal, the moment you do something for her, she's so flustered! You didn’t need to do that for her! It’s strange having the roles switched, but she does find the feeling very pleasant. She knows that the things she does are done out of love, so having things done for her in a similar way just warms her heart.

Sally

Giving: words of affirmation

Sally loves to give you compliments! How nice you look, how good your performance was, how much it means to her for you to help her with her plays, so many things! Sweet words are always spilling from her mouth! She likes to see how flustered she can make you, sometimes. You look so cute!

Receiving: quality time/gifts

Sally loves it when you spend time with her, especially when she is rehearsing for one of her plays! Say the lines with her, she appreciates it an extra bit! She always puts on her best performance when you are around. You bring her confidence and energy. When you come and watch her neighbourhood plays, she’s so happy seeing you in the crowd! If you volunteer to play a role in it? OH MY GOSH!!! Gives an extra good excuse to spend more time with you, too!

“Sally!” You called out after a show, catching the (literal) stars' attention. Her face (literally ;) ) lit up at the sight of you, rushing over to talk.

“Hi! Did you like the show? How did I look? I made a mistake in that first scene, but I think I covered it up alright!”

“You did amazing,” you smiled, “so amazing, that I brought you these!” You removed your hands from behind your back, presenting a small bouquet of flowers to her. Her eyes widened in surprise, cheeks going red.

“Goodness, aren’t those pretty! You are just the sweetest to me,” she gave you a bright grin, examining the flowers.

“You deserve it,” you replied.

this took forever, but in honour of the update, i decided to finally finish it to post! hi! it's been awhile, haha! if you saw my absolutely butchered spelling in eddie's, yes, i know it's bad. i don't know what was wrong with my spelling that day but i just noticed it again while getting this ready and had a little laugh! maybe you did too! now! i will probably disappear for another period of time, haha! i hope you enjoyed this different post of mine, and i will see you soon! i am also going to go through some old inbox messages! feel free to leave one at any time, i always love to hear your thoughts and talk to you, and i always check them! here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) a howdy fic, as well! these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

likes and reblogs are extremely appreciated! farewell, for now!

Posted Monday, July 25, 2023 at 2:45 PM

#welcome home x reader #welcome home #welcome home headcanons #wally darling x reader #howdy pillar x reader #barnaby b beagle x reader #eddie dear x reader #frank frankly x reader #julie joyful x reader #poppy partridge x reader #sally starlet x reader #GRARDAFRTYG%EADRTFYGAUHIJA%RAYTGUHIJOD&HUS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH im sleepy #wally x reader

779 notes · View notes

buryustogether · 11 months

Text

lilac - chapter 7

miguel o’hara x f!reader

wc: 5.3k

summary: the truth will always come to light.

warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, domestic life, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), mentions of murder/bodies, knife violence, angst, choking, kidnapping

author’s note: listened to am i dreaming while writing this and bawled

Two weeks later, you found yourself slipping into one of the private rooms at The Menagerie, feeling the thumping, thrumming music all the way from the floorboards through your feet and into your teeth. Your very heart seemed to shake with the vibrations. Your thin, sparkly cape-like train swayed behind you as you moved quietly into the room, brushing against your thighs as you locked the door.

“Hi, handsome,” you said to the customer sitting in the chair in the center of the room. The neon lights were too bright, too loud, like you were floating in a dream from another planet. “How are you doing tonight?”

Before you were able to turn around, to even get in another breath, the man was up behind you, his chest pressing into your back and his hands trailing down your sides. His breath fanned across your ear, your temple, your neck. You would have told the guy to back off if you didn’t recognize the low, even voice that spoke just inches from the shell of your ear.

“Good to know you greet all your customers the same way,” murmured Miguel from behind the painted porcelain spider mask. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as his hands slowly slipped up your front, edging along the underside of your breasts. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, thinking they were special.”

Your racing heart slowed its uneven tempo as you were unable to put down the grin set upon your lips. You turned your head ever so slightly so that you were able to see a sliver of his wide, massive frame hulking over yours behind you. Moving upon their own accord, your hands reached up to rest over his where they sat on your stomach. Then you tugged his palms up so that they cupped your breasts through the flimsy fabric of your monarch costume.

“If you wanted me to touch you,” you said, just audible over the beat enveloping you both even here in the private room, “you could have just waited until I got home.”

“Hmm - but where’s the fun in that?”

Finally turning around, you smiled and reached up to nudge the spider mask over Miguel’s face. Those features of his - those beautiful, rugged, wonderful features of his - were bathed in the neon from the lights as you pulled it off his head entirely. His smirk was predatorial, hungry and eager to start the hunt for what he was after. You pushed against his chest, backing him up across the room because suddenly the roles had changed, and when he sat back in the chair to stare up at you, he knew it.

“The fun in that,” you said as you sank down to your knees before him, “is that you get to moan my name as loud as you want at home.”

This was how it had gone for these past two weeks, and that was how it went for the next one, as well. Pure bliss clouded your mind like a fog that refused to go away. Even if you wanted it gone, you couldn’t have gotten rid of it. Your brain was partially blind to the world around you as you went about your life as if you weren’t dating Miguel O’Hara, as if you weren’t housing Spiderman in your shitty little apartment, as if your world hadn’t been uprooted for the absolute better.

It went like this even when you called up the school at the beginning of the third week, reaching out to the front desk ladies who always did crosswords and snapped bubble gum instead of actually doing their jobs.

One of them picked up on the fourth ring. “Washington Elementary, this is Janice at the front desk.”

“Hey, Janice,” you said as you leaned over the countertop of your kitchen. A small cry attempted to escape you, but you were successful in keeping it down. “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I need to use - hmm! - a couple of my vacation days I have saved up. I-I’m going out of town for the week and I won’t be back… back until next Monday.”

The front desk lady was typing away on that ancient computer of hers with those tacky nails, though you were barely able to hear it over the racing and thundering of your heart in your ears. “Alright,” she drawled in a voice that was way too slow for you. “Did you have a particular substitute in mind?”

You pressed your lips together until they ached as you pressed further up against the counter, practically folded over it at this point. “Nope,” you said, your tone strained and tight. “Any will do. And thanks! See you next week.”

“Wait-”

You clicked your phone off and sent it skidding further down the kitchen countertop, finally able to release the long, strangled cry that you had been holding in the entire call. The long, thick cock buried inside your sopping cunt had been shallowly bucking into you while you talked, and the wide, calloused hand pressing you by your upper back into the counter hadn’t helped, either.

You exhaled a pant and whimpered in pleasure as the man behind you leaned over your smaller form, his warmth pressing up against you. “Good girl,” Miguel murmured against the shell of your ear, then bit it gently with the tips of his fangs. “I told you you could stay quiet for me.”

Days were spent lounging around the apartment, recovering from the throbbing ache the previous day’s (or, oftentimes, that morning’s) sweaty, heated session had left you with between your thighs. You would tidy up your home or run errands, always anticipating the soft sound from your bedroom of the window being rolled up and the near-silent noises of Spiderman crawling in from the fire escape. Afternoons you would spend bent over the nearest surface - the counter, the arm of the couch, the bed, the coffee table. He didn’t care, and neither did you. And the evenings were spent with dinner with your new little family, or out at late night soccer games flooded with light from the torches over the field. No matter where you were, whether it was his leg pressed against yours or his hand slid into your back pocket or just his hand atop yours, Miguel was always touching you.

It felt like a dream. It felt like maybe you’d died and gone to heaven, because, really, life in this smog-ridden, violet-colored sky couldn’t be this good. It shouldn’t have felt this good.

And, of course, because all things must come to a close, an end, a stop - this dream did.

It was late in an afternoon, when the sky outside had just finished painting itself with the dull colors of sunset, that you found yourself folding laundry in the living room and watching the news on your television. Unconsciously, because you had been doing this for nearly three weeks now, you made three stacks of the clean clothes; yours, Gabriella’s, and Miguel’s. His and yours were set aside to go back to the bedroom. Hers would stay out here and be stored in the drawers of your shelves; if the O’Haras were going to be staying with you for much longer - which you really, really hoped they did - you were going to need a bigger apartment. Gabriella needed her own room. And you and Miguel… you needed a bedroom with thicker walls.

You’d decided to wear one of his favorite dresses - a short, pink little number - in anticipation for when he retired from patrolling the city this afternoon. He intended, as he’d told you this morning before you both got out of bed, to come home, fuck you until you saw stars, have dinner, then go back out again for a night watch.

And you had no problem with that.

You’d just reached down to grab a shirt from your basket when there came a knock on your front door. Not gentle, but not unfriendly, either. Standing straight and turning the television down a few levels, you silently padded across the apartment and stood on your tiptoes to raise yourself to look through the peephole. The multiple golden locks glinted to your right.

You’d expected to find a neighbor asking for a favor, or maybe girl scouts selling cookies for their little fundraisers. Hell, even your landlord coming to ask if the new additions to your apartment would be staying permanently, and if so, demanding more rent. But instead, you found three people you had not seen before. They were an odd little trio, one that made you take a second glance after you had scanned them all over once.

The one who had knocked on your door was a woman with dark skin and large, round glasses with tinted lenses sitting on her nose. One of her hands, the wrist decorated with bangles and other bracelets, protectively held the massive bump on her stomach; she looked ready to pop and have her kid any day. On her left was a boy that looked no older than twenty; he, too, was dark-skinned, with dreads that stuck out like a halo and multiple rings affixed to his nose, his brow, his ears… Eyeliner had been applied to his lids, and across his back was a sleek-looking electric guitar. And on the woman’s left was a middle-aged man in a fluffy bathrobe, busy adjusting the baby carrier strapped across his front. The toddler inside giggled and attempted to paw at his fingers.

Your first thought was that they were just a strange-looking family, maybe asking for directions or hoping for some charity. But if that was the case… why had they come up to your floor?

Taking a breath, you unlocked your door and swung it open. The trio looked up - including the red-haired baby - and they all seemed to do a double-take on you, as well. The man’s lips parted in surprise. The teenager quirked an amused smile. And the woman pressed her lips together in a sense that said she saw something she didn’t like.

“Now we know why the bloke’s stayin’ ‘round here,” said the boy in a thick English accent.

Blinking a few times, you nervously folded your hands over your stomach and put on your best smile. “Hi,” you said to the tiny group. “Can I help you at all?”

The woman - who had visibly composed herself - returned your smile and straightened herself out. “Sorry to bother you,” she said in an apologetic way that, if you thought you heard right, sounded more on edge than anything else. “We’re looking for Miguel O’Hara; he’s a friend of ours. Does he live anywhere around here?”

For a brief moment, you flashed back to that day at Alchemax, when you’d overheard Lyla the defective AI talking to Miguel about spending time with friends. Were these the friends she’d been speaking of? Fuck, you suddenly wished you remembered their names. “He lives here, actually,” you said, then stepped aside to welcome them in. “Would you like to come inside? He’s out… running a few errands, but he should be back any time now.”

One by one they filed into your apartment, practically filling the little kitchen your front door opened into. The boy hopped up on your kitchen counter, adjusting his guitar strap across his chest and spreading his legs out to take up space.

You introduced yourself to them, told them your name. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you said, eyeing the strange little trio as they took in your apartment. Suddenly you felt like you were being held under a microscope; they were examining your decor, the pictures on your walls, the half-finished stack of laundry still sitting on the couch. You guessed you’d expected Miguel to have more… plausible friends. Other scientists at Alchemax. Fellow single fathers. Not a stylish pregnant woman with something against you, a manspreading teenager who was leaning back on his hands on your damn counter, and a middle aged man cooing at a toddler strapped to his chest.

“No, we’re fine,” said the woman.

“Actually,” said the man, earning himself a swift glare from his companion, “do you have anything sweet lying around? She just had lunch, and she gets fussy if she doesn’t have the dessert I promised.” He gestured to the red haired little girl sitting in her carry-on seat, staring up at her father with large, wide eyes.

“Peter, stop it,” hissed the woman.

Shaking your head, partially to dismiss the strangeness of the whole situation, you stood up on your tiptoes and began to search through your cupboards for something sweet; you’d been keeping a lot more treats around since Gabriella had moved in. “No, it’s okay,” you said as you handed the box to Peter, who gasped dramatically for the sake of his baby. “I need to get rid of these anyway.”

You stood back against the sink, feeling awkward in your own home as the strangers waited. Clearing your throat and attempting to look busy folding a dish towel, you said, “So… how did you guys meet Miguel? He hasn’t really talked about his friends much… at all, to be honest. I kind of thought he was more of a lone wolf.”

“Hah!” the boy on your counter barked out a laugh. “That he is, love.”

“We work with him,” said the woman. She reached up to adjust her tinted glasses, and it was then that you noticed she wore a silver band around her wrist with some kind of orange interface - a watch of some kind? You peeked at the other two, and realized they wore them, as well.

“Really?” you said, tilting your head and forcing yourself to smile. You glanced at the boy. “No offense, but… I didn’t think Alchemax would hire anyone so young. Are you an intern?”

“They wish,” he replied and crossed his ankle over his other leg. He wore bright teal sneakers, one sporting yellow laces and the other, blue. “Don’t think some stuffy, thieving corporation like that could handle me even if they tried.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, in the process of breaking up cookies to give the toddler against his front. “Sure, Hobie,” he snickered. “That’s why.”

“He told you he works at Alchemax?” said the woman, who had come closer to you than you realized until she was just feet away. You were able to see her eyes through her shades - almond-cut and heavy-lidded, those brown irises filled with an emotion that you could not place. It intimidated you slightly, and you wanted to look away, but her words brought an unfamiliar sense of unease slowly rolling through you.

“I… yes?” you said, wringing the towel in your hands now. “He does work there. I’ve - I’ve been to his office before. He’s a geneticist.”

“Jessica…” said Peter in a voice that sounded akin to a warning.

Jessica’s lips had pursed into a thin line, one that set a line at the corner of her mouth. You backed further against the sink. “Do us a favor and call him,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a favor, and more of a demand. “We really need to speak to him.”

Swallowing thick and steeling your heart, because no longer did you refuse to be ordered around in your own home, you set down the rag and stood straight again. “I think it would be best if you all left,” you said, looking around at the three. “I’ll tell Miguel you dropped by.”

Then, like they were a pack of animals all sensing something you could not - even the damned baby - they all turned their heads in the direction of your bedroom. Their eyes were focused, all other movements ceased. It was one of the strangest things you had ever seen. Then, finally, you heard it, too - the sound of your window being opened, of a heavy weight vaulting inside and landing on the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“Perfect timing,” said Jessica, and a film of goosebumps trailed over your skin.

For a long, agonizing few moments, you all stood perfectly still, waiting for Miguel to appear from the bedroom. The only sound was the television still playing the news and the soft cooing of the baby against Peter’s chest as she continued devouring cookies.

Feeling your heart racing in your chest, listening to it thunder and roll in your ears, you took a breath and called, “Mig?”

His reply came from the bedroom just a moment later. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah.” You turned a wary gaze to the strangers standing in your kitchen, wringing your hands, now. “Could - could you come here, please? Now?”

He must have sensed the slight waver in your voice, maybe he smelled your nerves in the air - he seemed to have been fine tuned into your senses now - because at once, the bedroom door opened and his careful, mindful footsteps tread down the hall. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him enter the room still in his suit, his hair mussed from having just deactivated his mask. When he laid eyes on the intruders cornering you in the kitchen, he stopped solidly in his tracks.

“There’s the man of the hour,” said Hobie, then lay back entirely across the counter to grin at your boyfriend upside down. “Fancy catchin’ you here, ain’t it?”

Miguel stared hard at the teenager, his chest rising and caving in an uneven pattern and fists clenched at his sides. “Get down,” he ordered in a low, frightening voice that told you at once - these were not his friends. “Now.”

“Miguel,” said Jessica as she crossed the kitchen to meet him. “We seriously need to talk about this.”

“About what?” he snapped.

She pulled an expression that screamed this was not the first time they had talked about this. One hand resting on her swollen belly, she raised the other to gesture around your apartment. It threw your heart out of tandem. “About this. What are you doing, O’Hara? This - this is insane. I don’t know what kind of screw came loose in that brain of yours, but you’ve completely lost it.”

You had no idea what they were talking about. For a moment, you thought she was speaking about your relationship with Miguel. Then a moment became seconds. What was happening? Who were these people and what business did they have interfering with your lives?

Miguel stared daggers into the woman, but she only returned them with equal heat. He took a breath in through his nose as if he were going to say something, then quickly, with intent, turned his eyes to yours.

Understanding at once, you squeezed past Peter, who was now letting his daughter dig through the bag of cookies, and tread carefully past Miguel. You were practically able to feel the fury radiating off of him in waves. “I’ll give you all some privacy,” you said softly, tiptoeing back into the living room. You took up your previous space beside the couch and resumed folding the laundry, but your mind was still back in the kitchen. What the fuck was going on?

Your eyes were trained on the news, but your ears - and attention - were straining to hear the conversation being whisper-shouted just in the next room.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Miguel!” Jessica said. “Purposely changing canon events? Redirecting this dimension so it wraps around your little fucking finger? What’s going on?”

“This is different,” Miguel hissed, and you knew at that moment that he was distraught, because he was letting his fangs get in the way of his speech. He hardly ever let that happen. “I’m balancing the canon events. This dimension is still stable.”

You recognized Hobie’s voice, thick and heavy with his accent. “Really?” he said, and you heard the electric twang of his guitar being fiddled with. “What’cha call that glitch in Brooklyn, then?”

“Why exactly are you here, Brown?”

“Don’t know. Wanted to see fur fly, I’spose.”

“We’re here to take you back to HQ, Miguel,” said Jessica in that stern, commanding voice that she had used with you. “You’re tearing this reality apart at the seams. You know what happens if you do.”

Trying to listen in further, you took a step toward the kitchen, placing a hand on a shelf beside an empty vase.

“You have no power over me, Drew,” Miguel snarled. “In fact, I’d say you’re far out of line.”

“If I am, you can’t even see the damn line anymore, you pompous ass.” She exhaled a breath, likely trying to calm herself. “You’re the one who preaches to the others how dangerous altering canon events are. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, I think we know why,” Peter piped up then, but his voice was light, teasing, even. Trying not to sound hostile, trying not to invoke those powerful claws and fangs. His daughter cooed and babbled.

There came a moment of long, palpable silence. But your attention was then drawn to the television, to a breaking news coverage.

Jessica exhaled. “You can’t save them, Miguel,” she said in a voice that almost wasn’t there. “Either of them. You’re damning them by staying here.”

“Enough,” came Miguel’s deathly quiet whisper.

“You’re killing them,” she snarled then, and the baby’s nonsense silenced. “Both of them; that little girl, that poor woman, you are literally tearing them apart from the inside out.”

“ENOUGH!”

Your hand slipped and knocked over the vase, sending it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The conversation in the kitchen ceased, but you did not notice any of it. Your eyes were glued to the screen, lips open and heart stopped in your chest and world falling apart at the seams.

From the kitchen, Miguel said your name. He - along with the strangers - stepped into the living room. You felt a hand on your arm, and it sent pinpricks like fire racing through your skin. They all followed your gaze to the television, where a reporter was listening to an earpiece.

“That’s right,” she said to the camera. “We’ve just confirmed that the remains of the body found by authorities just two hours ago are, in fact, from renowned Alchemax geneticist Miguel O’Hara. Reports are saying he allegedly died from a gunshot wound inflicted by a second party. The body was found hidden in an abandoned warehouse set for demolition to clear room for -”

The silence in the apartment was so tense, so thick, you could have sliced it with a butcher knife.

And that was exactly what you intended to do.

That hand on your arm had tightened its grip. Slowly, because you were afraid if you went too fast you’d faint, you turned your head to look at Miguel. Not Miguel. Not Miguel O’Hara. Because Miguel O’Hara was dead. This was not him. An imposter. A twin, maybe. But nevertheless, an imposter.

This was not Miguel. This was a stranger - and you had fallen in love with him.

Holding your arm, the man was already staring at you. Those eyes that you had come to love, had gazed into while he held you, while he fucked you, were trained on yours with a certain kind of glaze you could not decipher. The strangers were all watching the pair of you, waiting, unsure of just what was about to happen.

The man said your name in that way you loved. Now it made you sick. “Hey,” he said, turning you to face him. He raised his wrist and shot out a web that clicked the television off. “Hey, baby, don’t listen to that. I was - I was called about this earlier today. There was a mix up with the names.”

You could not hear him. You only heard the blood rushing through your ears, only felt the icy cold that had replaced your veins. Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, you padded past the man. Past the strangers. Into the kitchen - where you silently unsheathed a butcher knife from the block on the counter.

You felt his presence behind you, like a ghost, like a shadow; like the stranger he was, following you. That’s what he had been doing all this time. Following you, stalking you. Pretending to be someone you would trust. Oh, fuck; had he taken Gabriella after her real father was killed? Had he been manipulating her this entire time?

He said your name again, touched your waist. And you struck.

With a cry that came from somewhere deep in your throat, filled with all the shock and rage and confusion and anger you had within you, you spun around and slashed the knife at the man. His senses must have gone into overdrive, because he jumped back, then shot out a web to stick your hand - and the knife - to the countertop.

“Miguel!” cried Peter as the others crowded in after him.

You released a scream at the four of them, trying desperately to pull the webbing off your hand. “Leave me alone!” you shrieked up at the man watching you with wide, frantic eyes. “Get out! Get away from me!”

“Hey, hey, baby, you have to listen to me.” The man grabbed your other fist when you tried to swing it at him, pinning you down against the sink. When you screamed again, he clapped a hand over your mouth. “Listen to me, baby. You remember what I told you that day at Alchemax? About twin dimensions and realities?”

Jessica took a step forward. “Miguel, enough,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“It’s true,” he said to you, bringing his face close to yours, despite how much you tried to pull away. “I’m not from this dimension. Mine, my home - it was destroyed. This reality’s Miguel, he was a done case, but I stepped in, you understand me? I couldn’t let Bri be an orphan, I couldn’t -” He stared at you, his heavy breath fanning over your face, his eyes wide and desperate. “I couldn’t let you go, don’t you see that?” He shook his head slightly. “I’m still Miguel. I’m still your Mig. I’m still yours.”

Then his mouth was on yours, his hands holding either side of your head in a grasp that felt as though it were bruising your scalp. He tasted just like you remembered, just how you liked, just like how you loved. And for a moment, for a stupid, foolish moment, you were kissing him back. Because he was still your Miguel. He wasn’t from here, from your reality, but dammit, he was still yours.

But your body acted upon its own accord, shoved your mind and your logic out the window. Because you’d gotten your hand free of the webbing. Letting go of the knife, you shoved him backward, ducked under his arm, and ran for the front door. He yelled your name, roared it, but you were quicker than him. You slammed the door open, swung around, and threw it shut, then dashed down the stairs of your apartment building.

Your lips still tasted like him.

When you burst into the fresh air, you looked around for only a moment before taking off running again. You’d left everything behind - your phone, your wallet, everything - but you couldn’t stop running. Couldn’t stop running from the man who had - from what he’d said - taken the place of a dead man, played father to a child that was not his, loved you like it was actually meant to be.

You knew now that Lyla the AI had not been defective. You knew now that you were supposed to be dead by now, strangled to death by your ex boyfriend. You knew now why Miguel was late that first day picking up Gabriella. You understood everything.

Through the tears you realized were spilling down your cheeks, you managed to look a few feet ahead of you and skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the people in front of you. A crowd of onlookers from every street on an intersection were watching, filming, screaming, as a skyscraper glitched and warped in on itself, folding and twisting as if it were on a television screen and the signal was going out.

Then, across the street, a car began to glitch. It skidded through a red light, plowed into another vehicle crossing the intersection.

A few blocks down, there came an explosion that rocked the entire street. People screamed and ducked.

Oh, fuck. It was happening - like Jessica had said. Your reality was tearing apart.

Because of Miguel.

You began to back up with the crowd as, around you, your universe was tearing apart at the seams. But then from behind, there came more screams and shrieks of panic, a symphony of chaos and pure, unbridled panic. You turned to face the street, and your heart turned to frozen, petrified ice within the confines of your chest.

The villains Spiderman - Miguel - had been putting behind bars this past month had broken free; Doctor Octopus, Kraven, the Vulture… they had all escaped, now joined together as they approached the small mass of people you stood with on the corner. Leading them was a figure you did not recognize; purple and black costume and tactical gear, mask of pure violet with electric eyes that shone like the glinting tips of the claws on their hands.

The figure entered the crowd, which parted like a sea for him, swarming in every direction possible. You backed yourself up against the front of the building you stood beside, feeling horrified, panicked tears spilling down your face as the person stopped just inches away. With one clawed hand, they reached up to gently wipe away a drop cascading down to your chin; you felt the blade of the claw nick you, and the tear was replaced with a sliver of blood.

“Please don’t cry,” said the person - said the man - behind the mask. “Not here.” You couldn’t help the warbled, strained cry that escaped your throat when he brought his head closer to yours, so that his mouth was leveled with your ear. “What’s the matter, babe? Don’t recognize the Prowler?”

Babe.

Suddenly, in that moment, you didn’t care that Miguel had lied to you. You didn’t care that he was from another dimension, that the fates had destined you to be apart. You didn’t care about any of that. You just wanted to be in his arms, shielded from this awful world falling apart at the edges by those sinewy arms and that red, chilling gaze.

You wanted Miguel because when the Prowler’s mask dematerialized and he pulled his head back, you knew the face staring back at you.

Ferris gave a wide, unnatural, sickening smirk as he watched realization dawn in your eyes. That smile curled even further when it was replaced with fear. “Take it easy, babe,” he said, his lips just inches from yours. “There’s a lot of work to be done to be getting this worked up just yet.”

Behind him, Doctor Octopus leveled his shades as one of his long, winding, mechanical arms unfurled from beneath him. Clasped by the back of her jacket with the sharp, glinting claw was Gabriella O’Hara, curled into herself as she sobbed loudly and hung onto the metal for her life.

Leaning in closer yet, Ferris shot out a clawed hand and wrapped his palm around the column of your neck. His fingers fit perfectly around the bruises just beginning to fade there; like puzzle pieces, because no matter how hard you tried to shape or bend or destroy the shape, there would only ever be one correct fit. “Let’s take a walk,” he said. “You’re going to help us catch a spider.”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv

688 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 11 months

Note

hi cate!! :)

i would love to request a blurb/thoughts/honestly anything on dad spencer taking baby reid to a daddy-daughter dance 🫶

this look is so very dad!spencer to me

"Okay, how's that?" You ask Maisie as you look at her through the mirror, finishing the final touch on her curls. You fluff it out on her shoulders so she can view her styled hair. "I think it looks perfect."

She's only six, but with her hair curled, a tiny bit of mascara that she begged for painted on her eyelashes, and a fancy dress on, you can't believe how old she looks. She searched for and chose the perfect dress, pink, of course, her favorite color, and puffy, like a princess would wear.

"It's so good, Momma." She agrees, grinning into the mirror with her gappy smile. Seeing her with so much confidence, knowing she looks beautiful, makes you proud.

When the doorbell rings a second later, she squeals with excitement.

"I'll open it, and you wait at the top of the stairs, okay?" You offer.

She agrees, stopping at the top of the stairs to surprise him while you walk downstairs and open the door. As expected, your handsome husband is on the other side of the door, dressed in a suit sharply tailored suit with his hairstyles and a big bouquet of flowers.

"I'm here for Maisie Reid," Spencer says politely.

"Two minutes early." You note, glancing at your watch.

"Enough time that she knows I'm eager, but not too early that she's not ready." He explains.

You hum, letting a smile sneak through. "You're very well trained."

"My gorgeous wife is responsible for that." He tells you with a smirk. that gorgeous wife being you. "So, Maisie?"

You don't even have to call for her and she comes running down the stairs, barely giving him enough time to crouch down before jumping into his arms.

"Daddy!" She cheers excitedly.

"Maisie!" He returns. "You look so beautiful, just like your momma." He looks at you and winks, unsurprisingly not resisting the opportunity to flirt with you. You can see he's a little tearful, just at how grown up she looks.

She looks at the flowers in his hand. "Are those for me?"

"Oh, of course, sorry." He replies, handing them to her. They're basically the size of her whole body, Spencer clearly not sparing any expense. "Are you ready? We have a night of dancing awaiting us."

"Mm-hmm." She agrees, handing the flowers over to you.

You sneak a quick kiss from Spencer, before kissing Maisie on the cheek. "Have fun, little miss. Remember your curfew."

She frowns, not knowing what that means, and Spencer covers for her. "Don't worry, she'll extend it if we bring her ice cream." He promises.

"True." You agree. "Have fun, my loves."

Maisie holds the hand he's offering her. "We will." She says.

Spencer lets her step out the door first. "Did I tell you how pretty you look, sweet girl?"

You hear her giggle as they walk to the car. "You did, silly. You always remember everything."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

765 notes · View notes

anstarwar · 10 months

Text

Bonding time for the commanders

Wrote a thing for it on the fly, not edited at all, but was having fun thinking about their dynamic...

"So, um, what's it like in there?" Barriss asked casually, flicking some dirt from her skirts.

Gree, who was lost in his datapad entering some note about a leaf he just discovered, only replied with "hmm?"

This is how their conversations usually went, much to Barriss' frustration. She'd been...commander (weird)...of the 41st for three months now and had gotten no further in breaking through to her fellow commander.

Maybe this is just how it was supposed to work between Jedi and Clones? They had a job to do, she reasoned, so maybe the clones didn't want to be...friends? That didn't feel right to her, but nothing to be done about it.

"Never mind," she cleared her throat, wrapped her robes tighter around her shoulders and went to find Master Luminara.

+++

Two months later...

"Do you want to see, Commander?" Gree asked as he examined the visor of his helmet in his hands. He'd spent the better part of an hour fiddling with the wires, scrubbing the dirt away, and touching up scraped off bits of green paint.

Barriss looked at him, eyebrow arched in question.

"...my bucket...helmet. You asked a few months ago and...well, if you're still curious." He answered, rolling it around in his hands.

"Is it ok?" Barriss replied, hesitant.

Gree wasn't sure how to answer that. Helmets, to the clones, were personal. You didn't share yours with anyone just willy-nilly. They were designed for protecting a very vital part of their body (though Gree was convinced some of his brothers didn't use their noggins as often as they should, so he's not sure how effective they were for those particular troops), and tweaked and customized to each wearer's specifications. They were as close as anything to a prized possession for many of them and "is it OK" wasn't as simple a question as it sounded.

But Gree had also spent a month trying to get to know his little Commander. Well, little wasn't quite the right word. Barriss was fearsome, strong, and wise beyond her years - but she was small, barely coming up to his shoulder. She was too young to see the things they saw on a daily basis, and it pained him to know she also had to live this life. That, like the clones, she wouldn't truly know what it was like to be a kid. It was like a blaster to the gut the day he realized she also didn't have much choice in the matter, and that she was working so hard to hide her own pain and worry.

It hit him one day that maybe she needed reassurance just as much as his own troops. Not from the fighting or the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, but from her own self-doubts and insecurities. She was his little sister, his vod'ika. So he'd decided he'd do what he could to reassure her and, he reasoned, that meant breaking down his own walls and getting to know her. To build trust.

"Yeah...yeah its ok, here just..." Gree moved to place it on her head, but paused. "...don't know if it'll fit over your robes there, Commander."

Barriss laughed. "No I suppose not." She scrunched up her nose, an expression Gree observed she'd make when she was coming to a decision.

"What about..." Barriss pushed back her hood and unwrapped the robe from around her shoulders.

"Here," she said, extending it out to Gree with a shy smile.

He took it, holding it in front of him like it was a specimen he found on the underside of a lartie, and not a piece of cloth. He arched his brow at the Padawan.

"You're sharing something important with me, so it's only fair I do the same, yeah?" she said in explanation.

Gree nodded, but wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He shook it out, not sure what he was expecting it to do, but it felt like the best option. It wasn't like he'd never seen or held a cloak before, but this belonged to a Jedi, his Commander. Was there some sort of protocol or etiquette he should be aware of?

Barriss chuckled. "You can put it on and I'll put on your helm-bucket?" She looked into the visor of the helmet as if it would tell her what to call it. "Bucket," she nodded, turned it the proper direction and plopped it on her head.

"Whoa," crackled through the vocoder as things flickered to life on the HUD. Scrolls of data came through, lights blinked here and there --indicating what she wasn't sure. It was a lot and she felt the urge to rip it off of her head to stop the onslaught of information. She thought better of it, though. Gree had trusted her with it and she didn't want to make some egregious error in etiquette or cause offense.

She centered her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the flashes and pings. "Oh my god," her hand flew up, smacking the aerator, unused to the extra bulk around her face.

Giggles erupted from the vocoder. "Commander Gree you, haha, you look...well..." Gree shifted, pulling the hood of the robe over his head while simultaneously flicking the edges of the robe over his pauldrons. He was struck, suddenly, by an urge he hadn't let himself feel since he was a cadet.

Grinning mischievously he stuck his tongue out at the young commander. "I look amazing! I think I might keep this." He flapped the edge of the robe at Barriss.

"I didn't say..." Barriss lifted the helmet and held it propped on the top of her head. She stuck her tongue out as if that would make him give the robe back.

He stuck his tongue out in return.

"Click click." Gree and Barriss' whipped their heads around at the sound.

"Lookin' good commanders!" Captains Styles and Grey stood, barely suppressing their laughter, Styles holding up his datapad, clearly having just snapped a holo of their superior officers.

"You are going to delete that holo right now, Captain!" Gree grumbled, pushing the hood back from his head.

"You are going to send me that holo right now, Captain Styles!" Barriss said as she strode over to the clone, holding out her hand. "Can I see?"

"Sorry Commander, but the Commander outranks you," Styles looked at Gree, eyes twinkling with glee, as he handed the datapad to the Padawan.

"Oh, yup, you're right Commander Gree. You do look amazing!" She beamed as she took in the holo.

Gree sighed, he knew when he was defeated. Pulling the purple hood back over his head he straightened and marched off towards camp.

"Hey! Your bucket, Gree! I need my robe back, hey!" Barriss yelled as she chased after him.

+++

oops this was way longer than I meant. If you made it to the end here, thanks for reading!

#commander gree #barriss offee #clones and padawans #similar in so many ways #fashionista gree #my art #silly #drabble #the clone wars #41st elite corps #my writing

347 notes · View notes

hoeforhao · 9 months

Note

hi can i request for minghao and “Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here” <3

jumped in queue because this minghao concept was eating my brains out

“Liking this Mr Xu? Or should i shift?” you move your hips slightly upwards to brush against the crotch of the town’s most feared assasin aka Mr Xu Minghao, giving him the sultriest lap dance your club has ever seen you doing while he holds down the urge to rip that black satin slip dress off of your glistening curves and take you then and there; infront of all your workmates because the last thing he cared about was a bunch of strangers watching him fuck his stress out into his favorite woman.

But he held it in as this time he wanted you all to himself, alone, away from all the excited and hungry eyes.Why? Because tonight he was about to ravish each and every corner of your skin, strip you down to your bare body and have you whimpering for more under him.

“I think just Ms Y/n’s moans would be enough entertainment for your party tonight. No need for visuals right?” Minghao looks at the leader of the squad dead in the eyes, notioning him take his minions out of his room right at this instant.

“Impatient enough Hao?” you quickly turn around on his lap as soon as your members leave the place, wrapping both of your arms around his neck as you now have complete access to tease the shit out of your secret lover’s patience. Bending your head down to minghao’s neck you place your dark wine lips against his sides,sensualy drawing them out on his spider lily tattoo, knowing quite well he never let anyone touch that part of him.

Minghao instantly pulls you back by your hair, your pale locks seeping out of his slender fingers, his dark eyes looking at you with something that would run down shivers against anyone else’s spine but not yours….cuz for you it meant you were successful in getting on his nerves and an invitation for you to keep testing him even more, so that later your face can be smothered down with ruined mascara and bleeding lipstick as he rails you without any mercy.

“I was away for one month and looks like my doll has already forgotten all the rules, hmm?” his hold on your hair tightens as he brings his mouth dangerously close to your throat, landing a sharp bite on your adam’s apple, making you move up his lap even more from the sudden pain,your bare cunt now resting perfectly atop his clothed dick.

“No panties!! Such a needy little whore for me, huh baby.” minghao throws his head back against the couch from the instant pleasure as you waste no time in being cocky again and start grinding on his boner, your hips sliding in and out against his thighs while you stare him down with luring eyes of a wolf, tempting him to break apart all the boundaries and get lost in your dom.

Minghao’s hands increase its grip on your loose hair as his other one starts travelling up your exposed back, around your belly and finally onto your barely covered tits. Not being able to contain the pleasure your erotic lap dance is giving him, his palms start massaging your soft mounds, pulling them out gently so that they slightly spill out of the lingerie, creating the perfectly erotic scene infront of him - his favourite woman seated on his lap, the moonlight shining through her hair, boobs lightly jiggling from the oh so slow action he bare pussy is giving is throbbing cock, while he keeps on pinching down on her already puffy nipples, earning the best alluringly soft moans from the lady.

“Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here” he finally speaks up, words barely audible amidst the lewd train of groans and moans his voice carries out with itself, as he harshly tugs onto your scalp once again to stop you from completely pushing him off the edge that very instant. Your eyes shift from mean to meanest, looking at that one drop of blood painted against his lips from him trying to hold his release in after your merciless teasings.

“Would definitely not want those precious juices to spill themselves out onto your favorite pants instead of this dripping cunt, am i right Mr Min?”

#minghao smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut prompts #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao x y/n #xu minghao #svt x y/n #svt x reader #minghao drabbles #svt drabbles #seventeen drabbles #kpop drabbles #svt imagines #sam writes

191 notes · View notes

ticklishthoughts1 · 10 months

Text

Hyperfocus:Ribs

NGL, this was long overdue but I have been busy as of late ^w^

I'm just sitting down, reading, a relatively often occurence. I look up as they come in, and a smile lights up my face. I wave them over, setting the book down and hugging them, then moving over on the bed so they can lay next to me, they themselves getting a novel. Life can be so chaotic, fun but wild at times. It makes these times with them, just quietly being together, enjoying each others presence, all the more precious. Of course, them being them, the silence wouldn't be forever. I feel a poke in my side, and look up, only to see them reading. Hmm. I slowly look down, and 3 minutes later, another poke. I whip my head up, and see them looking at the book, a barely contained silly smile on their face. Aha. I roll my eyes playfully, then pretend to look back down. As soon as they slowly reach out to poke my sides again, I grab their wrist, turning, straddling their wasit, and using my forearm to hold both arms above their head, on the pillows. I smirk as they struggle to pull free, but don't, and touch foreheads with them softly, whispering "New Story. This one is about the Little Lee who liked to poke the bear...The Lee with Ticklish Ribs~". My insinuation is noticed, I can tell by the small look of lee panic in their eyes. I smirk, and simply rest one hand on the left side of their ribcage, before drawling out "Now...let's see how many toys we have to play with, hmm?~". I roll their shirt up, before resting two fingers on an individual rib, "counting" it, by vibrating both fingers on the rib and moving on to the next rib as they squirm around under me. "1......2......3...4.....5....6....Dang it! You're so Squirmy! I lost count of which one I was on...guess we gotta start allllll Over!~ Try to be still this time, Darling. 1.....2....3.....4...5...6...7...8..........Ah heck, I got lost in your eyes about that. Dang. What number was I on? An 'EEHEHEHEHEIHIGHT' ? What is that? Guess we'll just restart again~". I "lose count" 3 more times, and get it right on the 6th try, then I stop, locking eyes with you, and growl out happily, my voice deepening. "I'm gonna do it again. Not because I lost count. Because I can tell you're loving this, and that's just so cute I wanna keep going forever, Sweetheart~". The Flustered Expression on their face tells me I hit the money on my Analysis of their feelings about this whole event. Good. I count the ribs one more time, Painstakingly Slowly, and then finally, I stop counting, and get up.

Oh but I'm not done.

Not by a long shot.

Instead, I tell you to wait, leaving the room for just a second before coming back with a couple of paintbrushes, and paint that's safe for their skin. I giggle evilly, then climb back on the bed, drawling out "Here's the deal, cutie. You have to keep your hands above your head, whether gripping each other, or on the bedframe, while I paint. If you can't, I'll pin you again~". I tilt my head, smiling as they lock their arms over their head, then go over, and straddle them once more, beginning to paint. I'm thorough, using a smaller brush to get in between each rib. My concentration is pure, but not enough to not notice how hard they're trying to keep still for me, which I note on: "Awwwww, you're doing such a good job Baby!~ Being nice and still for me...guess you still like this, huh?~". I wink at them, both of us knowing full well that you loving it was the entire reason I do this. After about 3-5 minutes I finish painting, then raise a washrag, giggling as I begin to scrub the paint off, wiggling my fingers through the rag, and watching them stop holding their arms above their head, cooing "Calm down baby we've gotta get you clean!~". When done, I grin at them then say slowly, softly "There we go...clean enough to eat~". I chuckle when I see their eyes widen, and before they can stop me, I start nomming their ribs gently. I do this for 2 minutes, then, scrub them off AGAIN, and finally, pull you into a hug, stroking their back gently. After a while, we get back to reading, and it's like nothing happened.

Except for the blush on their face.

And the warm smile on mine.

#tickle thoughts #sfw tickle community #ler mood

176 notes · View notes

gaily-daily-musings · 3 months

Text

Idk if anyone has seen The Painted Veil. But picture this: it's the 1920s and Obi-Wan is an alpha doctor who studies diseases. While in London he comes across socialite omega Anakin at a party. He is instantly smitten. Love at first sight. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for Anakin.

Obi-Wan calls upon him at his house. He surprises Anakin with a proposal.

“I know we don't really know each other, but I confess I'm quite taken with you. If you would do me the honor of your hand I promise to care and love you the rest of your days.”

Anakin is torn. He doesn't know this person but he is getting older and he's worried. He doesn't want to end up an old spinster. More than that he doesn't want to be a burden on his mother. He agrees on the spot. Obi-Wan is shocked but delighted.

They marry. Fast forward a few months later. They're at a horse track. Anakin has been so bored lately, cooped up in the house with nothing to do. At least as a single omega he got to go out with his mother and friends. But now he's married so he's expected to attend events with his husband. But Obi-Wan is always buried in his work.

Anakin wanders off to get another drink. He meets the handsome Rush Clovis. He was young and virile, not like Obi-Wan who was much more reserved.

“What's your favorite part about a horse?” Anakin asks, a bit too flirtatious perhaps but it's not like anyone was watching.

“Hmm, most people would probably say the coat. But I appreciate the flank.” Rush eyes Anakin up and down with a sly grin.

They exchange a few more quips about horses and racing and the power behind such an amazing beast. Rush comments that he actually owned one of the horses. One thing leads to another and Rush takes Anakin down to the stables to see the horses. They fuck in one of the empty stables.

For a moment Anakin finally feels appreciated. Wanted. Obi-Wan never made passes at him. He didn't hungrily look at him the way Rush did. Obi-Wan was very respectable. Too respectable. He'd hadn't even bitten him. He'd told Anakin on their wedding night that he would not bite him until, or if, he was ready.

Anakin groans loudly. Obi-Wan would never debase himself like this. He wasn't fun. He didn't even touch him. Obi-Wan may be nice but he isn't very passionate. He went out of his way to give Anakin privacy. He'd accidentally walked in on Anakin changing once. He'd simply averted his eyes and walked back out. He didn't even get a boner.

For a minute it's just Anakin and Rush and the slap of flesh. Then there is a small gasp behind them.

Anakin snaps up to see Obi-Wan standing there in wide eyed shock. Rush pulls out and they scramble to get their clothes on. Once dressed, Obi-Wan grabs his arm and yanks him away.

“We're leaving," Obi-Wan announces. His voice is cold. So very cold. Anakin has never heard it like that before.

The next few hours are excruciating. Once home Obi-Wan lectures him in a stiff and furious tone.

“I was well aware that you didn't marry me for love! But had at least hoped you could learn to! I see now I was wrong. You are a selfish, vain thing!”

Anakin hangs his head. Ashamed. He didn't mean to hurt the man. He just wanted some fun. He was bored in this house all day. Feeling stuck and stagnant. He needed more than this.

“Please don't throw me out.”

He can't go back to his mother like this. He's nowhere else to go. And he knows what happens to omegas on the streets.

In the end, Obi-Wan doesn't throw him out. Instead he gives him an ultimatum. Either divorce on the grounds of adultery (a public humiliation where he will be ostracized) or come with him to a remote village in New Zealand where he has volunteered to treat victims of a cholera outbreak. Anakin chooses the later.

The journey is long and arduous. Anakin hates it. He hates everything about it. It's hot and sweaty and there's bugs everywhere. Obi-Wan is not helpful. He doesn't offer to carry his bags or fan his face or even play a simple guessing game to pass the time.

They finally arrive. It's a tiny village. Anakin meets all sorts of new people. Rex and Cody and Wolffe etc. He grows close to a girl, Ahsoka. The longer they stay the more Anakin finds he likes these people. He starts to learn their songs and way of life. He watches Obi-Wan help them. How gentle and kind he was.

Anakin realizes that stability is better than passion. That Obi-Wan is dependable and trustworthy. He'd thrown his one chance at love away for a meaningless fling. He's ruined everything.

Anakin asks Rex if there's any jobs he can do. He's a bit bored as there's nothing much for him to occupy his time. Rex points him to the nursery where they take care of their little ones. Anakin starts spending time there. He bonds with the children and babies. Unbeknownst to him Obi-Wan observes him.

One night, several weeks after arriving, Anakin is changing in his room. A creaky floorboard alerts him to an intruder. Anakin startles and looks up. His doorway is cracked open. Obi-Wan is watching. Anakin's heart flies to his throat. Obi-Wan stands there. He does not look away. Anakin slowly turns to fully face him. He lets his robe fall completely away, revealing tan skin.

Obi-Wan's look is burning. How had Anakin ever thought this man had no passion? He is made of it.

Obi-Wan pushes into the room and grabs him. Anakin goes limp. They back up and fall onto the bed. Anakin spreads his legs, letting Obi-Wan do what he wanted. They kiss hungrily. Anakin bucks up against him, rolling his hips. He's already wet from a single touch. From just one kiss.

Obi-Wan slides in without any resistance. They both moan.

Anamin bares his neck. “Make me yours.” He whines desperately. “Please.”

Obi-Wan sinks his teeth in. Anakin closes his eyes and holds on for dear life.

#the painted veil #obikin #up to you if it ends like the movie #but personally I like to think they both return to London #Anakin comes across Rush while out shopping #Rush tries to proposition him #Anakin tells him to fuck off #he cannot believe he ever thought this slimy bastard was attractive

50 notes · View notes

kit-williams · 5 months

Text

Hail to the King

For @konigsblog as a thank you for the follow and I guess to what expect of my writings.

tw: this is lewd, delusional König, warhammer 40k shenanigans, König is a Black Templar (see The 40k au for why)((I might try to write another with him as a Blood Angel)) I am shit at trigger warnings

It wasn't his fault that they hadn't kept a better leash on their Schätze. In his defense the chapter serf should have known better and the mortal... well she shouldn't have looked so helpless and cute. Normally he would be thrilled and an honor to join a kill team to slay xenos but this was suppose to be a punishment on learning to not touch what wasn't his.

He walked down the hall of the alien craft chopping down any xeno unfortunate to walk into his path. Most of the Inquisition agents he was around were men... it seems the Inquisitor had been warned about his pecularities.

"You're not suppose to be here." His head snapped over to the voice of a little Maus. He could feel his mouth salivate as the space suit hugged her form in a pleasing way. Oh sure to many baselines she was hardly different from the form of a man but he could see... as well as the custom suit with the symbol of the Inquisition on her front. But the way she was leaning over a console with the curve of her ass just on display.

"Auch, Where am I suppose to be then Maus?" He said annoyed trying to not play his hand but lucky for him his suit hid his eyes from the way they lustfully ran over her body. Though he looked at the bodies of the Xenos littering the room. "You being a little Maus and just coming in after all the fighting is done?"

He could see the pout on the other side of her visor, "Rude. No I cleared the room myself. Oh was a shame that it had to come to blows but then again..." He stopped listening as soon as her hips started to sway with what she was saying. He wanted to dig his fingers into her flesh as his hips moved against hers only hearing her pretty little moans. "Hey big guy!" She finally shouted over the vox.

König resumed paying attention to his Maus. "Ja?"

"Thanks for paying attention...," The sarcasm was obvious in her voice, "anyway. Like I said earlier you're not suppose to be near me and you're suppose to be on the other side of the ship dealing with Xenos."

"The fighting led me this way and given the amount of dead at your feet Maus. You're not exactly alone. It would be a shame if your Inquisitor lost your expertise." He purred out the last few words just buttering her up a little.

"Well... you're not wrong..." He could easily tell she was preening under his complements, "But the Inquisitor said you weren't allowed near female agents or crew members. So be off with you... shoo." She tried her best to wave him off as she turned back to the console.

Konig held a growl in his throat he'd has to teach his Maus manners later. But he was on duty and purging Xenos in the name of the Emperor came first and pleasure later. He started back down the hall before he heard mechanics and her soft little 'Oh hi.' He rushed back as soon as the rapid burst fire rang out and abhorrent xenos cries as he rushed back into the room.

She was in the middle of wrestling one as it was trying to grab her rifle out of her hands. He snarled out as he was upon them in a moment as thick xeno blood painted the walls and her suit as his chainsword ripped through the xeno flesh. Her head turned at the sound of a chime and she grabbed the assumingly heretical technology... then again he wasn't the biggest fan of the Mechanicus and knew Inquisitors tended to flirt with the Dark Mechanicus or heretecks to get better tech.

"Well I'm done here. Thanks again big guy!" She chirped and patted his chest before he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest.

"Nein! You'll just find trouble klein Maus. Und how will you get out of trouble all by yourself hmm?" He cocked his head to the side and watched her fold her arms over her chest. He was giddy as she was just the right amount of willful yet submissive. He knew what was for her own good... he had experience and age. She sighed as she settled into his arm holding her without much of a fight.

König knew he could get his hands on a pretty little Maus during his time here.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k au #könig #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig cod #konig #konig x reader #konig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #black templar #delusional Konig #delusional König

50 notes · View notes

do-it-for-the-fandom · 6 months

Note

14. Gentle prompt. “Your hands are freezing.”

This prompt painted a very specific picture in my mind that I just don't think I've quite portrayed here... but I just can't quite figure out what about this drabble just isn't 'right'.

Season 5.

She let herself in with her key. He had gifted it to her not long after they started dating but, given that they were always together, she'd never had reason to use it.

But she had been determined to finish up her paperwork before heading home for the night and - seeing as he could barely keep his eyes open while sitting in his chair by her desk - she had insisted he go home and try to get some sleep. It had been a long few days, and she promised that she wouldn't be too far behind him.

Two hours later she was tiptoeing through the darkness of his home, eager to be able to curl up beside him and drift off to sleep in the warmth of his arms.

She pulled his dresser drawer open slowly - careful not to make too much noise - and pulled a sweater from the very back of the drawer. She couldn't see which one she'd pulled out but she knew he wouldn't mind; even if he hadn't made such an effort in the past to tell her how much he loved the sight of her in his clothes, she could always tell by the way he couldn't help but stare, the way his eyes darkened as he got lost in whatever thoughts occupied his mind.

She dropped her clothes in a pile beside the dresser to deal with in the morning and slipped the sweater over her head.

"Don't cover up," Castle mumbled, still half asleep. "Was enjoying the show."

"It's almost pitch-black in here," Beckett whispered as she slowly made her way toward the bed. "How can you enjoy what you can barely even see?"

Castle pulled the sheets back for her and she crawled into bed with him.

"I think you underestimate the allure of a sexy silhouette undressing," he explained.

In the darkness he found her face, pressed his palm to her cheek and guided her toward him for a short but sweet kiss. He gasped - no, shrieked! - when she slipped her hands under his shirt.

"Your hands are freezing!" he complained as he grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands from his sides.

She tried not to laugh but when he squirmed away from her touch, she couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry," she insisted in between infectious little giggles.

"Yeah, sounds like it," he grumbled as he released one of her wrists and reached to tickle her side.

"Castle!" she squawked as her body jerked away from him and her giggles turned to bursts of deep, hearty laughter as she flailed about under the attack of his fingers at her ribs.

She pushed off of the mattress, onto her knees and crawled to the end of the bed but he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

"No, I'll stop," he promised through his breathless laughter. He leant back against the pillows, bringing her with him, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm done, I promise."

She turned in his arms, cuddled into his chest. "Happy now that you got your revenge?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed. He fixed up the bedding, tucked the sheets around them both and pulled the duvet up to cover her shoulders before settling in closing his eyes. "Very happy."

Slowly, she inched her hands closer to the hem of his shirt but - although he couldn't quite stop his abs from twitching when she slipped them under the material - he didn't say or do anything to try to stop her. He appreciated his new role of human heater, cherished the fact that his was the bed she chose to crawl into on the cold winter nights.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered as he began to drift off to sleep again.

"Goodnight," she whispered back. "Love you."

#castle #caskett #kate beckett #kate beckett x richard castle #richard castle #castle fanfiction #my drabbles #anon prompt #gentle prompts

52 notes · View notes

samgirl98 · 8 months

Text

Mending a Family 26/?

Prev | Next

The first back-to-school meeting happened a month after school started. Jason decided to attend. He wanted to be on top of Danny’s education and ensure everything went smoothly. Parents were encouraged to bring in snacks for the kids.

Jason made chocolate chip cookies. He even made gluten and nut-free ones in case any of the kiddos were allergic.

He entered the school with the cookies and sat them on a table, making sure the labels were correct. Danny ran off to find his friends. Jason smiled. He was glad his son had people to talk to.

Jason turned around and came face-to-face with a blond woman. She was in her mid-thirties and wore a prim suit. She wore a pearl necklace. Three more women dressed similarly were behind her. She looked Jason up and down. He had worn his best pair of jeans, a clean T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Hello, my name is Avril Dubois. I’m the president of the PTA. I’ve never seen you here before, are you lost?”

Jason gritted his teeth at her question while she and her cronies laughed.

“No, my name is Jason Nightingale. I’m Danny Nightingale’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said while putting out his hand. Avril ignored the hand and gave a look of distaste at it. So what if he still had grease under his nails? Her ignoring the handshake was rude.

“Right, I’ve heard about Danny from my little girl. Where’s his mother,” she asked while looking around. Wow, nosy much?

“She died while giving birth to him. It’s just me, Danny, my sister, and my niece.”

“That poor boy doesn’t know the touch of a mother’s love. It must be hard for you, especially since you’re so…young,” she sneered at the word young.

Judgmental to boot, she was the whole package.

“Don’t worry, I give my son enough love for two people.”

“Still, being a single must be tough. Well, I’ll talk to you later. Or maybe not. Ta-ta.”

Jason was glad to see the women leave.

He looked for Danny and saw him talking to a group of kids. Jason smiled once more, feeling how happy Danny was, which made Jason feel so much better about his decision to send him to school.

“Say goodbye for now, Danny. The assembly is about to start, then we can go to your classroom, and you can show me around.”

“Okay, daddy. Bye guys, see you later.”

Jason sat through the meeting assembly. It was a bit boring, but he was glad to see how the school operated. Danny was busy playing with a 6x6 Rubik’s cube. After the assembly, Jason went to Danny’s classroom, where he officially met the teacher.

Mrs. Duma was a friendly, middle-aged teacher who had been teaching for seventeen years. She spoke about how well-behaved and smart Danny was. His best subject was math, and Mrs. Duma had to print 12th-grade-level worksheets to keep him entertained. Well, that made sense.

Jason couldn’t help but preen at the compliments Danny got.

Then Avril Dubois came up.

“Mrs. Duma, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Mrs. Dubois, what a pleasure to have you as a parent to one of my students again,” Mrs. Duma said through clenched teeth. Aw, it wasn’t just Jason who didn’t like the woman.”

“Excuse me,” Jason left the two women and looked for his little boy. He was showing a little blonde girl with glasses his Rubik's cube.

“Daddy, this is my friend, Sarah.”

“Hello, Sarah, I’m Danny’s dad, Jason.”

“Hi,” the little girl said shyly.

“Wanna see our drawings, daddy?”

Danny showed Jason his paintings. They were good. Then he showed them the models he had built. He knew his little boy was talented with his hands, but some of the things he had built looked very advanced. Hmm, maybe Jason should invest in buying Danny more things to build.

Seeing the models, he knew Danny would love working on the car with him.

“Mommy, look what I drew,” Jason looked up to see Sarah talking to Avril. The little girl was being ignored by her mom as she talked to a group of moms. Now that Jason paid attention, the little girl looked like a miniature version of Avril. The poor girl was shooed away from her mom without getting any acknowledgment.

His heart went out to her.

Danny went to Sarah, “Is everything okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” the little girl answered, “mommy is just busy.”

“Can I see,” Jason asked. The little girl brightened at having an adult’s attention. It was a good painting.

“Wow, kiddo, that looks great!”

The little girl smiled, showing her missing teeth.

“Sarah, what have I told you about speaking to strangers?”

Avril took her little girl’s hand, ignoring the squeak of surprise she gave.

“Listen, I don’t know what your game is or how you were able to put your child in this school, but I would appreciate it if you don’t speak to my child.”

“Lady, Danny is Sarah’s friend. He was introducing me to her. Maybe if you paid more attention to your child, she wouldn’t be talking to strangers.”

The woman honest to God clutched her pearls, “How dare you? Come, Sarah.”

“Bye, Danny,” the little girl said while being dragged along.

“Is everything okay, daddy?”

“Yeah, ignore her. She’s a b—not a nice person.”

Thankfully, the rest of the parents weren’t like Avril and her little clique. They all seemed to welcome Jason.

At the end of the meeting, Jason went to sign up for the PTA.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” the woman scoffed, “We meet every two weeks. I’m sure you’re busy doing other things. We also engage with the school and teachers. Fundraisers, school activities, things like that.”

Jason smiled at the woman as he signed his name, “When’s the first meeting?”

Jason had a new nemesis. Her name? Avril Dubois.

Someone suggested that Jason has a PTA-style rivalry, but I cannot for the life of me find the comment to give the credit. So, to whoever suggested this, thank you! Anyway, now that we have Avril, does anyone want to see anything between the rivalry between the two?

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

#Mending a Family #dc x dp #dp x dc

89 notes · View notes

lolasimms · 1 year

Text

a lots gonna change pt.19 [alternate ending]

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues and things change.

next chapter

3 years later

"Ellie?" you whispered.

"Hmm?" She groaned groggily.

"It's Christmas." You began to rub her chest, and she turned onto her other side to face you.

"Already?" She was smiling at you.

You nodded and moved the matted strands of hair from her forehead.

"When will Joel get here?" She checked her watch.

“He’ll be here at around 12. We have some time for just us," you scooted in closer, pressing your body against hers.

"I'm grateful for that," her arm wrapped around the smallest part of your waist. "I wish we had the whole day together."

“I know, but let’s use what time we have right now”

"Hey Joel, Merry Christmas!" You smile, opening your arms and enveloping him in a hug. He ruffled your hair and then smiles back at you.

"Merry Christmas Y/N" He hands you three medium sized boxes, each with a sticker that displayed your names. You take them in your hands, and place them under the tree before Lila woke up.

"Ellie, Joel's here." You call out to her and she immediately comes bounding from the kitchen into the living area. You leave the two of them to mingle and go upstairs to wake up Lila. She hated being woken up, but you knew today would be the first time of the year she'd happily be awoken.

"Lila honey, time to wake up. It's Christmas!" You sit on her bed slowly, gently whispering as you stroke her face lightly.

"Hmmm? Sleepy." She moves her face from your hand and snuggles further into her pillow.

"Lila, you've gotta wake up so we can open your presents. Santa came last night!"

"Santa isn't even real." That woke her up, you thought. You watch as she pushes off her covers and moves into your lap. You kiss her cheeks, as she nuzzles into you. Forever a mommy's girl.

"How about we brush our teeth and go open the presents huh?" You move her hair out of her face, looking at your tired child and she hesitantly nods.

"Take me to the bathroom please" You sigh and oblige, standing with her in your arms and helping the sleepy child get her teeth clean.

The living room looked dreadful; festive wrapping paper was strewn about the carpet, ribbon all over the floor and instruction sheet paper from Lila's new bike thrown everywhere.

"Alright, Joel and Lila you're on cleanup duty, while Y/N and I get lunch ready." Ellie said placing the box of expensive watercolour paint and brushes Joel had gifted her onto the coffee table.

"Why do I gotta be on cleanup duty?" Joel asks, hands on his hips.

"Because you're not the best cook and we all know that." Ellie smiles, patting his shoulder and then walking away.

"Lila, help grandpa clean up and then we can eat." You smile at the two of them who were clearly not excited to do the cleaning and then exit to the kitchen.

"I think I'll pop the ham back in the oven for a few minutes, just to get it hot." You call over your shoulder to Ellie, as she whips the potatoes in a large glass bowl.

"Sounds good honey, hey can you pass me the salt?" You grab the salt from besides you on the kitchen counter and walk over to her side of the island.

"Here you go baby." You hand it to her, she takes it from you and then plants a sweet kiss on your mouth. The action causes you to smile and then you move towards her, she places the whiskers inside the bowl and then envelops you in her arms.

This mornings session clearly not being enough for the two of you, as you were now having a full on make out session in the middle of your kitchen.

"I want you so bad right now." She whispers, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth. You feel a wave of pleasure shoot throughout your body. Your core aching for her touch again.

"Me too Els, I'm so wet." She moans at your words, bringing her knee to your core and pushing it into you, just how you liked it. You grind against it, getting off on how hot she looked right now. Something about her being so domestic always sent you into overdrive. Just as you felt that familiar bloom in your stomach you were interrupted.

"Oh fuck, shit. Sorry" Joel immediately backs out of the kitchen, making his way back to the living room. Cursing himself for walking into that, he felt the need to wash his eyes from what he had witnessed.

“Ellie oh my god, I don’t think I can face him.” You cringe at the thought of him literally having seen you two in action.

“It’s fine baby, our clothes were on.” She assures you, going back to the potatoes and nodding to the ovens alarm that was now ringing.

“If he brings it up I don’t think I’ll ever recover I swear to god Ellie.”

After lunch, a few board games, a movie and dessert. Joel had taken his gifts, some leftovers and bid the family goodnight. Lila was also tucked in and sleeping, leaving you and Ellie in the dimly lit living area all alone. The room was dark barely any light, save for the low burning candles that Ellie had lit up.

She leaned over and grabbed the bottle of red wine that you her and Joel had been sipping all day and poured the last of it into your win glasses.

“I have one more gift.” She said placing her glass on the table beside the armchair.

“Ellie, we agreed not too many gifts. You’re making me feel bad now.” You complained, she knew you didn’t like being one-upped.

“Trust me baby, this is worth it.” You roll your eyes and grunt a small “fine.” Your confused when she gets on the floor, hand reaching into her pocket and eyes already watering. It doesn’t hit you until she’s opened a small velvet box that housed a glistening diamond ring.

“Ellie?” Your mouth refuses to shut itself and you feel dizzy from excitement.

“Y/N, I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I decided to be unfaithful to you. You’re my everything, mother of my child and future children, love of my life and best-friend. You gave me another chance and I want you to know that I will spend the rest of my life making yours beautiful because of that. So will you be me wife again?”

“Yes, oh my god. Yes a thousand times.” She places the ring onto your finger. The two of you sharing what felt like the most intimate kiss you’d ever experienced. You cried in her arms, happy that everything had turned out okay. Sure it was a long time in the making but finally your family was back together.

taglist:

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup @bratydoll @wakasaaa @catostrophiclesbian @dinas-a-bird @lazyunknownwerewolf @h3sitant-alien @ceo-of-ellie-simps @mechetegirl109 @kashoot-me269 @lonelyfooryouonly @ellieswifee @doodlebob-mp3 @ellieismami @sl-ut @starhrtz

#ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #reader x ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #abby anderson x reader

263 notes · View notes