#miles fucking fed us

[bleakbluejay]

maybe it's just bc i was raised by a woman who grew up a farm girl during the Great Depression but i just don't understand how people don't use things until they're unusable -- wearing clothes until they fall off and are too threadbare to repair anymore, don't finish their plates (and even more heinous, don't store leftovers and instead opt to throw leftovers away entirely), don't force their old car to run far past the end of its life, don't keep their shoes until they can feel every pebble through the worn-down soles, don't keep their electronics with the glitchy screens until the picture becomes unusable or the damn thing doesn't turn on anymore. we used to fill near-empty bottles of soap and shampoo with water to try to help them last longer. we used to count the exact number of toilet paper squares we used. the living room couch i grew up with was already old and full of holes by the time i was born, and we kept it near 20 years more.it is such a striking cultural difference comparing my family and how we descend and behave from the arms of my great-grandmother and our matriarch, to other people's families that didn't struggle the same, or didn't keep their elders in close enough proximity to be affected by their history. how well did you know your grandparents? did you ever meet your great-grandparents, or hear stories about them?

#eli talks #i was a military brat (both parents in the navy) and disabled #so i spent most of my time at home with my great-grandmother and her son my grandpa #nana and papa :) #or i guess i just call him pop now #spending time with my nana and pop was SO vital to me as a kid #in my childhood memories and in my upbringing and in my values and habits #i even caught my nana's rural Canadian accent. despite living in southern California #so bizarre is it to me that this isnt everyone else's experiences #what do you MEAN you didn't live with your papa? with your nana? #what do you MEAN you didn't watch Who Wants To Be A Millionaire with a 89yo woman while she fed u lemon pudding and talked about the 40s #what do you MEAN you weren't fed fucked up Great Depression era food that makes you feel nostalgic for childhood now? #what do you MEAN you didn't grow up hearing how this whole town was just orchards and woodland up until just a few decades ago #and that YOUR great-grandpa didn't build half the old houses in town #and that YOUR grandpa didn't install half the telephones in the county? #i think being so disconnected from your grandparents n great-grandparents like that also like... disconnects you from history #how recently planes became commonplace or electricity found their way in all homes across america #you could have a relative alive RIGHT NOW that used a telegraph. that had to walk several miles home from school. #have you spoken to them? can you still speak to them?

[deep-space-netwerk]

What do you mean by Venus floating cities?

I'm hoping to write a science fiction story about visiting Venus as part of the space race and I would love your input

Alright so the thing with Venus is that we're all very familiar with her horrible hell-death clouds and 900°F surface temperatures. We all understand the surface of Venus is not a fun place for humans to be.

But, nobody ever talks about the fact that ABOVE the hell-death clouds, Venus is a paradise. The most Earth-like environment we know of in the solar system, beyond Earth itself, is actually in the skies of Venus.

About 30 miles above the surface, the pressure is ~1 atmosphere, and the temperature ranges from 30 - 100°F, which is Happy Human™ standard pressure and temperature.

What's more, a breathable mix of oxygen and nitrogen provides over 60% the lifting power on Venus that helium does on Earth. In other words, a balloon full of human-breathable air would float to the habitable range of Venus's atmosphere. We could float a ship with the very air we breathe.

The other great thing about this is that it avoids one of the big problems with Mars colonization. On Mars, any habitat on the surface full of breathable air is vulnerable to leaks and explosive decompression, a la the Martian.

Floating on Venus, a balloon full of breathable air doesn't have a significant pressure difference between the inside and the outside. Which means, any leaks or tears would be very slow and manageable. You could fix that shit with duct tape!

Similarly, because the environment outside the balloon is so Earth-like, humans living there wouldn't need any big fancy pressurized suits for extravehicular work. We'd need air to breathe, maybe some heat protection, and protection against the acid rain. That's it. 

Venus also provides the tools to keep us fed! It's atmosphere is made primarily of carbon dioxide, even above the dense horrible clouds. What likes carbon dioxide? Plants from Earth!! Lets grow FOOD on FLOATING PLATFORMS in the SKIES of VENUS.

This whole idea actually came out of a NASA effort exploring potential Venus colonization. The program was called HAVOC - the High Altitude Venus Operational Concept.

It hasn't really gone anywhere, and as far as I know there are no real plans to revisit it. Unfortunately, from a practicality standpoint, Mars is a much more viable target for human colonization. Not only is it better poised for outer solar system exploration, being farther away from the sun, but living on Venus would come with too many complicated contingencies. In the event of a major failure on Venus, you'd need to fly to another base, or fuck off all the way to orbit. I understand why people aren't really in a hurry to live somewhere where landing on the surface means certain death.

But that doesn't mean I won't be forever and always enamored by the skies of Venus. Here's one of the artist concepts to come out of HAVOC.

I want to be there.

#venus #nasa #space #space exploration #HAVOC #blimp #spost #venus my beloved #single most underrated planet #asked and answered

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n

[peachesofteal]

The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel. 

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable. 

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive. 

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles. 

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top. 

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod. 

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.” 

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts. 

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.” 

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights. 

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse. 

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one. 

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind. 

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded. 

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area. 

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling. 

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body. 

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm. 

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and- 

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath. 

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment. 

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding. 

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind. 

Sleep. 

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel. 

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened? 

And why do you hurt so fucking bad? 

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember? 

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate? 

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no. 

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye. 

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip. 

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down. 

Still… 

Didn’t Johnny kiss you? 

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed. 

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?”  You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones. 

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience. 

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

 “Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

#peaches writes #dub con #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #Ghoap #soap x reader

[httpsghostie]

Enemy pt 2

pt 1

if I saw him walking towards me like this I would run

I'm speechless this is so long I'ms orry I got carried away

Summary: you put yourself in a delicate situation with your superiors despite knowing more and end up in wrong hands.

Word Count: 4,3k

Warnings: dubcon, smut, König x female!reader, strong language, blood, gore, violence, knife play, spanking, dacryphilia, edging, unprotected piv sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), no use of y/n

masterlist

You've underestimated him, that's for sure. But you found out too late.

You found out when you were walking around, trying to find your captain to discuss some issues, and instead found a pile of dead soldiers and a pool of blood.

The door to his cell was ajar and of course the lights were off. That fucking bastard, how was it so easy for him to take down four trained soldiers? And how did he get away from the chains?

Maybe it happened when he was being fed, maybe he was strong enough to break the chains. And even if he was, why didn't he snap out of them when you were literally milking the info out of him?

You reach for your pistol and carefully follow the dark hallway to his cell after calling for backup, but you decided they would take the time you couldn't waste with this bastard. On the way, you rolled one of the soldiers with your foot, he'd been stabbed on his vital parts, and you deduced he did this to every other one of your guys.

Your ears ringed, your blood boiling through your veins with anxiousness, but at times like this you couldn't show your weaknesses. You were in it until the end.

You stand in front of the door, your fear getting even worse. You know you shouldn't show it. He smelled fear, he got off from that, of how your pretty eyes widened at his sight.

In an instant, the door is kicked open by your right foot, and before you could inspect the cell, your body was thrown on the ground in a loud thud, a heavy weight collapsing onto you, pinning you down on the floor.

Your head got dizzy from hitting the concrete too hard, but you could recognize that man from a mile away. You could recognize his nauseating scent even if someone brainwashed you for years. 

He pressed your weak body with his weight as his blood covered hands caressed the black fabric on your mask, slowly lifting it up to reveal your puffy lips, waiting for him. He can't help but smile at the memories of your lips wrapped around his girthy cock as he held your head in place. He wants to do it again. But not now, now he's worried about other things.

"You're so pretty when you keep your mouth shut." He runs his finger along your lips, you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood. "I want to kill you so bad, slit that beautiful throat you got." He grabs you by the neck.

"Then do it." You said with gritted teeth.

"And end the fun of hunting you?" He pushed you back on the floor as your face started to get red. "I'll give you another chance to live, how merciful I am." He laughs, standing up and leaving you there, almost like the way you left him.

He disappears in the dark, and the last thing you remember were his eyes piercing through your soul, marking you forever, and your vision blurs. There were dry tears on the corners of your eyes, and your mind was filled with red.

You wake up in a white room and as soon as you open your eyes, you're blinded by the bright lights that reflect on the white walls and floor. There's no one with you. Great, they didn't even bother to put a recruit to watch out for you, ouch.

When you're prepared to leave the room, a doctor sees your movement and says he's glad you've finally woken up. He tells you about a concussion, and you listen to it until it slowly starts to sound like a distant babble, so far away, and your brain can't handle any more information as someone lurks behind the doctor.

He. It was him. He was there for you again. He was going to get you.

He's standing behind the man, holding a knife up to his face. His gaze. You can only feel how creepy his gaze is on you and how intimidating he looks with his gigantic size.

You know he's smiling, of course he's smiling, he's fucking insane, that's why. He's not leaving you alone, he's going to get you, he's going to kill you. You're gonna pay for what you did.

And the thoughts don't leave your injured brain as you try to run but your body does not respond to any of your commands.

He's there, he's going to kill you.

He's going to kill you.

"-and some might experience hallucinations." You blink rapidly and he's gone. You look back to the doctor. "Are you alright?" He asked you as he saw your sweaty forehead and your out of breath figure.

"Mhm." You cut him off, reaching for the clothes on the side of your hospital bed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A day. Listen, you should rest." He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and you push him away.

"I can't afford to rest."

You get dressed quickly and leave through the white corridors, trying to find your phone in the never ending pockets of your vest. Your head was hurting like hell, you felt your brain pounding on your skull. 

You're going to end his life.

"Tell me you got that motherfucker!" You screamed on the phone as your captain picked up.

"Listen, you need to calm d-"

"I am fucking calm! Where the hell were you when he killed our men? Where the hell are you now?" Your anger makes your head hurt even more.

"I can't talk right now." You were able to hear other voices in the call, like someone else was talking in the room he was in.

"Then shove your dead men in your fucking ass!" You scream again, throwing the phone on a wall. Everyone around looks at you and you feel embarrassed, picking your phone up and shoving it in your pocket.

The sun falls down and you're met with a beautiful night and a sky full of stars. But that sight irritated you deeply when you had spent the last five hours looking at it when you couldn't sleep. He always came back. He always found his way into your brain. That manic look on his eyes whenever he had control over the situation. It's okay, you could handle it.

"You'd look so pretty with a knife up to your throat."

"What?" You blink fast, looking frantically to the sides and trying to find him lurking in the shadows. He wasn't there. He wasn't real. You shake off the thoughts, taking another long sip of the now cold coffee in a bottle right by your side.

But as they say, idle hands are the devil's tools. You couldn't stay still, how the fuck did he escape? How did he break those chains and most importantly, how did he break that iron door?

You wander around the hallways, finding your way to what used to be his cell. The floor still had a blood stain that couldn't be washed away, and thankfully they didn't care enough about such a thing. Holding a flashlight to the door, you see it wasn’t forced, so maybe he escaped when someone got in.

You take a deep breath before entering the cell, leaving a foot holding the door from the inside. It had a mechanism of automatically locking when closed, and there was no way to open from the inside. 

The dim light is enough to illuminate the room, but you need to get closer to the chains if you want to examine them.

"Fuck." You mumble, trying to stretch your best to get to it, but it's too far from your hands. In a blink of a moment, the foot that supported your weight slipped and you fell to the ground, leaving the door unattended.

You look desperately to it, but it stays open. You sigh in relief, standing on your feet again and moving closer to the chains. You pick them up, but they have no sign of damage, someone unlocked his cuffs.

It's strange, this doesn't make sense at all.

Fear starts to settle in your mind and you think you should leave by now. As you leave the cell, your heart starts pounding mercilessly in your chest and your vision blurs. Your head is spinning and your legs betray you, making you fall on your knees and hands.

Bullet wound.

Bullet wound?

The night creeps onto your brain, you rolling the guard on his back, watching his lifeless body turn. Besides having stab wounds on the stomach, he had a bullet wound on the cheek, wait, what? Was it necessary to shoot him if he was dead already? Or was it necessary to stab him? And either way, how? König didn't have any guns, let alone a knife. Well, of course he could've snatched it from them, but how?

Plus the guard's cheek wound seemed to have come from a bigger caliber than what they dealt with down there.

This was suspect as fuck.

You regain consciousness, looking around, and you smile as your eyes meet with a red light from a security camera in the corner of the hallway.

But they wouldn't be so stupid, would they?

You sprint your way to the vigilance room, sighing as you face an at least easy obstacle. There was a guard there, of course, watching the cameras, but he seemed to be more interested in what you had to offer.

"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." You fake a smile, leaving the room. Like a needy man, he doesn't hesitate to go where you told him you'd be, and you lock him inside, saying you just need a few more minutes.

You try to get the images as fast as you could, putting them in a flash drive and running back to your room.

It seemed almost too easy.

As you're turning left in the hallway that leads to your room, you hit a wall, well, a man, but he was so tall and bulky he could be considered a wall.

"Where are you going in a rush in the middle of the night?" Ghost asks. Solid as a rock.

"Asking you the same thing." You scratch your head in embarrassment, he was too close for your liking.

"What you got there?" He points to your clenched fist, the flash drive was in your hand.

"Nothing." You say too fast, trying to get past him, he grabs your arm tightly, making you open your palm and yelp in pain, the small device falling on the ground. He stomps on it, smashing it on the ground, and gets even closer to your ear.

"Don't mess with them." He growls. "Go back to your room before you get yourself killed."

He knew something was up, and that confirmed your suspicions. He let you go and stood there looking at you getting away.

"'Cause you're gonna pay for it, maus." You turn back and he's still standing, holding both of his hands in front of him.

"What did you say?" You frown, walking back to him, ready to tear him apart.

"What? I didn't say anything?" He looks genuinely confused. "What's wrong with you, nitwit?" 

Aw, Ghost and his delicate words.

"Yeah, I hope you didn't say anything."

You couldn't give yourself rest, you've been awake since you woke up at the hospital a day ago. The footage was gone, there was no way you could get it back, Ghost knew about something, and you were close to finding out the truth.

But you didn't give up so easily, you needed to know what happened. 

While everyone else was getting breakfast, you went to the vigilance room again, trying not to get caught. The room was left alone for a few minutes as the guard miraculously had to go to the bathroom, you know, maybe it was the laxative you put in his coffee earlier.

You searched through the files and finally found the one you were looking for, the night he escaped.

The hallway was calm, a few men guarding the door to his cell. A man slowly approached them, and he wore a mask, but everyone could recognize him. The captain. What was he doing there?

They open the door for him and he gets in, there's a few minutes between him walking in and out, but when a guard opens the door, he's suddenly shot in the face. König walks out too, helping the captain take down the other guys.

It's pure brutality, and it's also so explicit. The violence of their hands committing such a crime, not hesitating to kill an innocent life for their own benefit. You hated them even more when you saw the captain's eyes widening, probably it was the moment you asked for backup on the radio. 

He gave König a little tap on the arm and said something, then ran to the opposite side, leaving König alone to do whatever he wanted to you.

Then why did he spare your life?

He could've killed you so easily, why did he decide to let you go?

"And end the fun of hunting you?" You remembered his words.

The door gets kicked open behind you and two soldiers drag you out of the room, you try to get away from their strong arms, kicking and trying to scratch their skin.

Ghost was walking by when he saw you, giving you a disappointed frown. You knew what he wanted to say, you saw it in his eyes.

I told you not to mess with them.

You went too deep.

They drag you to the captain's office, throwing you on a chair.

"It's enough, you know too much." 

When you think about biting back, you feel a stinging pain on your neck and the men holding you down. The pain was unbearable in your veins, like it was tearing you inside out, and soon your brain started to shut down.

Your head hurts when you wake up, and you panic when you feel your hands tied behind your back. You'd been tossed on a mattress, and your body was hurting more than usual, your stomach was hurting, you couldn't believe you were hungry in times like this.

You swallowed the weird taste on your mouth, looking around the room with half lidded eyes. Your head falls to the mattress once your eyes meet his and you sigh heavily, trying to shake off the hallucination.

"You know, this didn't have to go the hard way." You hear him say, you quickly turned your head and he was still there. "I told you'd be going to pay for that. You know how badly you humiliated me?" You chuckle.

"Aw, poor König." You laugh, but your laugh is cut as soon as he crouches in front of you, gripping your chin to face him. He makes you stay on your knees, and you gulp nervously.

"You really look prettier with your mouth closed." He throws you back on the mattress like you're made of paper and gets some silver tape from the chair. You widen your eyes, shaking your head from side to side. "Are you gonna shut up?" He lands a harsh slap to your face and you nod. "Good girl, maus. See? Not too late to learn."

He throws the tape back, grabbing you by the hair so you could stand. He's looking deeply into your eyes, and for a moment you fell for it. You didn't know if it was from the sedatives, but you fell for the way he looked at you.

"What's that puppy look for?" He asks, letting go of your hair. "I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dumb?" He chuckles. 

You can't express how badly you want to give him a sarcastic response, but judging from your red cheek, he wouldn't be pleased by it.

He reaches for his knife and presses it right against your throat. You swallow hard, trying not to move.

"Can't help but remember how cute you look taking my cock. I think I might have to do it again." He moves the tip of the knife across your collarbone, then down to your chest, stomach, slowly stopping at your crotch.

You're looking at him with not a single thought behind your eyes, the pain in your head was gone miraculously, and it's like time has frozen. He's so tall, so masculine, so insane. Maybe your taste in men is completely unhinged, or maybe he was hot.

He moves behind you, one hand to your mouth and one holding the knife against your throat.

"You can scream, cry, and no one can hear you here." He really got off from your fear, and you feel his devious smile. "I can do whatever I want to you." He gives you a creepy laugh.

Your shirt is ripped off from you, leaving you in a sports bra that also got cut by his knife, letting your chest free from fabric. He runs the knife along your tits and smiles from how hard your nipples are.

Pants were also a thing he didn't want to see you in, but this time he just pulled them down, leaving you naked. He stood in front of you once again, eyeing you up and down, like you were to be his last meal.

God, this was so embarrassing. Humiliating.

He takes his gloves off after putting the knife on his boot, revealing his veiny hands that were at least double the size of yours, and runs an eager finger around your folds, chuckling when his fingers meet your sticky fluid.

"You're fucking wet." He inserts a finger into you without any warning and you moan, trying to close your legs. "I can't believe you're into this."

"Shut up." You grit your teeth and look at him through your eyebrows, trying to keep your balance. And there goes another red cheek, you swear you could taste the blood from a cut.

"Watch your mouth." 

He fingers you quickly, sometimes pausing to rub a few circles on your clit. He was enjoying the power he had over you, to watch your limbs get weak to his touch, to feel how wet he could make you without doing much.

You could feel something growing inside of your stomach, and showing it off would make him get his fingers away from you, but he saw it in your face.

He removes his fingers, slapping at your wet cunt, and makes you kneel for him. You whine, but there's not much time to complain when he's burying his cock down your throat. Thank God you don't have a gag reflex. He fucked your pretty mouth with so much taste, making you drool all over your tits.

He loved hearing the sounds you made, like your throat was made for him. He couldn't forget this feeling, that night when he met you, he wanted to live in that moment forever, him securing your head in place, pressing your body against that cold wall so you couldn’t get away from him, and coming right down your throat.

You cough when he pulls out, your face covered in tears and your own saliva. He pushed you on the mattress, spreading your legs further apart. He was so fucking hard, he needed to see how hungry your pussy was for his cock.

He pushes his pants further down, and pulls his shirt up only to expose his abdomen. His fat, girthy dick wanders on your wet folds before entering you in a long thrust. You suppress a moan, it's not like you've fucked anyone else that had such an advantage down there, it's hard to take him.

He holds your knees to your shoulders, increasing the pace on which he fucked you. You felt so good, so warm and especially tight, so fucking tight around him.

In a moment, he's pounding so hard into you that you can barely breathe, you feel the sweat sticking your bodies together, how his body hair stuck to his body with your slick, and how you're quickly reaching your high.

Why is it always written on your face?

"Not yet." You cry out as he leaves you empty, turning you to have your ass in the air for him. You tried to struggle, but he held your hips in place as he entered you at full speed, hitting your cervix repeatedly. He slapped and scratched your ass, leaving red marks. "I'm gonna ruin you, make you only ever want me." He growls as he takes the knife again, holding you close with his free hand as you try to escape him. "I'm gonna ruin you so bad that I'll be the only one you'll be willing to fuck."

His knife glides on your skin, pressing a little too hard for your liking, and you can't help but flex the muscles on your thighs as you feel it giving you a light scratch.

"Shh, shh, easy, maus. I’m not gonna kill you right now." He whispered and gripped your thigh way too hard. You winced in pain and he let go, lurking his hand around your body and pulling you close.

You've felt worse pains, but neither of them ever turned you on. This was something else. You had no clue on what you've been drugged with, but you lost every inch of self preservation you could ever have.

"Ahh, just like this." He moans, still fucking your brains out. "That's it, hase, let me hear you, hm?" Until now you've only let out soft whimpers, trying your best to keep quiet in fear he’d tape your mouth, pressing your lips together and scrunching your nose. "It's not like anyone else will hear you down here."

"Fuck, König." You finally cry, like you were holding your breath for hours. Your hands are touching his abs, nails digging on his flesh as he pushes past your physical limits. It’s such a strange feeling, he was definitely too big, too much to take, but at the same time you craved even more of his touches, like you were starving for any kind of touch.

“So pretty when you scream my name.” His hand takes a few soaked hairs off your face, then stops at your neck, squeezing tight.

“Please, it’s too much.” Your voice cracks and he throws your body on the mattress, your face buried in it, inhaling the sweet smell of dirt and making a tiny pool of tears.

“You didn’t seem to listen when I was the one asking you to stop.” His hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you down on his cock, like you were some kind of toy. He whimpered as his long fingers entered the tight hole of your ass, pumping it back and forth with his thrusts.

You could feel a burning sensation crashing against your skin as you reached your orgasm almost forcefully, contorting your face as your body was shaking uncontrollably. “See? And you wanted me to stop.”

“Shut up.” You mewled, and he wasn’t very happy about it.

König pulled you by your tied hands and stood in front of you, grasping your chin tightly.

“Why do you have to be so impolite when I’m trying to give you pleasure?” He lifted just a bit of his hood to spit on your face and slapped you. “I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

He tapped his dick on your face, covering almost half of it, he smeared your tears across your cheeks and pushed his long shaft past your lips. “Scheiße.” He murmured under his breath as his tip brushed your throat. He couldn’t contain the need to ruin your pretty little face.

You looked at his arms with blurred vision, he was so strong, so tall and masculine, yet he used all of that for the wrong reasons in war, fighting for the opposite side. You cursed yourself for ever letting this happen.

His pace becomes irregular and he’s panting even more, looking down at you with that lunatic look. He’s holding your hair in his fist, fucking your throat until you couldn’t even talk, leaving your jaw sore. He pulls out, using his free hand to jerk his member in front of you until he’s coming all over your mouth and chest.

The taste is almost the same as last time.

You both take deep breaths before he’s getting dressed again, preparing himself to get away from you.

“Wait, König, please.” You try to crawl to him in a pathetic attempt to make him feel pity for you.

“Please what, maus?” He asks in the most innocent way, looking deeply into your eyes. You can’t form a sentence, you’re not even sure what you want. “I told you’d pay, hm?”

He laughs deviously, leaving you there alone. Hands still tied tight behind your back, your naked body that he used to get revenge and your chest, covered in his bitter cum. Your jaw is sore, your limbs are weak, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of there. He left you with more questions than answers.

Oh, you’re so gonna pay for that.

taglist: @butterbunana @alyObe @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot

#könig mwii #konig cod #könig smut #könig cod #könig x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x reader

[nqify]

AHHH I’m so happy I found ur quaritch account! I’ve been dying in lack of quaritch fics so tysm for ur service. I was fed. Also headcannon for quaritch w a shy/ naturally submissive reader? I feel like he be surprised to someone NOT being a brat against him. If u wanna, ty and have a great day?

GIRL U ARE ONTO SMTH AND I LOVE IT!! shy!sub s/o headcanons. — miles quaritch ☆

pairings. na’vi!miles quaritch. fem!reader

content warnings. daddy kink. lil spit play. lots of dirty talk.

note. idk if this is good or not anon!!! so if you want me to change anything feel free to ask

this guys deals with so many brats on the daily!! his coworkers, his boss, the mf Lyle. He just hates having to put people in line all the time this guys deals with so many brats on the daily!! his coworkers, his boss, the mf Lyle. He just hates having to put people in line all the time

so when he meets you, it’s like a breathe of fresh air. Your naturally submissive, listening to everything he tells you to do, “hey, y/n, could you grab that for me?” And without complaining or whining you nod your head, “yes, sir.” This dude is pussy whipped already

even without all the devils tango, just doing what he says gets him going. He’s so used to ppl not following his orders, when u come along and start submitting to him, this GUY WILL NOW PREY ON U FR

when y’all start dating, he starts to notice how easily you get shy, especially with his words, “hey pretty, how are you?” your cheeks are burning up. This dude will find smth to make you flustered. he’ll give u little neck and forehead kisses to just to see how red you get from his touch. it’s fr driving him mad.

let’s just say your sitting on his lap in public, your horny asf and this guy will not give u attention. You begin to slowly grind your ass on him, he takes notice. As much as he would love take you right then and there, he wanted to test out if you’d rlly listen to him in a situation like this.

Miles pulls you by your waist, your back now hitting his chest. you could feel his hot breathe against your ear, he nibs at it a little before going in and saying, “uh, uh baby, behave”

And your ass listens. You don’t move or fight him in that matter. This guy is shocked. His ears perk up at ur submissiveness. He most def wanna fuck u more now. He’d try to keep his cool and move to ur ear again, “such a good girl for me, guess who’s going to get a reward when they get home” YOU ARE BITCH!!..

girls!! now we getting juicy!! just imagine miles pounding into you, his cock reaching every spot, making you an absolute mess!! This fucker wanna test out the waters again!! “open ur mouth for me, ma” and ofc, as a good girl U DID!! why is this guy so stunned. This most definitely triggers smth in him, you thought he was going hard before?? yeah girl no. He’s now drilling your shit, he’s reaching in deep. Not surprised if he touching your cervix now

he brings his pointer and middle finger to your bottom lip and slightly drags your mouth open a little. and then, BOOM he spits in your mouth. and ofc, you swallow it. THE FACT that he didn’t have to tell you to do that, his dick is twitching and aching for u girl.

since u submit to him so easily, this guy WILL praise you, and I mean it. You’d be taking his dick in your mouth and this fucker will not stop being so vocal towards you, “f-fuck, good girl, such a good girl” or when it’d be your first times together and ur taking his big dick he’d just praise tf outta you, “look at you mama, making daddy so proud and letting him stretch you out, s-shit” creaming as we speak!!!.

bc ur ass is so shy, he will try anything and I mean anything to get you all flustered in the bed room!! this means with his words, his touch, his movements! ANYTHING .

he’ll have u spread out on the bed, hair all messy and ur lips all puffy and pink. Your hands would be covering your face, hiding your embarrassment as you laid there, fully naked. And ofc, miles would be towering over you, this guy is 9’5 for god sake!! Even though he’s seen you naked so many times, He’d still find it so so cute how flustered you are.

He would grab both your hands and pin them above your head,“no need to be so shy baby, lemme see all of you” his tail is wagging like a dog at this point. He secretly likes how u get so shy, the fact that he gets to ruin it MAKES HIM BOOMBOOM baby making time.

bc this guy is a certified dirty talker, he will and I REPEAT!!!, he will say shit to make you embarrassed.

Y’all are literally in public and this fucker becomes behind you, grinds his bugle into your back and says, “can’t wait to fuck this pretty pussy when we get home” u froze. or when he’s annoying you a lil and you just can’t help whining out, “miles, ur so annoying” he be grinning. “that’s not what u said last night baby” get ready for him to mock tf outta you, “weren’t you all like, ah, ah, pls daddy, feels so good!!??” “want more!! ah! so big fuck” ur so fucking embarrassed now omg.

one last thing, eye contact. this fucker loves it - rlly gets the gears going. So when he’s eating your pretty pussy and looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, U GO CRAZY. you try to not look back at him, constantly dragging your gaze to smth else. But oh no, he will not take that

he pulls away from your pussy and grabs your chin, “look at me baby, cmon I know you love it - don’t you like it when daddy fucks you with his tongue?? you don’t want me to make u cum, huh?” your 100% looking at him now. like girl.

requests are still open!! don’t be shy, gimme ur fantasies rn!!!!

#miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #colonel miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #avatar smut #avatar #avatar x reader #na’vi quaritch #na’vi smut #na’vi

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Sandor's Secret

Sandor Clegane x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sandor has a secret hidden away from everyone.

A/n: I should be writing The Wolf Among Men but I can't. Once i have an idea, I need to let it out. This is one of them. I do hope you enjoy and remember please comment. I read all the comments and it makes me so happy and gives me the boost to keep writing. ENJOY! - L

WARNING: NFSW, we are fucking, whore, Sandor likes it dirty, Hidden away from everyone, mention of abuse but not from Sandor. Border Credit: @black-dread

Word Count: 3.4K

Sandor has a secret, he’s been having it for a few years now. No one knew about it and he tends to keep it that way but the ones who were too nosy...there were taken care, of course. 

No one will ever take you away from him. 

Sandor has too many enemies in King’s Landing because of his brother’s wicked ways. His brother, Gregor had enemies throughout the seven kingdoms and most of the time Sandor will be the one suffering the consequences. Enemies usually thought that they could fight or hurt Gregor’s little brother to get back at him, but at the end of every fight the enemy is lying cold on the ground with their throat split open or a sword rammed into their stomach. That's why he has hidden you. 

His shift taking care of the king’s bastard ended and he was walking to his small home. He lived a few miles away from King’s Landing. He had declined the housing that the king provided him in the castle. He didn't want it. He liked his privacy, was what he said. Making it home, he walked Stranger to the small stable near the house. Making sure the horse was fed and had fresh water, he shut the stable door before walking to the house. He stood in front of the wooden door and knocked five times and jiggled the knob. This was a sign he came up to make it known it was him outside. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and he was pleased at the sight in front of him. 

He walks in before you can jump in his arm. This was something he had gotten used to and he loves it how you greet him like this after a hard day taking care of the spoiled brat. You didn't mind the blood or the sweat on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips. He puts you down and you immediately start to help him remove his armor. Sandor can smell the stew warming on the fire as he sits on the chair near the dining table. You knelt down in front of him and began to unlace his boots. 

“Don’t gotta-” 

“Hush.” You cut him off with a smile. You had this conversation with him many times before. He told you he didn't expect any special treatment since he bought you. You would shake your head and tell him it’s something you are willing to do just like you're willing to continue to sleep and live with him. 

You were fresh off the boat when you came to King's Landing. No family and no money, there was the only thing to do. Sell your body. Little Finger inspected your body, lifting your arms and touching your breasts. He looked pleased when he grabbed a handful of your ass and sent you to an empty room. That night Little Finger had told the girls, the King's guards would be coming after a successful hunting trip and the whorehouse started to prepare for their paying guests. 

Guards came in and you can hear their laughter and hollering as they picked their woman of the night to keep them warm. The whispers came when you saw the largest and tallest man you have ever seen walk in. You had no idea who this man was but everyone froze for a minute before turning away from him. 

“Looking for a girl.” He told Little Finger. The smaller man gave him a smile and spoke to him in a low tone. You looked down at the ground when you heard the words, fresh and unused. The tall man handed him a few coins. Little Finger called out for you and the ladies gave you a pity look as you walked towards him. 

“This is her, Sandor. Easy on the eyes. She just came in. No one has touched her.” You grew the courage to look up at the tall man called Sandor. You realized why everyone was whispering. Half of his face was disfigured, burn.

“Hello, Sandor.” His brown eyes softened for a moment when you greeted him. 

“Go on, take good care of the prince’s guard.” You nodded and without a single thought you grabbed one of his large hands. You looked up at him when you felt him tensed up but he quickly relaxed when you began to walk with him to your room. You kept ignoring the stares from the girls and the other guards as you continued to hold his hand. You wondered why everyone was making such a big deal about it. There were men and women with facial scars, it was nothing new to you. 

You grew worried as you began to think more about it. What if he was aggressive? Mean? What if it gave him pleasure in harming the woman he slept with? 

Opening the door for him, he continued to stare at you closely. 

“Is something wrong, Ser?” You asked as he walked inside and sat on the edge of the bed after removing his sword. His eyes are still on you as you shut the door.

“I'm not a Ser. Not a knight.” He huffed out as he leaned his sword on the bed frame. “I see.” You told him before slowly walking towards him. “You are new around here? He asked. 

“I am. Is it that obvious?” You said as you kneel down to help him unlace his large boots. 

“You don't know me?” He asked as you began to remove his boot and quickly started working on the other. You shook your head at him and looked up to meet his gaze. 

“I'm sorry, I don't but from what Little Finger said you're the Prince’s guard so you must be very important. I hope I can meet your satisfaction, Sandor. I’m new at bei..” Your words came into a halt when you looked away. 

“Being a whore.” He finished your sentence. You nodded at him as you took his other boot off. 

You were about to stand up when he raised his hand. “Stay down.” You obeyed and looked ahead, you grew red when you were staring between his legs. He spread his legs and you saw the outline of his bulge. He leans forward and his hand goes under your chin, making you look up at his face. He looked so confused when he saw no fear in your eyes.

Insecurity started to brew deep in your chest and you began to thought. Were you not up to his standards? He must have many beautiful women thrown at him because of who he is and who he works for. 

“Sandor, I know I’m new but I swear I will be good. I don't wish to anger Little Finger. I fear he may kick me out.” You blurted out to him. You feel him touch your cheek and your hair. With his index finger under your chin, his thumb begins to trace your bottom lip. He pulled your bottom lip and you opened your mouth letting him put his thick thumb in your mouth. Closing your mouth, you began to suck on his thumb. 

Sandor sat up straight in his seat when you brought him a bowl of stew and a plate of fresh bread. He nodded at thanks to you and began to eat quickly. He was starving and the woman in the kitchen of the castle doesn't know how to make food taste good like you. He looks across the table to see you sitting down with your own bowl. He found himself glad, he never would have thought he would be living with a woman. He thought he would end up alone for the rest of his life. Now he has a beautiful woman living with him, cooking for him, treating him like a person and keeping him warm. 

He found himself thinking about that night, he met you. Sleeping with you was something he never experienced. Perhaps it was because you were so kind to him, you didn't flinch when you stared at his face. You were an eager thing to please and he loved it. Sandor knew his fate was sealed when you kissed him at the doorway the morning after. You didn't have too, he told you but you simply told him. You wanted to and if it was alright to kiss him again. He leaned down to meet you lips and kissed you hard that it left you breathless as he walked out of the whore house. He came back a week later, he couldn't stay away from you for too long. You and your sweet cunt occupied his mind. When he asked for you, Little Finger’s second in command gave him a small frown. 

“Half off. Some animal hit her.” Sandor gave her a face but nodded, giving her the payment. 

He walks to your room and the door is half open. He looked inside of your room, you're sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt his presence and looked at the door. Rage engulfs him completely when he sees you with a black eye and the side of your face is bruised. 

“Sandor.” The way you said his name made snap back into reality and he quickly walked away. 

Sandor finished his bowl before you, he got up to grab the pitcher of ale. He notices it’s almost empty and gets up to refill. He sees you’re about to get up from your seat to do it. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you softly, pushing you back down on your seat. “Finish eating.” He tells you and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

He turns back to the table when he finishes and refills your cup as well before sitting back down on his seat with a sigh. Today was a hard day, he's tired on his feet. You noticed it when you finished your bowl. You tell him, you’ll heat his bath water. You're about to grab his bowl as well when he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him gently. He knows he's strong and the last thing he ever wants is to hurt you. He can't hurt you, you're his. He'll die before hurting you. Taking the bowls from your hands, he places it back on the table. 

Sitting on his lap, you wrap an arm around his neck. You're blushing at his gaze. Sandor staring at you was something you always blushed at. He stared intensely and it made you wet. No words need to be said because both of you knew what each other wanted. Cupping his cheek, you feel his scars under your touch. You liked the touch of it since the first time you laid with him and you still loved it even after he took you away from the whorehouse. 

Sandor returned a few minutes later with a maester. He stood at the corner of the room while the maester looked at your eye and your face. You wondered how Sandor knew that Little Finger hadn't even offered to get you looked at. When the maester was gone, Sandor walked towards you. 

“Get your belongings, girl. We are leaving.” 

Sandor is the one to pull you in for a kiss. He tasted like ale and the stew, he was so warm as well. He tightens his hold around you as you open your mouth, his tongue slips inside of your mouth and you can't help but moan. His arm around you, his other hand goes between your legs. He groans as he pushes the hem of your dress up so he can touch your bare skin, your bare cunt. He groans once more in your mouth when he feels your lips, he spreads them with his fingers to touch your clit. You pull away from his lips to cry out as his fat thumb circles around it. He nips and kisses the side of your neck enjoying the whimpering coming from your mouth. 

 “I think about this cunt all the time. I smelt it all day on my mustache.” The thought of your nectar on him all day made you blush. He woke you up this morning at dawn with his head between your legs.

“Sandor.” You whispered his name. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“Can I suck your cock? Please.” He nods as his eyes twinkled with excitement. You slide down from his lap and kneel between his legs. He stares down at you as your hands unlaced his trousers. Licking your lips when you pull out his cock. It feels heavy and hot in your hand. You bring your other hand to get a better hold of it. 

Sandor starts to breathe heavily as you lick his head, humming as you tasted his salty pre-cum. 

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath when you spit on his cock, he felt a blob of spit run down his shaft. Your hands are jerking him as you start to suck him off. You moaned as his cock stretches your mouth wide as you try to take him all in. 

Sandor brings a hand behind your head, grasping your hair as you start to gag on his fat cock. 

“Shit-t. Yes, just like that.” He huffs out when feels your hand cupping his balls over the trouser. Sandor throws his head back when his cock reaches the back of your throat. 

His praise only makes you suck him harder, your jaw starts to ache but it’s worth it. Seeing this giant man turn into putty because of your mouth was everything to you. Breathing through your nose you reach all the way to the end. Sandor moans when he feels your nose touch his pubic bone.  

Sandor pulls you away and you gasp when you feel him sliding out. Tongue out, breathing harshly for air and eyes filled with tears, you look up at him. 

“Come here.” He tells you and helps you up. You lean against him as he kisses you. He kisses your cheeks frantically as you try to catch your breath. 

“Bed.” He nods at you as he stands up removing his clothes.

He feels like his nickname, a hound staring at you. His nose is tingling as he watches prey, you undress. You had looked over your shoulder and blushed when you met his face. He’s ready to pounce, ready to sink his teeth on the only good thing he has in his life. 

“Everything okay?” He watched you walk over towards him when you were done. He wanted to purr when he felt your hand rub his stomach all the way up to his chest. You were biting your lips when you touched his thick dark hairs on his body. His chest was hard and you can feel the old heal scars splatter on his chest. 

Sandor just nods. He doesn’t answer. Cat got his tongue when he feels you touch his cock with one hand. You let out a surprise yelp when he grabbed you by the chin making you look up at him as he kissed you. He kissed you so messy and passionately, he nips your lips and consume you. When your legs start to wobble from being on your tippy toes, you pull away from him. He gives a mad huff and pushes you gently on the bed. 

You push yourself to the middle of the bed, opening your arms for him as he gets between your legs. You wince from the sudden movement. Sandor is a big man, his waist is wide. When he’s on you, he completely covers you under his frame. 

“Fuck.” He moans when his lips start to attack your chest. He pinches your nipples making you cry out, he drowns you out with his kisses. 

“Tell me? How? Now?” He says as he licks the valley of your breasts down to your navel making you squeal. He pulls away for you to move. 

“Like the first time.” You mumbled turning around with your ass in the air. You earn yourself a slap on the ass, it makes you quiver. You let out a moan when he gets behind you, a heavy hand on your shoulder while the other rests on your hip. 

“You came all over my cock the first time, remember?” You nod at him, shoving your face in the pillow so he didn’t have to see your blushing face. 

“Milked me dry, girl. Took all my cum deep inside of you.” Sandor says as he brings his hand from your hip down to your ass. He squeezes it, pulling a cheek to the side to see your waiting holes. He’s not surprised when he feels your pussy dripping wet. He growls because of it and cups your mound possessively. A smirk grows on his face when he feels the soft curled hairs on your mound get wet as he spreads your slick all over your mound. 

You cry his name out as he holds you, your wet cunt is throbbing for his cock. 

“Please. Fuck me.” You beg him and his hands goes back to your hip making you arch your back. You feel the hair on his stomach touch your ass as he leans over you, you clenched the pillow under you as you feel the tip of his cock. It’s so hot and big, Sandor’s above you, giving you praises as he splits you open. He even gives your ass a rub when he slowly slides in. 

You gasped when he slid himself to the hilt. You feel him in your tummy, that fat mushroom head is knocking on the door of your cervix and his heavy balls are resting on top of your clit. Sandor holds you down and takes his time so your sweet cunt is used to his size. He feels you clenching around him, he feels you under him moving your ass. 

“Not even going to wait for me.” He tells you when he feels you throwing your ass back softly. 

“It feels so good. I’m so full.” Sandor leans over you making you cry out by how deep he’s getting. He moves the pillow under your chin and he pushes your head to the mattress to the side. 

You gripped the sheets under you as he began to move. Each thrusts you’re crying out, moaning as he fucks you from you behind. You feel your toes curl up when he begins to growl when he grabs your hips and uses you like his personal toy. Moving you up and down on his cock, his hand stays on your face, covering you completely. 

He cages your head behind you as he ruts into you. You’re crying his name and Sandor is loving it because it’s his name you’re calling out, his name coming out those lips he loves so much. He whispers your name behind your head, he kisses the back of your head when he feels your tight cunt pulsing around him. 

“Yes. Yes.” He says as he slips his hand between your legs. “You’re soaked.” 

Sandor helps you get near, he’s about to cum. All day working, stomach filled with delicious stew and cock being milked by you. A perfect ending after a long day. 

“Pleasee.” You cry and Sandor looks down at you, you’re looking over your shoulder and it’s the only time Sandor shows his soft side with you. You only know this side of him. 

“I got you, my pretty girl. Cum for me. Let go.” He tells you before kissing your lips. His fingers rubbing your clit as he fucks you harder. Your mind is fuzzy, your filled to the brim and you can hear him moaning your name on top of you. You can hear skin slapping against one another, his heavy balls slapping your clit making you clench him even harder. He holds you in place when you start to cum on him, on his cock. He feels it, he even lets out a moan of his own. You start to whine, salivating on the sheets when Sandor comes undone. He holds your body, making sure he unloads his cum deep inside of you. 

Sandor watches you as you sleep on his chest, your fingers were in the middle of running through the massive amount of hair on his chest before you knock out completely. He holds you in his arms as he’s deep in thought. He chuckles to himself thinking what would Gregor do if he ever found out how pussy whipped Sandor had become for you. 

He was, he wouldn’t deny it, just count the dead bodies he buried a few miles away. They all had failed to find out what was Sandor’s secret. 

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #sandor x reader #sandor clegane smut #games of thrones x reader #games of thrones #rory mccann #sfw

[roses-r-rosie3]

HIIII!! I was wondering if you could do like a smut Miguel O’Hara x male reader where they recently had like an agreement abt Miles and how the reader thinks Miles should save he’s dad instead of being killed and Miguel disagrees with him so days later reader kinda ignores him (Yk silent treatment???) and then Miguel is so fed up it turns to smut??

All Eyes On Me

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

A/n: again, credits to whoever drew the spider-man oc!

Warnings: jealousy, smut, a bit of angst, swearing, rough sex

Quote: “Ah, now you wanna talk, you only wanna talk when you’re getting fucked like a slut? Huh? Should I start fucking you every time you ignore me?”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You and Miguel were having a movie date night in your living room to calm Miguel down from all that happened that day. But you also needed to confront Miguel on how he treated Miles.

“You know Miguel, you were a bit harsh on Miles earlier” you said as you paused the tv.

“How?! The kid could’ve destroyed the multiverse!” Miguel yelled.

“Calm down Miguel, I was just saying, his uncle already died, most of us only had one of our loved ones die, don’t you think that’s already enough for him to handle, he’s only 15 after all” you said.

“It happened to all of us! Even you y/n! You’re parents, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May died and you’re not acting like he did!” Miguel said angrily.

You went silent as you started to look down at the floor, thinking about the painful memory that you desperately tried to forget about. Miguel began profusely apologizing as soon as he realized what he just said.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Miguel pleaded.

You ignored Miguel's apologies as you got up from the couch and walked into your shared bedroom and slammed it shut.

"Shit, why did I say that" Miguel cursed as turned off the tv and ran into their room.

As Miguel walked inside the bedroom, you were originally facing the door, but turned the other way so that his back was facing Miguel.

"Y/n, listen, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it" Miguel said as he laid next to you.

You stayed silent. Miguel started to slowly try and hug you, but you immediately swatted his hand away. Miguel sighed as he looked up at the ceiling and slowly fell asleep, thinking that you would forget about it the next day.

The next day

When Miguel woke up, he expected you to be right next to him, but saw that you weren't there. You would usually kiss Miguel awake or you would still be asleep, which meant that you were still mad at him.

Miguel got out of their bed and started to walk down the hallway. As Miguel was about to go use the restroom, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you walking towards the door with your spider suit on.

"Can I at least get a goodbye kiss before you go?" Miguel said.

The eyes on your spider costume started to glare daggers at Miguel before you ignored Miguel and swung away. Miguel sighed again as he went back into the restroom. Surely you wouldn't be able to keep this act on for long, after all, you both worked at the same place and Miguel was technically your boss.

Skip to when Miguel arrives at the society

As Miguel walked through the doors, he saw you talking to Jess. You immediately saw Miguel walking up to you and Jess and rolled your eyes and told Jess goodbye before you swung away. When Miguel finally made his way to Jess, you were gone.

"Someone’s in the dog house, what did you do this time?" Jess laughed.

"I'm not talking about it here" Miguel grumbled.

Jess just chuckled as Miguel swung away to find you.

When Miguel finally found you, you were talking To Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr. And as soon as you saw him you rolled your eyes once again as you were about to swing away, but before you could do so, Miguel stopped you.

"You know you can't ignore me right! I'm technically your boss and I could fire you right now!" Miguel said.

You just rolled your eyes under your mask as you flipped Miguel off before swinging away once again.

Gwen, Hobbie, and Pavitr who watched the whole thing go down, were about to laugh but Miguel immediately gave them a death glare before they could do so.

Miguel sighed as he went inside of his office and just sat down.

Reader's pov

You were still pissed about what Miguel said last night. So you came up with an idea to get under Miguel's skin. But little would you know, that plan would backfire on you.

"Hey Ben!" you said.

...

"Are you sure Miguel won't kill me?" Ben said nervously.

"I'll make sure of it" you said.

"And you promise to pay me?"

"Yes Ben, don't worry"

"okay then" Ben said uneasily.

Miguel's pov

Miguel got out of his office and decided that he was going to give you that same silent treatment. But when he got out of his office, he saw you flirting with Ben, rubbing his arms, giggling and laughing at him. Miguel lost it and he pushed Ben out of the way as he took your arms.

“Lyla lock the doors and go to sleep, me and y/n are going to have a talk” Miguel growled as he took you into his office.

Miguel looked at you with a slight red glow in his eyes. And you could tell Miguel was mad, which is exactly what you wanted, but what happened next is not what you expected. Miguel started to kiss you aggressively. You tried desperately to get out of the kiss but Miguel wouldn't let you.

When you finally pulled apart, you still refused to look at Miguel in the eyes. That made Miguel even more angry than he already was. Miguel decided to bite down on your neck, leaving bruising and possibly even breaking some skin. You tried to hold back a moan, not wanting to give into Miguel's tactics.

"Still not gonna speak huh? I'll make sure your screaming my name by the end of this" Miguel whispered in your ear as he ripped your suit with ease.

Miguel quickly shoved you chest first against the wall, immediately dropping to his knees behind you, grabbing your cheeks and pulling them apart. You arched your back, trying your best not to moan as Miguel in your hole before leaning in to drag his tongue over it.

You felt your cock hardening as Miguel slobbered all over your hole. His spit coating your hole as he stuck his tongue in and out of it. Miguel frowned when he saw that you were still refusing to make any noise.

“You still wanna be brat? I’ll show you” Miguel growled as he plunged his fingers into your hole, which caused you to yelp.

Miguel smirked at your reaction so he was quick to add more fingers inside of you and stretch you open, moving faster than he usually would. You couldn’t contain your moans anymore, his fingers alone made you a mess.

When you were as stretched as he could get you, Miguel quickly got to his feet and his suit quickly disintegrated into nothing, leaving him completely nude. He grabbed onto your shoulder as he pushed you further into the wall as he used his other hand to lead his cock into your hole.

You whined as you felt him press inside of you. He slowly but surely started to push himself deeper inside of you. When he was fully inside of you, he started thrusting in an animalistic style. Your jaw dropped as you screamed his name as he consistently rammed into your prostate. Miguel quickly shoved his fingers into your mouth.

“Ah, ah, ah, I thought you didn’t want to speak to me? What happened to that? Huh? Where’s that fighting spirit mi amor?” Miguel growled as he quickened his pace.

Tears started to form in your eyes as the sounds of his hips meeting your ass filled the room. You started to suck on Miguel’s finger’s in hope of not making any noise, but all that did was just boost Miguel’s ego.

“Look at you. Ngh~ trying to suck on my fingers to try and stay quiet? You like the taste of my fingers that much, huh?” Miguel smirked.

The spit that gathered in your mouth and spilled past, down his hand and wrist and dripping down your chin. You were struggling to swallow all the pool of drool in your mouth as Miguel kept fucking you, his pace not faltering one bit as he pushed you further into the wall.

“Who do you think you are huh? You think just because you’re mad at me you can go talk to other guys? Can Ben fuck you this good? Answer me! Can Ben fuck you like this?” Miguel scowled.

“N-no” you tried to say with Miguel’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Ah, now you wanna talk, you only wanna talk when you’re getting fucked like a slut? Huh? Should I start fucking you every time you ignore me?” Miguel said as he fucked deeper into you.

You couldn't focus as tears gathered in your eyes, moving your hand to grip at Miguel’s hair. Tugging on it whenever Miguel would hit your sweet spot. You let out a choked off scream as his cock rammed deeper inside of you. You could feel his smirk against your neck.

Your cock gave a twitch as you felt your orgasm hurdling closer, each ram against your prostate forcing it closer and closer. Miguel quickly took his fingers out of your mouth and gripped onto your cock, not letting you cum just yet.

“I know you want to cum baby, but I’m gonna need you to say who you belong to” Miguel grinned.

“I-I-fuck-I belong to you” you whimpered.

“Do you belong to anyone else?”

“No”

“Do you belong to Ben?”

“No”

“Who do you belong to?”

“YOU” You cried out.

“That’s my good boy” Miguel smirked against your ears as he began to jerk you off.

Your head fell back on Miguel shoulder’s as you let out a loud moan, releasing your thick white spluttered out of you coating both the wall in front of you and Miguel’s hands. Miguel was not too far behind you and he growled as he shoved himself as deep as possible inside of you as possible as he came, making sure to get as much of his cum as he could inside you, wanting to paint you with as much of his his cum as possible.

Miguel lazily thrust his hips a few times, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible before he came to a stop. He leant up to kiss your lips carefully, who was still blissed out and unresponsive. He pulled out with a wet noise, and quickly turned his suit back on. When you finally got back to your senses, Miguel was helping clean both you and the wall in front of you.

“You’re gonna be paying for my new suit since you’re the one who ripped it” you sighed.

“As you wish sir” Miguel smiled, acting as if he didn’t annihilate the shit out of your organs.

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #gay #miguel x you #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x male reader #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #gay smut #smut #atsv x male reader #rosesrrosie3 #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o’hara x male reader smut #miguel 2099 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction

[mayearies]

✰ ASAP

a cat version of miles morales comes along and causes some stir. genre: fluff

warnings: a jealous miles i guess a/n: text might be fucked up sorry lads

1610 miles had been in the spider society for around two weeks now. after convincing miguel o'hara to finally loosen up a little. knowing of him being spiderman, he came home and told you about his adventures all the time. the loud rumbling and distortion of your world would be a reminder he's came to see you. this time, he brought a friend.

"baby, i'm home."

he snuck up behind you a kissed you on the lips, disrupting you cooking dinner. he can't come home and not give his lovely wife a kiss, no?

"how was work? anything exciting?" "uhh, well... it was eventful to say the least. i brought a friend."

a cat standing on its legs appeared around the corner. he looked exactly like miles. like, exactly. only that he was a cat. the jacket, the jordans, everything. it was the cutest thing you have ever seen.

"hello every-nyan!"

you instantly fell in love.

✰ for the next few hours, you babied this version of miles. he called himself 'meows morales' which only made you swoon over him more. you fed him the dinner you made, groomed him, played with him, did everything that someone who owns a cat would usually do.

✰ however, that also made your miles a little envious. i mean, yeah, it technically was him but it also wasn't. all the attention you gave him since he got home was a quick little peck on the lips. yet you give this version of miles all the attention in the world. it made him side eye the whole time.

you were watching a movie in your bedroom with MILES right beside you and, who would've thought, meows was laying in your lap asleep and purring as you stroked his fur lightly. your husband just looked at it with disgust and jealousy, "miles."

"hm?" "you've been staring for a while, you okay?" "oh, what? nah, i'm good. i'm.. fine."

your face molded into a playful smirk as he looked at you blankly. did he let it shine through too much? knowing you, this is something you would tease him about for the rest of the night. "y'know, ever since meows came here, you've been awfully quiet."

"what? pssh! no, i've just been thinking." "about?" "about us."

you pressed your lips into a line and looked unamused as he put his head on your shoulder, trying to sound sentimental. "if this is about me going to leave you for a cat version of yourself, ion wanna hear it."

he sucked on his teeth, sighing his head against the headboard. "come on! i just have a hunch-"

"no hunches. you know what you do when you have hunches." "okay but speaking realistically-" "there is no 'speaking realistically,' i'm not leaving you for meows morales!"

yeah, you had him all figured out. as always. he rested his head on your lap too, sighing in defeat. he bit his lip as he turned his head to look you in the eye. "you swear?"

"yes, miles. i swear i would never date a cat over you."

© mayeluvsu

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 #miles morales headcannons

[iww-gnv]

This is part of a series of frank accounts of the strike from Hollywood writers at different levels in their careers. I guess the AMPTP forgot the first lesson privileged parents quickly learn: Do not short-change The Nanny. Carol Lombardini did just that, and now SAG-AFTRA will strike. First, let’s rewind: The pavement was as hard as it’s ever been. The heat, unbearable. Numbers, thinning. The loneliest place on earth, the picket line by Universal’s Main Gate — where the sidewalk literally fucking ends. Paramount was all airpods and sunburns. (Some gracious restaurant handed out lemonade. God bless them.) Even the family-friendly line at Disney felt a little like a chain gang.  Not gonna lie, we knew it would be hard. But by day 72 our souls were cracking. The distant horizon of the strike loomed long and large. But then the AMPTP fucked up. Big time.  Quite possibly the stupidest exec in the business fed Deadline the most monstrous article, in which they finally let the mask slip and said the unsayable: Let the writers starve. “It’s been agreed for months,” the anonymous source confessed. The studios want to break the WGA, drag this out until the writers are “losing their homes.”   “A cruel but necessary evil” to protect their bloated, unjustified C-suite compensation. Those are real quotes. Even Marie Antoinette winced. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb. Writer Twitter lit up with rumors of a morning-after Zoom where screaming studio heads pointed fingers at each other. Whatever moronic flack allowed that to happen will soon be living thousands of miles from Los Angeles, probably printing up flyers offering 2-for-1 Blizzards at the Bangor, Maine, Dairy Queen. The fun, new parlor game on the picket lines this week is guessing who was dumb enough to say the quiet part out loud. But thank you, whoever you are. Because those quotes turbocharged us. They reminded every writer why we’re doing this. Why we can’t give up — and now, you better believe there is not a single writer who doubts this is possibly the most important strike in the history of our craft and our industry. Nothing unifies like a Big Bad. Nothing makes heroes like an unrelenting villain.

#sag aftra #wga #unions #hollywood #news

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Strawberry Acai

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe gets you back after all of those pranks you pulled on him. It doesn't end in his favor though…

Warnings: None, fluff, unserious/funny, pranks

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*December 27th, 2023 - 21 weeks pregnant*

You and Joe sat on the couch, unwinding after a long day of Christmas festivities in Athens at his parent's house.

Tyson and Miles slept in the car the entire ride home, so when you two arrived, Joe carried them upstairs and put them in their beds.

Before you guys left Robin and Jimmy’s, you had put the boys’s pajamas on, already expecting them to crash in the car.

Now, Joe loved his family, don't get me wrong, but usually after a get-together with them, he wouldn't want to be around a lot of people for at least a whole day.

In other words, he'd keep his circle limited to you, Tyson, and Miles.

Currently, Joe was cuddled up to you while talking to the baby in your stomach.

Joe was adamant that his baby girl would know her father's voice as soon as she met the outside world.

You loved being a third wheel in their conversations, finding the way Joe’s tone went up an octave while talking in a baby voice to be cute.

But unbeknownst to you, Joe was planning something not-so-innocent.

He had a prank up his sleeve.

Joe was fed up with being on the receiving end of all your little pranks, and now it was his turn to be the prankster.

A few minutes ago, when Joe was “using the bathroom” he was actually on DoorDash ordering your favorite Starbucks drink.

But it was for himself.

That was the prank.

Joe was proud of himself for already having your go-to order memorized because it came in handy today.

Baby girl’s conversation with her daddy was interrupted by a slight knock on the door.

Joe had specified not ringing the doorbell because there were sleeping kids.

You watched him stand up and walk to the door. Joe seemed calm, cool, and collected while you were slightly worried about who or what was knocking on your door at nine o'clock at night.

When Joe opened the door he took a few steps onto the porch and bent over to pick something up.

He walked back into the house, shut the door, and pulled the bag out from behind his back to reveal that it was Starbucks.

“Joey! Did you get me a refresher?” - you grinned

Joe pulled the drink out of the bag and sat back down in his spot next to you on the couch.

Without saying a word Joe moved the cup to his lips and took a slow sip.

You laughed when you saw his face contort slightly, Strawberry Acai refreshers can be sour sometimes.

“Can I have it now?” - you

Joe shook his head no and continued drinking. He tried and failed to not make a face at the sourness.

Now that 1/4 of the venti cup was empty, you realized what he was doing.

With a longing glance, side-eye style, Joe took in your slightly sad expression.

Fuck, he made his pregnant wife sad.

“Wait, shit, I'm sorry. Here, you can have it. I was just trying to prank you, not make you sad.” - Joe

He handed you the drink and you apprehensively took a small sip, trying to mess with him.

“Mama… I’m sorry. I'll order another one if you want. Want a cake pop? Or two?” - Joe

You giggled as you watched him frantically get on his phone to find the DoorDash app.

“Babe, I’m okay. Just this drink is fine.” - you

“Are you sure? I can order another one!” - Joe

“Joe, it's fine, I promise. Was this your way of getting back at me?” - you laughed

“Yes, but I failed miserably. You have too big of an effect on me for me to prank you.” - Joe

His comment made you smile and cuddle back up to him, your head leaning into his shoulder as his hand found its place on your bump.

“I think we should leave the pranking in this marriage up to me...” - you

“Hell, that's for sure.” - Joe scoffed before laughing

You spent the rest of the night cuddled up with Joe as you sipped on your refresher.

——

The next morning, you'd wake up alone because Joe was working out in the home gym.

You immediately went downstairs to start breakfast for your three boys and yourself, and your heart warmed when you saw what was on the counter.

It was a small bouquet of different colored tulips, a venti refresher, and a cookie already out of the package sitting on the paper.

There was also a small note next to it and a grin spread across your face when you read it.

Sorry again for that prank, Mama. I hope the baby is craving a chocolate chip cookie this morning, and I also hope this makes for a good apology.

Love you, Joe.

You let out a content sigh as you reached for the cookie and took a bite, running your hand over your bump as you did so.

“You’ve got one good daddy, princess.” - you

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Definitely not the end of the prank saga. 😏

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

[the-entitie]

"Just, please... please. I'll beg."

Poly_TF_141 x sex-demon_reader Prt:2

Read part 1 here 》 ....

A_N:... Continuation of the previous! This is part two, and to do with Werewolf Soap going into 'heat' but not the abo kinda heat. Soo, expect more wolf like behavior, and again, the same warnings apply.

CW.|.TW:... Sexual content. Intended male reader. Bottom but Dom reader. Polly-cule TF 141. Religious depictions of demons. Allusion to Reader having an Eating Disorder and the recovery there of. Ghost x Soap x Reader

It had taken some time and effort, but finally, finally, you were OK with the casual emotion that the team shared with one another.

Being a permanent member of the team seemed to help. You even put on weight in the recent months that you've actually fed semi regularly, although it wasn't anywhere near what you should be getting but it was miles better then the months you used to starve through.

Price made sure that any time between missions, there was some form of sexual intention in his team.

Not the hardest thing when all of them have been intemit with each other for years before you joined in with the physical side of things. And Price let you have your fill of him whenever he saw that drop in you again.

But someone else came knocking that night.

A blushing Soap who was leaning heavily on your door frame, looking almost shy for his bulkier body. He hardly says anything as you beckon him in. Eyes still down cast even as he leaves the door ajar and is sitting all but an inch away from you.

"I wan'ed te ask ya if yeh would..." he starts, blush spreading down his neck. "Can ye. I just wanted.."

That's when you felt a pulse of a sweeter emotion, a spiking arousal that was tainted with a primal urge. This absolute need for something so deeply sexual it was practically making your mouth water.

"Your lycanthopic urge?" You question,

"Aye, my heat kinda snuck up on me." He answers with a curt nod. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers find his chin, easily lifting his stubble edged jaw, so he was nose to nose with you.

Soap had dilated pupils, only elipsed by this thin sliver of his irus. Those needs already making his mind want to lean in and chase those lips of yours. Instead, he flicks his eyes back up, that emotion growing thicker, sweeter, with the movement.

"Just please..." he half begs, already so desperate. "Please. I'll beg. I'll go away if ye don't wanna, but I just.."

"Ok, I will lend you help."

You've hardly gotten the sentence out before Soap jumps you. Stealing breathless kiss after breathless kiss.

Guiding your hands to his skin, slipping them under his clothes, and soaking in the warmth with your skin on his. He gets so touch starved, so sensitive to it, when he's like this.

You near fucking his throat with a long split toungue isn't helping him think any more coherently. He tried to ignore the gentle tangle of your hands as you started getting him undressed. Body more demonic with the crackling desires streaming from Johnny's need for intimacy.

"You still got your mind in one peace there lad?"

A deep rumble follows from the door, Ghost standing there with his head tilted. Commenting, "Dumb Mutt just got one thing on his mind."

"You came to watch or pass along something or another."

"Oh, I wanna watch."

Simon crosses the distance from the door to your bed in two quick strides, fingers gliding in the panting Soap's hair. Pulling him back by the grip he has on the werewolf's Mohawk.

"Mainly to see this one don't hurt ya, hun. But to see if yah would need help."

Johnny rolls his hips against your thigh, toungue lulling out past his fangs and bruised lips. Eyes unfocused as he tries to keep his body still while miserably failing.

"Can get a bit one tracked and forget who's helpen 'em. And Price warned me yah got a habit of ignoring yourself."

"Acceptable. Just help me strip him before he cums in his pants."

"Alright hun."

You end up kneeling with Soap, hopelessly humping against your thighs with you stretching out your back so you can reach for Ghost as he leans back. Your hands trace over the fat of his thighs before using your tail to wrap around Johnny's waist, keeping a firm grip to help him actually get what he wants.

His cock already painfully hard, pulsing with each beat his heart had. He was happy to be pulled to where you wanted him, all but panting into your nape as he ruts up against you.

It's always that first breach that knocks the breath from you, but Soap sits still after he's fully sheathed. Just trying to feel as much as he can with skin against skin as that lusty haze fills his mind.

When he does start moving, it's at a brutal pace. Hardly pulling out before shoving back in all the way. Jolting your whole body.

That thickly suffocating emotion had your throat vibrating in the closest thing your kin could produce to a purr. Easily keeping him steady and against you with your tail. You could feel his back tense and ripple with each roll of his hips, with your tail snugly against his waist as he licks along any skin he can.

You heal too fast for him to see the hackies he's working along your shoulders, but the darker marks of his teeth do stick just a bit longer.

It's Simon who traces the rivets of your ram like horns, eyes watching the hitch in your breath. Fingers ever so gentle as he traces all the dents and scrapes along them; careful to rub his palms down the curve against your skull. And you can taste the lust that's just as strong from him.

When Soap had cum with a snarl, as he bared his teeth against your spine, you could feel how the tired feeling was pulsing along the need to keep going. He was hard and needy as he couldn't set a rhythm with the fatigue settling along.

He must have tried to get off before getting the courage to ask for your help.

Feeling a bit sorry for the werewolf, you roll him over; turning to face Simon as you hover over Johnny's body. Watching as Soap mouths over Simon's dick through his boxers, those sex blown eyes watching him.

When you started the roll off your hips, against the shivering Soap who moans egging you on; you saw Ghost lift his gaze. Watching you ride the other with ease.

"Shit." Ghost comments,

He hefts himself up to his knees, nearly covering Johnny's face with his crotch. The wolf didn't seem to mind. Just mouthing and licking at all he could reach. Soaking more of the fabric with his spit.

"Price gave this view no justice when he told me 'bout it."

Redoubled your efforts as more warmth flooded you, but Soap didn't soften. He only meets every roll down with a thrust up.

"Don't know why any of you enjoy it, and not the action."

Johnny is whimpering under Ghost, body trembling in over stimulation. Mind lost in the throws of the absolute pleasure you're helping pump through his very soul.

"More ta do with ya looking like yah enjoying yaself then the act alone."

"You have to be none-"

Those fingers dance over your horns, finally pulling a quiet noise from you. He leaned into you, sharing the quick hiffs of air you're both taking.

"That," Ghost repeats the action. You don't moan this time, but the effect is still evident. "Is what we enjoy of this."

"Prove it."

"Gladly hun." Before his eyes roll back into his skull, "Fuck... watch the teeth soldier."

Soap had pulled his boxers off with just his teeth, getting to his dick. At the comment, Johnny bared his teeth against the intimate skin of Simon's inner thigh. So close to him that the danger runs his blood just that bit hotter.

And for all that Ghost likes the danger, that bit of pain, he doesn't actually want to bite him. And not nearly as hard as he bites at you.

"He will tire out soon, just a warning."

Simon clasps at your horns, pulling you closer by them.

"Not for long hun, he'll be up and wanting more in no time." He presses his lips against yours, mumbling with a smirk, "and I wanna tag team him when he does."

#wip.txt #cod x male reader #x male reader #call of duty #cod #soap x male reader #soapghost #soap x reader #soap x you #mosnter 141 au #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader

[hussyknee]

Libs are like, "YOU CAN'T LET TRUMP WIN JUST BECAUSE BIDEN IS COMMITTING A GENOCIDE! THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR SINGLE-ISSUE VOTERS", when the fact is that people are already really fucking angry at him for funding two wars during a severe cost of living crisis. Biden's pet dog has already gotten Israel and the US embroiled in a steadily escalating conflict with Houthis and Hezbollah in Syria and Lebanon, and now Netanyahu is trying to ethnically cleanse two million Gazans by pushing them out of the country into Egypt, one of the countries the US gives billions of aid money to make nice with Israel and help them trap the Palestinians. Egypt is already mad about this (although Idk what they expected lol) and if Israel creates a border conflict with them, Iran might press their advantage and then the whole region descend into an all-out war in which the US is embroiled. At which point oil prices will jump, the US economy get even worse, more tax money funnelled into TWO wars, one of which is due to the genocide.

People might not care about Muslims living thousands of miles away, but they have some very strong opinions about putting food on the table. At this point there's a pretty significant shift in the Black community towards Trump because Biden has INCREASED funding for police, is supporting Cop City that someone DIED protesting, and hasn't made a dent in mass incarceration (the marijuana pardon was fucking hilarious in a depraved way). The right has also been weaponizing Black people's resentment against Latino "illegal aliens" and Biden's "concessions" towards them, when actually his immigration policies have barely been less draconian than Trump's all this time. The reason he's making those concessions is that he has to look more progressive than him, except he's also been slowly escalating ICE crackdowns, keeping kids in cages and building a border wall. So the Latin voters are entirely fed up with him too.

So far, he's lost the Muslim vote, the Latin vote, the Black vote, the youth vote (people of ages 18 to 35 are the most outraged at the genocide in Gaza), and they're hemorrhaging the working class votes. These are the extremely angry and betrayed people the liberals are currently working overtime screaming at about Trump "bringing the death of democracy", like democracy means anything to them compared to losing jobs, money, visas, family members, health (Biden's first and ongoing genocide is disabled people due to his COVID policies), social infrastructure and money.

Y'all said Blue Not Matter Who and elected a career racist and known incompetent who supported segregation, was an architect of mass incarceration, got Clarence Thomas elected to the Supreme Court and spewed rhetoric against Arabs so genocidal that motherfucking Menachem Begin was like "....bro." And you got exactly what you paid for. If Trump gets on the ticket next year he's going to win, and no amount of screaming at people online is going to change that. So I suggest you start organising now. The age of trying to create a revolution at the ballot box is over.

#genocide joe #us politics #fuck trump #fuck the gop #fuck joe biden #white liberals #2024 elections #vote blue #vote blue no matter who #free palestine #anti blackness #black lives matter #immigration #ICE #police brutality #mass incarceration #current events #world news #fuck israel #knee of huss

[iamnotokaythx]

Please write Miguel just flipping out over work or miles situation and throwing and yelling things and reader just like breaks down like they’d slowly become used to him being captor or lover but this sets them back so far they need to lock the bedroom door and get away Miguel’s an emotional mess after realizing what he did reader just won’t acknowledge him and if they do it’s flinch away or being scared. He’s trying so hard to make it up to reader

oh fuck yeah!! sorry i didnt see your ask earlier it either didnt show on my notifs or i just missed it lol either way i vibe with this request !!! i hope it’s okay that i made it to where he accidentally nicked reader in his little tantrum, if its not lmk and i can rewrite it with the same prompt?

cw: angst, miguel has a tantrum and lashes out, blood mention, gn/masc reader, items being thrown + broken, sorta flashbacks to when reader was still rebelling, translated via spanishdict, sorry!!, not proofread but when is it ever

—

your husband/captor had been keeping you for such a long time. you don’t know if it’s been weeks or months, but you wouldn’t really be surprised if it happened to be 3 years since your initial imprisonment.

either way, you’d given up fighting him. you weren’t getting out. as long as you played along with his sick game of house, you were fed, had clothes and a place to sleep, a shower, and really anything you could ask for if you played your cards right.

‘anything’ excluding freedom, human interaction, things like that.

he came home in a fit of rage, on the phone with jessica despite his usual habit of turning off anything that made noise and focusing all his attention to you.

“what the fuck do you mean!? ‘we can’t track him’!? he’s a smart kid, why the fuck would he immediately go home? jess, order everyone to his dimension and find—“

“mig? what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to get some semblance of context.

“cállate por un maldito minuto, y/n! i’m on the phone!” he snapped.

“alright. sorry.” you staggered back. he doesn’t yell. not at you, at least. you went to sit on the couch and when his arguing became too much you headed into the kitchen to make something to eat. midway into making your food, you hear crashing.

you run into the living room to see what’s happening. the first thing you notice is the couch is thrown across the room. he also has a glass of water in one hand, a habit he has since he screams when he’s mad. he noticed you as you walked in and he turned to face you.

“this doesn’t fucking concern you. go back to whatever you were doing.” he growled, his eyes a dangerous red.

“the… the couch.” you muttered stupidly.

“yes, i know about the fucking couch!”

“sorry. didn’t like it much anyways.” you blinked back tears. it reminds you of when you were first here. how he’d get so angry at your rebellious behavior. you remember him stopping whenever you cried. maybe that would work now.

other thoughts flashed in your head. him restraining your arms as he bit into your flesh, the long hours you spent trapped in your mind as he’d forcibly hold you like a teddy bear to ‘accustom you’ to his ‘love.’ the blood from some guy who—

no. no, he promised he’d never hurt you. never again.

something compelled to you go towards him with your arms outstretched—usually he loved unprompted affection, maybe it would calm him now.

“i told you go back, y/n. get the fuck off me.”

his claws accidentally extended as he pushed you off harshly.

one thing led to another, he chucked the glass he was drinking into the wall and it shattered just feet behind you. he turned back around afterwards, continuing the phone call.

you heard the sound of something dripping onto the floor and you felt a warm liquid spilling down your cheek. two gashes extended from your cheekbone to your jawline where he accidentally cut you.

miguel took a deep breath, about to snap at jessica, but he sensed something in the air. his head snapped back to you as he got the scent of blood.

you’re surprised—i mean, this is the same man who promised you that he’d kill someone to protect you but would never, never lay a hand on or near you. obviously he was lying to you.

you backed up, one shaky foot at a time, as you collected your thoughts. miguel appeared to be in shock, too. he hung up on jessica in the middle of her sentence.

“baby, i…” he said. he’s struggling to find words, english or spanish. “it wasn’t… i didn’t…”

words failed him again as you let out the first tears of many, the dam of emotions breaking through. you stumbled back, fell, turned around, and sprinted into the master bedroom.

he snapped out of his guilty stupor and began the chase, but he was too late. the door slammed as he reached for you. he heard your choked sobs as you shuddered and gasped for air and then your cries until you had to repeat the process.

“no, no, no, no, no. i promise, i promise that i’m not gonna hurt you. i didn’t mean to, no quise hacerlo, lo juro. i swear. i swear.”

“y/n! y/n, please, unlock the door. please.” he begged, hands on both sides of the doorframe. he had half a mind to tear the door to splinters, but he didn’t want to lose any more progress.

he caught his train of thought. progress. he hated that he thought in that term, but that’s basically what it was. after all this time, all these nights he spent assuring you that he loved you and that he’d never hurt you again, he finally had you decide to be the caring partner that he wanted all this time. now, he wiped it clean.

he’d have to start all over, and all over another time if he slipped up again.

“cariño, please. baby. open the door.” he said in a soft voice. he growled in his throat.

“LYLA, unlock the door.” he muttered to his ai.

you were… a wreck. curled into a ball, crying into the bedsheets, the stench of blood swirling around the room, tears and blood falling onto the blanket in a disgusting mix and staining the down an off-red.

“amor, mi amor, come here. i need to dress your wounds.” he said with a weak smile. “i-i know you’re probably upset or scared, okay, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t want to hurt you either.”

you frantically shook your head and hugged yourself tighter.

he clenched his jaw and swallowed. he’d been in this situation before. the first day he took you, that time he lashed out until you cried, et cetera. you needed space.

—

it had been three days. every time he saw you it was on the very short walk from the guest bedroom to the bathroom. he’d decided to not force you to sleep with him and instead give you time to recover before you went back to his bed.

speaking of, miguel got rid of all the blankets and sheets and even the mattress in his room because the smell of your blood made it impossible to sleep. he’d been sleeping on the floor since he destroyed the only couch big enough to fit him.

miguel was not in the right headspace for just about anything. with the stress of miles and the fact that he barely got sleep since he wasn’t being held by you every night, he was going a little crazy.

he decided your silence was enough. he was going to fix this. he had to.

quietly, he crept into your room. “y/n? i just wanna talk.”

you shuddered and inched away from him.

“hermoso, i’m sorry. i was in a really bad mood, i didn’t mean to… to do that.” he slowly and gently moved you to face him despite your trembling. he looked at your cheek.

“it’s healing good. sometimes i forget just how smart you are. you’re able to clean it up all by yourself.” he cooed, kissing your forehead.

“i know you want comfort, mi vida. just let me hold you. it’s okay. you won’t get comfort from anyone else; just lay down.” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you. you struggled against him and began breathing heavily.

“no, no, no, no, no. i’m not going to hurt you. i didn’t mean it the other day. i love you. cielo—listen to me—listen!” his words grew more intense as you struggled to break free of his grasp. after he realized he was shouting, he laid you down on your bed himself and he cuddled up next to you.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so very sorry. you’re so perfect. i love you, cariño.” he chanted ‘i love you’’s and ‘i’m sorry’’s until it had just devolved into sobbing and using your chest as a shield to everything.

—

okay i literally have no idea where else to take this or how to wrap it up but here’s a nice little open ending, sorry if it’s not up to par!!! :(

#thank you sm for the request ahhh!!!! #—asks #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x gn reader #miguel o’hara x reader #tw yandere #x gn reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o’hara x reader

[thesturniolos]

warning signs

chris sturniolo | angst 😛

| triggers: alcohol, swearing

| long distance makes couples crumble much opposed to the closeness it apparently brings.

| tags: @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @estelleswrld @recklesssturniolo @realmoonee @thesturniolos @malsturns @mattslolita @mattsgirlforeva @malusokay @cabincorematt @caitifilms @celestialhacker @chrisolivia4l @sturnsclutter @sturnphilia @sturniolostuff @sturniololoverr @plasticferal @pr1ncessm1ng1 @ilovemattsturn @aesthetxcimagines @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @justangelheree

“does it ever occur to you that-“

“don’t say it.” i pull my hand up to shade his face from my vision. although he’s my best friend, i can’t begin to talk about it. i swig the bottle and shake my head as i feel the burn fall down my throat.

he runs a hand through his hair and throws his body back onto my bed.

i look down at him to see a weak smile. it’s a smile of sympathy. sympathy that i don’t want or need to have.

“we’re fine.” i say but underneath my sharp tone there’s a slight wobble of concern. because it’s not how it was.

i look down at my phone and it flashes with a notification but i’m distracted by the wallpaper behind it.

it’s a picture of me and chris by the beach. he’s picking me up from the sand and swinging me round while we both laugh. it was the best day of my life. it was the day he asked me to be his, the day he promised me we’d be together forever.

well i believed that. after all, we’d been together for most of our life anyways - thanks to our mums being best friends since they were little, we were kinda destined to be inseparable too.

that was until he went to LA after his youtube career skyrocketed. i had never been happier for him and his brothers, knowing they were doing exactly what they’d dreamed of since we were children.

but what comes with a demanding industry like there’s is crazy fans and all around the clock non-stop entertainment.

our time together lessened and lessened as he signed up for interviews and tours and met more and more fans.

it didn’t bother me because i saw how happy he was to have been given that opportunity and seeing his smile was worth it all.

but it’s when i couldn’t see that grin anymore is when i found myself slipping into a place of darkness, like the curtains had been drawn on me.

i didn’t feel like a girlfriend anymore, i felt like a shadow. like a burden even.

even before they left for the big LA, he seemed to have become irritated by my presence, he started to go to bed early and i only saw him for about fifteen minutes when i got up and ten minutes when i got home before he found something else to do.

matt and nick saw this happening and tried to include me into their videos and podcasts but chris made it clear that i wasn’t allowed claiming the fans wouldn’t like it.

but what if i didn’t like it? did that even matter?

so now i find myself nearly 3000 miles away looking down at the bright light in my hand, wishing he was next to me and that it was like old times.

except he hadn’t texted me in a week and he’s been gone six months. that’s nearly 200 days without seeing him.

to think last year i couldn’t have gone 24 hours without a hug from him to now holding a teddy in my arms wishing it were chris.

i felt embarrassed to sit here and still think naively think we were still even a thing. because what’s a relationship without words?

i understand long distance is hard but nobody said it would do this to us, we were supposed to be forever.

i often think about the day at the beach, i wish it never happened. then i wouldn’t feel broken now.

“i really think you ought to call him.” says nate.

nate had been the triplets’ best friend too. he just like me was dropped but he still remained close with the likes of matt and nick.

“but it’s always me calling and it’s always me texting. how long do i have to fucking wait until he does that for me, nate? because quite frankly i’m fed up with being the only one who cares around here.”

there was silence for a bit and i could feel him staring at me.

a tear falls down my cheek and i let it fall onto my leg.

“i miss him so much, nate. why doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“i don’t know.” he hugs me in close and rubs my arm.

the truth is, this is the first hug i’ve had for six months.

“y/n?” the door opens and i’m face to face with the one person i need most.

“chris?”

#matt sturniolo fan fiction #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #comfort character #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker imagine #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo fanfic

[idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy]

Hii!! This is my first time ever requesting 😭 but i was wondering if you could do something with earth42 miles and the reader both being the prowler?!! Love the work btw😻

MILES 42 X PARTNER!READER

A/N: Heyyyy I love this idea and thank your for requesting of course I can <3

WARNING: I don't speak Spanish so I will be using google translate, lol. However, if anyone is a translator and can help me out please do!

GUYS I JUST GOT A MESSAGE FROM AN ANON TO TRY THIS NEW WEBSITE SPANISHDICT SO I WILL BE TESTING THIS OUT BUT IM STILL OPEN TO TRANSLATORS!!

BE PREPARED FOR: FLUFFFFF, KISSING, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, JUST ROMANTICS, AND ANGST, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY

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

BACKSTORY:

You and Miles have been best friends since babies, given both of your parents were good friends.

As yall grew older yall started dating

When his dad died it crushed you almost just as much as it crushed him.

Miles didn't even show up to the funeral. He was in denial that his father was actually gone.

As time passed he would start canceling hangouts and dates because he had to take care of some "business" with his uncle.

He kept doing it so much to the point where you were fed up and took it into your own hands to find out what was going on.

So when school was out you followed him to his destination. Which looked like his garage?...

You ended up finding out this whole time that Miles and his uncle were in this whole "Prowler" scheme together and Miles was instructed to do all these dangerous murders missions by himself.

So you went up to his room and waited for him to come, so you could obviously confront him about it.

And there he is. Jumping through the window. So casually that you know he does it all the time.

" Hi., Miles"

He jumps startled at your unexpected appearance.

"¡Maldita mamá no me asustes así! ¡Y qué estás haciendo aquí!"

"Care to explain why you're jumping through your own window at 3am?" You question already knowing the answer just trying to see what he's gonna come up with.

He gives you that look knowing that you know what he's been up to.

"Bebé, escúchame yo-."

"YOU'RE THE PROWLER? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME SHIT? THE FUCK KINDA BOYFRIEND ARE YOU MILES?" You are now angry, rage immediately taking over you.

"I did it to protect you, this is a dangerous job and I can't have you involved in this. No puedo perderte como lo perdí ma." He states in an almost whispering tone looking down at you.

"But that's the issue. I CAN help you, Miles, you can't keep doing this alone, just let me help you, por favor eres mi corazón y quiero ayudar! You plead to him. Your throat choking back sobs. Tears falling down your face.

He quickly opens his arms wide to trap you in a bear hug.

"Ok ok mami. Deja de llorar está bien. Puedes ayudarme shh está bien

______________________________________________________________

NOW TIME FOR THE ACTUAL HEADCANNONS:

• Even though you guys technically are partners now, he'll make you stay behind on certain missions depending on how dangerous they are. He'll be damned if he lets you get seriously injured.

• He's always patching you up and taking care of you every time you get hurt

"Oww Miles! That one hurt worse than the others"

He chuckles at your pouting

"Lo siento mami tienes una más solo sé una buena chica y respira estarás bien"

• He definitely designs your costume for you, out of your favorite colors and a heart symbol, which represents his love for you (awhhhhh ^-^)

• Kisses before you leave for missions because its a way of saying "I love you"

• If Aaron tries to make you go on a mission and makes Miles stay back he gets angry and flips out, and definitely doesn't do it

"¿Qué quieres decir? ¡Joder, no! ¡Ella no puede estar jodidamente sola, no! ¡No me importa!"

• In conclusion, yall are a great duo!

#earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles x reader #miles g #prowler miles #across the spiderverse #m a c e ’s c r e a t i o nミ★