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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

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Honey Don't Feed It, It Will Come Back

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: alright got lots to cover; dubcon/coercion, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, tentacle fucking, DP, anal, praise, a little size kink here and there, pet names, unprotected monster sex, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasm - I think I got everything also a brief moment of harassment at the beginning and like standard venom level violence oh and there's mention of food habits so ya know

Genre: Smut... just smut and it's like... almost a dark fic

Summary: Venom takes an extreme liking to you because of your kindness after he saves your life || “Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ // Don’t be kind to it // Honey don’t feed it, it will come back” ~ It Will Come Back by Hozier

***

You huff to yourself as you shut off your computer. You've been working all evening and if you don't make a point to leave and get something to eat now you might skip dinner by accident. Again. You quickly dial your local Chinese takeout place and order your usual as you lock up your apartment. You figure by the time you walk there to pick it up, it'll be ready. You get your food pretty soon after you get there, and wish the workers goodnight before you head back home. It's kind of cool outside tonight, especially for the summer and you're enjoying your walk through the city.

"A pretty lady like you should really avoid walking around alone so late." A voice snarls from behind you. You roll your eyes and keep walking, intent on ignoring the catcaller.

"Hey sweetheart we're talking to you!" A second voice chimes in and you try to subtly increase your pace as you steel your nerves. You gasp when a hand grabs your arm and yanks you backwards.

"It's rude to ignore people." The first voice sneers in your face, his grip tightening on your bicep.

"Let go of me." You huff trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

"Not a chance."

"HEY! YOU SHOULD PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!" A voice growls and you stumble back when a large shadow plucks the man holding you away from you.

"Oh my God." You gasp falling against the wall behind you. A large shiny creature dangles the one man high in the air.

"IT'S NOT NICE TO GRAB LADIES WALKING HOME!" The monster scolds him.

"H-hey man, we weren't doing nothing." The man tries to appease the giant while the second guy finally snaps out of his stupor and takes off in the other direction.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE! I DON'T LIKE CHASING MY FOOD!" The monster stretches something resembling a tentacle towards the second guy, grabbing his ankle and pulling him back to hang next to the first.

"S-she's fine, see?"

"ONLY BECAUSE I CAME." What you assume are the creature's eyes narrow at them both. "YOU DIDN'T GRAB HER, BUT IF I EVER SEE YOU BOTHERING SOMEONE AGAIN I WILL EAT YOUR BRAIN!" The creature drops the second guy and he practically trips over his feet as he scrambles away. "YOU I WILL EAT NOW!" The creature says to guy one, dangling him over his mouth. The man lets out a scream that is cut off suddenly as you watch the creature bite off his head.

"Holy shit." You whisper. The monster tosses what's left of the guy down an alley and you vaguely hear his body clunk against something, likely a garbage bin.

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

"I- I'm fine. Thank you."

"YOU'RE WELCOME."

"Who are you?" You ask quietly.

"WE ARE VENOM."

"We?" You frown. Black tar-like goo slowly retracts to reveal a man's face.

"I'm Eddie. The- black goo is an alien, Venom."

"What like that body snatchers movie?"

"Not quite, I'm still in control here. We work as a team." Eddie explains.

"Well- thank you for, helping me with those guys but you didn't have to eat that one."

"It's how I appease the big guy. He gets sustenance from some chemical only found in brains and chocolate."

"Phenethylamine?" You ask.

"You know what it is?"

"Well yeah I- I work for a chem lab." You tell him. He's quiet for a moment before he sighs.

"Venom is insisting we offer to walk you home. If you're okay with that." Eddie says.

"I wouldn't want you to go out of your way I mean-"

"WE WANT TO! WE CAN MAKE SURE YOU'RE SAFE!" Venom reappears, swallowing Eddie's face behind black goo and stark white eyes.

"Alright well, it's only a couple of blocks. I suggest you, de-alien though I think people would freak out seeing an eight foot mass of black goo."

"I AM SEVEN FEET AND SIX INCHES! WE MEASURED!"

"Still you'd draw way too much attention to yourself like that."

"FINE." Venom relents and retracts into Eddie.

"That is so- fascinating." You mutter.

"Trust me, it loses its novelty." Eddie says. "Lead the way." He adds.

"Have you been this way your whole life?" You ask as you walk with him towards your apartment.

"What? With the alien? No, no this was an unfortunate accident. I simply can't get rid of him now." Eddie says.

"Do you not get along?" You frown.

"Not always. It's like having a roommate you can't hide from in your room when you're annoyed with them."

"Huh- so where does he, go? Like when you're out here... where is he?"

"That's a complicated question." He scoffs. "I never got your name." He looks at you.

"Sorry! It's y/n. I guess the whole scientist's curiosity thing got the best of me." You mutter.

"No need to apologize." He shakes his head. Eddie walks you all the way up to your apartment before attempting to part ways.

"Would you- like to come in?" You ask before you can chicken out.

"I wouldn't want to impose. It's late and-"

"It's the least I can do. You basically just saved my life. I'd like to thank you." You say.

"Well Venom wants to stay so I guess it couldn't hurt." Eddie says.

"Great! Make yourself at home. Would you like anything? I don't have brains but I certainly have a bag of chocolate if Venom would like any." You offer as he follows you in.

"Abagof chocolate? Stocking up early for Halloween?" He jokes sitting on your couch.

"No not yet. I have a coworker that has one hell of a sweet tooth and I recently learned that he works best when incentivized so, if ever we're working late chocolate actually helps him stay focused. But if we're not careful he'll tear through the whole bag in like three hours, it's kind of impressive actually." You laugh.

"Oh if you think that's impressive wait til you see what V can do. He'll tear through it in like three minutes. If he stops to take the wrapping off anyway. Usually though he just chucks the whole thing back and then- spits back up the trash like a cat with a hairball." Eddie scoffs.

"Well- that's... compact at least." You muse pulling the bag of candy from your pantry.

"That's one way to look at it."

"Did you want food by the way? I was out picking up Chinese in the first place. There's definitely enough to share." You say grabbing plates. You usually order enough to have leftovers so you can definitely give some to your guest, you'll just not have as much left over.

"Oh I'm not all that hungry but-"

"I'LL HAVE THAT CHOCOLATE PLEASE!" Venom's head emerges from behind Eddie to chime in.

"Of course. Eddie are you sure you don't want anything?"

"HE EATS BEFORE WE GO OUT AT NIGHT." Venom tells you.

"Well I feel weird eating if my guests aren't so you'll have to have something. You want chips or pretzels or something?"

"HE LIKES CHEESY SNACKS. DO YOU HAVE ANY OF THE CORN TRIANGLES?" Venom asks.

"Corn triangles?" You frown.

"THEY'RE ORANGE IN A RED BAG."

"Doritos? Sure I have some."

"HE'LL EAT THOSE."

"Venom I said I wasn't hungry." Eddie grumbles.

"AND SHE SAID SHE WON'T EAT IF YOU DON'T SO EAT THE CORN TRIANGLES." Venom glares at him.

"You guys argue like a married couple." You giggle. You grab the bag of chips, the bag of chocolate, and a plate before joining them on your couch.

"Honestly we aren't too far off." Eddie chuckles taking the chips from you. A slimy black appendage wraps around the chocolate and pulls it almost out of view entirely.

"Oh- are you guys in a relationship?" You ask curiously as you dump half of the takeout box onto your plate.

"Something to that effect. I mean- he's kinda inside my body like all the time. No such thing as privacy with him around." He shrugs.

"So- does your diet affect his, or vice versa?" You ask between bites of your dinner.

"Only psychologically."

"What?"

"The first few times you eat another person are kinda traumatizing but you get used to it. We have separate digestive systems so- I'm technically not consuming human brains."

"HE NEARLY HAD A PANIC ATTACK THE FIRST TIME I ATE SOMEONE BUT I WAS SAVING HIS LIFE." Venom chimes in and you realize the full bag of candy you gave him is now just a ball of trash.

"Venom." Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You know I feel like a brain eating vigilante would draw attention- even in a city like New York." You frown.

"I'm careful." Eddie says.

"Oh yeah? I don't think tossing that guy in what I assume is a dumpster tonight screams careful."

"V got carried away. We'll take care of it before anyone sees it in the morning."

"I'M ONLY ALLOWED TO EAT BAD GUYS. NO ONE CARES IF YOU EAT BAD GUYS." Venom says with what you think is a smile.

"Not quite, cops still care but that's we we're careful about it." Eddie tells him.

"WE COULD EAT THE COPS!"

"It'd be hard to eat all of the NYPD I think." You muse.

"I COULD TOTALLY DO IT."

"No we are not eating cops. Bad guys, remember?" Eddie sighs.

"Depending on who you ask cops do fall under that category." You shrug.

"REALLY?!"

"Don't rile him up." Eddie points at you in warning while you laugh.

"I wasn't trying to I promise." You say with a wide smile that makes it hard for Eddie to keep his stern expression.

"Sure. I'd love to stay but we do have to take care of that creep in the dumpster before sunrise so- we should probably head out." Eddie stands.

"Of course. Thanks again for your help tonight." You say standing with him to walk him out.

"Not a problem. Thanks for the snacks."

"You're welcome. If you need anything, door's always open." You smile.

"BYE Y/N! WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN." Venom says before disappearing.

"Have a goodnight." Eddie nods before turning down the hall. You lock your door and finish your food with thoughts of the curious duo staying at the front of your mind even as you get ready for bed that night.

"I REALLY LIKED HER." Venom declares to Eddie.

"Yeah, she was nice."

"WE SHOULD GO SEE HER AGAIN TOMORROW."

"No. We can't just pop up at her place for no reason."

"WHY NOT? SHE SAID THE DOOR WAS ALWAYS OPEN."

"She did not mean it literally it's just a nice thing people say V. We're not going back there tomorrow. End of discussion." Eddie says and when Venom doesn't respond he assumes he's relenting. He's not actually, but Venom is learning to pick and choose his battles when it comes to Eddie so he'll keep his plans to himself for now.

The next night a knock on your window surprises you while you're watching a movie. You gasp when you see Venom smiling and waving frantically at you. You rush to pull the window open and he climbs inside quickly.

"Venom? What are you doing? Is everything okay?" You frown.

"EVERYTHING IS FINE. I JUST WANTED TO SEE YOU AGAIN." He says looking down at you. His gaze makes you conscious of the fact that you're in a small tank top and a pair of shorts.

"You know you could've used the front door. Right?" You ask walking to your kitchen to put distance between you.

"I THOUGHT I'D DRAW TOO MUCH ATTENTION WALKING INTO YOUR BUILDING." Venom shrugs looking around your apartment.

"You would but Eddie wouldn't."

"HE WOULDN'T COME IF I ASKED HIM."

"So- wait you basically dragged him here?"

"SOMETHING LIKE THAT. HE SAID WE COULDN'T JUST COME SEE YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU SAID THE DOOR WAS ALWAYS OPEN."

"You guysarebasically an old married couple." You laugh. "You ate the whole bag of chocolate yesterday but I did run to a corner store today and pick up a Hershey bar so- you can have that if you'd like." You tell him.

"I DIDN'T COME HERE TO GET CHOCOLATE." He says with something in his voice that you totally miss while rumaging through your fridge.

"Really? I figure with your size you're like always hungry." You muse turning towards him. It's then that you realize how his eyes are focused on you in a way you can only describe as predatory.

"I WANT SOMETHING ELSE FROM YOU." He says practically boxing you in the kitchen.

"Unless you're here to eat me I don't have a brain lying around to give you." You quip trying to slow your increasing heartrate.

"I WILL EAT YOU, BUT NOT YOUR BRAIN."

"What?" You breathe out, the fear you're feeling now mixing with confusion and lust you try to tamper down.

"YOU DON'T FEAR ME LIKE OTHERS DO."

"In general? No I don't fear you but- right now I'm unsure how to feel."

"WHY? I WON'T HURT YOU."

"You just said you're going to eat me."

"IN A WAY YOU WILL ENJOY." Venom cages you against the counter, and you shrink back

"Venom now wait a second-"

"I'LL TREAT YOU VERY WELL."

"That's not-"

"YOU WANT ME- I CAN SMELL IT. WHY DENY IT?"

"You can smell it?"

"OF COURSE I CAN."

"Oh-"

"JUST LET ME HAVE YOU Y/N. LET MEDEVOURYOU." Venom says. You pause for a moment to consider your options.

"O-okay." You say quietly and his arm wraps around you immediately crowding your space. You gasp when he pulls your shorts off so fast you're surprised they didn't rip. He lifts you up onto his shoulders as if you're a bag of feathers and his tongue snakes out of his mouth and between your legs before you can prepare. Venom laps at your cunt with fervour, your legs squeezing around his head at the way pleasure builds between your legs. You're pressed up against the cabinets as he slurps up your juices like he's dehydrated.

"TASTES SO GOOD." He growls out as his tongue thrusts in and out of you eagerly. His tongue is thick and long, almost impossibly so as it fills you so well. You squirm against his mouth chasing your release that you can feel approaching quickly.

"Venom- I'm, fuck I'm close." You whine.

"DO IT. LET ME TASTE YOUR RELEASE." Venom orders and the way his tongue moves against you as he talks is enough to send you over the edge with a cry. You barely realize Venom lowering you from his shoulders and you hardly have a moment to recover before he's impaling you on his dick. Your back arches at the way he fills you.

"Fuck!" You moan out and Venom practically roars when your walls contract around him.

"YOU'RE SO TIGHT." Venom groans. He tightens his grip on you and sets a pace, raising and lowering you on him with ease.

"God you're big." You whimper falling forward against him as he uses you like a human fleshlight. You claw at his arms, trying to ground yourself while he fucks you open. Tentacle like appendages suddenly appear and wrap around your breasts, teasing your nipples.

"SO PRETTY." He smiles at the way your face contorts with pleasure and bends down enough to kiss you. His tongue invades your mouth in an overwhelming way, swallowing your moans. You can hardly tell where he ends and you begin, it's like he's everywhere at once. More tentacles appear, one teasing your back entrance while another toys with your clit. He pulls away from your mouth as he continues to prod at your ass without slowing his pace. "I WANT YOU HERE TOO, YOU'LL LET ME HAVE YOU HERE, WON'T YOU?" Venom asks while rubbing tight circles against your clit. You're drowning in pleasure and barely able to register is question as another orgasm builds inside you. "COME ON MY LITTLE MORSEL. TELL ME I CAN DO IT." Venom coaxes, fucking you harder, teasing you more.

"Yes! Fuck yes Venom! You can do anything! Fuck!" You cry out shaking as he rips your second orgasm from you. At that moment, Venom thrusts into into your ass and another scream falls from your lips. If you thought he was everywhere before, now it's even more overwhelming as he fucks you onto his dick in time with the tentacle moving in your ass.

"YESSSSSS." He hisses out.

"V-Venom 's it's too much." You whimper, every part in your body feels too hot.

"YOU CAN TAKE IT. YOU SAID I CAN DO ANYTHING TO YOU. I'M GOING TO RUIN YOU." He says. His tongue snakes out of his mouth and slithers down your chest, lapping at one nipple while a tentacle continues to work the other. It's too much and the speed with which your third orgasm starts building scares you. He very well might actually devour you at this rate. "YOU'RE TAKING ME SO WELL. YOU WERE MADE FOR THIS."

"I- I- please Venom- fucking hell-" Your whimpers are hardly coherent as pleasure threatens to consume you.

"I CAN FEEL ANOTHER ORGASM COMING. LET GO FOR ME MORSEL. GIVE IN." Venom beguiles, his touch returning to your clit to push you over the edge. With the way he works every part of you there's no stopping your release when it gushes from you. "SO GOOD. ANOTHER." He commands.

"I- wait Venom wait- too soon." You plead breathlessly.

"I WANT ANOTHER I'LL TAKE ANOTHER."

"I can't- n-not yet."

"YOU CAN BECAUSE I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU." He declares as he continues rubbing against your too sensitive clit. You try to squirm away from his ministrations but with him filling your holes you're unable to run as he plays with your most sensitive areas.

"S-shit Venom please I-"

"JUST ONE MORE. ONE MORE AND I'LL LET YOU HAVE A BREAK." He promises and it's enough to send you over the edge a fourth time with a weak whimper. Venom lets up on your clit, focusing now, on his own release. He drives into you, little whines still falling from your lips as exhaustion sets in. "I COULD STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER." He declares with a grunt as he floods your walls with evidence of his orgasm. He stands there holding you for a while, wondering if moving you would break you. Eventually, he moves you to the couch and lays with you on top of him. Now that he's experienced this, knows the warmth of you, it's something he refuses to go without again. Whether you want this or not Venom is yours now and will always find his way back to you.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #venom x reader #venom fanfiction #venom #eddie brock #venom smut

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metranart · 6 days

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His Mate, finally someone to call his…

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader.

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 3)

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

“Tell me,” Hawks’ voice sounded deeper, raspier almost feral, as it you were facing a darker self of the same man, and the next words that came out of his mouth made you realize how affected he was, for you have never EVER, had such a raw response.

“...May I fuck you as your way of thanking me for saving you?”

“...W-what?” You stammered, shock dripping down your tone, an eyebrow raising almost comically.

“Whaddya say, kid—” Hawks purred, closing the distance so much that you found yourself upholstered against the cold wall behind you, the broad chest of the winged hero pressed flush against you as your shaky hands latched onto his black, hero shirt. “You said you could handle me...”

Wrapping one of your hands in his, he guided it down so you could feel his hard rock cock through his pants, a hoarse moan accompanied his next words as the hero guided you to start to pump him. “I can't assure you that I'll be gentle....” the speed of his hand increased, letting you feel every ridge and swelled vein in his fat erection, “but I can assure that you will LOVE to give that tight, warm cunt to me.”

The golden around his eyes was gone, completely eaten by the blown pupil, anxiety starting to take its toll on you, this was too much.... never in your life have you had such a reaction from anyone you healed... and suddenly Recovery girl's words echoed in your head again. The lack of control from your quirk can have adverse results on the wounded, especially on persons who have animal traits... don't use it at that level until you are one hundred percent sure you can master it...

Hawks had animal traits, even his fucking hero name was one of an actual animals.... you screwed up, HARD.

“Hawks, S-sir, I...” You didn’t find it in you to move. Every single fiber of your being screamed to listen to his advice and run, but you couldn’t.

The heat was suddenly too much when you could clearly feel his cock twitching on your palm, and lively snatching your hand, you pushed Hawks away with all your force, a wicked smile stretched his mouth, even so, scooted over so you could attempt to run to a secluded corner next to a dumpster, to catch your breath.

His step faltered just a second before he felt compelled to trail behind, slumping beside you, unceremoniously. His head lolled, dipping to press another whisper of a kiss to your jaw, like he didn't care in the slightest, that you were trying to get away from him.

A warm hand rested over your shoulder, and you felt yourself shiver. “Usually, I don’t fancy brats,” Hawks said, and without breaking a sweat, grinded you against the wall without contemplation, “But you are sooooo cute, I´ll make an exception.”

“Hawks, Sir!” it was so weird to call Sir someone closer to your age than that of your cousin’s, yet, your voice seemed looped on it, “you are being influenced by my quirk...it is-it is based on energy that–” He didn't let you finish when you were being caged between his arms again, soft lips peppering your face with invasive kisses.

“—I don’t care, brat, I warned you.” The hero spatted, and a tear threatened to peek at the corner of your eye, yet you inhaled sharply and instead set your mind in hero mode, you weren’t some damsel in distress, you were a hero in training… perhaps there was still a chance for you to complete the healing loop, and satiate Hawks enough for him to come back to his usual self, at least for a moment to be able to talk him out of fucking you raw.

Slowly, you started to wiggle out of his arms, but then paused for a second to tilt your chin up, and press a tender kiss to his lips to which he responded eagerly, flushed and awfully anxious you tried not to get distracted from your task when he mmphs low in his throat and his hand snaked up to cradle your jaw, holding you there for just a bit longer than you originally planned.

You tried to low his libido down, but your resistance instead urged him to grind his hard rock erection against you, so ready for you to take care of it. And there was when you saw your way out, this was the chance you were looking for, the winged hero was already too lost in his hormonal brain, too affected by your quirk, too deep into his own instinctual behavior to listen to reason....so, you needed to plunge him out by force.... hard and fast, an explosion of pleasurable release.... you were going to have to make him cum, and preferably, without raping you in the process.

The first thing was to separate him a bit from you, but right now that seemed to be the most difficult... since the dirtiness of the things he whispered devilishly against your ear were paralyzing you...

“I´m gonna stuff you with my chicks, you are gonna look soooooo pretty all swelled and heavy...” he breathed into your mouth. His voice teasing, yet again, held undertones of something deeper, something similar to devotion.... almost too caring. This man groping you wasn't the hero persona you’d seen on the news; this was the man behind the mask asking you to bare his children and become utterly his.

“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little wifey, waiting for me—” one of his hands dipped under the rim of your skirt, slowly worming his fingers to snatch your shirt up until the skin of your belly was exposed for him to place his big, calloused palm on top—reverently—as if you were meant to be his most prized person, “...round belly, full of my chicks and big, pretty smile on your face,” he kept daydreaming, “-SO ready for me to fill you again.”

Even using all your strength, you weren't able to move it off of you one inch, and worry spiked up when his advantageous palm keep traveling down your lower belly, dragging closer and closer under your panties—you knew what he was after, so you reduced to use a lamer approach.

“Let me-let me do something first...” you pleaded, and thankfully it caught his sporadic attention, cocking his head to the side quizzically to then dive his face in the hollow of your neck, and breath the next words out. “Sorry, kid, I like to take the lead—”

“That´s okey!” you hurried, “it’s just- it's my... my first time... please, just let me—” you prayed for this to work, desperation really turning your voice into a pitiful sound.

Hawks thought about it for a moment, and grinning more to himself, gift you some space to do whatever you wanted to do –of course under his supervision– it would be embarrassing, and honestly, you didn't know if you would make it work but you had to try, because you refused to have a teenage pregnancy.

“Your show, kid.” Hawks spilled, sassy grin firmly on his face.

Oh! How you wished he weren't looking so attentively.

“Could you close your eyes—”

“No.”

Well, that was fast, but expected.

Arming yourself with courage, carefully fixed your disheveled shirt and to the best of your ability stood straight in steady legs, but then stopped for an entirely different reason.

“Can you please.... —can you please unbuckle your pants?” The words rushed out of you, embarrassment eating you out, painfully.

“Good girl.” He praised, nimbly unbuckling his belt, and without you having to ask, took himself out.

Your orbs almost popped out of its sockets, you had seen a dick before but none this big, Hawks was massive, long and thick with a very pretty pink shade, and a dusting of blond hairs nesting on top. “As you can surely see, I’m pretty big, baby,” he cooed in a low rasp, “We better prepare you first, or it’s gonna hurt—like a lot,” you swallowed, thickly.

And the moment you saw him smearing precum all over the head of his length, and dip two fingers inside his mouth to let his drool cover them to then lick his lips while wiggling the after mentioned digits at you—you didn't know what came over you. Perhaps you truly were possessed or just too determined, but you rushed towards him, and your hand reached between his thighs.

Hawks exhaled sharply leaning into your touch, letting his hot breath wash over your face and you felt him widen his stance to accommodate closer to you. Experimentally, you pumped him once and felt him brace an arm behind the small of your back, supporting himself on the solid wall as your fingers began to slip, treacherously slow, up and down his reddened cock.

He choked out a strangled sigh when you gripped him from the base and began to coil your hand to then cup his heavy balls. His head lolled once more, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, panting, bursts of hot breath fanning over your throat.

You felt your own breath quicken, felt yourself getting bolder, nevertheless, the uneasy feeling of being jacking off a total stranger in the open, never leaving your mind.

You meshed your other hand into his golden locks and pulled him closer, pressing your body flush against his. Hawks moaned, keening, his arm now firmly around your waist. You shushed him quietly, tightening the hold on his shaft while gaining speed and precision with each stroke.

In this position, you looked as though you were only consoling a Hero who had a rough week, simply hugging in the dim light of the lonely alley. The shadows hiding you both, that feral Golden gaze reserved only for you.

“—Is the pressure, Okey?” You sighed into his cheek.

“Please don’t stop...” Hawks whimpered. “God, don’t fucking stop—”

You didn’t, but it wasn’t enough, your touch felt naughtily good, but he was accustomed to experienced partners, even hand jobs needed certain speed and pressure to be fulfilling. The frustrating feeling of not getting what he wanted, edged him to wrap your hand with his and pump your fist faster- it wasn’t as tight, or warm or heavenly as your virgin cunt should feel- but it did scratch the itch, ever so slightly.

Pressing his face flush against your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent helped him get closer. He made you jerk him faster, harder. He needed more, more accurate, you, moaning and screaming for him to breed you—mate you.

His Mate, finally someone to call his… that precious thought and your warm hand achieved the goal a little, just a few drops of pearly cum squeezed out, but enough to grant him a second of coherency.

“I know what you—what you are trying to do.... kid,” His voice was deep, yet it wasn't the rut speaking, this was actually Hawks.

“Hawks...?” you called out.

“In the flesh-...ngh!...” he attempted to joke but his voice cracked as he moaned, “This was—FUCK—it was very smart of you...” you could see the struggle in his features, it sounded like he was in pain, “—but I need more....much, much, muchMORE....” he smiled at you, apologetically, “-to be able to tame this fucking rut.”

He knew what he was asking, and even when hated to do it, knew as well that you would prefer that than carry his children and having him strapped to your hip for the next eighteen years, only letting you go once your offspring was able to be autonomous.

“I-…I can´t…I´m sorry, Hawks—” you trailed, shame curling your lips down, at the knowledge that all of this was your own fault.

“I know-... sweet girl, its fine...” He cooed, narrowed eyes locked in you cum stained fingers, “I understand… but I need you to understand as well—”

His voice sounded more strained with each passing second, the winged hero could feel himself slipping away again, he didn’t want to ask, but sure as hell, would hate a lot more to end up taking you by force.

“—I can’t control myself…” He confessed, “not when in rut and—”

“I understand.” You muttered, quietly.

“You do?”

You nodded, unable to look him in the eye, yet you felt his hand when gently caressed your cheek once, before it latched on to your nape and yanked, hinting you.

“Then please —please, don’t make me ask.”

You wondered if he had ever had to beg someone before, of course not, he could have whoever he wanted. Quit stalling, your mind scolded and you felt the pull of his hand again, a little more demanding.

Taking your hand, like a true gentleman, help you to your knees. It was the least he could do, and shame reflected in his eyes when you looked up. Hard and heavy cock throbbing with need in front of your face, ready to be swallowed down.

Your mouth quivered and before you could set your mind to engulf him, his knuckles gently traced your jawline tenderly, pampering the skin before dip a thumb into your mouth, smearing it with saliva and moistening your dry lips.

You looked as ready as you could be, for someone about to give a blowjob to the number two hero.

COMING SOON PART 4....

⭕️ In my PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

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alienpossession · 6 months

Text

Body a Day 19: Father

Read the first part here

I was estranged from my homophobic father ever since I graduated college and lived on my own.

I bet deep down he knows about my whole sexcapade with the football jocks throughout high school and then the buddies I brought along during winter break were more than just regular buds. But he chose to not rock his own boat with outing his own gay son and believed that I just chose to went away from him and lived my life.

I finally reached out to him after 7 years as I projected to marry my partner next year and how fast he's approaching 60. I was anxious because I surely would rock his boat by doing this. Yet, contrary to my belief, he took the news well and even congratulated me. He was warm, appreciative and seemed more focused and less talkative, but maybe that's just his way to process the whole news.

As I planned to head back home to San Diego next Monday, I started to pack my luggage. Then, out of the blue, my father walked in my room only in his underwear, a rather common sight around this house during my visit yet still startled me everytime

"Oh, you are not staying for Christmas, Brad?"

"I told you, I promised Dylan that I'll join his family's Christmas in order for him to introduce me to his family,"

"Ahh, that's too bad,"

"Well, you can join me if you want. You haven't met Dylan after all,"

"No no, that's not what I mean. It's too bad that you'll not be able to join Dylan to celebrate Christmas,"

My father instantly leaped like a crazed beast and pinned me to the bed. I tried to fight the hardest but he's simply too strong and seemingly out of his mind. Then, with a sinister smile, he released his increasingly erect cock from his underwear and let it dangle right on top of my gaped mouth and nose. With precision, he then submerged that fat musty inches of manmeat right to my mouth while his hand held my head to keep my head in its place. His face shown a level of seriousness and rather observant look as I let him have a go with my mouth even though I was fully repulsed by the whole thing. It's like as if despite my mind screaming for help, his presence hypnotized me to not make a scene and let it all happen

As the speed of him pistoning that meat in and out of my mouth increased, I started to sense another presence within me. Something cold and foreign lodged in my throat and I can feel the freezing sensation spread slowly yet surely all across my body. As he grunted and telling me that he's about to cum, the sensation already reached 80% of my body but when the geyser finally exploded, I instantly went blank

---

"Hey Dyl, my father insisted on this so he bought you a ticket to Miami to come join us by the beach! Pack your bag and head down here first, then we'll go to your family's home in Delaware together," texted Brad with a smirk on his face while his left hand busy caressing his docile dad's body. Now it's finally inside the son, it feels truly right at home as the son is more age appropriate to ensure its long-lasting and far-reaching presence on Earth with this overflowing stamina and libido to carryout multiple conversion a day. Dylan's family seemed pretty hot based on Brad's memories of seeing their picture, might be a good way to celebrate Christmas by making all of them just like Brad's dad over here, an empty husk that will do nothing except following the conditions implanted on him

#alien possession #male possession #body a day

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drdemonprince · 9 months

Note

Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

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moonbaby26 · 24 days

Text

And here are our official Doflamingo crumbs for today, loves. At least he has a prison buddy now? Instead of just screaming into the void, Magellan actually comes sit with him to chat about current world events. How nice!

Do you think Tsuru ever drops in too? And like, how often do they let this man move? Must every conversation be with him splayed spread eagle with his crotch facing the gate?

Magellan: “You realize we have added more slack in the chains…you can reposition anytime you choose…”

Doffy: “Nah.” *attention whoredness intensifies* “This is fine.” *spreads even more, enjoying the level 6 cool drafts and increasing awkwardness for his visitors who must now ignore/endure the flamingo bulge*

Edit: scanlation link here in english for as long as it lasts

#donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #doffy #doffy one piece #one piece doflamingo #one piece magellan #magellan #one piece manga #one piece fandom #one piece spoilers #one piece headcanons #one piece

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traveler-at-heart · 1 year

Note

Hearing nats genuine belly laugh for the first time

Thanks for the prompt!

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Tickles

It’s impossible to read her.

Natasha controls her expressions and reactions to virtually everything.

If she’s happy, one corner of her mouth will rise. Angry, and her glare could kill you, but you’ll never hear her screaming or cursing.

Never mind laughing. She loves being sarcastic and her wit rivals that of Tony. But you’ve never heard her laugh with abandonment.

And you’re so curious about that elusive sound. If her few chuckles or hums have your head spining, what would a real, authentic and care free laugh do to you?

Sweep you off your feet.

Which is exactly what Natasha does, making you land on your back.

“You’re distracted” she comments, no expression as she waits for you to stand up.

“I’m not” you lie.

You’re always distracted when she wears those tight leggings and tank top to train.

How you wish you could be better at hiding your own feelings.

“You are” she confirms when she throws a kick to your leg and then flips you over, straddling your hips.

She’s right on top of you, a proud and cocky smirk that only increases her level of hotness.

“Whatever” you mumble, trying to get her off of you. She makes you work for it and you decide to poke her side to annoy her.

Then, the strangest thing happens.

Natasha giggles.

Your eyes widen and her hand covers her mouth. For the first time since you’ve known her, she looks mortified.

“Don’t you ever do that again”

“Do what?” you challenge, and poke one of her sides and then the other one. She giggles again and then traps your wrists in her hands.

“Stoopp” she complains but you shake your head no.

Pretty soon you’re rolling around, trying to get the upper hand and free yourself from her hold.

Once you accomplish that, you tickle her back and she lets out a squeal, laughing like crazy.

Between her laughs and your hands going up and down, you end up tickling the inside of her elbow and on pure instinct she throws a punch.

“Shitshitshit” she says when you get knocked out, your eye begining to swell.

“Tasha?” you come to your senses a minute later.

“I’m here” she says, her hand on your cheek. “I’m so sorry”

“You have a nice laugh” is all you can think to say, still pretty out of it.

She blushes-another first since you’ve known her.

“Let’s ice that punch”

“Mmkay”

—

Fifteen minutes later and you’re back to being fully conscious of what happened.

You’re leaning on a kitchen stool, a bag of frozen peas covering the left side of your face.

“What happened to you?” Sam asks when he sees the both of you sitting in silence.

“I tickled Natasha and she knocked me out”

“By accident” Nat clarifies.

“Allegedly” you open your one good eye and smile at her.

“Who tickles the Black Widow?” Sam defends her and you nod.

“Someone really stupid. Clearly”.

They talk about missions and training new recruits. By the time Sam goes back to his quarters you feel like your eye is less swollen, so you remove the frozen peas.

Natasha leans forward and touches the redened area.

“I really am sorry”

“It was worth it to hear you laugh” you grab her wrist, making soothing circles with your thumb. “Do you think Fury will want to take me shopping for my very own eye patch?” you feign excitement and she snorts.

“You won’t need one, but I do hope you’ve learned your lesson”

“No tickling a trained spy. Ever”

Natasha smiles shyly, and you get bold enough to ask something else.

“Wanna grab dinner with me tonight? As reparation for my partial blindness”

“I’d like that” she smiles.

“I’ll see you later then” you stand up, already planning your date. “With my one good eye”

“Shut up” she laughs again.

What a beautiful sound

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n

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guilty-pleasures21 · 29 days

Note

hellO IT IS I! First off I'd like to start by saying hi! I love your writings; you are my favorite long story writer, and I want to STEAL your creative abilities. Reading one of your series rn actually :D

Just wanted to say that before I tell you: if you aren't taking requests or something in this makes you uncomfortable to just discard. OKAY NOW I HAVE AN IDEA

It's another Miguel fic where reader is also spidey. She's actually one of the more techy ones! Imagine engineer from tf2 but not necessarily Texan and can make things so advanced they nearly trump Miguel's devices, plus she has her own office/shop in the society where she makes stuff for other spideys. Reader can make almost anything with enough time and materials. The funky part is: she's really clumsy. Not like "oh no I dropped this stack of papers" clumsy. I mean ENGINEER CLUMSY. She'll hit her head on things, fall, get hit real bad in battle, eat a not-fully-cooked chicken sandwich, and every time she gets back up like it was nothing because she has high constitution. I'm talking slung across a room in battle, Miguel is screaming her name in concern, and she just. Gets up. And brushes dust off her spidey suit. Or she'll be up somewhere, fall from really high, die for a sec, then get up like nothing happened and go on normally.

Thank you for hearing me, I bow my head to you. Apologies if this was too long. Respect to your efforts, and have a good day/night!

AHHHHH!!! I don't know if you'd believe it, but this is my first Miguel request 🤩!! I don't get a lot of requests, so I'm really happy to take them! It gives me a chance to practise my creative writing skills and also a boost whenever I have writer's block (which happens A LOT as you can probably tell by how up and down my posting is 😅).

Thank you for the compliments! I always get a little worried my writings are too long sometimes, but it's nice to know that people enjoy them!

Okay, so I'm not familiar with TF2, but I did a quick search and I hope I've gotten the general vibe of what you were imagining 🥺!

The engineer

ATSV Miguel × clumsy techie fem!reader

Warnings: None.

----------------------------------------------------------

She leaned over Miguel’s arm to sneak a peek at whatever he’d been working on beside her. “You know, if you re-wired this connection here and took these ones out completely, you could increase the charge while using less power.”

He turned to her, an incredulous look on his face. But she just smiled.

“Just try it,” she suggested calmly. “You can always change it back if it doesn’t work.”

“Hmm.” She did have a point; he didn’t have anything to lose by giving it a go. He did as she said, taking out a few of the wires completely, then pulled the trigger on the taser. The end lit up with a spark stronger than it had ever done before and his eyes widened, impressed. “Wow. Good job, arañita.”

She rolled her eyes, but kept the amused expression on her face.

“I’m not your mentee, Miguel.” She turned to face him, then gestured between the both of them. “We’re on the same level. Just say ‘thanks’. Don’t talk down to me like that.”

She shrugged before returning her attention to her own gadget and Miguel raised his eyebrows: he’d only had people respond to him with anger, meeting him head to head and chastising him for what they perceived as his condescending tone. But she just corrected him like he simply hadn’t known any better. He turned back to his desk, suddenly keenly aware of her warm presence beside him, and the two settled back into their usual comfortable silence.

He walked into the cafeteria, unable to ignore his rumbling stomach any longer. But the lunch rush should have been over, so the area shouldn’t have been too crowded by then. His gaze landed on X, seated at a table with Ben, Jess and Peter, and his heart fluttered unexpectedly at the smile on her face. He pushed it down, not wanting to look into it, and walked over to the group. “What are we talking about?”

She shifted over on her bench, giving Miguel enough space to squeeze in beside her, and her stomach flipped when she caught his now-familiar woodsy scent.

“X somehow ate a raw chicken sandwich yesterday and now she says she’s fine!” Ben ousted her immediately.

“It was undercooked!” X insisted. But her correction did nothing to ease the thoughts of salmonella that flooded Miguel’s mind.

“¡Arañita! You can’t do that! Why didn’t you just come here?!”

X paused, caught off guard by the rare concern on his chiselled features.

“Oh. I was at work! But then I got to go home early.” She gave him a playful nudge, flashing him a conspiratorial smile, and Miguel felt his heart speed up again.

“¡Arañita!” he scolded her, trying to maintain his hard expression. But she just continued to fix him with that adorable smile and all he found himself able to do was hang his head and sigh. “What are you having for dinner?”

She twisted in her seat, swinging her leg over the bench to straddle it and face him fully. Miguel ignored the curious glances he noticed the others shooting them out of the corner of his eye and instead focused his attention on X. “Oh, I have some leftover pizza from … two nights ago? I think? So-”

“You are not eating leftover pizza, X,” he warned her, folding his arms across his chest and scrunching his brows together in a serious expression. X felt her stomach tighten at the way his muscles pressed against his suit, then she glanced away, embarrassed.

“Um, but …” What were they talking about again? Oh, right! Pizza! She lifted her gaze back to his. “But they’re serving cheeseburgers tonight!”

“But you always have your chicken patty,” Miguel pointed out, confused by her response. A few of the Spider’s had different food preferences to the others, so the kitchen staff always made sure to keep a stock of different ingredients.

“They ran out,” X told him, hanging her head in disappointment.

“Oh.” Miguel let his arms fall back to his sides, trying to come up with a solution to her predicament. “Well, we can … we can always go out … somewhere … with properly cooked food.” He crossed his arms again as he fixed her with a knowing look and her features broke into a smile. She hopped out of her seat, delighted, but remained standing by his side.

“Thanks, Miguel! I’ll meet you back here at seven!” She bent over to press a quick kiss to the side of his head, then ran off before he could process what had just happened.

“Uh, what just happened?” Ben asked when Miguel remained frozen in his seat, stunned into silence. Hobie’s lips curled into an amused smirk.

“I think boss-man here just asked X out,” he replied. “On a date.” He leaned forward in his seat, wiggling his brows to punctuate his point, and Miguel frowned.

“No, I …” He hadn’t asked her on a date. Had he? He’d never explicitly used the word, but … he had invited her to dinner. With him. Outside of work. Ay, mierda, had he just asked her out on a date?

Hobie laughed at how flustered the large man had become by the tiny little spider, then he started getting up from the table as well.

“Well, you might want to get yourself cleaned up first,” he suggested, nodding at Miguel’s scuffed up suit, the bruise on his cheekbone and the faint trail of stubble dotting his jaw. “I’m not sure if X is into the whole ‘I’ve been awake for the past seventy-two hours wrestling different lowlifes and creeps’ look.” Miguel huffed in irritation.

“She’s never-” ‘complained about it before’, was what he’d been about to say. But that would only make it sound like he cared what she thought about him - like he paid attention to what she thought about him. And then they’d only tease him even more about it being a date. He turned away from them, sniffing in offence. “It’s not a date.”

Jess snickered at his petulant attitude, her features twisted into a knowing expression.

“Okay, but you still have to look presentable, right?” she pointed out. “You’re not just going to drag her to any random restaurant in your Spiderman suit, right? Especially if she’s going to be all nicely dressed up.”

His body heated up at the thought of her being ‘all nicely dressed up’. What would she wear? He’d never seen her in anything other than her Spidersuit before. But she had some really nice curves - curves he’d find his gaze lingering on for a little too long at times. He shook the thought away, pushing his feelings of excitement aside.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. Whatever.” He waved them off, then stood up, shifting in position hesitantly before he walked away. “Message me if you need anything.” He marched away before they could tease him anymore on the subject, but his stomach flipped at the thought of seeing her again later that night.

He walked into the workshop, searching for the small form of his- of X.

“¿Arañita?” he called into the room when he couldn’t find her.

“Workshop!” she yelled from under the table, not knowing whether or not he’d already guessed where she was. “Ugh, where’s my- Ow!” She stood up and rubbed her head where she’d hit it on the underside of the table. And ay, Dios, she looked so cute in her little black dress, her hair neatly done, her features prettily made up. She gave him a sheepish smile as she walked over to him and Miguel felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight.

“Sorry, I was just- Whoa!” Her eyes widened in fear as she slipped on her wrench - lying on the floor in front of her - but Miguel shot a web at her, catching her before she fell to the ground. He tugged her towards him, pulling her into his arms, then he huffed in irritation.

“Be careful, arañita!” he chastised her. “You’re always … You need to be more aware of your surroundings, X.”

“Oh! I …” She trailed off, her mind going blank when she realised how close they were now. She took in his long, dark eyelashes, the flecks of gold in his copper-coloured irises, the tiny scar on his cupid’s bow. She swallowed hard as her gaze fixed itself on his lips and Miguel raised an eyebrow, confused by her silence.

“¿Arañita?”

“Huh?” She dragged her eyes back up to his, but her expression remained distracted as she looked up at him. “Oh! Sorry, I …”

She curled up against his chest, suddenly shy, and his heart sped up as he realised how close they were now: her slender fingers brushing against his chest, her soft curves wrapped up in his arms, her silky hair tickling his neck. He released his hold on her, his body heating up at the feeling of her pressed up against him. Then he turned his gaze away from hers, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh … Are you ready to go?”

“Oh!” X turned back towards her desk and reached for her handbag. “Let me get my- Hey! I’ve been looking for this!” She picked her drill up off the floor and gave it a little rev to check that it still worked. She smiled when it did, then proceeded to begin shoving the machine into her bag.

“What …?” Miguel reached over to take the drill from her and place it down on her desk. Then he fixed her with an exasperated look. “You don’t need a drill on a date, arañita.” He froze when he realised that he’d just referred to it as a ‘date’, but X just grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“On the contrary, I think drilling is the perfect activity for a date, Miguel.” He sucked in a breath at her naughty suggestion, his fingers gripping her waist tightly, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

“Uh,” he stammered out, his voice hoarse from all the dirty thoughts running through his mind at the feeling of her brushing up against him again. “Let’s … I …”

X snickered at his nervousness and stretched onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go, amor!”

She giggled at the word as she began making her way over to the door and Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he followed after her.

“¡Arañita!” Miguel called to her, narrowly avoiding Doc Ock’s outstretched tentacle as he swung between the buildings. “Use your bubble gun thing!”

“I’m trying, amor!” X yelled back, hitting her gadget from where she stood on a nearby balcony. “Ugh! I need …” She searched her surroundings, trying to find a tool she could use to un-jam the damn thing. Then she spotted the glint of a coin lying on the floor. She cheered at the sight, then swung off the balcony to go get it. But Doc Ock caught her just as she leapt off the edge, swinging his tentacle at her and smashing her into a wall.

“¡Arañita!” Miguel screamed, flying after her as she began falling to the ground. He caught her just before she hit the hard floor, then set her back down on her legs, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. “¡Querida! I told you to be more careful!”

X shook her head, disoriented by the hit. “I’ll … I’ll be more careful, Miguel. I need that coin!”

She pointed at the shimmering object and Miguel shot a web at it to pull it over them. X flashed him a sheepish smile as he handed it to her, vividly imagining the exasperated expression he was probably wearing beneath his mask right that second. “Oh, right.”

“Hmm.” Miguel squeezed her hand before swinging himself back up into the air and slicing one of the villain’s tentacles off with the blades attached to his suit. X gulped at the way his lean body twirled and flew through the air, then she fixed her gun and took aim.

“Take that, you- What?!” She groaned as she found herself trapped in the mound of sticky bubbles that had shot out of the gun and right at her - she’d accidentally aimed it at herself instead. “Shit!”

Miguel turned to his girlfriend when he heard her screech of frustration, then he sighed and pressed a button on his watch. The bubbles slipped off her suit immediately, freeing her and leaving her in a confused state.

“What? How …?”

“I made some adjustments to your suit, cariño,” Miguel informed her, swinging over Doc Ock to slice off another of his tentacles. “Just as a precaution.”

X gasped, horrified by the thought of someone messing with her stuff. “You what?! You touched my suit?!!”

“Well, yeah!” Miguel responded quickly, not knowing what the big deal was - he’d touched her suit many times before already. And she’d never complained then. “I knew you'd somehow get yourself into a situation like this!”

X huffed and folded her arms across her chest. What if he messed up all her codes? Or altered the layout of her suit in some way? What if she pressed a button to activate one of her gadgets and it did something else instead? Ugh! Now she'd have to go back and remake her entire suit! How inconsiderate of her boyfriend! Were boyfriends supposed to be this inconsiderate? Or was hers just especially nosy? “Now I'm gonna have to go back and remake my entire suit!”

Miguel landed in front of her, his confusion obvious even through his mask. “What? Why?”

“Because!” she exclaimed, aiming her gun at Doc Ock as he took another swing at her. “How do I know you didn't fiddle with one of my settings?!” She pressed the trigger and this time, she reached her intended target. Doc Ock twisted his neck around, trying to free his appendages from the mass of gelatinous goo. Miguel crossed his arms, amused by the cute little glare his girlfriend shot at him.

“Oh, you mean like how you always do with my stuff?” he pointed out. X’s jaw dropped at the accusation.

“W-What?” she stammered out. “I'm not ‘fiddling’! I'm ‘improving’ …”

She sniffed and gave a little pout, offended by his dismissal of her enhancing his gadgets as ‘fiddling’ with them. But could he be right? Was this how he felt whenever she started playing around with one of his gadgets? But that was just a gadget, not his entire suit! But maybe she hadn't been so considerate either. She bit her lip as she peeked up at him, picturing the smug smirk on his face. She sighed. “Fine. I'll stop-”

“No,” Miguel interrupted her, making his way over to the struggling Doc Ock. “Don't even pretend like you aren't just gonna keep on messing with my stuff, arañita.”

X narrowed her eyes at him and frowned as she followed behind. “You're so mean, Miguel.”

He walked into the workshop just as his girlfriend handed one of the Peter’s back his web shooters.

“There! It should be as good as new. Better, even! But don’t tell Miguel.” She grinned mischievously and Miguel felt his heart flutter at the sight. Peter shot a few webs at the ceiling, testing out the repaired gadget, and his eyes widened with admiration.

“Whoa! That’s great! Thanks, X!”

“No problem!” She waved at him as he left the room, then her features lit up when she saw Miguel walking over to her. She ran over to him and he swiftly webbed away a stray screwdriver before she could trip over it. He should really look into putting motion detectors on her tools or something - programme an alarm to go off every time she got too close to one of them. “¡Querido! ¿Qué tal, mi amor?”

He wrapped her up in a hug as she slid her arms around his neck, then she pulled back slightly and stretched onto her toes to peck his lips. Miguel bent over, resting his forehead on hers, and narrowed his eyes. “Mmm. Better than mine, hmm?”

His girlfriend giggled and Miguel’s lips stretched wider at the sound. He slid his hands down her back, stopping when he reached her ass, and X sank into his chest, leaning into his touch.

“Oh!” She straightened, suddenly remembering something. Miguel kept his hands glued to her waist as she bounced over to her desk and grabbed her tablet.

“So, I've been trying to be more aware of my surroundings - like you told me to?” She twisted around in his arms and glanced up from her tablet, a proud expression on her face. “And my accident rate has dropped by seventy six percent in the last three months!”

Miguel grinned, not pointing out that that was the same amount of time that they’d been officially dating and that he’d gotten familiar enough with her quirks to anticipate her clumsiness. Instead, he tightened his grip around her, pulling her back into his chest so she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. “What about the other twenty four percent?”

She laughed at the way he murmured it against her lips, his voice smooth and suggestive. Then she pressed her lips back to his and smiled. “No one can be completely free of accidents, Miguel. I'm only human. I'm not perfect.”

“You're perfect to me, querida,” he retorted. X let out another soft giggle and stretched onto her toes to shower her boyfriend with soft kisses.

“And you to me, cariño.”

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meownotgood · 2 years

Text

♡ on cam / hayakawa aki ♡

♡ kinktober 2022 ♡

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

content: camgirl reader, soft dom aki, lots of praise, toys, exhibitionism, your boyfriend fucks you in front of all your viewers

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

"Look at you — So pretty, baby. Everyone thinks you're so pretty."

"Shit… I think they saw me."

bunnyy34: OMG HIS FACE

demonic_6: so handsome woww

pochit4: holy shit he's hot

pochit4: is that ur boyfriend?????

Aki leans backward, adjusting your laptop on the bed, tilting the camera. He turns his attention back towards you once he's made sure the view is perfect. He presses the glittery pink vibrator to your clit firmer, then leans down. His voice is sultry, barely more than a whisper when he mutters into your ear, "Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, your legs quivering, your whole body tense from the pleasure. Aki grabs your thigh with his free hand to steady you, rubbing in circles with his palm, then gently squeezing the soft flesh.

Between his deep gaze locked on yours, his warm touch, his voice — You're doing so well for me, I love showing you off to everyone like this — the thought in your head that hundreds of people are watching you get off, and the buzz of the vibrator between your legs increasing as he cranks it up a level… It's hard to speak, or hell, even think. The only thing you're able to stammer out is, "Please, please, need you."

"Fuck, I need you too," Aki cups your face; his palm is warm, and you whine when he drags the ridges of the vibrator against your clit. He sounds just as desperate as you, maybe even more so. "You want me to fuck you? In front of all these people?"

Of course you want him to fuck you. This was your idea, after all. You're the one who begged Aki to make an appearance on your camgirl stream, who promised him you were sure it'd bring in loads of donations. He's always willing to help in your livestream endeavors, but he was hesitant about being on them himself. I'm sure they don't wanna see me. They just wanna see you, pretty girl.

kon_1990 tipped $100!

kon_1990: please fuck her already

bunnyy34: she's so fucking cute

dev1lhunter: damn he's lucky

dev1lhunter: bet he gets to stick his dick in her whenever he wants to

Well, Aki has to admit a few things: One, that he assumed wrong, because your chat seems to really get a kick out of seeing the both of you. And two, that he enjoys this way, way more than he thought he would.

Honestly, there's something about playing with you in front of all of these people, seeing the comments they make, and knowing he's the only one who gets to fuck you that has him whipped. He's the only one who gets to touch you, and he damn well knows he can make you feel better than any toy can.

Aki's gonna have you screaming his name for your whole audience, he's sure of it.

"Tell me," Aki commands when you don't answer, his words shaking ever-so slightly. He swallows before he speaks again, "I need you to tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you in front of everyone."

"Yeah, 'course I want you to…" You beg through broken gasps, hardly able to speak as Aki doesn't let up with the vibrator against you. You're so sensitive, so wet; you can feel the way your thighs are soaked, how you're dripping out onto the sheets. "Want all of them to see."

Aki's eyes flicker to check the laptop screen for a moment, and when they do, his gaze lingers, a little smirk forming on his face as he reads what your chat is saying. He addresses your chat directly, his voice taking on that familiar, serious tone: "I can fuck her better than good. She's gonna cum on my dick harder than she does on any of her little toys."

ea5yrev3nge tipped $30!

ea5yrev3nge: I'll tip 200 if u show us how good u can fuck her

angelicaura: aye I got here late what's happening

bunnyy34: topknotluvr is gonna get fucked by her bf lol

His hand moves to your chin, where he carefully grabs your face and tilts you towards him, forcing you to look at him. He asks, "Isn't that right?"

You're already lost in the moment, in the pleasure on your clit and the way he's so unexpectedly into this. His gaze is deep enough to drown in, his eyelashes heavy. You babble, "Right, right…"

Aki pulls the vibrator away and finally clicks it off. He tosses it to the side on the bed and reaches for the laptop, adjusting it again. This has to be perfect. He needs everyone to get the most perfect view when he fucks you, when he puts his cock inside you. God, the thought of it alone, of everyone seeing and watching and knowing that you're his — It makes him feel lightheaded, and Aki quickly fumbles to pull down his sweats and his boxers to free his stiffening cock.

He grabs your hip to pull you in closer, and the head of his cock throbs when you feel it nudging your entrance. It's pretty and thick, certainly enough for your viewers to ogle at, and he's already so hard, dribbling sticky precum over the shaft. He wraps his hand around it, giving your audience a bit of a show as his nimble fingers pump his cock, palm swiping over the tip to get it wet. He's been waiting for this just as long as you have, practically aching to be inside you.

demonic_6: omfg

_futurerules: can she even take that

snowball97 tipped $125!

"Spread your legs wider for me, baby," Aki commands breathlessly, and then affirms, right after, "There you go. Good girl. I want everyone to see how you take me."

He settles his hands on your waist, adjusting your hips a bit more before he presses inside. He gasps, breath hitching as he buries his dick in further, muttering something you hardly catch, something like, So tight. Slowly, he fills you, letting your viewers see how you take every inch of his cock. When he's all the way in, his hips flush with yours, he groans, his head falling to your shoulder.

You tangle your fingers in his soft hair as he starts to fuck you. Nice and slow, allowing everyone to watch the way his cock stretches you each time he presses in, the way your cunt grips him every time he pulls out, the shaft glistening with your slick, with how wet you are.

Aki acknowledges it, speaking quietly into your ear, voice strained and trembling, "So wet for me, God..."

"Hah, s-shit," Aki stammers, and his eyes flicker to the laptop screen for another brief moment. He presses his soft lips to your neck, then to the shell of your ear, and finally whispers, "They want me to fuck you harder, sweetheart. You can take it, yeah?"

demonic_6 tipped $75!

demonic_6: fuck her harder

dev1lhunter: im gonna cum already

"Uh-huh, please," You babble, nodding your head feverishly.

"That's my girl."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Aki is wasting no time fucking you harder, burying his cock in deeper, giving you more. It's so messy and sloppy, your thighs soaked. Your room is filled with the obscene, wet sound made as he fucks you, your quiet moans, and his shaky breaths. You wrap your legs around his back, pulling him in even closer.

You've been so caught up in the moment that you almost forgot how everyone is watching. All your viewers and adoring fans: their eyes are on you as you get fucked by your boyfriend, by Aki. The thought alone makes your heart flutter and your cunt tighten around him.

You mumble his name, desperately, "Aki- Don't stop."

"God, baby," Aki groans, voice bordering on a whine; it's hard for him to speak now, too. "Say it louder. I want all of them to hear you."

bunnyy34: did anyone catch that????

angelicaura: cute

snowball97: oh my god was that his name

So you oblige, chanting his name over and over again, louder and louder — Aki, Aki, Aki — even though your voice has gone weak and hoarse, words fraying at the edges. Aki finds your hand, intertwines his fingers with yours and squeezes tight.

His moans are becoming noisier, more needy, his heart skipping a beat and his cock throbbing every time you say his name; he places hurried, messy kisses to the nape of your neck to shut himself up. You can feel his breath fanning out over your skin, warm every time he gasps for air.

Although he's overwhelmed, Aki focuses his attention on pleasing you; he finds your sweet spot, like he always does, hitting it with every thrust into you, until your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head and you end up squeezing his hand back even tighter. You're getting close, feeling a knot of tension grow in your core, and your words slur when you beg, "Really close, Aki please. Wanna cum for you-"

"Yeah? Oh, babygirl," Aki falters for a moment, his pace growing ragged, more desperate as he approaches his own high. "I'm close — Gonna cum with you, let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you cum for me."

You fall apart for him then, your legs squirming where they're held over his back. Your cunt pulses, squeezing his cock tighter, and he can't hold back; Aki rides the same high as you, fucking you messily through your orgasm, spilling his cum deep inside, his cock twitching and throbbing from the aftershock.

You're chanting his name over and over, and he's saying your name in unison, under his breath, quiet enough so only you are able to hear. "You did so well, you're okay," He whispers, "Just breathe."

Aki gives you a moment to relax before he pushes himself off of you, brushing his messy hair from his face. He asks, "Want me to turn off the stream now?" And when you nod, he's reaching for your laptop.

ea5yrev3nge tipped $200!

angelicaura tipped $170!

_futurerules tipped $50!

_futurerules: that was so hot

bunnyy34: does anyone know if he's gonna be on her next stream??

kon_1990: I hope so

demonic_6: probably, I think she made it to the front page

You peer up at him, his eyes glinting and earrings shining in the low light of the laptop screen. You ask, "How did it go? Did they like it?"

"Yeah, baby… Wow. So many donations," Aki closes the browser, shutting the laptop, turning back towards you with a little smile on his face. "How about I take you on a shopping spree tomorrow — What do you think?"

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa

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66sharkteeth · 4 months

Text

WEEKLY THOUGHTS ON THIS WEEK'S EPISODE! Though tbh I think I covered a chunk of it last week-

This Claude arc has been some of the writing I'm most proud of in the entire comic, and I'm so happy other people are enjoying it too. Seeing Claude go from the series' punching bag to someone seemingly everyone's screaming over and pitying really feels like an accomplishment to me and I'm so glad even the people who don't love Claude are at least sympathizing with him (the vast majority anyway). Also shout out to Claude's leg for increasing my FP sales. I can't express enough how much my FP revenue's been impacted ever since the return. I got literally less than half of my usual income this month (when I needed it most lol) but the FP numbers *almost* returned to their old average this week, so thanks everyone who fast passed to see the fate of Claude's leg lol.

This is one of those episodes that was a long time coming and I have some kind of strong feelings about it. I've been planning to lop of his leg since high school, but I did admittedly start to get a pit in my stomach the closer it got. By the time these episodes publish, I'm usually over it and laughing to cope (see above), but I hope at least a few people were as disturbed as I was writing it. Which...I know sounds mean, but I really admire media that can get that feeling out of me (without going over the top and scarring me) and it's something I hope I can achieve too. Some of the most important pieces of media that influenced me growing up (FMA, some animations that inspired CoB, Paranoia Agent, etc), really gave me a gut-sinking level of disturbance as a kid, but boy I'm glad I saw them because they sure made an impact in a way that I think made me a stronger writer, and that's one of those things I hope I can achieve.

Anyway, to address a few points I'm seeing throughout the comments- 1. Jericho's reaction. I left it kind of vague on purpose. I have no comment on it and just leave you guys to speculate on how he will react or encourage you to FP to find out (sob please).

2. people legitimately criticizing joking about claude's leg. which is interesting to me. obv there's a lot of jokes and leg puns throughout the comments, and soooometimes I don't like that when a very serious episode's comment section is filled w/ nothing but jokes, buuut there are also enough real comments of concern and speculations and analysis of the ep that i really, really don't mind some leg jokes and puns, personally. like...as you can tell from the image above, even I'm not above making them. To the people who think it's actually fucked up for us to joke about this scene... I dunno. I personally laugh to cope, and I think a lot of other people are doing the same. I don't think anyone's literally going "LOL HE'S SO DEPRESSED HE MUTILATED HIMSELF," I think its just...funny leg puns to make a dark situation a little lighter. At least for the most part. I'm certainly not above joking about it, but as you'll see in the next episode, I'm also obviously taking it seriously and don't plan to make Claude such a butt of jokes now that he's reached this point. That would just be in bad taste. But... I think a leg pun here and there is still in line.

#weekly thoughts #had a lot to say about this one #city of blank #claude #jericho

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celaenaeiln · 11 months

Text

Robin Dick was the scariest robin on the streets by far.

He was the first sidekick ever and first of all that’s like a massive mind bomb because imagine being 8 years old, having no one but a dark, grumpy, emo man dressed as a furry complete with little ears as your companion and going around scaring people into being good. It’s mentally overwhelming to wrap my mind around this concept. He’s a third grader whose parents splattered their brains before him because of a mob boss and despite the trauma he picks himself up, puts himself together, and actively chooses to be better.

The villains must have been more terrified of him than they were of Batman because this little elementary schooler is going around at 1 am in the morning landing on the shoulders of 240 pound men, booping their noses, spewing jokes, and dancing in the air of the chilly Gotham night in nothing but panties while also full force round house kicking in a villain’s face before gently landing in a graceful pirouette on another thug’s arm as he stares bewildered at this 3 foot 9 child now tilting its head at him like a curious, weightless bird.

The sound of Robin’s laughter must have sent shivers and chills down their spines as this tiny thing streaking with the blood of his enemies beamed and giggled at them. They for sure thought he was a little psycho in the making. It’s said that the Joker hates Dick the most because he was the only Robin he couldn’t break and the reason for that aligns. You can’t break something that’s already broken. His insanity couldn’t comprehend the madness of the first robin. For all intents and purposes, Dick was the Nightmare on Elm Street for them, taking Guerilla warfare to a whole new level. Always popping up out of the most inconceivable places like a tiny, deranged jack-in-the-box.

And then what they must have felt with Batman. With Batman they were scared of getting their face punched, a reasonable fear, but what happens when you realize that Batman was hopeless? I mean, imagine witnessing the beginnings of the world’s next Charles Manson and turning to the man you know is known to protect people from psychopaths but instead you see a horrifying visage, illuminated by only the flickering streetlights of a criminal-infested Gotham, the hint of an affectionate smirk as your once protector looks on endearingly at your terrorizer torturing his next victim. It’s like talking to a wall, none of your rationality and hope and begging making a dent in the face of belief. You start acting out, screaming at someone to listen, to see the truth, but they ignore you because they think you’re a no-good liar.

Dick, and Bruce consequently, have a saved a lot of thankful civilians but at the same time must have also increased the turnover rate of psychosis among criminals. What can you do when every protector you turn to only sees the sweet, innocence of your monster with unwavering faith. When the city you believe in instead becomes a cult following of their darling, baby robin. Where do you go when the vile streets you grew up on echo in excited whispers of a child blooming honeysuckle laughter in his wake, instead of the haunting melody you know him for? Who do you turn to now?

“The laughing boy daredevil.”

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #robin dick grayson #comic panels

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wkemeup · 1 year

Text

I Am Not My Own

summary: Following the Battle of New York, Steve begins to lose himself to the mantle of Captain America. Torn with guilt over the loss of his friend and struggling in a time that does not belong to him, Steve takes comfort in his only solace.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, sad boy angsty steve

a/n: This takes place between Avengers 1 and TWS. Based on an anon request from ages ago along the lines of exploring “the impact of traumas like seeing Bucky falling from the train and the guilt over Bucky's capture, the feeling of displacement which he kept quiet while carrying the mantle of Captain America.” Title inspired by a lyric in Party of One by Brandi Carlile.

Steve Rogers looks upon the crowd gathered below the podium – a sea of star-spangled commercialized t-shirts and homemade costumes. Adoring fans scream as they hold posters raised above their heads professing their love and allegiance. Even as he stands in the back corner of the stage attempting to fade into the shadow cast by the American flag beside him, it does not sway the attention of the crowd.

He can still feel them watching him. Waiting for him. Bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation of his slightest movement.

The mayor nears the end of her well-rehearsed speech, and the crowd begins to grow antsier with every second. They’re not here for the mayor’s latest initiative to rebuild the subway following yet another otherworldly attack defended by the Avengers. No – they're here for him.

He almost misses his cue when the mayor steps back from the podium and gestures for him to come forward. The crowd alights with excitement; applause echoing through the treetops of Central Park and casting birds from their homes on the branches.

Steve settles the racing tempo in his chest and presses a tight smile onto his face before he steps from the shadow. It’s what he was trained to do, after all. He shakes the mayor’s hand as he’s done for the last four mayoral projects – none of which have held up to their promises to help the people of this city, but they’ve increased the mayor’s polling averages and the eased public tension toward SHEILD, and he supposes that was all it was ever meant for anyway.

So, Steve waves a hand to the crowd and throws on the charming grin he practiced in the mirror earlier that morning. He poses for pictures in the stance shown to him by the rather uptight woman in PR and he pretends for a moment that this is all there is.

No nightmares that chase him through the cold dark of his dreams until he wakes in blinding terror. No aliens slipping through a hole in space above New York. No memories of a hand he was inches from reaching; of the cold, blistering wind through the snowcapped mountains. No echoing of a scream he’ll never be able to erase as his best friend falls to the ravine.

It’s only the flashing lights. The tight grip of the mayor’s hand in his. The endless chanting of his name through the crowd.

A strange feeling comes over him as the sea of voices begins to fade, as he listens to a chorus of strangers call his name – praising a hero he does not recognize in the mirror. He hears his name and realizes it does not belong to him anymore.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. His name, his title, stripped from his grasp and given to a podium he never asked for. The mantle of the hero Steve can hardly live up to – painted only in light acceptable to the public relations department on level seven.

They erased the dark lingering under his bones and pretended like there is little more to their prized trophy than the glory of red, white, and blue. Because what use is he to them if they discover he is just as broken and battered as the rest of the soldiers left to rot on their own after they’re returned to US soil? What good is Captain America if he can hardly sleep through the night? If he’s constantly looking over his shoulder for the next threat? If he’s got a boulder on his back crippling his spine, burdened with such guilt and shame, he’s certain he’ll drown under the weight of it?

Pieces of him were torn away in the wreckage of the Atlantic, shredded remains left behind in the forties, lost to the battlefields in the city he grew up in. Fragments ripped from his clutches under bleeding nails and given to the people chanting his name, to the lawmakers in their ivory towers, to the only sense of purpose he could find within the walls of the Avengers Tower.

He realizes it then. Steve Rogers is not his own.

***

“Captain Rogers!” a shrill voice calls behind him as he trudges through the main lobby of the tower. Heels click behind his PR agent, Linda, as she struggles to keep up with his long strides. She means well. He knows she does. But he also knows she’s more of a babysitter than anything else – hired to make sure Steve doesn’t stray too far from the picture-perfect image they have set up for him.

His escape plan is thwarted by the elevator when it refuses to open its door before she catches up.

“You’re a fast one, aren’t you?” Linda huffs, trying to catch her breath. She's laughing as if she’s in on the joke, but Steve can barely muster a smile.

All he wants is to get this damn uniform off – to rid himself of the mockery it’s become and the outright lie of heroism attached to it. He feels like he might suffocate under it, like the fabric might burst into flame and devour him whole if he doesn’t peal it from his skin in time. He can already feel the singing burn against his forearms, against his chest, against his back. It’s boiling hot. It’s agonizing. It’s–

“Don’t forget about the auction this Saturday! You’re our top earner!” Linda chimes, scribbling something down in her notebook just as the elevator doors open. Steve exhales a sigh of relief when she does not follow him inside. She doesn’t even look up at him as she rattles off the rest of his upcoming schedule. He lets the doors close before she finishes. He wonders if she will even notice.

The sudden silence in the elevator might have been a relief if not for the constant ringing in his ears. Steve lifts a shaking hand to the strap of his helmet and unlatches it. Slowly, as the elevator begins to climb, he pulls it off. Weight slips from his body but it’s not enough. It’s like removing a stone from the back of a boulder – insufficient and pathetic.

He doesn’t have to look at his reflection in the silver doors to know there are red marks lining his face around where the mask meets his skin. They’ll fade in a few minutes, but they’re deep now. They look like mutilations upon the bone itself. He had asked once to adjust the framing of the helmet to avoid the painful marks, but he was told the alterative designs didn’t poll well in focus groups.

Though he tries to avoid it, Steve catches a glimpse of his reflection in the dull shimmer of the sliver doors. His hair is unkept, messy from the helmet and a rough night of sleep. The bright reflection of red, white, and blue stares back as if to mock him. But what startles him the most is the weight in his own eyes. He looks tired, he realizes. Dark circles under his eyes that never learned to fade after he took his first sip of bourbon alone in an empty bar the night he lost his best friend.

And that crowd dared to call him a hero.

Steve can’t help the shiver that sweeps up his spine. It isn’t a pleasant one. No – it's dark and cold and leaves his fingertips shaking enough that only the sharp curl of his fist is all that eases him. And even then, it’s not enough. The tremors retreat up his arms, past his shoulders, and burrow into his chest around his heart where he’s certain the muscle will twist in on itself until it gives out entirely.

He doesn’t notice the elevator doors have parted until they begin to close again. Steve quickly slips through the small opening before they can trap him inside.

He’s sweating by the time he reaches his room, though he knows the air conditioning is blowing full blast. It’s not the heat of the tower, but his own heart pulsing into overdrive. It’s the kind of panic he endured as a scrawny kid in Brooklyn, so he recognizes the feeling as it settles in.

He might have thought the serum would have taken care of the panic attacks for him, but as it turns out, even superheroes aren’t immune to the consequences of guilt and shame.

Steve digs a hand under the collar of his suit, trying to peel away the fabric from his chest but there are too many zippers. Too many straps and hooks. His hands fumble desperately with the latches but it’s taking too long to rid himself of the material. It's as if the walls are closing in on him – suffocating him, burying him.

He can’t stand the uniform. It doesn't matter how many focus groups the design has undergone or how much cutting-edge technology they sew into the fabric. It’s still the same lie. The same goddamn lie.

He’s not a hero.

He's a propaganda poster.

He watched his best friend fall to death. He laid waste to his own city in an attempt to save it. He aligned himself with politicians and intelligence agencies that puppet him around like he’s little more than a poster boy. He’s not saving anyone. He can’t save anyone.

He’s nothing.

He’s weak. He’s pathetic. He’s —

“Steve?”

He freezes at the sound of your voice. The top of his suit is half hanging off his chest, still stuck to his left arm from all the damn sweat. He keeps his back to the door where he knows you’re standing, where he knows you’re looking at him with devastating pity in your eyes. He can hear the confusion in your voice, the concern. He knows what you must think of him.

Your footsteps carry you into the room though he refuses to turn around. He can feel your gaze trailing over him, observing every ounce of the high, rapid rising of his chest, of the flush on his skin, and the sweat beading into his hair. You set your hand against his forearm as you step in front of him and slowly, Steve dares to meet your eyes.

Whatever pity he was preparing for is absent. Instead, he finds only a kind understanding that nearly knocks him off his feet. It’s too much. It’s more than he deserves. And yet, there you are.

Without saying a word, your hand slides up along his arms to begin working the suit from his tired body. He barely moves a muscle as he allows you to peel away the fabric, gentle hands coaxing over his tense muscle. Your lip tugs between your teeth in the effort and Steve can’t help but watch the sharp indent you make, how red it is when you finally release it from your bite.

A chill sweeps over him as you remove the jacket and set it carefully on the bed. He takes in as much of a breath as his lungs will allow – finally able to breathe now that the suit is no longer suffocating him.

You glance at him cautiously before your eyes dip to his belt.

“I’ve got it,” he tells you then, his voice a little rough at its edges, but at least he’s not gasping for air anymore.

You nod and step back, though you do not leave his room. Steve picks up a pair of sweatpants he discarded the evening before and takes them to the bathroom with him. He doesn’t dare a glance at the mirror, doesn’t want to know how flushed his skin has become under the rapid mixture of shame and panic. He doesn’t want to know what you must see when you look at him – this pathetic, hollow shell of the patriotic symbol plastered upon t-shirts and billboards and recruitment posters.

He steps out of his boots, discards the navy-blue pants to the corner tiles, and pulls on the soft fabric of old, familiar sweats. It’s soft against his skin. Loose. Discolored with age with fraying drawstrings and a rip at the hem under his heel. It’s everything the suit isn’t and Steve can finally breathe again.

By the time he gathers himself, he expects you to have left his room. You were dressed in your gym clothes as if you were on your way to the weekly sparring match with Natasha the rookies couldn’t stop gossiping about. You have places to be, clearly. You don’t need to be wasting your time tending to... whatever just happened with him. You’re not his babysitter.

Hell – Steve isn’t sure what you are to him, but he knows he doesn’t want you to see him like this and he’s grateful all the same. Conflict wars within him; this urge to push you away so you never witness his failings again and his desperation to sink into your arms until he finally believes the gentle encouragements you whisper.

But, of course, Steve finds you sitting patiently on his bed when he emerges from the bathroom. You stand as soon as you hear the door open, hands fidgeting in your lap. Your gaze drags over him, noticing every bare inch of his chest and the discarded remains of his suit on the floor behind him.

Your lips part, but Steve is the first to speak.

“You don’t have to be here.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “If you're about to tell me you're fine, don’t.”

Steve doesn’t look at you because he knows you’ll be able to read right through him. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. I can manage.”

Something akin to anger flashes over your features, which surprises him. “You’ve been managing for years, Steve. You can’t keep going on like this.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve hisses back, surprising himself.

You don’t flinch at his bite, but he notices the sharp intake of your breath, the surprise that alters your balance just a fraction. Subtle expressions and movements he should not be able to recognize. Another gift of the serum he has come to resent.

You swallow, but you do not cower from him. “I know you’re hurting. I know the weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders. Let me help you. Let me carry some of that weight, Steve. Please.”

He hears the ache in your voice, the desperation, and it nearly brings him to his knees. But he locks the joints and refuses to give in. He can’t show weakness now. He can’t. Because he knows he’ll crumble under it. And you’ve been too good to him – too kind, too generous with your time, too willing to offer him warm smiles he didn’t deserve.

The air conditioner hums over his head as a tunnel of cold air pushes into the room. It’s not enough to quell the sweat on his hair line, and still, he starts to shiver. For a moment, he feels ice under his palms. He feels the wind whipping against his face as he clings to the cold metal of a moving train. He feels Bucky’s fingertips slipping out of reach. He hears— He hears the rusted screws give out under his friend’s weight. The short, sharp snap.

He braces himself for what he knows comes next. The frightened look in Bucky’s eyes as a weightlessness takes him for a fraction of a second. The air suddenly ripped from his own lungs as the realization sets in. And then – the scream.

It follows him to his dreams. It haunts every waking silence. Bucky’s scream as he fell into the ravine.

It happened so quickly and still, Steve remembers every second if he’d drawn each frame himself. Every line upon Bucky’s face. The feel of the ice under his palms. The sting of the wind against his cheeks. The shame burning holes into his chest as he watched Bucky fall until he couldn’t stomach it anymore and he turned away.

“They keep telling me I’m a hero,” Steve says, though his voice is little more than a whimper. “But I’m not. I’m... I’m nothing. I’m no one. I’m an experiment designed to be the perfect soldier and I... I still couldn’t save him.”

He risks a glance at you to find your eyes are wet with tears. He knows then that he doesn’t need to specify. You were with him at the Smithsonian when he first saw the exhibit dedicated to Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You saw Bucky’s face carved into glass and the footage of his youth. You held his hand when he felt like he might collapse under the weight of those memories.

So perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised by how easily you move towards him, how effortlessly you take his hand in yours and gently guide him towards the bed. His legs feel weak, his body aching and tired, so he does as you silently ask and sits on the edge of the bed. You crawl up beside him, kicking off your sneakers, and you tug him until he lays his full body across the mattress with you beside him.

You don’t say a word as you maneuver his arm to lay across your waist and guide his head to lay over your chest. It’s no small task given his size, but he uses what is left of his strength to follow your lead. When you're finished and his right leg is hooked between yours, his right arm curled around you, his ear resting over your heartbeat, Steve feels the weight ease a little from his back. The dizziness begins to fade, the fog over his mind dissipating. He concentrates on the steady thump of your heart until it drowns out the memories threatening to pull him under.

“You’re a good man, Steve,” you tell him softly. He feels the vibration of it in your chest and clings to it. Your hand slips into his hair, fingertips running gently against his scalp, and he sighs at the sensation. “The world sees you as Captain America. To them, you will always be a hero.”

He tenses at the word, but you don’t back down.

“Don’t mistake me,” you continue, “you are, but you are so much more than what they expect you to be.”

Steve shifts against you, but your hold on him doesn’t relent. You don’t shy away from his discomfort or his shame. You don’t wipe your hands of his fears. Instead – you hold him through it.

“You are the man who makes a fresh pot of coffee every morning after the team downs the first batch because you know it takes me longer to drag myself out of bed.” You only smile as surprise jolts in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t lift his head to look at you, but he can feel the soft brush of your fingers trail from his scalp down along his neck, brushing against his jawline in ginger strokes as if to soothe away his worries.

“I know you think I haven’t noticed, but it’s kind of hard to miss how wonderful you are.” There’s a breath of laughter in your voice – as if relief hangs on the end of every syllable. “You are the man who volunteered to teach basic combat after hours to the rookies who are falling below their benchmarks. You entertain all of Sam’s ridiculous attempts to outrace you and you have this uncanny ability to make Natasha laugh even when she’s veering on the edge of darkness. You are kind and sweet and thoughtful and a good, decent man.”

Steve wonders then if you can feel how frantic his heart is beating. Not from adrenaline, not from panic or fear, but born of something else entirely. Something that had to do with the way your hands soothed over his tense muscles, how you touched him so easily and so gently it was if you drew new strength back to his bones.

“And I know,” you begin, taking in a long breath, “I know you would have given your life in a second if it meant saving Bucky’s.”

Steve anticipates his stomach to bottom out, to feel the floor collapse under him. He’s certain the walls will cave around him and suffocate the last ounce of air from his lungs, but he only feels you. He feels every stroke of your touch, every steady pulse of your heart under his ear. He feels you against him and around him and holding him and somehow – that paralyzing dread he expects never comes. Instead, all that remains is a hollow, painful ache – a memory, a grief.

“I see you,” your voice comes as a gentle murmur against the tension surrounding his heart. “I see the man behind the uniform. I see you, Steve Rogers.”

Something breaks in him at the sound of his name on your lips. He has spent too many years giving himself over to the mantle of Captain America; erasing any trace of the vulnerable, grieving man under the surface. He allowed himself to be made into a symbol, a puppet, a caricature for SHIED, that he’d begun to drown under the weight of it.

But you –

You saw him gasping for air. You saw him struggling to stay afloat as salt water spilled into his lungs. You saw him and dragged his broken, aching body to shore.

Steve curls his arm a little tighter around you and he feels you sigh relief against his crown. Pieces of himself mend together by glue and tape the longer he spends in your embrace, with every reminder you offer of the man behind the mask.

“It’s easy to lose myself sometimes,” he murmurs against your chest.

You sigh, your chest lifting his resting head with a long inhale. “I know, darling. And I will always be here to guide you back.”

It doesn’t matter then what you are to him, he realizes, because he knows he loves you regardless. He must, because nothing has ever calmed him as easily as you do. He’s never found a safer solace than when he caves into the security of your arms. You are his anchor, his grounding upon uneven waters.

And you gave him back his name.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader

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seradae · 11 months

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Virtue: Patients [FF] [bondage] [medical fetish]

"Now, darling, you need to know that any movements will throw off the tests," I instructed as I tightened the straps along your torso, then moved to your legs and ensured they were secure. "Are you comfortable? Anything you need me to adjust before we move on?"

"I'm good, mistress," you exclaimed, blushing at your eagerness and looking away.

"Oh, I know you are." I chuckled to myself as I took a stethoscope from the tray next to the bed and placed it against my chest. I moved it around to warm it up, then pressed the power button. I adjusted its position and pressed it in, my heartbeat suddenly coming from the speakers mounted around the room. Your eyes were like dinner plates when you realized what I had done and I grinned wide. I powered it back off and explained, "electronic stethoscopes have come a long way. Turns out, you can record them now! Or connect them to an amplifier."

I placed it gently on your chest and got it into position, turning it on and ensuring it was held fast by the strap. Your heart thumped from all around us and as I bent down to kiss you, we both heard it speed up drastically; I could feel the heat from your blush without even touching your cheek. I broke off the kiss and started attaching EKG leads, muttering under my breath, "smoke over fire, clouds over grass…"

I reached over and flipped on the machine, seeing your heart rhythm on the screen and monitoring it for longer than I needed to, my hand resting on your thigh and squeezing gently. I pushed the 'record' button and gave your thigh one final long squeeze. "Almost done with prep! Thanks for being patient, darling, I know you're ….. excited to get underway."

You squirmed a bit as I worked to turn on the cameras that were all around us -- can't have any data going to waste -- and I said softly, "remember, no moving. It's only going to get more difficult from here, so I need you to do your best." And with that ominous statement, everything was ready.

"Okay, now that everything is set up, let's start the inspection," I put on my gloves with a snap, moving between your legs. I ran two gloved fingers down your slit, slowly gathering moisture. I lifted a voice recorder and said clearly, "patient's baseline arousal levels at the beginning of the exam are significant." You let out a small whine and I could feel you twitch as the words registered in your mind.

I slid a gloved finger into you and you squirmed as a gasp left your lips. Your heartrate rose again, thundering throughout the room as I lifted the recorder again. "Strong response observed from penetration. Beginning manipulation," I noted as I began to stroke your g-spot. I looked to the EKG and said, "heart rate up 15 BPM over 5 seconds." You moaned loudly as I sped up, your heartbeat echoing in your mind.

I worked a second finger into you and began to slide in and out as I rubbed your g-spot. I watched your heart rate continue to increase, hearing your breathing quicken. "Patient is nearing her first orgasm of the session," I noted nonchalantly as I continued my 'manipulation'. I looked at you to see you blush again, my fingers being squeezed as you twitched around them.

As I sped up, I could feel you getting closer and closer. "I need you to cum for me now," I ordered as if I were asking you to hold your breath for an X-ray. With that, the orgasm moved through your body at the speed of sound. Your back arched as much as the straps would allow, you let out a scream, and you clenched so hard on my fingers it almost hurt. "You're being such a good patient," I praised as I continued to fuck you, the orgasm showing no signs of abating.

I watched the clock on the EKG screen, finally slowing my ministrations after 30 seconds. I let you recover without ever quite stopping. I watched -- and heard -- your heartrate lower to safe levels and just took in the sensations.

Leaning my head down, I spoke quickly into the voice recorder. "Beginning cunnilingus." You let out a low moan in response, then a higher one as my tongue ran up one lip, then the other, intentionally avoiding your clit. I started to speed up and noted the spike in heart rate when I kissed your clit, then another as I ran the length of my tongue along it. You whined as I teased you, quickly switching to a moan as I fucked you faster with my fingers and began to properly eat you out.

Even if I only had the sound of your heart to judge by, I would've known just as well that you were going to cum again and fast. Looking back at the data, it took only 90 seconds from the time my tongue touched you. You writhed as it came on, even more intense than the first. I lapped at your clit like I had finally found water after days in the desert, while my fingers fucked in and out of you harder and faster with each stroke. I couldn't help but moan into you as I heard your shaking legs vibrating the table. Slowly, the shaking began to disappate and I slowed, then stopped, my assault on your senses.

"Patient achieved second orgasm rapidly," I noted into my recorder, before looking into your watery eyes. "You did such a good job, darling. You truly are the model patient."

Then I grinned and lifted the voice recorder one more time. "Beginning third trial."

#txt #domme posting #bd/sm relationship #medical kink

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lovelaetter · 1 year

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this was definitely not proof read

CW: NONCON to DUBCON, KIDNAPPING, (brief) KNIFE PLAY, (kind of) PET PLAY, FREE USE, BLOOD, MONSTERFUCKING, also, not a warning but gp!reader.

vampire’s pet wife seulgi :( or, for better explanation, you being the not-so-nice vampire who obsesses over seulgi since ever and, in order to have her all for yourself, kidnaps her.

taking her to your country house (mansion? inspired by 28 reasons what teasers?) and the first week being the absolute worst with her acting like an animal, locked inside her room and attacking everyone who came in to bring her food and whatever things she would need, barely eating, screaming all day, until the moment you decide to take things to another level, moving her from a room to another, darker and colder, restricting her food to a small portion in the morning, cutting access to hot water… if she wants the good things back, she better work for it.

after a few days, no noises coming from the room if not of her walking around, and so you decide to pay her a visit at night. her face when she realizes it’s you, crawling to the far corner of the bed, mind going back to the day you attacked her on the street and still feeling your fangs on her neck :( sitting close to her, staring for a moment before asking “do you want to go back upstairs, pet? hm? nice bed, a bath…?” while caressing her cheek and her looking so cute, shaking a little and looking down, nothing like the feral thing you had days prior :( her nodding and letting you take her, not even trying to push your arms away from waist or taking double looks when you walk past the corridor that leads to the entrance door. there is nothing she can do, you are not humans like the others working in the house for you, she has no way of overpowering you.

instead of taking her to her previous room you take her to yours. teasing her for how her heartbeat increases as you lock the door. barely talking, only watching you move around the room — drawing her a bath, helping her undress and into the hot water. it feels so good but creepy at same time with you kneeling by her side and smiling, “you see, seulgi, how easy it is? i could never deny you anything, pet, i love you. all you have to do is obey me and all that is mine will be yours too, you understand?” and she just stares back at you, wide eyes. the seconds pass and you snap, lauching forward and gripping her neck, pushing her down, laughing while watching her kick and struggle to hold the bath border as she’s sure you’re going to drown her if she doesn’t do so. repeating your question and she finally speaks to you, desperately saying yes, and just like that you’re back to your caring persona, praising her for being good — mark of your hand stays around her neck for days.

running your hand down her body then, underwater, fingers sliding over one of her nipple, tugging as she tries to move away, “i’m trying to reward you here, don’t make change my mind” and she stills again, no even having courage to cry as you reach her cunt. prettiest thing taking your fingers for the first time, refuses to look at you but you don’t mind, she will learn. says yes to anything you ask and you chuckle, she looks so cute scared :( let’s out a quite whine when she cums, but only because you take her wrist to your mouth and sink your fangs there. leaving her alone to finish her bath and hearing her starting to cry :( treating her so nicely when she comes out, bringing her dinner in bed and staying there while she eats, making her get under the covers with you after… you said you would give her a comfy bed, didn’t you? cuddling her :( well behaved pets deserve cuddles to sleep!! even if it involves your fingers inside her because you have to stretch her to take your cock :( doesn’t really sleep but eventually passes out, not before crying more and begging you to stop because her body can’t take orgasm after orgasm :( silly pet..

it’s her new routine. she doesn’t like it, resists sometimes, but all you need is a grip or a slap and she goes back to obedience. she tries to run way a few times so you have no choice but putting her on a leash so everywhere you go, she has to follow, sometimes forced to crawl. it’s useful, tugging at it every time you want her attention to be on you :(

total free use! and why not, she’s your pet!! no clothes, it’s a rule, you need easy access to her body. her tits are your favorite stress balls and always bruised as you like to slap them and even bite, her nipples always being reddish and puffy, so sensitive to touch. her cunt in no different situation, always ready to take you. it’s not rare to walk into your office to find her bend over your desk with you eating her from behind or mercilessly fingering her… the first time someone walked in you doing something to her she tried to stop you, squirming and pushing you away, so you held her legs spread and had the other person come closer and touch her too. it was just a few seconds, but enough to make her sob in embarrassment and beg you to stop it :(

rubbing her cunt with your shoe if she’s kneeling happens often too, or making her lay back and touch herself. cockwarming! either if it’s her kneeling with her mouth on you or you using her pussy or ass… she prefers when you use her mouth, though, it always ends up in facefucking and she likes it.

no matter how much you “stretch” her, it always hurts to take you. maybe it’s the fact that it’s always blunt and in one thrust, that you like to tease her with “looking so pretty crying on my cock, pet” with the sweetest voice and kissing her face like it’s nothing… not always rough tho, but the sweet times are rare. the fact of being a vampire giving you stamina for days so her body is always destroyed, your force usually hurts her, bruises all over, muscles aching, pussy sore. you like to use a knife sometimes, and it always scares her because yes, you can hurt her, but in the end it’s just about running the sharp tip of it on her skin and rarely making any cuts, to which you quickly latch your mouth to it to drink from. you love biting her when she’s close to coming, so there are bite marks all over her body all the time.

hates anal but you seem to have a little obsession with her ass, fucks its at least once a week and fingers much more. she doesn’t understand, it hurts, you’re too big and feels like she’s about to be teared in two, but as ironic as it is, it always gives her the strongest orgasms and the inside of her thighs always end up extra slick when you make her walk around all day wearing a plug.

she just accepts her destiny, never questions why no one ever looked for her or what you plan on doing with her in the future, too afraid of the answer. you don’t have much ideas for what to do with her either, but you want to keep for sure… maybe transform and keep her for eternity it is.

#writing.txt #red velvet smut #seulgi smut #cw: noncon #cw: monsterfucking

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