#In other words : Yeah he can be a bit cocky but he's hot though

[walkingthroughfire-a]

"Hmm." Miranda muses, lips pursed for a moment. " He offers me stimulating and intellectual conversation, plus intellectual competition. I'd get bored otherwise. Besides, he and I can match wits which makes him so much easier to tolerate and even adore. You just don't know him like I do."

" -- besides, have you seen him with his shirt off? That right there is more than reason enough to subject myself to his narcissism. "

Talk shit about someone my Muse knows. : Why would anyone choose to be with a pompous, arrogant egomaniac like Tony Stark? Only someone lacking any sense of self-respect would subject themselves to the constant barrage of condescension and narcissism that comes with being in his presence.

#━━ ✦ th. Something for Nothing : Miranda Atwell #etfuturist #In other words : Yeah he can be a bit cocky but he's hot though #XD

[lovelyghst]

ex-boyfriend simon riley making you admit you still love him if you wanna cum <3

he can be such a jerk sometimes! calling you up one evening, claiming he was just wanting to check in on you and how you know how overbearing protective he can be sometimes, acting surprised when you snapped at him barely after his greeting.

“what has you so frustrated, hm, dove?… christ, can practically feel you seethin’ through the screen.”

you bit your tongue and gave him the truth over the phone; how he shouldn’t be calling you without warning like this considering you’ve broken up, and it’s inappropriate to be labeling you those sweet pet names you unfortunately and unknowingly still adore deep down.

how you don’t appreciate his abrasive bluntness, then again, he should know very well that you never have liked that part about him.

you told him the truth, though you couldn’t be entirely honest with him, in the sense of how fucking needy you’ve become with his absence. for touch and care, proximity and security, and all that.

but you are over him, undoubtedly, and you let him know that.

“yeah, baby, whatever you say…

…bet you rub that little cunt raw every night thinkin’ve me.”

and that shut you up quick.

he hummed in understanding, like your silence was readable.

“poor girl prob’ly hasn’t had any proper attention since i’ve been gone… shame such a pretty thing has to be so neglected, eh?”

butterflies invaded your tummy at the compliment, and you cursed yourself for your hasty, blind acceptance of it. but you can't blame yourself; what girl wouldn’t at least begin to crumble at that voice?

“i’m right, yeah?” he taunted, and it almost made you sick when you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together at his meanness.

“c’mon, sweetheart… you know you can be honest wi’ me.”

and god, was his cocky tone so infuriating; you wanted to reach through the phone and slap his smug face straight for overstepping your relationship’s boundaries so blatantly, and with such a deeply rooted nonchalance in his voice that always had you heated and wet.

“say the word, ‘nd i’ll come over and fuck you right now.”

…which is why you had eventually asked him oh, so nicely:

“please..?”

you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, followed by the faint noises of boots hitting hardwood floor and then the clicking of a door’s lock, the obnoxious ringing of keys clanging together.

“just give me ten minutes, doll.”

and now, as he bullies and buries his cock deep in your warm cunt, reaching all those sweet spots you or another man could never even come close to, you can’t really think much of his misbehavior.

truthfully, you can’t think much of anything at all, at the moment.

he had teased you prior to finally managing his way inside you, for god knows how long. his mouth, his fingers, his cockhead; all had brought you to the edge rather quickly, over and over after each other, but he was yet to give you that final push.

he puts his full body’s weight on you, strong pecs pressed up against your heaving, sensitive tits, and his stubble tickling your neck unceasingly. you can’t stop squirming and writhing beneath him, and his hot groans right up against your skin aren’t helping, either.

it’s always been a feat taking his cock, being crammed in your precious cunt almost every night when you two were together, but now it’s been weeks, and you nearly forgot just how big he was.

you missed it, admittedly. all of it; the veins and ridges, the unforgiving stretch. the slight twinge of pain he always hushed with his fingertips pressing your swollen, little clit, or a calloused thumb shoved between your puffy lips to suck on and drool over to distract yourself.

you missed his stamina, his libido. most striking of all, his selflessness in the entire act. he’s a soldier, he serves you right. most times.

“fuckin’ christ, sweetheart… missed this tight, messy thing wrapped ‘round my cock… practically stranglin’ me ‘n with no remorse, eh?”

shit, and you missed his dirty talk most of all.

“gonna fill this pretty, little pussy… keep ‘er happy all night, make up for lost time with my girl.” he wraps his hand gently around your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you nod frantically, swallow as best you can, before sucking in a breath. “yeah— yes, please, si… i-i want it really bad… please.”

he kisses your lips with a smile, and then all over the side of your face, up to your forehead. he just can’t seem to stop kissing you.

“tell me, sweetheart. y’wanna cum, too?”

“i do, si—! i really, really do- fuck, please?” you beg and beg, and as much as it turns him on, digs at his heart to just give in, he sticks to his guns and merely adds:

“then say the words, pretty girl,” he coos, making you whimper in frustration. “that’s it, y’know what i wanna hear.”

you huff a whine in response, albeit your breath is strangled when he doesn’t halt his movements for even a second.

you really, really don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

he’s nearly panting himself, big chest and even bigger shoulders rolling upwards with every thrust. “y’ain’t cummin’ til i hear you say it, baby. c’mon, now. jus' admit it, that you still love me.”

he buries his cock to the very hilt, taking your slackened jaw tighter in his hand as he watches your eyes grow even hazier from his pelvis rubbing up against your vulnerable, needy clit. the stern look he gives you tells you he's serious about his last statement, but you'll later swear you sensed a bit of sadness, even despair in his expression.

“i love—” you choke on your own breath, desperate to sputter out the words. “i love you, si…”

and he practically has hearts in his eyes. “you mean it?”

“yes—! yes i do, i promise i still love you, please,” you spill, sounding closer to a temper tantrum than anything. “just lemme cum, please, si… really need it, please, i-i’ve been good...”

he hums lowly, contented, satisfied for once. as if those three words themselves — i love you — are the ones actually stroking his fucking cock. his ego maybe, you’d think, but jesus.

if you knew just how badly off he was beforehand, you never would’ve let him get this cocky and in control.

“love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses your puffed out lips, wipes a tear you hadn’t even noticed was trickling down your cheekbone. “always been my good, patient girl, haven’t ya?”

you nod once more, pinched brows and bleary eyes doubling in severity at his soft tone. simon praising you and being so, so uncharacteristically sweet has always made you fawn after more, even now. especially now.

“tha’s right, baby, you’re my good girl… now do me a favor and cum on my cock for me, yeah? lemme feel every last bit of ya.”

he ultimately resumes moving inside you, and it makes you wonder when he ever even stopped. your brain shuts off when he snakes a hand between your bodies, smoothing over your tummy before his middle and ring fingers quickly find your tortured, little bud. pressing hard, making you writhe with oversensitivity.

he works you over the edge diligently, and embarrassingly fast on your part, taking into account just how long he had edged you for. the sight and sweet noises you make are a dream; a reality he awfully missed, and something no other girl could compete with.

"that's it... easy, sweetheart," he coos softly.

he gives you a moment to come down from your high, softly palming your throbbing cunt to assist in grounding you, but you're barely able to finish catching your breath before he's doing it all over again! resuming flicking at your clit, rubbing you harshly and overstimming you enough to make you fruitlessly jolt and cry out beneath him.

he frowns down at you, damn-near condescending. "again, for me?"

you twitch and moan relentlessly as he gradually coaxes another orgasm from your tuckered body, his cockhead hitting that part deep enough inside you to make you see stars, his hard abdomen pressed against your tummy making the pressure of it all skyrocket tenfold.

the sensation of you finishing around his length once more has him barreling into his own orgasm, and soon fucking his pent up cum deep into your cunt with a few hard thrusts and a grumbled, broken groan right at your temple.

endless praises spill from his lips as everything becomes a blur for you; from the moment he's pulling out of your used cunt—crawling down and giving it and your pretty tits a couple sloppy kisses before briskly redressing himself—to being coddled in bed and squished between his muscular arms and torso.

he holds you so close to him that it makes you wonder why, or even how you could ever turn your back to it. he truly makes you feel like a spoiled doll in this sort of space. a doll with shaky legs, ruined makeup, and half a conscious.

"remind me why we broke up again?" he chimes.

you groan aloud, burying your face somehow further in his chest. "shut up, simon."

he laughs softly, pestering you with even more quick kisses, one after another to the crown of your skull. large hands rubbing up and down your back, moving to knead at your ass and thighs for a short moment. he just loves touching you so much.

“c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get you cleaned up,” he mutters with an exhale. "how's a hot bath sound?"

you have no time to interject, other than a displeased pout and shake of your head, before you’re being hoisted up on your wobbly legs, then swept up and carried to your restroom when you couldn’t even make it three steps before your knees began to buckle on you.

you’re dizzy, utterly dazed and half asleep as he bathes you. making sure you don’t lift a finger as he works, treating you as nothing less than a princess. your loosened muscles somehow melt even more with his precise touch and strength, and you remember just how much you love being turned utterly numb and dependent on him.

you’re pretty sure you fell asleep the moment you were wrapped in a warm towel, pulled into the strong embrace of his meaty arms, but something he said moments beforehand had stuck with you.

“hey,” he whispered, soapy hand turning you to face him. he leaned in and kissed the area between your brows. “i’ll be better this time.”

“you promise?” you mumbled. your head fell atop your knees, arms wrapped around your legs and keeping them close to your body.

your extended pinky finger made him chuckle a bit, and he quickly looped his own around yours. solidifying his words. “promise.”

#he will in fact not be better! #because he is a man. #but i luv him anyway :3 #cod mw #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

[theemporium]

would you be willing to write for hockey player!james and he’s superrr cocky and always loves to make reader blush and flustered cause readers usually super confident, calm and collected?

HOCKEY JAMES IS JUST SO🫠 thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

When you had seen the position of a social media manager for the university’s hockey team, you didn’t think anything of it other than it would be good money and easy hours to work around your classes. 

However, what you failed to account for was the players on said team. 

You knew the stigma around hockey players, and some of them fit the stereotype perfectly. But a large majority of them were decent guys who were usually quite happy to work with you and make your job a little bit easier each day you were at the rink. 

You bantered with them, you laughed with them. Hell, you might’ve even gone as far to say some of them felt more like friends than acquaintances.

But there was one player in particular that seemed to completely throw you off. 

And that was none other than the captain himself, James Potter. 

“There’s my favourite girl.” 

Your cheeks flushed, your hands gripping the camera in your hand. You contemplated ignoring him, pretending that you hadn’t heard him as you continued to mess around with the settings on your camera. But then you felt a warmth against your back and the smell of his cologne overwhelmed your senses—and you realised it was a pretty stupid thought for even thinking you could ignore him.

“Hi, James,” you murmured half-heartedly as you turned your head to look at him.

His grin widened. “Hi, princess.” 

James Potter was huge. He was huge in the physical sense with his broad shoulders and thick arms and meaty thighs. He was huge in the popular sense with half the campus wrapped around his finger like he is some modern day Greek God worshipped and adored. He was huge in the egotistical sense that had him acting as though he was the best thing that ever walked the Earth. 

And he was a huge pain in your ass that knew how to get under your skin.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked as he leaned over, his chin perched on your shoulder as he watched you flick through the pictures you took from yesterday’s practice. 

“My job,” you stated simply.

“Don’t give me that,” he murmured as he lightly nudged you. “I saw you laughing with Pads earlier. How come I don’t get the same treatment?”

“Because Sirius doesn’t bother me while I’m trying to work,” you replied.

Any other man would have taken the hint and walked away. However, James Potter was far from being any other man.

“You love it when I come over here, don’t lie,” James grinned as he threw an arm over your shoulder. Before you could even realise what he was doing, he was pulling you back against him as his fingers lightly nudged your head to turn and look at him. “C’mon, pretty girl, give me one of those smiles that make my heart all funny.”

You tried to ignore the way your body hummed at his words. “You should go get ready for practice.”

“And leave you here all alone?” James scoffed, a few curls falling in front of his eyes. You resisted the urge to push them away. “That would be a tragedy, princess, someone else could come and swoop you off your feet.” 

You rolled your eyes and hoped your face didn’t look as warm as the rest of you felt. 

“You’re so cute when you get all shy on me,” James murmured as his fingers lightly traced over your cheekbone. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you’re feisty. But this is cute, princess. Makes me wanna see how else I can make you blush.”

“James,” you hissed. 

The boy only grinned widely as he stepped back. “Take some hot pictures of me out there, yeah?”

Your lips parted. “I–”

“My ass looks great today, princess! Remember to get my good side!” James added with a wink before he scattered off to the changing rooms, leaving you flustered and blushing and fighting the urge to follow him.

.

#james potter #marauders #harry potter #hp #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fic #james potter one shot #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter one shot #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot

[mvybanks]

the one with the tiktok prank - w/ frat!rafe

a/n: was i thinking about this while getting a wax? 100% + i don’t know if you guys know about this trend and it’s kinda toxic but anyway…🫣

warnings: a little bit suggestive, jealous!rafe

nav

add yourself to my taglist <3

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3

Scrolling on TikTok has never been more boring than today. Every single video you stumble upon looks the same and it’s making you want to throw your phone across the room. There’s only so far of videos you can watch of bottles and jars being pushed down some stairs, it’s getting too old already. Your boyfriend is no help either as he’s gaming with his friends and talking to them through the big headphones on his head while you lie on his bed.

You huff in annoyance until something finally catches your eye. “Telling my boyfriend I got waxed by a guy” the white, bold letters on your screen read, which gets your undivided attention. When the guy, apparently the boyfriend of the girl who’s making the TikTok, turns around at the speed of light at the realization that some other man touched and saw his girlfriend naked, you giggle, knowing full well that your own man would go insane.

Suddenly, a wicked smile etched on your face as you got an idea to make your day more interesting. After all, Rafe is having his own fun, why shouldn’t you entertain yourself as well?

Propping his phone on his nightstand and pressing the recording button, you take your own phone and press it against your ear as you fake a phone call. It’s hard to keep your laughter in, but oh, you know this is going to rile him up and you can’t wait for it.

“Hey Emma,” you say into your phone, knowing that Rafe won’t suspect anything if he hears you talking to your best friend. “Yeah, this day’s been so boring. I got a brazilian wax for the first time though,” you add the last part nonchalantly. You swear you can see your boyfriend’s head slightly turn at your words, which makes you notice that one of his ears is uncovered and free from his headphones.

“Mh, it was okay. I went to the guy you recommended and he didn’t make me feel a thing, I swear.”

Rafe almost falls from the chair when he whips around to face you, an unreadable look on his features as you try your best to not completely burst into laughter at the sight of his expression.

“Guy?!” He asks, raising his voice and throwing his headphones behind him.

You place your hand on the microphone of your phone, as if anyone could even listen to your conversation, and shrug, “What? What’s your problem?”

“What’s a brazilian wax? Is that on your legs or armpits or something?”

You chuckle, “It’s…down there.”

He raises from the chair and walks closer to his bed, “And a guy did that?! How is that even allowed? Did he touch you?”

You can basically see smoke coming out of his ears, but does he look hot when he gets jealous. You pretend to end your phone call, then you crawl to the foot of the bed until you’re sitting on your knees and looking up at your very angry boyfriend. “I don’t get what you’re getting so mad about. It’s not like anything happened.”

Gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he bends his neck down to meet you. “What happened is that another guy touched my girl and maybe now I have to remind her who she belongs to,” he smirks, causing you to trap your bottom lip between your teeth in order to stop the smile that wants to take over your features.

“Yeah, I guess you have to,” you whisper against his lips.

You close your eyes, waiting for his mouth to find yours; you can feel his hot breath on your lips, when suddenly he mumbles, “If you wanted me to take your clothes off, you could’ve just asked instead of making this all up.”

When you reopen your eyes, his signature smirk is still lingering and you only want for him to drop the cocky attitude and give you what you want. “Shut up and kiss me, Cameron.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart.”

taglist:

@gemofthenight @vigilanteshitposting @m-indkiller @buckysdogtagss @yoonabeo @iruzias @babypoguelife @poppet05 @earth2starkey @illicitfixations @palmwinemami @marzipaanz @wildflwrdarlin @sweetestdesire @guililove @colbysbrocks @magnificantmermaid @chaostudee @rafesmoon @mistalli @fangirl-madz @canarysposts @screan @fishingirl12 @cilliansangel @mattyskies @rafecluver @jjsunrolledblunt @pedrosprincess @jjmaybankisbae @em-dee @rentaldarling @houseofperfecttaste @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @jjsbank444 @taintedxkisses @hallecarey1 @savage-aespa @dogmomalsop @gh0stb4e3 @maybankslover @aris-void @dreamingwithrafe @slvt4starkey @angelofcigs @lovelyxtom @kiamilax @colsongunkelly @congratsloserr @urmomswashingmachine @loveu-always @gumdropgirl @wpdailyminimeta @rentaldarling @bee6r @savagemickey03

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron blurb #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #frat!rafe

[bby-blu-swirll]

sit on my lap while you do my eyeliner - bakugo x reader

i can't find it now, (i will tho if it kills me) but this is inspired by this tumblr post i saw on my pinterest that was like " 'let me do your eyeliner' gf and 'okay sit on my lap while you do it' bf" lol

pls enjoy xx

bakugo loves your makeup. (he loves your natural face just as much, but he also thinks you look drop dead gorgeous no matter what.)

his favorite days are when you pull out the eyeliner pen. when you look at him and your eyes are rimmed with black, bringing out the hue of your irises, he just folds honestly. subtly, because his pride is too strong to let anybody see him so weak for you, but you've definitely picked up on it.

he loves anything you do with it. a wing, big or small, a messy grungey outline, drawing hearts or stars, anything. he loves watching you do it with such attention to detail and even more loves seeing the finished product and how it might have changed the shape of your eyes. whether it's soft and cute and gives you little doe eyes, or sharp and cutting like a knife, pulling your eyes into dangerous (& admittedly sexy) slits, he adores it.

he doesn't show it much, though. he's not as bad as compliments as you thought he'd be, really, but this is just a bit different.

he can call you pretty, gorgeous, hot, whatever- all he wants. there was no problem there. especially, in front of other people. it was almost like bragging to him.

like once, in the middle of a conversation with the bakusquad, he caught your arm as you were walking by just to press a kiss to your cheek and tell you that you looked beautiful. of course he meant every word of it, but there was a silent emphasis on the fact that he was the one you got to tell you that, and that it was very true. it was like his way of being able to say, "suck it, extras, that beauty is my girlfriend," without sounding like the cocky douchebag he usually did. (bc he knows you don't like it when he's such a cocky douchebag <3)

but complimenting such a specific part of you was a bit more difficult, and he wasn't quite sure how to articulate it. he knew he liked it, but he wasn't sure why. he just thought you looked sexy and sweet like that.

like you did today.

it was one of those lazy saturdays for the both of you, where you slept in a little and kind of just floated through the day, maybe go out maybe not, maybe make out on your bed, who knows.

it was close to half past ten when you were finally up and at your vanity, doing your makeup for the day. your boyfriend was spread out and taking up most of your bed while he studied for the test you had on monday. you thought he was a bit of a nerd for spending one of his only mornings off on school, but you admired his dedication.

neither of you liked silence much, so soft music filled the quiet in your dorm, along with the occasional page turn from bakugo, usually followed by a sigh.

you capped your eyeliner pen with a huff. you had been looking at your face so long, it was hard to tell if it was even. "hey babe?" you turned your swivel chair to face him.

"yeah?" he didn't bother looking up from his book.

you pressed the closed pen to your cheek and blinked a few times. "does this look okay?"

he glanced up for a moment, doing a double take when he saw you. there was no concealer on your dark circles and your eyeliner was smudged underneath your eyes and your lips looked a bit cracked, and he could feel his stomach swell with butterflies the second he looked at you.

"yeah, its.. its perfect." he looked away and cleared his throat, hearing you chuckle slightly.

once you turned around in your chair, his eyes were glued to you. just watching you sort through your makeup tray, trying to find something. the way you knit your brows together, your bottom lip stuck out- his quickly averted his gaze back to his book when you turned to him. he could feel your eyes trained on him as he thumbed the corner the pages.

"hey katsuki?"

he hummed in response, still not looking at you.

you stood up and slowly sauntered towards him, smirking when his eyes flicked up to you every few seconds. you took his book and set it aside.

"the hell are you-" he clenched his jaw when you leaned close to him, still standing. he dropped his voice to a soft tone, just shy of a whisper. "what're you doing, huh?"

"can i do your eyeliner?"

he chuckled and smirked. "'course.."

you grinned and took a seat next to him, your face heating up as his hands found your waist. he lifted you up and set you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso and holding you close. his smirk grew as a blush crept up your cheeks.

"just as long as you sit... here." he pecked your lips, mindlessly stroking his thumb across the skin just above the waistband of your pants. "you can start whenever, babe, i'm not stopping you..."

you huffed and bit the inside of your cheek, internally rolling your eyes. his cocky smirk softened a little when your fingers delicately cradled his jaw, turning his head slightly.

"close your eyes..." you kept your voice low, watching his eyes flutter shut.

his skipped a beat when he felt your breath on his lips. he took deep breaths, just inhaling whatever lotion or perfume had you smelling so good.

you bit your lip and did your best to keep your hand steady. it was hard to keep the lines straight when he would squeeze your hips occasionally. but you prevailed nonetheless, keeping the ink close to the rim of his eyes. you were going for a sort of rodrick look.

"okay.." you clicked your tongue and capped your pen, setting it to the side. "you're done~"

he opened his eyes slowly, a playful look dancing across his features. "well? how do i look?"

your breath caught in your throat. his red eyes glowed, half lidded and staring right into you.

"hmmm..." you brought a hand to his chest, the other messing with the hair at the base of his neck. you traced small circles across his skin. "handsome."

"yeah?" he took your cheek in his hand, pulling you closer to him. "that all?"

you shrugged and chuckled a bit, watching his cocky grin return.

"hm, you think i'm hot. coulda just said so..." he pressed his lips against yours softly, which quickly changed to a rough, demanding kiss.

looks like you did end up making out on your bed,,

totally meant to upload this over a week ago,,, my bad lol i've been very busy, sorry this is so crap lol i'll probably rewrite it in the future <33

love you sm !! stay safe & sleep well 💗💗

#bnha x reader #bnha #my hero fanfic #bnha fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x reader #love you all <3

[hrryshoney]

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck

matty healy x reader

A/N: here’s a matty sick!fic for you. i’m a sucker for friends to lovers, so sorry to be annoying but here’s that! maybe switching povs, i’m tired so give me a break.

warnings: kinda suggestive maybe if you squint real hard, matty’s in loveeee but readers oblivious, matty’s a little shit. religion? kind of? not really at all, but talks of God is in there. bad writing, idk n idc.

prompt: “can you kiss me? i’m sure i’ll feel wayy better if you do,”

edit: pt. 2 now posted here

You and Matty were friends. Well, maybe best friends. You definitely thought so. You’d been beside him for as long as you can remember. So, you think you’ve earned that title.

Besides him being your, talented, smart, funny, witty and incredibly good-looking friend, he was also your insufferable rockstar friend. The cocky, arrogant one. The one who would tease you until you could feel your face get hot.

And, the one with the weak immune system, apparently.

“Darling?” You heard his call from his bedroom. He had rung your phone at promptly 7:30 AM earlier today. Telling you how he was positively dying, and how you must come over and take care of me, angel. You really must.

“Yes, your Royal Highness?” You say teasingly with a roll of your eyes, walking into his room. He looked positively pathetic. Lying down, wrapped in his white comforter.

Matty pouts a bit at that. “I’m being serious, yeah? Don’t make fun of me, this is awful.”

“Mhm, I can imagine.” You give a little pout, a feigned wave of sympathy. “Did ya need something?”

“How about some empathy?” He scoffs at you, all in good nature of course. Matty needs to get that final banter in. Anything to rile you up, even when he’s sick.

“We all get sick, Matty.” You roll your eyes with a giggle. “I know how you feel, trust me.” You move to sit on the edge of the bed. He unravels his hands to reach out for you, but you move farther away.

“What’s with that, then? Don’t love me anymore? Hm?” He maneuvers his body to be closer to yours.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not trying to get sick.” You ignore the butterflies that roll in your stomach from his grin. From the use of the word ‘love’. Of course you’ve said it to each other before. You’ve known him for almost 10 years, and he’s your best friend. But you can’t help but wish for it in a different context.

“Wouldn’t get sick for me, love?” He laughs and lays back, a little cough accompanied by it.

“Do ya want some water? Cough doesn���t sound too hot.”

“I sound hot without the cough though, right?” He winks, and you cast your gaze to the floor. You let out an unconvincing laugh. It doesn’t get easier as time passes, that’s for sure.

“You’re corny, Healy.” Your lame response feels bitter on the tongue. “Seriously, do you need anything? If not, I’ll go back to the living room and get some work in.”

He gets a gleam in his eye, and his lip quirks up. Whatever comes out of his mouth won’t be good, you just know it. So, you mentally prepare yourself.

“Can you kiss me? I’m sure I’ll feel way better if you do.” He gives that signature smirk of his, like he’s enjoying this all too much. His eyes trace from yours, to your lips, and then back up. You definitely weren’t prepared for that, though.

You feel the heat spread all over your body. Why am I friends with him, again? You glare at him. “Funny.” You say monotonous, unwavering.

“Hey, I’m being serious, darling. The offer is there.” He shrugs noncommittally. Is he joking? Like, seriously?

You never let your hopes get too high. You brush off all his flirting as jokes. He’s got supermodels and singers knocking at his door. You never thought you would genuinely be his type. Just friendly banter.

“Okay, Matty.” You brush it off once again. You don’t want your mind to wander there. Wander there like it had so many sleepless nights. Lying in bed, panting, thinking of him.

“Then come plant one on me, won’t ya?” He taps against his lips with his pointer finger, the biggest smile on his face. You wonder, is this all a joke to him?

“You ask all your friends to kiss you when your sick?” You deflect quickly, not wanting to deal with this.

“Only the pretty girls who are my best friends that come over at eight in the morning for me.” He shrugs with an easy smirk. He really is a little shit. “‘Sides, not even that sick. Don’t think you’d catch a bug from a little peck.”

“Oh, no? Thought you were ‘positively dying, darling. It’s dreadful, innit?’?” You lower your voice a few tones and put on a bad british accent to mock him.

He feigns offense with his gasp. “I do not sound like that! You’re kidding, that’s blasphemous.”

“Ah, yes. Because you’re so holy?” You let out a laugh.

“Mhm, I can have you crying out to God if you give me a kiss?” The look on his face is vile. You want to kiss it away. Smack it away. Do anything then have it taunt you like this, really. You move in your spot on the bed.

“Maybe the fever is getting to your head, Matty.” There’s only so many more poor deflections you can make. He has to notice.

“Awh, you think so?” He pouts in faux sympathy, moving closer. You feel dizzy. You scooch back on the bed.

“Yeah- yeah, think so.”

He smirks. That bastard and his smirk. “Right, what a shame, terrible, really.” He’s up close and personal now. Right next to you. Hand on your face. He brushes a stray piece of hair to the back of your head. You two are looking at each other now. All eye contact.

“I- Matty.” You breathe out. This is all too much right now.

“Yes, what?” Matty sounds annoyed. Obviously wanting to have kissed you before you moved your neck back.

“Don’t think we can- think we should, you know. Don’t wanna ruin anything.”

He sighs. “Who made those shit rules up, huh? Maybe I wanna ruin our friendship? Ruin you, yeah?” His head falls into the crook of your neck, you feel his hot breath. “Think we should just stop with the bullshit. Wouldn’t mind being something other than friends.”

“Matty-“ “Y/N?” He interrupts your unheard sentence.

“Do ya like me? I’m being serious now, angel. Honest, do you fancy me or no?” You’re getting whiplash from this conversation. How is this happening. Why now? How, now?

“I- Matty, I think you know the answer.” you furrow your brows at him and pout. He has to be fucking with you, right?

“Maybe I wanna hear you say it?” He smirks, again. You’re sick of that smirk. You really do wanna kiss it off.

“Jesus, yes, I like you. Of course I do, Matty.”

“Hm, good. That’s good. ‘Cause I like you too, angel.” He gives a grin that makes him glow. A grin that is the personification of happiness. Matty leans in.

#divider cred: @cafekitsune #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty healy fic #matty healy blurb #matthew healy #matty healy oneshot

[bit-dodgy-innit]

We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that. 

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace. 

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May. 

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.” 

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow. 

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May. 

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.” 

“You and me both,” he huffed. 

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.” 

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders. 

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.  

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room. 

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms. 

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.” 

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you. 

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys. 

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York. 

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more. 

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered. 

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts. 

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit. 

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough. 

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!” 

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?” 

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?” 

“Preferably.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Qualitatively, then.” 

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.” 

“When did your dad first hear it?” 

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.” 

“Checks out. And how old was he?” 

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?” 

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head. 

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.” 

Miguel nodded again. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.” 

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.” 

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ” 

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since.  “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!” 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.” 

“Qué?” 

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.” 

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty. 

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.” 

“But we just got started.” 

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.” 

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.” 

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel. 

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court. 

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly. 

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction. 

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.” 

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?” 

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out. 

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.” 

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?” 

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.” 

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.” 

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail. 

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave. 

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.” 

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room. 

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!” 

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.” 

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor. 

It was Miguel. 

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit. 

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly. 

“At the paper?” Benji was confused. 

“No, at my other job.” 

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.” 

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him. 

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother.  “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.” 

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” 

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.” 

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.” 

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully. 

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake. 

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.” 

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom. 

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her. 

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now. 

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.” 

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.” 

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.” 

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this. 

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.” 

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street. 

“Sorry about them,” you began. 

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?” 

“My family. Embarrassing.” 

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?” 

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.” 

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.” 

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice. 

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet. 

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?” 

“No!” 

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?” 

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.” 

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!” 

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more. 

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained. 

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–” 

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?” 

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.” 

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before. 

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?” 

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.” 

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him. 

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative. 

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.” 

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” 

“Can we not talk about me for a second?” 

“Why?” 

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.” 

“We are having a conversation.” 

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious. 

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.” 

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.” 

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together. 

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess. 

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?” 

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.” 

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.” 

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.” 

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out. 

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.” 

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.” 

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?” 

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.” 

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table. 

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could. 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?” 

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud. 

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.” 

“Right,” you hedged. 

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some. 

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.  

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.” 

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.” 

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.” 

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?” 

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too? 

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?” 

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special. 

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his. 

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all. 

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society. 

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.” 

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on. 

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded. 

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza. 

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door. 

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” 

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.” 

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast. 

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him. 

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?” 

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips. 

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together. 

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth. 

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did. 

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses. 

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could. 

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you. 

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly. 

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.” 

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.” 

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well. 

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet. 

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds. 

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits. 

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom. 

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub. 

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you. 

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”  

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves. 

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist. 

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions. 

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin. 

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches. 

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses. 

“Finally,” you bantered back. 

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context. 

“Do you have protection?” 

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate. 

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.” 

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance. 

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had. 

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you. 

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit. 

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he? 

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his. 

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point. 

“You sure?” 

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at. 

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.” 

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.” 

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy. 

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts.  Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix. 

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?” 

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit. 

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips. 

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?” 

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.” 

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.” 

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions. 

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him. 

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.  

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?” 

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come. 

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy. 

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter. 

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness,  his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth. 

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival. 

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt. 

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become. 

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.  

“I’ll fix it,” he promised. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?” 

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?” 

You nodded. “Say no more.” 

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways. 

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again. 

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin. 

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel. 

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?” 

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up. 

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked. 

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.” 

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.” 

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him. 

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.” 

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk. 

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts. 

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!” 

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.” 

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him. 

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.” 

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord. 

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep. 

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours. 

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you. 

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off. 

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space. 

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it. 

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.” 

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before. 

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint. 

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind. 

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa. 

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit. 

“Hey.” 

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.” 

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.” 

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.” 

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort. 

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!” 

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.” 

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips.  “Alright, fine. I missed you.” 

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.” 

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.” 

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway. 

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit 

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #we're not here to f*ck spiders

[lewsnumerounofan]

late last night (lh x reader)

summary: lewis flies you out for a fun weekend, and maybe something more.

notes: nsfw, established hu to smth more?, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), tiny bit of angst. 2k words. did i change tense halfway thru? yeah i did. we dont talk abt it tho. all heavily inspired by @lewisyellowhelmet !!!!

+ check out other works here

+ was too lazy to fix formatting issues. oops

-----

The text came in just after midnight. In typical Lewis fashion it was short, to the point.

Come get away for a few nights. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.

And then a plane ticket, first class.

You tucked your phone into your chest, eyes scanning the street in front of you. He always did this. A late-night text and plane ticket, a promise for a fun weekend. And it was fun -- visiting Lewis’ expensive hotels under a fake name, eating lavish meals in the private rooms of the most esteemed restaurants, touching him quietly, secretly under the table. But Monday always came around and you’d wake up to an empty suite, cold coffee and a note from Lewis thanking you for a good time. 

Sighing, you texted back, fingers clumsy with cold.

Cant. Work is busy.

You closed your messages and made to head back inside when your phone lit up again.

A photo this time. It was poorly lit, but you could tell that whatever exotic timezone he was in had him in bed, shirtless, tattooed fingers resting easily over a white sheet. A white sheet that sat dangerously low on his taught hips. Though his face was cut out, the compass stretching over his muscled chest was unmistakable.

Even now, hundreds of miles between you, you felt a slow curl of heat between your legs.

And then: See you tomorrow

Cocky bastard.

-

It was mid-afternoon by the time your flight touched down, and the heavy race-weekend traffic ensured it was almost sunset before you arrived at the hotel. The man at the desk handed you a key and a knowing smile when you gave him your name.

The lobby was full of people, well-off couples preparing for a night out. You had to look away from a pair giggling together on one of the high-backed love seats, the brush of their lips intimate and familiar.

-

Lewis answers the door on your first knock. Doesn’t wait to help you drag your suitcase in, only cups your face and let his full lips slant over yours. Everything slips away as he holds you so reverently in his tattooed palms like you were the most precious thing in the whole world.

“Missed you.”

His voice is rough as he speaks, sleepy almost in its comfort. You smile at him, turn to kiss his wrist, bite it quickly.

You hear him groan as you shift back to your suitcase, pulling it inside the high-ceilinged room. You can barely concentrate on the dim candle-lit interior with Lewis’ hot body at your back, but you let your eyes linger on the twinkling sky line for a moment -- the stray lights of other lives, so far away.

And then Lewis, all pressed up behind you. Hands around your waist, pulling you back to him, back on him.

“Lewis...”

“Missed the way you say my name.”

You let him shuffle you to the couch, low set and plush, soft on your cheeks.

His hands on your jeans, eager but not rushed as he pulls them down. You shiver at the cold, at the glaze over Lewis’ eyes as he watches you squirm. A hot, wet kiss to your thigh, quick as he kneels between your legs. Kneels for you. Your lips part as his big hands wrap around the outside of your hips and tug you to the edge of the seat. Eyes on you, he tucks a finger into you, knowing you want more, need more. It’s too much and you look away, afraid he’ll see the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since he first opened the door. But he tuts and forces you back with a hand on your jaw.

“Eyes on me. Want you to watch what I do to you.”

And then he’s tugging your underwear off too, leaning down to replace his fingers with his tongue. You arch into him, trying to get away, trying to get more, but his hands are solid on your hips, keeping them open and splayed out for him.

“Lewis-”

He doesn’t bother responding, too busy fucking his tongue into you and circling your clit with his calloused thumb.

“Lewis, Lewis, Lewis.”

A prayer now, as you tug at his braids. Already your core is clenching, legs twitching on either side of his head. The sinful image of his ringed hand pressing into your stomach to pin you down --

You can’t stop yourself from tipping over the edge when he looks up at you, cheeks rosy, mouth red, tongue still working you. 

Hazy as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. The hotel now rests in a dark navy. Your breathing is loud in the quiet of the big room. Laying you down, Lewis kisses your forehead once, twice. A firm press of his lips. You feel him shift away and catch his wrist as he goes to stand. He can see the question in our eyes.

“Gonna get you a cloth to clean up,” he says, real soft and low.

You have to swallow before you speak again, quiet like it's a secret.

“You don’t have to. I mean, I want you. If…”

You’re flustered now, heat rising on your cheeks. Lewis’ sharp eyes don’t move from your face. He cuts you off with a kiss, harder this time. I want you too, it says.

“Okay,” he mumbles against your lips.

He’s moving over you now, the strength in his shoulders, his arms, making the predatory advance up your body easy. But he’s gentle as he nudges you back like he too can feel the shift.

The sheets are cool at your back, a stark contrast to the feverish heat from where your bodies are joined. You can feel him heavy and thick at your thigh even with his pants. Fumbling, almost desperate through kisses you unzip him, palming him once over his briefs before slipping your hand under to touch him.

He curses into you, breaking from your lips to rest his forehead on yours, eyes shining as they watch where you grip him. You’re aching to take him into your mouth, to finally taste him like you’ve been dreaming of for weeks, but Lewis has other ideas, instead going to fully remove his shirt and pants.

Seeing him like this always takes your breath away. The steady strength of him, the dark markings of his tattoos, the hard length of him. Looking at you from under a few escaped braids, Lewis looks like a god. A god intent only on worshipping you.

He’s crawling back up to you, groaning into your mouth as you brush together. His tongue claiming you, running along your teeth. He draws back quickly, pulling your thighs apart deftly to spit on your cunt. You throw your head back, gasping -- too tight, too frenzied at the feel of his spit coating you.

And then he’s back over you, crowding you. All Lewis, only Lewis.

“Okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, hands already leaving marks on his muscled back. Tomorrow, in the paddock and in the car, he’d feel them sting and think of you. The idea was enough to have you clenching on air, begging him to let you take it.

He only laughed, a lazy smirk revealing the tooth gap you loved so much.

“So needy for me, huh princess.”

And then he was forcing into you, even the tip a stretch, filling you up and more, more, more. You bit down hard on his shoulder as he sank into you.

“So good. S’always so good.”

His hips finally resting flat against yours, and the pressure of him inside you was more than you could bare. Lewis slipped his hand down -- down to press on the bulge in your stomach where he was now seated, chuckling roughly again when you cried out.

“You take me so well.”

He tongues the words into your mouth, finally moving inside you. A long drag out and then a snap of his hips and you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with him watching your lips with half-lidded eyes, jewellery glinting from the city’s lights, mouth open and red.

“Lewis.”

He shivers mid-thrust, burying his head back into your neck, kissing up your throat.

“Lewis,” you gasp, watching the push and pull of his back as he moved in you, the bunching of his shoulders and quick, timed rhythm of his hips. His hands on your leg, forcing you wider, taking more. Mouth wide as he bites at your neck, forces you back into the pillows. It’s too much, too good -- the clench of you around him, the moans he keeps spilling onto your skin.

“Lewis, I’m gonna-”

A slightly different slant to his pelvis, the hard slide of it over your clit as Lewis bottoms out inside you and you’re cumming, vision white as you gasp into his chest.

“Almost there baby. ‘M so close.”

Everywhere he’s touching you is fire, the overstimulation casting stars across your vision.

“Almost there,” he murmurs again, so low and husky. You can feel the stutter in his thrusts, hear the break in his voice as he pants above you.

“Finish in me.”

It’s a plea more than anything else but you know as soon as you speak the words that there’s nothing you’ve ever needed more.

“Cum in me Lewis, need it.”

His whole body tenses, eyes near savage as they meet yours.

“Yeah?”

You nod once, whimpering as his pupils blow wide, darken. His thrusts pick up again, harder this time. Vaguely you’re aware of the clock being knocked off the nightstand beside you, but you’re too busy watching Lewis to care.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine, only mine.”

And then he’s cumming, pulsing in you as his hips weakly stuttered through a last push. Your weave your hands into his hair, place soft kisses over his nose, forehead, cheeks. He’s lazy as he kisses you, his full weight boring you down, keeping your legs open and aching. Only when his heart stops pounding does he pull away, a hoarse groan leaving his parted lips as he slips out of you. Not even self-respect could stop you from reaching for him but he stayed kneeling before you, big ringed hands parting your knees.

“Lewis?”

His hot gaze on your core, he drops two fingers down to push his cum back inside you. Arching against the mattress as he watched, mesmerized, as you fluttered around them, desperate for him again already.

“Need my cum inside you, yeah? Need me marking you.”

God. What was he doing to you? So desperate -- for what? What more could you take? But then he was moving again, tucking his semi-hard cock back inside you, pushing his cum deeper.

“Lewis,” a half sob this time, nearly drooling at the press of him, the sensitivity.

Tears in your eyes as he kissed you.

“S’okay. You can take it.”

--

The weekend was over before you knew it. Another win for Lewis. You watched from the hotel TV, suddenly feeling so very far away from him. The sticky lingers of champagne you licked off him when he got back.

This time was different somehow. He’d stayed to eat breakfast with you each morning, fingers playing over yours as you cradled your coffee. Or Saturday after a disappointing quali when you’d opened the door and he’d folded himself into you, kissing softly at your neck. You’d fallen asleep to a stupid TV show, room service discarded on the floor, Lewis’ chest rising and falling at your back.

But now it’s Monday. And when you check the clock -- the clock you’d had to get replaced after its untimely demise -- you see it’s late and you know Lewis has already left.

It shouldn’t bother you so much. Shouldn’t make you feel quite so empty. You take your time getting ready, showering but leaving your hair down and wet along your shoulders. It’s only after, when your stomach begins to grumble, that you leave the bedroom and the lingering smell of Lewis.

Except at the kitchen counter, clicking through data sheets and absentmindedly sipping at a steaming mug of tea is Lewis, sweats low at his hips, braids drawn back.

“Lewis?”

You wonder if you've got your days wrong, if you’d somehow dreamt up the glory of yesterday's win.

“Hey sleepy head,” he grins, twisting to watch you. You’re confused. He knows it too, tries not to flush as he clears his throat.

“Uh, I know I promised the weekend only. But my favourite caffe is only open Monday to Friday, so I thought I’d stay another day and we could go together.”

He’s not looking at you, hands twisted quietly in his lap. The seven time world champion sat before you blushing like a school girl. Oh, Lewis.

“We don’t have to though, I know you’re busy so-”

“What about tomorrow?” you ask.

Hi eyes are on yours now, brow furrowed.

“Tomorrow?”

You bite your lip, smile. You can’t help yourself as you move towards him, dragging your palms up his muscled legs.

“Yeah, what're we gonna get up to tomorrow?”

He’s grinning back at you now, all tooth gap and eye-crinkles.

“I’m sure we can come up with something. Okay?”

You're leaning into him, pushing up onto your tippy toes to kiss him, to fold the word into his mouth:

“Okay.”

#bigkeepup #lewis Hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you

[scenezfreak]

Ok so as we all know that only Jeff's the top how about he was with a reader fem that was the top and she would be something like "yeah?you want that you need to beg" and like Jeff at one point just fucking begging so hard like AHHH that's just perfect 😭 but I hope I'm not pressuring you and you can write it when you have time so you can do your work and take care of yourself luv <3💓

A/N: YESS OMG I WANT TO RUIN HIM 🫶🏻 I have the perfect idea for this too.. YOU ARE AN ANGEL FOR THIS 🙏 I’ll make this one extra spicy just for you, darling.

“Beg for me, baby”

Sub!Jeff the killer x Dom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Praising, Degrading, Edging, Crying, Begging, Jeff being a whiny baby, Sadism/Masochism, hair pulling, aftercare

NOT PROOF READ, MINORS DNI.

It started out as you suggesting to be the top. His first response was “You think you can break me?” His words filled with cockiness. Of course you accepted this challenge, and that’s why you’re here. Jeff sitting in front of you fully naked, his back turned to you and pressed against your chest. Your hand reached around to grip his painfully hard cock that was coated in lube and precum.

Your hand worked his cock, stopping when you knew he was holding his moans back. “I know it feels good, baby. Don’t hold back your moans..” you rubbed the palm of your hand over the tip of his stocky cock, “it’s just us here, Jeff” you coo into his ear. “Keep strokin’ me..” his words came out broken due to him out of breath. You let out a soft laugh, causing him to shiver. Your free hand rubbing up and down his stomach and chest. “Beg for me, baby.” Your voice dark. Jeff could practically hear you smirk.

“Absolutely not.” He replied, you let out a “tch.” Your hand that was on his torso immediately sliding up to his throat, gripping hard. “Such a bitch.” You kept your grip on his throat as you gripped his cock, stroking fast, feeling his cock twitch and pulse you quickly stopped. You took your hands completely off him, he gasped for air a bit. “Why the hell did you stop.” His voice, stern. “I already told you, baby. Beg for it.” He huffed, “I’m no-“ he was cut off by you grabbing his hair and pulling him back against your chest. He let out a gasp. “Aw you like when I’m rough with you?” His cock twitched and he slowly nodded.

You removed your hand from his hair and rubbed both your hands up and down his thighs and then up to his chest, you softly pinched his nipples. “I want to hear you say it.” You kisses his neck, he didn’t seem to answer. You sunk your teeth into his neck. “AH- y-yes! I love it-“ he moaned. You smirked and licked over the bite mark you gave him. “Touch me please..need it..” his chest was heaving and his cock looked achingly hard. “But I am touching you, baby”

He let out a whine, “no..my cock” you kissed up his neck. “Say please” your hands rubbing the area around his cock. “P-please” his plea came out so whiny it made you feel hot all over. His hands gripped at your legs when you started stroking his cock again, your other hand coming over to rub and massage his balls. He let out a choked moan and he jolted. His hips started to buck. “Please please please” he whimpered. “Gonna cum?” You asked to which he nodded to quickly. Your pace slowed, he knew he had to beg.

“Please..Need to cum so bad..” he pleaded, you sped back up and took your other hand off his balls to choke him again. He loved how it felt. “Good boy, begging do well. Cum for me, baby” you whispered. “Y-yes thank you thank you than- fuuckkk” he came, warm, thick, spurts of cum coated your hand. Your pace didn’t slow. You continued to stroke him. He gasped and his back arched. “N-no ‘s too much” he moaned out. “You were just begging for more earlier though, no?” You asked condescendingly. “Take it like a good boy.”

“Haah fuck- y/n” you blushed when he moaned your name. “Keep moaning my name and I’ll have to break you some more, Jeff..” this whole situation was turning you on so much. “Yes please..break me..” his grip on your thighs got harder. Your hand stopped stroking to play with his tip, you teased it and his body started to tremble. “Shit- y/n plea-se…need to cum so bad.” He whimpered. “Yeah? If you want that, you need to beg.” You said, you looked at his face.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, “aww..you cryn’ so bad cuz you need to cum?” He let out a little sob. “Mhm..wan’ it so bad.. y/n please. I’ll be a good boy.” Your cunt throbbed, you never thought you’d hear him beg like that. You went back to stroking his cock, your hand squeezed it a little more tighter than usual which caused him to shake. The hand that was on his throat now being lowered to pinch at his nipples. You could hear him moan and sniffle. The pleasure was too much for him, and the pain from you pinching his nipples sent him into overdrive.

He threw his head back with a loud moan of your name as he came hard. His cum almost seemed to squirt out, you stroked him through his high. Kissing his neck softly to get him to stop crying. He couldn’t help it, it felt too amazing for him not to cry. You raised your hand to your mouth and licked off all the cum, then turned to kiss him on the mouth. He reciprocated and kissed back, his tongue immediately going inside of your mouth. You both soon pulled back, his hair was more of a mess than usual, his cheeks red, his lips red from the kiss, and tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” You hugged him and buried your head into the crook of his neck. “No..it felt nice..” he felt you smile into his neck. “Lay down and stay here.” You got up and got a wet wash cloth. When you can back he was fast asleep. You quickly cleaned up his body and other things. Your head turned to check the time. “..2:39am..damn” you didn’t know you’d be up this late, you decided to put a pair of his boxers on him and laid down neck to him, cuddling him. Jeff definitely wanted to do that some more, maybe being the sub every once in awhile wasnt so bad.

#I actually really enjoyed writing this #we won’t talk abt how dirty I got with it 🫡 #creepypasta #jeff the killer #smut #jeff the killer smut #creepypasta smut

[pro-mammonologist]

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS

mammon accidentally going into the wrong hole but finds out you actually like anal a lot 🫣

Auoooop

Firstly, I will indulge however,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, he gonna need more than just Mc’s wetness to fuck but okay lemme see what I can doooo

He was panting, holding your hips up as his cock hammered inside of you, making you cry out his name repeatedly. He was in a daze, his only purpose right now being making you cum and making himself cum. He fucked harder and faster and—

“Ow! FUCK!”

He pulled out immediately as you yelled in pain. “Shit, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” He looked down to see your other hole slightly more stretched and he realized. “Oh did I—“

“Yeah…” You had tears in your eye and you looked back at him. “It hurt but it was okay.”

“So you’re okay to continue? I can keep fucking? Do you need me to stop?” Mammon was frantic, worried that he might’ve hurt you too bad.

“No, baby, you can keep going… actually… I wouldn’t be opposed to you fucking my ass. If you want.” You said, matter-of-factly. He looked at you, dumbstruck. He blinked a few seconds before responding.

“But—uh—well. You like that?” His thumbs traced circles on your ass cheeks.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Pfft. Obviously, I’ve been fuckin longer than you’ve been alive. I will happily fuck your pretty little ass. Lemme get some lube.” He patted your ass and reached to your box of supplies. He pulled out his own lube. “I usually use this on myself when I bottom but, I think you get the luxury of feeling it now.”

It was cold and it made your hair stand up. You shifted slightly as his fingers traced around the entrance before pushing one in. You winced as his finger pushed inside and then pulled back out. “You okay?” He asked, prepping to add another.

“Yeah.”

He pushed in another and tried to scissor them apart, stretching you to the best of his ability. Then he added a third. His hands were nice and warm, especially the one that gently massaged your asscheek, working at the flesh. “Mc… you ready?”

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, especially as his fingers were now replaced with just the very tip, not even pressing in. “Yeah. Go ahead. Go slow though.” You told him, gripping at the sheets.

He pushed slowly, watching and feeling your every reaction. “Tell me you’re okay.” He said softly, his eyes half-closed as he felt the tightness of your hole clench him, pulling him further in. “‘S really good.”

“I’m okay, go all the way in, Mammon.” You could feel his skin press up against yours again, his cock now fully inside. “Mm.” You hummed, feeling his balls press against your wetness.

“Tell me to fuck you.” He said, his voice more assertive now. “Tell me you want me to fuck your tight ass.”

“Mammon…” You had a hate love relationship with this side of him. It was simultaneously so hot to see how cocky he was but also so embarrassing to make you ask for what you want. Even if he knew, he wanted to hear it, to hear you ask. To hear you beg a little bit. “Mammon, please fuck me. Fuck my tight hole.”

“Atta human… you love to please me, don’t you?” He moved slow, still wanting to make sure you’re okay. “You wanna cum from me fucking your ass, yeah.” His lace quickened as he felt you loosen up. He smacked your ass and you yipped.

“Mm! Uh huh!” You gave him an answer, even if it was weaker. “It’s good. Your cock is so good.” He loved how you whined under him, the way you sighed and moaned.

“I wanna cum all over you. Paint those pretty—“ he smacked your ass with each word “sensitive—“ his hand continued to hammer itself down “cheeks—“ it was ruthless but not painful “with all my—“ more smacks, now each cheek at the same time “fucking cum!”

“Fuck yes!” The sting was incredible, it was eye watering but oh so good. You craved more of him, but you weren’t sure all that you could handle. You didn’t expect for anal with Mammon to be this good… this incredible.

“Ah! Mc!” He was whining in-between his thrusts. “I’m getting close!”

“Fuck! Me too! Don’t stop. Tell me more!”

“More?” He sounded amused. “Like how fucking—ah ah—tight your ass is? Fuck, it’s good!” He leaned over on top of you and repositioned his knees so that they pressed onto your calves in a doggy mating press. “I’m gonna cum, Mc. I need you to cum. Your pretty ass is almost too much for me. I can feel how close you are, cum for me!” His hands were now on your sides, enveloping you. You could feel his hot breath on your ear.

“Mammon! Please, don’t stop. I’m cumming!” You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, only increasing enhancing Mammon’s as he reached his peak.

“Mc!” He pulled out and came all over your ass in streaks, his cum dripping down your ass and your legs, even some dripping down to your wetness, mixing with it.

You both caught your breath and he reached for a rag to wipe himself and you off. He didn’t give a shit how messy it was after he came or the lube everywhere, he could clean. But he couldn’t help but snap a picture of your pretty ass covered in his cum, presented before him like a trophy.

“Good?” He said.

“Good.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #mammon #mammon smut #obey me nightbringer

[chaithetics]

I love your writing so much and looking forward to more of your Stewy work!!! Can’t wait ! ❤️

Chance Meetings

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f Roy reader

Word count: 1.8K

Content warning: mentions of drug use/addiction, some flirting fluff.

authors note: hasn't been proofread, ended up not being the biggest fan of this one but maybe others will hopefully enjoy it. It's how the original idea of Roy reader and Stewy getting together started and then went along. Shout out to a previous nonnie for the berry idea, it'll definitely make more appearances in the future. I know the show itself has a very loose/not super defined timeline other than the fourth season but this is set before the show starts FYI :)

Also thank you Elle! That's so kind of you, I hope you enjoy this and future pieces! There's more coming!

You’d done the un-Roy thing as much as you could for a significant part of your life, you didn’t go to business school, you went to grad school to become a clinical psychologist. Like Connor, you didn’t do the college to living in New York and working at Waystar or a linked profession pipeline. 

You didn’t necessarily think of yourself as the California girl, you certainly weren’t the poster child for that. But after graduating you’d moved to San Francisco and had practiced there. It was the perfect antithesis of the life in New York that your siblings were living that you had no interest in. 

Well, it had been. 

You’d recently left that life for one in New York. Kendall had been going through the wringer lately. It was just over a week ago since he’d left rehab and his marriage with Rava was falling apart. You knew that Rava couldn’t be his only support system, it wasn’t realistic or fair and you frankly didn’t trust your family to be in Kendall’s corner. 

You were heading up to Kendall’s apartment to check in on him and to prepare for a night that would be awful. You’d been able to skip out on these types of events for most of your adult life but Kendall felt an obligation to attend in an attempt to try and get into your father’s graces. You were going with Kendall as  moral support to an entitled gala that Waystar was funding. 

“Wow, Dr. Roy, look at you. What a pleasure to have you amongst the green-eyed capitalists.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice, you’d recognise that playful tone anywhere, it was Stewy Hosseini. You hadn’t seen him in a few years but as always, he was in a suit tailored perfectly for him and he looked gorgeous. 

“Well, I can’t really say anything with a biting wit, can I? I’m here and I benefit from it all anyway.” You respond looking at his amused gaze, it’s not cruel but it’s like he knows something you don’t. 

“Yeah but you look great though. You do benefit from it, I mean, look at the blood from the human sacrifices in your father’s honour. They’re keeping you young, treating your face and figure well.” He has a smirk on his face as he speaks and you chuckle. His brow furrows slightly and his tone becomes serious. “Wait, wait a second.” Stewy wets his thumb with his tongue somewhat dramatically but still realistically as he wipes at something on your chin. 

“Wait, what is it? How long was it there for?” You immediately ask, embarrassed that there was probably a mark of lipstick or maybe food there. Although the gentle touch of his thumb on your chin makes you relax for some reason. 

“Just a bit of a blood splatter from the sacrifices. I’m sure it wasn’t there long.” Stewy saws moving his hand away and chuckling, you scoff. 

“Wow, smooth.” You respond and his smirk just grows. “Well, looking pretty dapper yourself Hosseini.” 

“Oh, I know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know you think I look hot.” Stewy says so confidently, you look at him incredulously for a second but end up smirking, he’s being as playful as ever but he doesn’t seem high. 

“Cocky as ever.” 

“Just a fact.” You look at Stewy’s face, he’s being his usual playful self but there’s a gentleness there, something in his eyes that you’re not sure you’ve seen before. You look into his eyes and for a moment think about Kendall, he’s been in the bathroom longer than you’d like. 

You’re tempted to go into the men’s room yourself but you know that Kendall wouldn’t appreciate that if nothing was going on. You focus back on Stewy’s eyes, he’s always had gorgeous, warm brown eyes. They’re not dramatically blown out, diluted. You’re more confident that he’s not high. You put a hand gently on his arm. 

“Stewy?” His smirk fades a bit as he takes in your more serious tone and expression. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me a favour?” “Of course.”

“Can you um, Kendall’s in the uh bathroom… He’s been in there for a while.” You say quietly. He gives you a small smile and nods. 

“Yeah, of course.” Your hand is still on his arm, he looks at it briefly and smiles at the touch, he places his hand briefly on the small of your waist for a comforting second as he walks off to check on Kendall. 

You watch Stewy as he walks off and you feel a little anxious. Kendall had been gone for a few minutes and you know that you can’t be a helicopter sister but you do worry about him at an event like this. 

After a few moments you see Kendall and Stewy coming out of the bathroom making their way over to where you stand. You feel a flood of relief, Kendall looks depressed still but he doesn’t look high. 

“Hey Ken.” You give him a small hug and look at his face, trying to search his eyes. 

“I didn’t, just the  mirror cry.” He says dryly, knowing what you’re searching for in him. Stewy looks at you with a sad nod to confirm and mouths he’s good. You give Stewy a grateful smile then redirect your attention to Kendall again and nod with a smile. 

“Do you wanna go home?” You ask, your brother looks exhausted. “We’ve been here long enough, dad’s seen you. You’ve talked to people. It’s already been a long night.” You continue knowing that if he wants to he’ll need validation to feel okay about it. 

“Uh yeah, sure.” He says looking down. “Thanks Stewy.” Stewy just gently claps him on the back and nods. 

“I can stay with you tonight, if you like?” You ask and Kendall nods. You mouth a thank you at Stewy as you and Kendall leave the gala. 

As you and Kendall sit in the car you take your heels off. 

“Bump into Stewy?” Kendall asks looking at you riredly. 

“Uh yeah. He came over for pleasantries before finding you.” 

“I don’t think many would associate Stewy with pleasantries.” Kendall says with a small chuckle. 

“Sure he’s cocky but he’s always polite.” You reply eying Kendall. 

“You know what I meant.” Kendall said. 

“Uh-huh.” You laugh a little. “Lot more pleasant than Roman’s friends.” 

“I only surround myself with the best company.” Kendall teases, looking a little less down. 

“I know, that’s why I’m here. Your favourite sibling.” You tease. 

“Don’t tell Shiv that.” 

“Never, Kendall Roy.” 

*************

You’d stayed the night at Kendall’s bachelor apartment, you’d fallen asleep on the couch and you were now woken up by voices only a few feet away. You looked up and saw Kendall casually dressed and Stewy once again in a well tailored suit, looking devlishly handsome. You’d always known he was attractive but he just seemed to age like a fine wine. 

The two men had been standing in the open floor layout talking and then Kendall noticed that you were awake now and that Stewy had also noticed. Kendall quickly realised that Stewy’s gaze had focused on you pretty quickly and Kendall wasn’t sure if he’d seen Stewy ever look at anyone like that. 

“Get changed.” Kendall quickly said. Stewy looked at him with raised eyebrows and you looked perplexed. 

“Excuse me?” “Get changed. Now. Scoot, scram. We have company.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, Stewy did his best to keep his attention on Kendall and not watch you leave. This wasn’t the first time you’d spent the night at Kendall’s lately so you conveniently had clothes here, hence having slept in nightwear. 

When you come back out you can hear the shower going so you assume Stewy has left but you then see Stewy leaning against the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone. 

“Morning.” You greet him and he looks up from his phone, placing it down gently. His eyes are even dreamier in daylight than what you remembered. 

“Good morning. Oh wow, clothes and underwear. How nice.” He teases. 

“I know, a bra with underwire and everything.” You tease back which makes him chuckle dryly. 

“I’m a fan with or without the support Dr. Roy.” He says with a wink. 

“Somebody’s quite the flirt lately.” 

“Always, for you.” You smile at him and walk over to Kendall’s fridge, where there of course is no berries, sighing as soon as you realise. “I didn’t come empty-handed. You walked right past the bagels and smoothies, had to physically restrain your brother from not touching your berry smoothie. You know, it had the most ludicrous name?” Stewy answers, as if he’d read your mind when you’d opened the fridge. 

“How did you even remember that?” You ask in shock as you pick up the smoothie and take a generous sip. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time around the Roys.” He says softly looking at you. 

“I’m surprised that you remember, that’s-it’s sweet Stewy.” 

“You’re not hard to forget. It’s been what 2?3?4 years?” He asks stepping closer to you. 

“I think 3.” 

“Huh.” He says almost to himself, as he wets his thumb again and wipes at a spot on your face. 

“What? More blood splatter this time?” You ask. He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, smoothie.” He says, holding his thumb out for you to see the little bit of purple he’d wiped off you. He then presses it to his mouth, to clean his thumb. You watch him and just can’t get over how attractive and sweet he is. 

“If you were that desperate for some of the berry smoothie you didn’t need to do that. You could’ve asked.” You tease in a whisper as your eyes stay on his lips. 

“Oh really?” 

“I would’ve said yes.” 

“Can I?” 

You nod and Stewy puts one hand on the small of your waist and the other gently cups your cheek. You relax into the touch and then his lips press against yours, it’s an amazing feeling. The kiss is so gentle yet also has passion in it. It stops though when you hear the shower turn off. 

“I need you to return last night’s favour.” “Oh?” You ask, feeling surprised at the timing. 

“Dinner with me?” 

“But-” 

“I know a million quiet places, nobody will find out. It won’t leak or get back to your family and overcomplicate things. Indulge me?” 

“You’re surre you can pull that off Hosseini?” 

“For tonight sure.” You laugh at him and nod, “Sure.” Stewy takes a sip from the smoothie you’d been drinking earlier. 

“Hmm. Just what I thought?” “What?” 

“Tastes better on your lips.” He says confidently with a wink, you scoff and go to respond before you see Kendall coming out.

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini fluff #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fic #stewy hosseini x fanfiction #arian moayed #arian moayed fanfic #arian moayed fanfiction #arian moayed characters #succession #succession hbo #succession fanfiction #succession fanfic #teamstewy #succession fandom

[lovelyghst]

is there a kink for saying “i love you” a lot during sex cause if so kyle garrick 100% has it. he’s so fucking soft and i’m obsessed.

i can just imagine him coming home to his cozy apartment after a longgg day, to his sweet girlfriend who’s never seemed to let him down. recruits defying orders, drills lasting hours longer than originally intended, mounds of unnecessary stress added to his job; it all become obsolete when he lays eyes on you. when you greet him with a huge bear hug and so many kisses at the door, he can practically feel his muscles melt. there’s barely enough time for him to set down his duffle bag and take off his boots before he’s walking you backwards into your shared bedroom, embracing your head in his hands and nearly suffocating you with the return of affection.

he can’t take his time undressing you like he normally does, not when you’re both so eager to feel each other for the first time in so fucking long (like three days). he can’t pay mind to the mess you’re making by peeling his jacket and shirt from his torso and throwing them haphazardly so you can shamelessly cop a feel of his muscles. and he can’t possibly remove his lips from yours as you lay back on your bed and shimmy out of your pants with his help, your sugary giggles reminding him he hasn’t even said a single word since he walked in.

“missed you, love,” he mumbles whilst moving to lean over you, a hand planted beside your shoulder as the other cups your cheek, and now it’s your chance to return the endearment. you repeat his words with a smile and pull him in for yet another kiss, miles different from the previous ones though still equally as desperate.

“missed waking up beside you, feeling your body pressed up against mine… can’t sleep for shit whenever i’m away from you.”

he makes quick but sensual work with kissing down your body, from your neck to the fat of your hip. wet lips leaving their marks along the way, until his impatient fingers slip beneath the band of your panties and pull them down your gorgeous, goosebump-clad thighs.

“missed these pretty tits… ‘nd this perfect, little cunt, fuck…” he breathes. “missed how good my sweetheart tastes, all f’me.”

his murmured words seem foggy, damn-near jumbled as he comes onto you strong. hot tongue lapping at your seam, licking your clit in upward motions like a dirty dog with impeccable manners. you gasp and claw at the nape of his neck, squeeze your thighs and allow your noises to fall freely. you’re so sensitive and he’s already overstimming you despite having just started. he’s been apart from you for long enough; he’s clearly not wasting any more time. “so fuckin’ sweet.”

and he can’t rip himself from that dazed headspace ‘til you’re a panting mess, arching your back into his space. until he gets to feel you finish on his tongue hard, and ride out your high with a selfish grip on his skull, begging for more you know you can’t take.

crawling up your body as you fight to ground yourself through starry vision and a heaving chest, capturing little, vulnerable you in a kiss.

he shushes you through the stretch of his cock, cooing your winces away with quick and chaste kisses plastered everywhere from the corner of your lips to your temple. pausing there for a moment to remind you of how well you’re doing, get you finely adjusted and calmed down a bit before he’s rolling over to his back and bringing you with him, a surprised yelp being pushed from your lungs.

you land on his chest, hands planting themselves on his shoulders to catch you mere inches from his stupidly handsome face. your visual scolding only turns him on more, cocky look never depleting as he wraps his meaty arms around your waist and pulls you oh, so close.

“love you, princess.” he can’t stop tugging you in for more kisses, so much so you’re unable to reciprocate the words. “go ahead ‘nd make up for lost time, yeah? show me how much you missed this, us.”

with that, you try your best to sit up straight as you begin rocking your hips against him. lifting them a bit the more you go on, getting used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching your soft walls out. knocking at the deepest parts of you your fingers could never reach while he’s away, ensuring you go slow to keep it from turning painful.

“that’s it, there ya go, baby. a beautiful sight you are, eh?”

you nod along with whatever he says, getting yourself drunk on him as his big hands paw at your waist. not missing a beat as he pulls you closer, tongue and lips pressing against the center of your chest before spanning out and praising your hard nipples individually.

“you’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. so fuckin’ proud’ve you… fuck, i love you so much,” he can’t help but pant.

“l-love you, too,” your voice trembles, thoughts overwhelmed by the amount of bodily contact and stimulation he gives you. he’d hate to admit how his heart flutters every time he hears you say those words. “love your cock… i love it, kyle— i want more—” you choke.

begging for more despite being fully sheathed on his cock, perched on his lap with full control? christ, he knows what you want instead.

“i know baby, i know what you want. just make me come like this first, ‘n then i’ll fuck you real nice after.” his promises do well enough to spur you on to keep going, turning your little pout into a grin.

you nearly fall to shambles when one of his hands slides down from your ribcage and falls to where the two of you meet. his thumb reaching your sensitive clit whilst the rest of his fingers and palm presses up against your lower tummy, applying pressure.

“love my pretty girl… this perfect pussy wrapped ‘round my cock.” his other hand rubs up and down your back until he’s forced to drag it back to your hip and aid your movements when you begin slowing, due to both the added pleasure as well as the stinging in your thighs.

he refuses to relent in chasing his high, and neither does his thumb on your clit to push you overboard. giving him all those telltale signs, every nerve in your body responding to finally being back with your beloved partner, and he brashly seeks it out. “y’gonna come, baby?”

you don’t have the lungs nor will to tell him before it’s happening, and you’re squeezing down on his cock with a loud moan as your brain and body goes numb atop him. he wraps both arms tightly around your waist to catch you when you fall into his neck and shoulder, lifting you on and off his cock like a pliant toy to guide you past your extensive orgasm as well as aid his own impending one.

“shit— princess, ‘m gonna come…” he warns you, and your body responds with constricting down on him impossibly tighter.

you feel so good around him, so fucking perfect, and he just…

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you—” he murmurs right up against your temple, holding your hips down as he finishes deep inside you. a low, broken moan contrasting your complacent hums at the feeling of his hot cum warming your tummy, pulling him in tight with your arms wrapped around his neck so securely.

taking a minute to breathe and recollect, revel in being back with the one you care so much for. peppering kisses all over his cheekbone as you repeat his lovely mantra.

you’re left exhausted as he cards his fingers through the roots of your hair and he holds your head close, rough and deadly hands gentle for once. he eventually mumbles, “did so good for me, love. you tired?”

you nod against his shoulder with a sleepy hum, and he chuckles faintly. maneuvering you to look him in the eyes, sharing a kiss once more before he’s slipping a hand up your spine and flipping you over to tenderly lay you on your back with spread legs.

sitting upright to fist his soaked cock that’s still just as hard, right in front of your drooling pussy leaking his pearly cum. his jaw would be at his sternum in admiration if it weren’t for his trained self-control.

he takes a moment to smile down at his pretty mess, admiring that confused look in your hazy eyes. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”

#i love him #kyle garrick #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick smut #gaz smut #cod mw

[sublimecatgalaxy]

I really loved loved loved loved loved your Dangerous Woman fic (I miss when Euphoria was so hyped) so I wanted to request a Fezco x dealer!reader?

I just think it's so badass and hot- ugh. Love it.

Oh thank you so much for your kind words! I've been getting so much love lately from my anons- I literally love all of you. Dangerous Woman is one of my favorite fics too, I love it with all of my heart- it's my baby.

"You again?" Fez asks, stepping further past me and into my apartment with an exasperated sigh and I smirk, taking a second to peak out into the night, making sure he wasn't followed or tagged.

"Nice to see you too, Fezco." I chuckle, locking the door before turning to look at him with a simple tilt of my head.

It's been almost two months since we've seen each other, normally seeing each other in business type situations but the last interaction was anything but business. I can still feel the way that his hands felt against my hips, the way his lips felt against mine and- based on the look in his eyes as he stares at me from across the room- I can tell he feels it too.

"Since your punk of a brother killed my boss, I've had to step up and put on my big boy pants." I toy with the waistband of my sweatpants teasingly as I step up to my table, slipping down into the seat before motioning for him to sit down across from me. He does what I say and splays his hands out on the table in front of me, further distracting my mind from the wads of cash and drugs strewn out across the table.

"Yeah, well they suit you." He flirts with a sheepish blush on his cheeks.

"Thanks, big boy." I sigh, clasping my hands beneath my chin. "So what can I do for you today?"

"I need you to spot me some molly. There's a fuckin' party tonight and Ash wants to sell." He explains and I scoff, looking around expectantly.

"Why isn't Ash here then?"

"I think he's afraid of you." Fez laughs, leaning back in his chair as his knees spread tantalizingly, my eyes trying so desperately to not look down at his thighs that I've spent so much time thinking about.

"Really?" I ask with a cute tilt of my head.

"Damn right." He nods with a proud smile, crossing his arms across his chest as my mouth waters, eyes tracing the dips of his biceps. "As he should be. You're fucking scary, man." Fez scoffs and my brows raise, my aching heart swelling with pride at his compliment.

He's not a man of many words so when his words kind and thoughtful, it means something.

"Yeah well, there's not many female dealers out there. I need to give them a name." I explain but he just shakes his head, understanding that Lori and I are the only ones around here who are even recognized as actually accredited dealers and not just random 'bits of ass' used by the male dealers.

Yes, I've actually been called that.

"You're doing a damn good job." I forget for a moment, after looking into his eyes for too long, that he's here for business and that he's, sadly, not here to flatter me like he would probably like to.

"Thanks Fezco." I smile, eyes flickering away from his own so he can't see right through my tough exterior into the interior that's completely and utterly soft for him (and his little brother though you'd never catch me admitting that. "I can spot you some molly. On one condition."

"Anythin', I'm desperate, dude." He leans towards me, biceps stretching the fabric of his t-shirt in a way that has my head spinning, my previous snarky comment thrown out the window. Fucking ass.

"You owe me dinner." I stutter out, clearing my throat to disguise the crack in my voice. Fez's eyebrows sky rocket, a cocky smile slipping across his lips and he nods as if he's processing.

"Is that right?" He teases and I immediately roll my eyes, trying to brush his joking demeanor off and I prepare myself for possible rejections. "You like Chinese?" His questions, though, restores all anxiety that I had in that brief moment of insecurity, my eyes widening in excitement.

"Of course I do." I respond breathlessly, pushing bags full of molly across the table towards him and he sends me a wink.

"I'll pick you up at eight."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @bungunz

#fezco #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #fezco euphoria x reader #euphoria hbo #euphoria fic #euphoria

[monin1ca]

Hey bbg, hope youre having a wonderful day~

Could I kindly request a ff with a new radiant agent reader ( arrived like 2 days ago ) x Yoru, where reader has like giant feather wings ( color of your choice ) and they beat the robot that kj and raze made from "warm up" alone, and says that it was easy? In an innocent way, not cocky, reader isnt yoru. And how he reacts?

THANKS FOR FEEDING MY CRAVINGS DARLING

Word count: 705

Warnings: nothing much, violence, cursing, hot reader

Synopsis: “That was supposed to be the hardest level?...”

“Alrighty, agents,” The commander begins, his gruff voice booming through the room. Catching the attention of the others, the whispers die down, “Allow me to introduce Agent Y/N.” At his words, you strut beside him. Your white fluttering wings follow you behind, “Hey, everyone. I’m agent 22, Y/N. Code name: Haste.” You say calmly; everyone else welcomes you and introduces themselves. A blue-haired man beckoned for you to sit beside him; you shrugged and followed obediently. “I’m Yoru.” “Y/N.” “I know.” The man replies; Brimstone begins the briefing and sets some orders in place. Unbeknownst to you, Yoru rubs his hands on your wings. You squealed in surprise; your wings are a tiny bit sensitive when you are not paying attention to them. Everyone’s attention goes to you, stunned at the sudden interruption. You look at Yoru, flustered, “Fuck you, man.”

After the meeting, the older agents surrounded you, asking many questions about your wings and how they work. “Kids- Don’t bother Haste, yeah?” Brimstone groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt annoyed for you; the overlapping voices gave him an eternal headache. The Killjoy squeaked out, “Why dont we have our newest agent try out the Max bot?” The party concords and everyone is excited about what you can offer the team. You stand up, stretching your body and wings. “Right, let’s begin.” 

Raze gives you a run down on what happened when they tried fighting it last time but says you might have an advantage since the bot has no info on your fighting style. You hum, not too worried about this bot. ‘It’s just a piece of metal bunched up together with an A.I. mind’ You thought you arrived at the training grounds. Everyone placed their respective bets on you, some laughed, and some had faith in you. Though- you felt Yoru’s on you. “I’m betting on you birdie!” He chimes through the room. You simply couldn’t let your believers down.

You run into the area, and the max bot is already shooting bullets. You flapped your wings, giving you a boost to take cover. Exhaling sharply, you run onto the walls, spiderman style. Murmurs wash over the observer’s room, ‘Did Haste’s wings just turn black?’ “Release!” You hissed; at your command, your feathers detached from your body and aimed for the bot. Not anticipating your move, the bot was struck by most of your feathers. You smirked, but now to the next problem… You were falling to the ground; panicked screams came from the room behind you, warning about the dangers. The max bot charges up blue energy rays, ready to fire at you.  “Restore.” All the feathers that were previously pierced retracted and pulled the bot forward. Once all the feathers returned to you, you stretched it. Preventing a harsh landing. Aiming your gun, you shot three bullets, finishing the bot off. Exhaling softly, your wings return to white.

“That was supposed to be the hardest level?...”

Everyone was shocked; what did you say????

All the agents who rooted for you cheered in excitement, and the others? Not so happy. They begrudgingly gave up their credits to the winners. You walk back to the lounge, “What a show you put on. Not bad, newbie.” Yoru claps slowly, his smug smirk sparkling through his face. Though his face was cocky about winning, deep down, he was fanboying. You looked so cool; he’s seen the whole team struggle fighting that thing, and the way you killed it? Shit. He just wanted to be cradled in your beautiful soft wings. “You should be thankful I made you win, mister.” “Yeah yeah.” He dismisses you casually, “You didn’t have to be so cocky, ‘That was supposed to be the hardest level?’” “But- I was serious! I didn’t even have to use my full abilities!” The rift walker scoffed, “Is that so? Well- I challenge you to a 1v1.” “I’m sure I can take ya big guy.”

Author’s Note: HEY BABES, SORRY FOR THE SHORT HIATUS… IT'S THE HOLIDAYS AND ALL THAT STUFF, BUT IM BACK ON TRACK. ANYWAYS, this took too long to do. Happy new year's n merry Christmas to all my lovely ppl <333

#valorant #valorant imagines #valorant headcanons #valorant x reader #valorant x y/n #valorant x you #yoru x reader #valorant yoru #yoru valorant #ryo kiritani #yoru x y/n #valorant brim #valorant brimstone #valorant kj #valorant killjoy #valorant raze

[yunhohours]

Okay, final hard hours ask for Ateez!

What do you think the Ateez members would sound like in bed?

So I thought Hongjoong would be quiet but then I found out he has a Sagittarius mercury so he's probably quite vocal then 😂😂

Okay I'm gonna answer this one right now bc I feel like I've thought about this enough and it's easy enough to answer so I can get it out to you quickly fjgsdsdgjsd

Hongjoong: bye he's so loud. he whines. like he's the one you have to worry about keeping quiet if you're near other people. the smallest touch from you and he's moaning and whining for more. he's so sensitive, he just can't help all the little pitiful sounds that come out of him. words are probably not his strong suit. brain isn't working properly.

Seonghwa: seonghwa's duality truly extends to the bedroom because it really depends on the day and his mood what he sounds like in bed. i think the default is breathy moans and curses. like his head back and just gritting "fuck" from between this teeth while he exhales heavily. allll up in your ear with the most calming but sexy whisper you've ever heard in your life. "does that feel good, my prince/princess/baby?" but when he's in a rough mood, lots of louder moans and groans, full grunts when he goes particularly hard on you. doesn't whisper anymore. "yeah you fucking like that, don't you?" cocky smirk, cocky tone.

Yunho: i don't think he's super vocal as far as nonverbal sounds go. like you'll mostly get the hissing of him sucking his breath through his teeth or barely audible groans, an occasional grunt when he's going in. but i think he TALKS a bit more. "tell me what you want." "aw, you like it when i do that, don't you baby?" probably even chuckles because he loves how you respond to him and thinks it's equal parts adorable and so fucking hot.

Yeosang: okay we've got two yeosangs to cover here: submissive yeosang and dominant yeosang. submissive yeosang is all choked off moans and heavy breathing. may latch onto a certain sound like "ahhh" and hold it out. not super verbal unless you make him be. dominant yeosang is eerily quiet. the most nonverbal sound you'll get out of him is a deep grunt when he's being relentless. more prone to talking, like yunho. though his talking is more instructive: "flip over." "be still." "spread your legs."

San: always vocal. you get it all: whines, moans, groans, grunts, curses. talks plenty. he doesn't hesitate to be fully in the moment and let whatever comes out of him come out naturally. "baby, you feel so fucking good," between moans as he guides you on top of him. grunting between words in your ear: "tell me who you belong to." it's all possible with san.

Mingi: loud boy pt. 2. similar to hongjoong but not as perfectly submissive with his sounds. he's capable of more than moans and whines. he can cover the entire range. curses a lot, especially under his breath when you're on top of him or going down on him. the most likely member to grunt audibly with every thrust into you. every feeling elicits an audible response from him. on a rare occasion when you're making him feel good in just the right way, he may go silent, his mouth hung open and his eyes closed, but usually he's loud. not super wordy other than the curses.

Wooyoung: either very loud and whiney like hongjoong or strangely quiet with a lot of cursing. i think he actually probably defaults to the latter because it makes him feel more desirable. he might even be a little embarrassed by how whiney he can get so he probably reserves that side of him a bit for special people and special occasions. when he does get like that, though, he's all in. "don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop," he'll beg. when he's playing it cool, he's mostly concentrating on what he's doing/feeling and doesn't make much noise. you'll mostly hear his breathing get heavier. "fuck, just like that."

Jongho: quietest. he's got business to take care of that business is you. you're most likely to get an occasional groan out of him but not much else. plus, he wants to hear you. that's his shit. he doesn't want to drown out your beautiful sounds with his own. probably doesn't talk much either unless he needs to ask you if you like/don't like something. if you talk to him, though, he'll talk back perfectly fine. he just probably doesn't do it so much on his own.

#th: ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut

[fandomfluffandfuck]

OK S HEAR ME OUT

I just watched Hot Tub Time Machine for the first time recently and since then I’ve been thinking about a new this Bucky with this Steve typa thing:

Preppy, bratty (secretly a softie) 80s Bucky à la Seb in Hot Tub Time Machine WITH some sorta Red Sea Diving Resort, Nomad scruffy older Steve who is, like, utilitarian. He’s practical, works with his hands. He has no time for Bucky’s bs but is still patient, likes to indulge him a bit from time to time. Likes to give Bucky a reason to want to be good for him. Maybe teaches him a lesson or two when he still isn’t? With a consensually firm hand?

I’m terrible at articulating this but the optics of this pairing is gonna put me in an early grave. They’re so hot. Bucky knows he’s pretty and is so good at being a bitch. Steve secretly loves it almost as much as he loves correcting it. They’d bang a lot. They’d banter. Bucky would revel in teasing Steve. And because of the movie I’m picturing all of this happening in the snow?

Any thoughts?

P.S. I am so happy that you are now out of horny jail. Congratulations!

I must admit I've never seen Hot Tub Time Machine, so... I don't know full context for what you're talking about here other than the snippets I've seen on Tumblr. Sorry, lol.

But--

The idea of them

Together?

How can I resist?

I imagine with them there's a lot of Bucky being pushy and bratty, just like you said. And this Bucky is fucking mouthy. He's always running his mouth--always posturing up like he can take Steve in a fight, goading him on and on with the goal of getting Steve to grab his jaw with one of his big paws and force him to look up until his neck strains with their height difference, asking him, "you wanna say that again, darlin'?" His voice is warm, even in the biting cold weather. Bucky can feel it in his bones. Steve is always burning hot. He's always in fewer layers than Bucky or anyone else for that matter. And he's, just, warm. A big, warm man.

Bucky doesn't just want those calloused, rough, and large hands on his jaw, squeezing his dimpled chin, though. He also wants those hands landing heavily on his shoulders and grabbing him, shaking him a little, before dragging him off; away from the people around them so he can talk down to him in a low, growling voice, sounding like he doesn't want to deal with this shit. But he will. Because he has to. It's his job to keep his boy in line. Bucky wants those hands on his waist, gripping, blunt fingernails digging in. Most of all, he wants those hands on his ass, spanking him raw.

Because that's the only way Bucky quits it. The only way he stops running his mouth. It wears that pretty boy, cocky brat facade down like nothing else. Bucky doesn't know why. And he doesn't really care. He can't care about anything but the spanking when it's happening. It's meditation.

It's pleasure.

So, yeah, all Steve has to do is drag Bucky off to an area that's private and got enough space to bent Bucky over. Steve then drags his thermal pants, his normal pants, his snow pants, and his underwear down to right below his ass, exposing him, and finally allowing him to start going to town. Now that he can see that perky, round ass that's begging to be marked up.

Heavy smacks, right away, to get his attention. And the hits only get heavier and harder as time goes on, too.

Steve lands smack after smack, each leaving a burning handprint behind, until Bucky finally chokes out a noise.

Before that first little noise, usually a sob, he holds all those sweet sounds in. Only letting out a sentence here or there or a few short words, behind gritted teeth--

"That all you got, old man?"

"Ha ha," Steve replies dryly, "I'm just sparing you, kid, you couldn't handle harder."

"Pfft."

Steve waits for it--

"I so could!"

There it is.

"Guess you'll waddle outta here with a purple backside then, hm?" Steve warns before smacking him hard.

Bucky is this close 🤏🏻 to letting out the scream that builds in his chest.

Or

"Seriously?"

"Shut your fucking mouth," Steve says, all gravel, no actual anger. He can pretend, though.

"You're spanking me like I'm-"

"Can't fucking behave, Buck, so I gotta treat you like the brat you are." There real age difference makes the roleplay like dirty talk that much hotter. Bucky gets off on it even harder than Steve. "Quit squirming like a bitch and take what you got yourself into, why don't you?"

Bucky's back muscles twitch, obviously steeling himself for more. Trying to prove he's fearless.

Or

"Doesn't even hurt."

"Keep telling yourself that," Steve responds to his petulant words. "I got all the evidence I need right here," Steve flicks the hot, red skin of his poor ass.

Bucky barely, barely bites back a yelp. He can't do anything to hide the way his dick twitches or his thighs struggle to spread wider, though.

Steve grins wolfishly at him. He considers sinking his teeth into one of his round cheeks or into a pretty little thigh, just to teach him a lesson. But he doesn't. Later.

Or

"Still at it?" Bucky pants. His breathlessness ruins the words.

"Yeah, what? You can't take it? Need me to stop?"

"No," Bucky forces a pretty grin over his shoulder.

Steve can see the cracks it in. He wants to see it shatter. So, again.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Enough smacks will do their job and break Bucky right open. He heaves in a trembling breath. He sobs. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, but the tears still come. He lets his mouth drop wide open with the most erotic sound, drooling. And he ducks his head, neck going limp, at the same time that he and drags both of his own hands through his perfectly styled hair. He needs something to grab onto, and all he's got is his luscious locks with the position--bend over the back of a couch ass up and unable to reach any of the throw pillows or Steve behind him, spanking him so hard. So good.

Yeah.

He's really letting go of his ego--his playboy, pretty boy postering shit--if he's willing to mess up his own hair. Shit, Bucky whines sometimes when Steve makes him sweat and get "dirty," so having him mess his own looks up?

It's big.

Steve doesn't say anything yet. But he will later. He'll call his boy "Mr. Hollywood" and "pretty boy" and "brat," and he'll spank him more until he's dripping sweat under all his layers for the snow. Then Steve will shove down his own pants and underwear, enough to get his cock out, and he'll fuck him. He's gonna fuck him hard, making sure that his hips are hitting his boy's red, raw ass, until he's really crying from the painful, pleasurable collision.

As he fucks him, he's gonna mess up Bucky's hair himself, get his fingers in it, and pull his hair until his back and neck are arching with the tension and Steve can get close to his face. He wants to whisper in his ear. "I wish I had a mirror, darlin', 'cause you look the prettiest like this. Your eyes rollin' back in your head, your lips wide open and trembling, your cheeks pink, God. You look like a wreck like this. I love it. Makes you look like such a good lil boy"

Then, when Bucky thinks it can't get any better, any rougher, any dirtier... Steve is gonna slap his ass while he fucks him, rough and rowdy, and Bucky can't help but cum with a wail.

Oh, fuuuck.

It hurts so good.

Edit: now, with a follow-up from our lovely Bf Showing Anon

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #au