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judeswhore · 7 months ago

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something small and silly based on this

go easy on me i haven’t written in months idk what im doing

your brother's best friend was studiously trying to ignore you as you perched on the kitchen counter, his attention darting over anything that wasn't your bare legs or glossy lips. the quick clench of his jaw made it obvious that his efforts were in vain because jude didn't need to look at you for his heart to thud or his skin to heat, just the fact you were in the room was enough to make his head spin. his reaction to you was addictive and playing with him was more entertaining than anything else you could have planned for the afternoon.

"why're you lazing around in your knickers?" your brother's voice was laced with disdain, his face scrunched in disgust when he entered the kitchen behind jude. at the mention of your underwear jude glanced sideways at you from his spot by the fridge, dark eyes drinking in the yellow bikini you were sporting and you knew he was replaying all the dirty things he'd done to you in it only days before. he blinked slowly as though mesmerised by the material and the way it clung to your skin, still damp and glistening from the pool.

"it's hot." was all you said, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug as you leant back on one hand, the move pushing your boobs a little further out and causing an awkward cough to splutter in jude's throat. it had you smirking, beyond happy knowing you were making him squirm and knowing the more you taunted him in front of his best friend the more likely he was to make you pay when he got you alone.

"well, you’re an eyesore." you rolled your eyes at the insult, bringing the ice lolly you'd previously been sucking on back up to your lips and watched the two boys root through the fridge. "y'might wanna clear off by the way, the rest of the lads are coming over and none of them want to see you like that."

"the only reason your pig headed friends spend any time over here is because they get to see me." you pointed out, tongue darting out to lick the very bottom of the lolly to save the juice threatening to drip over your fingers.

jude, bottle of water tipped halfway towards his lips, narrowed his eyes at you, brows tugging together in an unimpressed scowl that made your tummy dip. you weren't sure if it was a reaction to the comment that his friends were always leering at you or the suggestive way you were mouthing at the icy goodness in your hand but you enjoyed it either way.

while your brother's head was still stuck firmly in the fridge, jude finally let himself admire your half naked body and the heat of his gaze almost felt like the soft drag of his fingertips when he touched you. it made you shiver, a full body tremor that scattered goosebumps over your arms and legs and awakened the soft tug below your bellybutton that you only ever felt around this boy. you shifted a little atop the counter, squeezed your thighs together to dull the sudden ache and watched jude's lips tip upwards, his eyebrows rising in smug satisfaction.

this was suddenly a two player game and there was no way you were letting him win.

"it's nauseating how full of yourself you are." your brother grumbled, throwing a glare at you over his shoulder as he pulled cans and snacks from the fridge, setting them down on the counter next to him before crouching to raid the freezer. jude remained leaning against the counter directly opposite you, not once letting his gaze stray from yours now the other boy was preoccupied.

"if i was full of something, trust me, it wouldn't be myself." you drawled, lighting up when jude gave a soft laugh and shake of his head, mumbling a quiet "jesus christ" that was almost drowned out by your brother's groans of discomfort.

"for once in your life shut the fuck up." he complained, voice a little muffled behind the freezer door. you had no reply to that, too focused on the way jude was watching you, eyes sparkling with unfiltered lust and that usual sprinkle of mischief. you cocked your head to the side and swung your legs out a little, heart thumping unsteadily in your chest when he threw you a lopsided grin.

there was an obvious thrum of energy between you and you hated knowing you'd have to wait until later that night when your brother had fallen asleep before you could have any sort of alone time with him. sneaking around was fun and exciting until you were overcome with the need to kiss him but could do nothing about it. with your brother busy pulling bottles and bbq ingredients from the freezer you took the few moments his back was turned to play with his best friend, to make sure that when he crawled into your bed later that night it was only with the intention of ruining you.

the ice lolly you were sucking softly on was starting to drip over your fingers, red liquid trailing slowly over your skin but you made absolutely no effort to lick it clean just yet. instead you kept your eyes locked on jude's, let it trickle over your fingers before landing on your chest and sliding between the valley of your boobs. for a couple of seconds you simply let it roll over your too hot skin, hyper aware of the other boys gaze following the slow movement, pupils blowing wide as he took in the soft heave of your tits when you drew in a breath.

brown eyes snapped back up to your face, latched onto the playfully innocent smile you'd slapped on your lips as you tried not to laugh and whispered a quiet "oops" that caused jude's jaw to tick. with your gazes locked you used a finger to swipe over the sticky liquid, clearing it as best you could before bringing the same finger up to your lips and sucking it clean, tongue sliding over the skin as though it was jude's finger you were suckling on. you were making a show of it, revelling in the sharp rise and fall of jude's chest, of the dark look on his face and the slight flare of his nostrils.

slowly letting your finger go you flashed another grin, batted your lashes and went back to licking at the ice lolly, knowing fine well the boy opposite you was seconds away from having a meltdown. he narrowed his eyes, hand dropping to adjust his shorts in a way that made your skin flush with heat, a sudden giggle threatening to bubble up your throat.

"behave yourself." despite the fact jude only mouthed the words the air of dominance was obvious, the threat hidden behind his eyes forcing you to, once again, press your thighs together to ease some of the pressure. you swallowed thickly, ran your tongue over your bottom lip to taste the last bit of the strawberry flavour.

“make me.” you challenged silently, staring at him head on as you tried not to show just how badly you wanted him to make you. you were painfully aware of the wet patch that had bloomed at the centre of your bikini bottoms and even more aware of your brother as he finally started to rise from his crouch at the freezer.

the pulse in jude’s neck thrummed, half begging you to drag your tongue across it, to sink your teeth into the soft skin and leave marks that claimed him as yours. instead you arched a single brow before hopping down off the counter, dropping your now used lolly stick into the bin as you headed for the door.

“keep your dogs away from my bedroom.” you warned your brother, knocking your hand against the back of his head when you passed, using that same hand to playing pat jude’s cheek before his best friend could turn around. “see ya later, bellingham.”

you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back, or more likely your arse, as you walked away from him and knew he wasn’t paying any attention to your brother’s ramblings about the plans for the afternoon. a satisfied smirk was settled on your lips because you’d gotten what you wanted.

you’d barely made it to your bedroom door when two large hands caught you by the waist, hard chest flush to your back, hips pressed forward so you could feel just how worked up your little show had gotten your boyfriend. a hot kiss was settled against the curve of your jaw as the two of you half stumbled through your bedroom door, jude using his strength and grip on you to push it shut and pin you against it within seconds.

“always so fuckin’ desperate for it, aren’t you?” he mumbled, fingers skimming your stomach before he let them slide between your legs, pressing lightly over your clit through the thin material of your bikini bottoms until you gasped and arched into him. “now be a good girl and stay quiet f’me and i’ll give you exactly what you wanted.”

#hey jude :)#jude bellingham #leigh’s baby blurbs #sinclaiirs baby blurbs #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months ago

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i wanna be close to you

written for @steddie-week Day 3 prompt: Longing/Mutual Pining Rating: T | wc: 1825 | no cw special thank you to @sidekickjoey for beta-ing this at the last minute (and my day 1 one too because I forgot to mention it on the post!) Read on ao3

The smell of chlorine lingers on their skin.

Eddie’s hair is a tangled mess, partly from the hours spent horsing around in the pool with the kids and partly because that’s just its default state. He claims it’s for proper curl maintenance, but Steve has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t like the way a brush or comb feels working through the tangles.

They’re lying on the roof of Steve’s house. It’s not the smartest of ideas — what with the handful of beers and joint or two they’ve shared in the hours since the kids rode their bikes home — but he can’t deny that it’s nice. There’s an evening breeze chasing off the humid summer heat as the sun sets in the distance. Soon, they’ll be plunged into darkness, with nothing but the dim stars above them and the distant streetlights to keep them visible.

Steve’s counting down the moments until the darkness overtakes them, until he doesn’t have to worry about Eddie rolling over and spotting the flush that’s spread from the tips of his ears all the way down to his newly pierced belly button (that’s the last time he makes an Uno bet with Robin, that cheater). Until the moment when Eddie won’t be bathed in warm yellows and oranges from the setting sun like some painting that belongs in a museum.

It’s quiet up here, aside from Eddie’s restless fingers tapping on the tiles of the roof beside him. Two short taps, another, then a drag, two short taps, three drags, three taps, and so on. It’s not steady like the usual beats he plucks out with his fingers, but he keeps repeating it over and over and over again. It’s a welcome noise, a nice distraction from Steve’s racing heart that he’s sure Eddie could hear if he wasn’t lost in his own thoughts.

Steve’s never been in a situation like this before, lying so close to someone — thighs touching, hands practically pinned between their sides — and being unable to reach out and touch.

Not in the way he wants to, at least.

He wants his lips on Eddie’s.

He wants to know what the slight stubble on his jaw would feel like against his cheek.

He wants to chart every scar, every imperfection, every tattoo with his hands and then his lips. Maybe even his tongue and teeth.

He craves to know what it feels like to have Eddie’s weight on top of him and what his warm eyes will look like when he’s the one hovering over him.

He wants other things, too.

More moments like this for one, the two of them perfectly content in the stillness of the night. And more moments like earlier, where the noise reached questionable levels as they goofed around with the kids.

He wants to cook Eddie breakfast, even if it takes him three tries to get the eggs right because he knows he’s picky about the consistency. He wants to hold his hand in public and not have to worry about what anyone is going to say about it. He wants Eddie to be the last person he sees when he goes to bed, and the first person when he wakes up.

He wants and wants and wants, and Steve is used to getting what he wants.

But, Eddie is a want he can’t have.

It’s too risky. Maybe, if it was just their relationship at stake, Steve would be brave enough to curl his finger around Eddie’s tapping away beside him, give a little tentative touch to test the waters before he fully gives in to his desires.

But it’s not just his relationship at stake. No, it’s the kids’ and Robin’s and Nance’s. Hell, even Joyce and Hopper’s relationship with Wayne would be muddled if Steve did something to make Eddie uncomfortable.

He can’t risk it.

They’ve lost too much over the years to risk losing a friend like Eddie, too.

So, Steve resides himself to the longing deep in his bones and steals another quick glance at Eddie in all his glory beside him.

He’s sitting up now, knees pulled up to his bare chest as he looks out into the darkness that’s spreading by the second. He wraps his restless arms around his legs, pillowing his head on the tops of his skinned knees. His eyelashes are long, fanning against his cheek with every slow blink. Eddie stays like that for a moment or two before he turns his head, squinting into the darkness of night until Steve comes into focus.

Steve watches as Eddie’s lips slowly twitch up into a smile that makes his entire body turn molten. It takes every muscle in Steve’s body to keep himself planted on the roof. Internally, he’s at war with himself — one side telling him to run, to dive inside the window to his bedroom and get as far away from Eddie as he can; the other side telling him to throw caution to the wind, close the distance, and go after what he wants just like he’s always done.

He doesn’t do either. Instead, he pushes himself into a seated position until he’s mirroring Eddie, knees to his chest and his head turned in his direction, soaking in the quiet moment with his best friend.

Steve’s gotten used to Eddie’s tapping on the roof, to the rustling of the trees in the evening breeze and the final chirps from the birds calling their flock to bed. To the occasional crackling of asphalt underneath worn tires as people come home from work.

Now, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Too still.

Eddie doesn’t fidget. He barely even blinks, eyes too focused on Steve darting all around as if he’s trying to commit him to memory. He swears he notices Eddie’s cheeks turning pink — it’s subtle, but it’s there. He knows it is.

Maybe he feels it too, Steve thinks, eyes closed as he muddles through the emotions swirling in his head. Maybe Eddie wants him, too.

When he opens them, Eddie’s still looking at him with those soft, warm eyes of his. Unwavering. He’s fully sitting up now, too, his head no longer buried in his folded arms over his knees.

His cheeks are still a rosy red color, and something inside Steve snaps at the little detail. His resolve weakens, his fingers itching to close the distance as his heart slows down for the first time since they clumsily climbed onto the roof.

This is it, Steve thinks. If ever there was a moment to risk it all, it’s right now.

“Hey, Ed—“

The words die on the tip of Steve’s tongue as Eddie kisses him.

The world goes quiet; even his brain has hit the mute button, allowing him to focus on the press of his lips against Eddie’s. Unfortunately, that’s all it is. A chaste press of lips like middle school kids unsure of what the mechanics of a kiss look like beyond lip-to-lip contact.

Just as Steve’s leaning in to deepen the kiss, Eddie pulls away.

Steve watches as the moment registers in Eddie’s mind — his face going from a pleasant rosy red to scarlet in an instant. He fidgets beside him, desperately trying to get to his feet to make his great escape without rolling off the roof.

It makes Steve nervous.

So nervous, his hand moves on his own volition, wrapping around Eddie’s wrist to steady the man and his lanky limbs.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says in a rush. He shakes his head, tangled curls flying about haphazardly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t — fuck, I — I don’t know what I thought. I’m just —“

“Hey,” Steve calls, barely above a whisper because there’s no reason to yell. He reaches a tentative hand out and curls it underneath Eddie’s chin until he’s looking into those familiar brown eyes. “Don’t apologize. I wanted it, too. I want you.”

Steve's lips are on Eddie’s a moment later. It’s just as awkward, maybe even worse, and for a horrified second, he wonders if this is the universe’s way of saying that they don’t belong together. But then, Eddie’s kissing him back, and the world makes sense.

It feels good — better than any kiss Steve’s ever had. The scratch of Eddie’s stubble against his cheek is perfect. Eddie’s lips are rougher than any girl he’s ever been with, sure, but Steve still loves it. It makes him feel less bad about grazing his bottom lip with his teeth until he’s pulling it, coaxing a gasp from Eddie that Steve takes advantage of immediately.

They have to be careful — way more careful than Steve wants to be right now — so they don’t go rolling off the roof, but they work with what they’ve got. Eddie’s hands settle on the backside of his neck, fingers curling into the strands at the base, pulling gently until Steve’s making his own embarrassing noises into the once quiet night.

Steve never pulls away, breathing through his nose instead as his lips map the expanse of Eddie’s face — the curve of his lips, the dimple high on his cheekbone and down to the tender spot behind his ear.

Eddie shifts, hands dropping until they’re resting on Steve’s bare thigh, dangerously close to the hem of his swim trunks. Steve feels himself twitch and as good as it feels, he really, really doesn’t want to do this on his roof where any one of his neighbors might see if they look out their windows.

“Eddie,” Steve says, finally pulling his mouth away from his warm, inviting skin. “Fuck, Eddie. We can’t—“ Eddie’s face falls and Steve’s heart sinks to his feet as he starts rambling out an explanation. “We can. I mean, of course, we can. I want to. Just not here. Not on my roof—“ Pleased, Eddie resumes his touch, hands trailing closer and closer to the hem as his lips explore his neck now. Steve pants beside him, trying to control himself. “My room. Let’s move this to my room.”

It’s not elegant in the slightest. The two of them push and shove their way through the small window, nearly getting stuck because they’re too impatient to take turns, but they manage to fall through the window and a second later onto Steve’s plush queen bed. And then they’re lost in each other, lips and hands, and it’s everything Steve thought it would be and somehow even better.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Eddie whispers later when they’re settled in the sheets. He’s using Steve as a pillow, head rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Steve’s got one hand in his hair, twirling a tangled lock between his fingers, the other wrapped around Eddie’s shoulder, holding him there just in case Eddie tries to run again.

“Good.” Steve smiles, dipping his head down to press a kiss into the mess of curls. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington/eddit munson #steddie week #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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sleepy-kuroo · 1 year ago

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and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded

Miguel O'Hara x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 750

A/n: First time writing in a while, but I can't stop thinking about Miguel O'Hara. Don't know if I'll do a part two.

Edit: read the prequel here! I will not be continuing this so sorry y'all. It's just gonna be an angsty ending :(

You sat on the ledge of your apartment building, dressed in your spider-suit with your mask halfway up as you ate the sandwich you packed. The sun was setting in the horizon, the sky blossoming with hues of warm oranges and cool lilacs. You had your headphones on, nodding your head as you enjoyed your time off.

Your body was slightly sore after finishing your patrol for the day, back aching from a fall you had sustained earlier. You relaxed under the cool breeze, watching traffic move below you mindlessly. You took a deep breath, relaxing your shoulders when your spider sense activated, alerting you of a presence behind you.

You looked over your shoulder, spotting familiar sparks of warm yellows and oranges. You hear the faint whirring of a portal through your headphones. Without looking at the figure behind you, you paused your music and took off your headphones.

“Thought you never wanted to see my face again,” you spoke, taking another bite of your sandwich. You heard a sigh of annoyance behind you before footsteps grew louder. You took your mask off fully and looked up at the figure standing right beside you on the ledge. “Missed me already?” you asked, a hint of bitterness in your tone.

Miguel O’Hara looked down on you with that familiar hard gaze, his large stature looming over you. The two of you exchanged looks, not speaking a word as tension slowly thickened the air around you. Your pointed glares and stern expressions communicated more than enough. The longer you stared, the more you began to recognize some of the emotions swirling in his eyes: anger, frustration, annoyance, and…desperation.

“Come back,” he finally spoke. His voice cut through the thick air between you, heavy with that commanding tone you both loved and hated.

You simply stare at him, not saying a word before moving your attention back to the sunset in front of you. You watch as the sun now barely peeks over the horizon, the warm oranges slowly fading out as the sky becomes enveloped in cool blues and lilacs.

Silence falls over the two of you.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeat yourself, putting the rest of the sandwich back in its container and slipping it into your bag along with your headphones. You pulled your mask over your head and stood up on the ledge. “If that’s all you came here for then you should go back. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time on me,” you sigh, watching as Miguel closes his eyes in frustration as he’s reminded of his last words to you.

You begin to step off the ledge when Miguel wraps his large hand around your arm, holding you in place. “(Y/n),” he grunted in annoyance. His actions flip a switch in you, your resentment towards him threatening to spill over.

You snap your gaze towards him, the eye slits on your mask narrowing as you glare at him but slightly soften at the new expression on his face. His gaze still held the same sharpness to it but you picked up on the faintest furrow of his brows and the slight frown pulling down the corners of his lips. His eyes though…oh the desperation in his eyes. He’s looking at you as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see you…and perhaps it is.

“I’m sor-...” Miguel speaks again, the words on the tip of his tongue but refuses to spill out. He’s not sure if you can tell but he’s terrified. Terrified of being vulnerable again. Terrified of losing you. Terrified of the realization that his actions may have just caused him to lose another person he cared about.

You wait patiently, a part of you desperately wishing that Miguel will take the leap, to allow himself to open up again…

…but his grip on your arm loosens up and falls to his side. Miguel looks back down at the ground, fists clenched at his side as clearly struggles with himself. The longer that time passes though, the more you realize that you don’t have the time to wait for him anymore.

“Don’t come back here Miguel,” you speak softly but there is no anger left in your voice, only sadness. “For your own sake…” You look at him one last time before stepping off the ledge, swinging back onto the fire escape and going back into your apartment.

The sun is nowhere to be found by the time Miguel leaves.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara angst

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butchcarmy · 8 months ago

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Omg do you have any more to say about sub carmy??? Literally obsessed with the idea😵‍💫

I’m sorry. I had too much to say.

Rating: Explicit (2.3k)

Tags: sub carmy, overstimulation, edging, use of toys (cock ring), praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, cum play, riding, oral (both), face sitting

It’s unreal, the way Carmy unravels so easily at your touch. With the rights words, he’ll come on the spot. It’s hot, but frustrating for you, not because you’re mad at him for coming, but because you’ve never quite had your fill playing with him. Luckily, the two of you figure out a solution:

A cock ring.

“How it feel? Not too tight, is it?” After lubing Carmy’s cock and the toy up, you’ve slipped the silicone ring at the base of his shaft, fitted right above his balls. He’s starting to harden in your slippery hands.

“No, it’s good. Just right,” Carmy sighs. He’s leaned back against a pile of cushions on your bed, clothes shucked to the side. Your eyes follow the rise and fall of his chest before looking back at his cock. Your hands itch to squeeze at his chest, run your fingers through the little curls there, but not right now. You can’t.

“I’ve set a timer for 20 minutes.” You’re walking him through it again as you start corkscrewing your fist up and down his length. He nods through little breathy moans, his curls falling into his face. “If you need to take the ring off before then, what do you say?”

“I’ll say red,” Carmy answers obediently. “Green is good, yellow is slow down.”

“Good boy,” you praise, pleased. Just for that, you kiss the tip of his hardened cock, and his breath hitches. “You’re so good, letting me play with you like this. I’m so lucky.”

“Mm, I think, I think I’m the lucky one,” he mumbles with an amused smile.

“Maybe we both are.”

“Yeah, maybe—ah—“ His words dissolves into a soft moan when he feels the heat of your mouth enclosing around the head of his cock.

It’s such a turn on to see him to like this, to be the one making him like this. As you suck and lick up and down the underside of his length, running your tongue along the bulging veins, Carmy sings for you, breathy and sweet. It makes your stomach broil, your pussy pulsing under your panties.

“It’s only been a couple minutes,” you tease, popping off his cock. You lick at your lips to break the strings of saliva that connect you to him.

“S-Seriously?” Carmy leans his flushed face into one of the pillows with a deep sigh. “I’m not gonna last…”

“Oh, but you will.” As a reminder, your fingers trace the ring snug around his cock. It’s doing its job perfectly. His erection is stiff and pumped with arousal as ever, just what it looks like when he’s about to come, but he can’t. You won’t let him, not until the 20 minutes are up. “Give me a color, Carmy.”

“G-Green,” he stammers, eyes glued onto you. You’re peeling off your sticky underwear and moving to straddle his hips.

“Mm, good.” You’re warming lube in your hands before rubbing it on your pussy and his cock. You’re gonna be riding him for a while, and time is of the essence. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, please,” he whispers, polite and perfect. Who are you to deny that?

“Oh, Carmy baby, you’re so hard for me…” Your folds bracket his bulbous, shiny tip, rubbing all over it. He makes a weak noise as you sink down on him, your hole slowly stretching around him. The lube makes it easier, quicker.

“Fuck,” Carmy whines, chest raising up and down steadily. You’re fully seated on his cock, and liquid heat fills every space inside you. You’re panting, adjusting to his thickness, squeezing and wetting his cock.

“Does it feel good inside me?” You ask, voice sweet and quiet. You run your thumb down his cute little happy trail.

“Feels so good,” Carmy pants, “so hot.”

“I can feel you twitching in my pussy, Carmy.” He makes a small, high pitched noise at that, somewhere in the back of his throat. “You wanna come already?”

“Yeah,” he whines, hips jutting forward into you. It hits a soft spot that makes you stagger, pause for a second to catch your breath.

“Well, too bad,” you whisper, and you start moving.

You start slow, almost unbearably slow. You drag yourself up his cock until just the head is snug inside you. You let yourself squeeze on it for a couple seconds, just to make him moan, before sliding back down the entirety of his length. It’s gradual, it’s steady, and it’s bringing Carmy to tears.

“I wanna come,” he whines, desperate. He’s strewn messily across the sheets. You think his cock’s gotten even harder inside of you.

“You’re not even halfway yet,” you scold him, and he makes a needy noise of protest. “Do you want to stop already?” You know you’re being mean, but you can’t help it. Not when he gets like this.

“N-No. I don’t.”

“Then be a good boy and take it.” You keep riding him at that slow, torturous pace, but you bring one of your hands up his chest. “You what to say when you want to stop. Give me a color.”

“…Green,” he whispers, little beads of tears in the corners of his eyes, and you smile.

Of course. You keep riding him, your pussy slowly and softly sucking up and down his throbbing cock, and he takes it, keeps taking it all.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know.” You start rolling around one his nipples under the pad of your thumb, and his whole body tightens up. “So pretty, so lovely.”

And he really is. God, he really is. You ogle openly at the ways the muscles in his arm go rigid when he fists the sheets, white-knuckles and tight. His tattoos move with the shift in his muscles. The hand that’s playing with his nipples moves to trace the faded triangle of ink on his chest.

“I wanna come on your pretty cock, baby,” you whisper to him, like it’s a confession. He whines at your words, bucking up into you, and you stifle a moan. “Can you handle it?”

“Mm, I, I don’t, I dunno,” he pants helplessly. There’s beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “H-How much longer?”

“You’re almost halfway now,” you inform him with a pleased, almost devious tone to it, and his whimper is so desperate and pathetic it makes you pulse. You’ve never seen him so worked up like this, never felt him so hard inside you like this before.

“Only halfway?” He repeats weakly, eyes momentarily squeezing shut. “Fuck—fuck—okay.” He breathes in deeply in a poor attempt to steady himself, but it doesn’t seem to do much.

“Such a good boy,” you moan, “so good for me.” One of your hands is rubbing at your clit now, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. It seems Carmy can feel it, too, with the way his louder and louder moans are timed with the tightening of your pussy. He’s rutting into you to no avail, chasing an orgasm he can’t have. The push of his cock into your hole makes an audible slick noise, over and over.

You lean down to seal your mouth against his bitten, moaning lips, and Carmy moans like an angel into your mouth. It’s messy, hasty, liquid and hot with your tongues gliding against each others. He tastes so good on your tongue. Spit’s smearing all over your mouth, down your chin, but you don’t care at all. Neither does he.

“Fuck, oh, Carmy, I’m gonna come,” you realize, the winding screw in your belly twisting tighter and tighter with each thrust. You pull back to look at him, and you’re squeezing down even tighter at the sight. His eyes are half-lidded and teary, wet and overwhelmed, and his kissed lips are reddened and glossy with your spit. Or his. It doesn’t matter. An even pink flush colors his face. He looks well-fucked, and just looking at him like this is what makes you come.

“God—shhhit—“ Carmy’s mouth hangs open in an o as you orgasm tightly around his cock. He’s gasping for dear life, chest heaving with the effort of it. “Oh my god—“

“So fucking p-perfect—so pretty—“ you’re seated and rutting on his cock through your orgasm that rips through you, blinding you from everything except for Carmy. “J-Just seeing like you like this, it, it makes me come—god, you sound so pretty—“

He moans raggedly from your praise. His thrusts have become much more forceful, much needier. He grinds in you for the rest of your orgasm, reveling in every contraction your pussy has to give.

You’re still seated on his cock when you’re finished coming. Carmy’s at his limit, pleading endlessly for you to let him come. He’s clearly so hard and wound up he can hardly think anymore.

“Please let me come, fuck, please,” Carmy begs. There’s faint tear tracks on his cheeks, a testament to how far gone he is. “I tried, I, I just can’t anymore—I need to come—“

“Shh, baby, I got you,” you soothe him, sloppily pressing kisses to his whining lips. You slide slowly off of him and lower your hands to take off the cock ring. Before you do, you soak in the sight of him rigid and covered in your cream. He’s so hard it looks a little painful. “You did so good for me… I’ll even let you choose where you wanna come. You wanna come on my face? In my mouth?”

“I wanna come on your pussy,” Carmy pleads, immediately honest in his desperate haze, and it sends a dull jolt through you. Fuck.

“So dirty, Carm,” you murmur, breathless with how turned on that made you. You position yourself between him, angling him towards your pussy. “Of course. Anything you want. I can’t wait to see you come. I’m gonna take the ring off now, okay? Come all over my pussy like a good boy.”

With careful fingers, you pull the silicone ring off of his throbbing cock. You barely get it off before white cum shoots out of his cock.

Carmy practically sobs as he comes. You’ve never heard him cry like this before. You’re gentle as you stroke him through his searing orgasm, thinking he must be impossibly sensitive. His entire body shakes as he comes, as the pleasure rips through him.

His cock spurts over and over, covering your pussy in ropes of cum. You push your hips forward and use one hand to spread your tender folds. When his warm come hits your pussy, globs gelling over your clit, you moan from the sensation. He’s coming so much…

His cock releases a couple more weak squirts to dribble down your hand before softening. Carmy’s strewn limply across the bed, taking in deep, steady breaths. His expression is dazed, the look of someone that got fucked hard.

You shuffle towards him, knees still on either side of him when you lean down to peck his face. He makes a little noise of acknowledgement.

“Must’ve felt good, hm?” You smile as his blissful expression flashes with embarrassment. “Never heard you sound like that…”

“Good is an understatement,” Carmy laughs, voice a little hoarse. “I’ve never…felt anything like that. Holy fuck. That was just…”

“Yeah? It looked like it felt really good.” Cum drips down your pussy and off onto his lower stomach, and that makes the two of you look down.

“Let me see.” His eyes are stuck to your pussy, covered in his come. “Closer, please.”

With him laying down still, you straddle further up his torso, legs parted around his waist. You watch his face as you snake a hand down to your pussy, covered in his cum. Your fingers smear his fluid over your folds, bringing them up to your clit, rubbing it slowly… Your hand’s all sticky with both of your orgasms. And through it all, Carmy’s eyes track your hand, entranced.

“You like what you see?” You tease, and the joking way you say it makes the both of you laugh.

“Very much so.” Carmy reaches out and gently swipes his thumb over your cum-smeared clit, and you stiffen. “Fuck…you’re so wet…“

“Mm, yeah,” you say breathily. His thumb’s rubbing your wet clit back and forth. “Hhah—Carmy—“

“Let me clean you up?” His other hands runs up your thigh, squeezes at your ass. “You don’t have to, but I, I really want you to sit on my face.” His thumb presses down harder, and you whine.

“You’re, um, not too worn out? Ah—“ You feel two long fingers pump inside of you, once, twice before sliding out. You gasp.

“I mean, kinda, but…” Carmy brings his glistening fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. His eyes shut briefly as he revels in the taste of you. His fingers pop out completely clean. Fuck. “I wanna see how you taste with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Your arousal is swirling thickly again inside of you, something fierce and devastating. “Yes, god, okay. Please.”

That’s how you end up coming again, riding his face and smearing your cum and his all over his nose, cheeks, and mouth. His tongue is so warm and soft against your pussy, licking over every fold and crevice. You grind your needy clit against the surface of his tongue, stuck out just for you.

When you finally stop grinding your pussy against his face and pull back, you’re greeted with an even better sight than before. He has this pleased, dazed smile on his flushed, messy face, like he doesn’t even care that his skin is covered in fluids. He probably doesn’t care at all—knowing him, he’s reveling in the feeling.

“You’re my good boy, Carm,” you praise him, chest full of affection at the sight of him, and he hums back, just as affectionate.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #Carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #Carmen berzatto x you #my asks #NOT A BLURB. I got too excited. although I guess I’ll dual tag it #my blurbs #carmy smut #my smut #sub carmy #yeah that deserves a tag #uhhhh anyway I did Not Mean to get this carried away I swear #but ummmm enjoy! <3

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loserboysandlithium · 1 year ago

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Memory Lane: Steve Harrington One Shot

Summary: (Older Steve x reader) You and your husband Steve decide to go on a hike. When you come across your old make out spot it sends you down memory lane and reminds you of all the good times you had there. And all the filthy things you used to do. ;) ⚠️explicit sexual content. minors DNI⚠️

“I think I’m getting old.” Steve pants as he wipes a bit of sweat from his forehead. You snort and roll your eyes at him as you continue up the incline of the trail, leaves crunching under your feet.

“Okay, grandpa.” you tease, turning around jogging backwards, earning a cheeky smile from him.

“Show off.” he smirks, jogging after you. You feel the cool fall wind on your cheeks as you spin around, sprinting away from him. His laugh echoes behind you as he hurries to catch up.

You squeal as he tackles you to the forest floor, his body landing on top of yours. His cheeks are rosy, his brown locks wildly disheveled, sticking out from beneath his yellow beanie.

You pout up at him. “You’re gonna break my back.” you joke and he smiles, leaning down kissing your lips gently, his scruff tickling your cheeks.

“Okay, grandma.” he laughs lightly, rolling off of you.

You stand up, brushing the leaves from your legs as you spot a familiar landmark to the left. Skull Rock. You smile reaching out to take his hand as you pull him closer. You can remember it so clearly. Meeting him here on those summer nights, being tangled in each other’s arms. It started as a simple make out spot. One that wasn’t exactly new to him. But you never thought the two of you would end up here now. Married with kids. A little house in a cute neighborhood.

You remember the excitement every time you got a call from him. The butterflies that would fill your stomach. And the first time he touched you was here. The first time you ever made him cum was right in this spot. His face forever burned in your memory.

“How long has it been since we’ve been here?” Steve whispers. His eyes meet yours as he leans against the old stone. Is he thinking the same thing? Thinking about all the times we had here.

“Too long.” you smile up at him, pressing your body against his. You kiss him. Softly at first, slowly increasing in intensity. Your arms wrap around his neck as his hands come to rest on your hips. You moan into his mouth as your need for him grows.

“Kiss me like you used to.” you murmur, taking a fistful of his hair as you press your body even closer to his. His tongue greets yours hungrily and you smile as you feel his hands move to your ass. He lifts you suddenly, spinning you around until your back is pressed against the cool rock.

“Baby..” he moans as you both pant into the kiss, your tongues swirl together wildly as he squeezes your ass, your hips grinding against his waist.

You wrap your lips around his tongue, sucking forcefully, pulling a rumble from his chest. His lips move to your neck, sucking fiercely, the pressure of his lips sure to leave a bruise behind. You couldn’t remember the last time he had marked you so publicly.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your head falls back giving him more room to litter your skin with his love bites.

“Steve..” you whimper desperately as his teeth sink into your soft skin. You push him off of you, dropping your feet back to the ground. You grab his jacket pushing him against the rock instead as you drop to your knees.

You can see his hard on through his sweatpants making you throb in between your thighs.

“Right here?” he exhales as you hook your fingers in the hem of his sweats dropping them to his ankles.

“We used to do it all the time, baby. Don’t you remember?” you purr, taking his hard dick in your hand.

“Y-Yes.. oh shit, baby.” he stutters. You spit on his cock, using your saliva to glide your hand up and down quickly.

“Holy shit, honey.” Steve pants as you bring his cock to your lips, focusing on the tip. Little kitten licks making his eyes fall shut. You kiss his thick head, moving your wet lips all around the mushroom tip, tasting his precum on your lips.

“Sweetie, I- mmm.” he struggles to form a sentence as you finally take him in your mouth.

You moan around his cock, sucking sloppily, looking up at his face full of pleasure.

“Yes.. oh my god, yes.” he mumbles as his head falls back against the rock behind him. You bring your nails to his thighs, sinking them into his skin as you swirl your tongue, bobbing up and down.

Praises fall from his kiss swollen lips as you gag and splutter around his thick member.

It had been a while since you’d given him head like this. Where you just couldn’t get enough. Where you craved to have his cum pour down your throat. Life gets busy and becomes routine and sometimes you forget the days where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Not anymore.

The noises coming from your husband are ones you haven’t heard in so long. You’re dripping from his raspy moans, his needy little whimpers. His jaw is slack, eyes rolled back into his head as brings his hands to your head.

“Baby.. oh fuck..”

He starts to gently press your head down, guiding his long cock deeper into your throat. Your eyes fill with tears as you do your best to relax your muscles.

You trail your fingers around to his ass, pulling his hips into you. He takes the hint and begins happily fucking your throat. Spit leaks from the corners of your lips as he uses you for his pleasure. He’s rough, slamming into your throat, fingers digging into your cheeks as he thrusts into you.

Tears stream down your face in little rivers as you attempt to hollow your cheeks. Your throat is sore already, you can’t imagine what it will feel like when tomorrow comes but you don’t care. You’ve missed this side of him. Animalistic, feral, slightly arrogant. King Steve.

“Look at you on your knees. You love this cock. L-Love having me pound your fucking throat, don’t you?” he chuckles and you nod through your tears. He sticks his foot between your thighs, his hiking boot landing right beneath your warmth.

“I can only imagine how wet you are, honey. Want you to cum too, angel.” he looks down at you with a cocky grin as he lifts the toe of his boot, pressing against the wet material of your leggings.

Holy shit.

You drop a little lower, slowly beginning to grind on his shoe, the friction making you moan immediately.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Steve moans as you look up at him fluttering your lashes. You speed up your hips, grinding your clit across his shoe, your orgasm building quickly.

“Gonna cum in that pretty mouth, baby. Want you to swallow for me.. j-just like you used to.” he grunts, his cock driving into your throat rapidly. You nod again, pleasure pulsing through you as you rut against the toe of his boot.

Your moans and cries send vibrations all around his dick as you both lose control. Your hips buck against him in short spasms as your pussy flutters around nothing. You force your eyes open to watch his face as he pumps your mouth full of his warm seed.

You swallow around his length as his cum coats your throat, his cock twitching uncontrollably in your mouth. He praises you, mumbling incoherently, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he gives you every last drop.

You slide your lips off of him and he pulls you back to your feet.

“Oh my fucking god.” you laugh breathlessly, kissing his soft lips, your fingers threading in his brown hair. Steve’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his breathing heavy as you kiss him.

“Call a sitter, because I’m really gonna break your back when we get home.” Steve burns, his eyes still gleaming.

Fuck yes. You bite your lip, leaning in closer. “Yes sir.”

#steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve harrington smut #Steve Harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #older steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n smut #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x fem!reader fluff #Steve Harrington fluff

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river.

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.”

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?”

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder.

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath.

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.”

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.”

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.”

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!”

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards.

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams.

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped.

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened.

“No… oh no.”

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour.

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone.

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis.

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-”

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!”

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.”

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side.

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.”

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.”

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask.

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension.

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web.

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?”

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience.

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?”

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly.

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return.

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.”

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client.

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down.

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss.

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly.

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls.

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh.

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you?

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.”

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space.

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.”

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great.

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground.

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background.

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization.

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps.

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes.

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company.

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.”

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him.

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by.

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity.

And in this one…

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe.

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.”

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?”

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.”

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel.

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.”

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up.

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head.

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?”

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities.

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.”

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.”

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.”

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face.

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.”

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.”

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.”

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches.

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.”

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.”

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point.

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?”

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.”

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face.

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.”

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.”

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.”

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.”

“That would be preferable.”

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.”

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address.

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.”

And it would be good for you to see her again.

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him.

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x wife reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavit #peter parker #peter b parker #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n

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clownycum · 27 days ago

Text

blood makes noise

terrifier / art the clown❤️you nsfw, rated e / 2.1k

please give me some love on ao3, too!

Art’s hand slides across your cheek, his thumb wet with a slick mixture of spit and dried blood.

Art’s hand slides across your cheek, his thumb wet with a slick mixture of spit and dried blood. As you wake, slowly and groggily, you think that it must be his odd, tender sort of way of cleaning you—pampered, you feel, as you open your eyes if only to see him hovered near: his face is void of any and all of his usual extravagantly elaborate expressions, but Art still looks the same as he did before you had passed out an hour prior… except for the fact he’s cleaned of the grime and dirt and gore the two of you had created several hours prior.

“…you got all clean without me,” you observe sleepily, stifling a yawn and squinting through the dim light of the lampposts outside; their soft, faded yellow glows filter in through the tattered, moth-eaten curtains Art had shaken out and hung up weeks ago. Art nods enthusiastically, his smile just as wide as his eyes as he hunches up his shoulders to his ears and gives a little shiver—it had been a nice, warm shower, you gather.

Still. Still.

Art leans in some more, rubbing at another spot on your cheek with the wet pad of his index finger. He continues his slow methodical cleaning even as you tell him, “next time, wake me up, okay?” to which he gives you a sly, cheeky grin—to which, really, you can’t help but scowl at; and you aren’t really mad, no, but Art is just sometimes so… strange that you can’t help but feel a bit exasperated with him at times. “I mean it, Art. We could’ve, you know…” you trail off, your own sly, cheeky grin in place as you watch him wait for the words, “…showered together, or… something.”

He gapes down at you, hilariously scandalized—his eyes are wide as saucers, and his mouth is hung open in a perfect, circular O. You watch as he raises a gloved hand, placing it palm-to-cheek as if he’s overcome by a fierce tide of bashfulness. You can’t help but laugh, carefree and loud as he gives you a look as if to say oh, you! and then Art’s leaning in, crowding closer and closer until he’s nearly apart of you: huddled close enough to smell, to feel burnt by the heat of his skin, to—

Art kisses you, open-mouthed and sloppy. Like silk, his tongue slips into your mouth, warm and wet and laving greedily into you as if the taste of you were all he ever needed and never less. Art is oddly eager tonight, trembling against you in his dizzying, buzzing excitement—and you’re nearly swept away, half-way pulled from the innermost corner of your mind until Art quickly tears away from you, his breath hot and heavy against the reddened, wet flesh of your bitten lower lip: and then he’s licking the same cheek he had tried to clean with his spit and fingers, his tongue slick and warm as he licks you from jaw to temple.

“Art,” you gasp, the slow rasp of your voice muddled over the beat of your heart and the quick, slick sound of his tongue against your skin—he licks at your face again, jaw to temple as if to clean that spot completely, and then he’s wiggling against you, craning his neck to lick a stripe across your forehead, again and again until that part is clean of dried grime and gore, too. You squirm beneath him, the feel of it damn near ticklish as he breathes and licks and laps against your ear like an overly zealous puppy. Lifting a hand in hopes of warding him off, you find it futile as Art quickly grabs your wrist, his grin grown eerily wider as he laves his tongue against your face again, licking you from chin to mouth and up towards the tip of your nose. “D-Don’t eat me—”

Art leans away and tilts his head, his laughter silent and merry with that usual playful glint in his eye; and you can’t help but stare up at him, wide-eyed and flushed to the tips of your ears, waiting with your heart lodged in your throat: will he eat you—would he eat you? You’ve known Art since that bloody, vengeful day three years ago, and since then, you’ve witnessed him eating the flesh of his kills, seen and heard him greedily swallow the blood of the ones who’d been foolish enough to stumble into his path—and a few times, after heated moments where he had kissed you with a bloody, electrifying sort of vigor, you had licked your lips and felt full with the warmth of life on your tongue from his, and…

…and you’re so caught up in the thought of Art teething at your skin, at the sensitive bit of flesh where neck and shoulder meet; so caught up and too busy with what it might be like if he were to eat you—if he were to bite and bite and bite at the warm veil of your flesh and devour you whole, in one big swallow, that you don’t quite catch the feel of his tongue until it is slipping between your fingers, until he’s guiding two of them into the wet heat of his mouth.

“A—Art?”

He stares down at you, his eyes deep-set and dark—gone wide and almost terrifyingly bright in the dim, filtered glow of the lampposts outside. He looks (is) otherworldly. You watch, dry-mouthed and transfixed as his tongue curls around your middle finger, cleaning it of the blood that had begun to fall in tiny flakes off your skin. You watch, wide-eyed, with your breath now short and shallow, almost ragged, as Art guides your last two fingers into his mouth; ragged, your breath is, as Art cleans your fingers with his tongue—and there’s something else there, something molten and warm and just shy of desperate that claws with a white-hot need in the pit of your belly and lower, lower, until you’re sure he can smell your arousal in the air, until you’re sure he—

—you moan, the sound completely unbidden, seemingly pulled from the want that rides low beneath the dip of your navel.

Art grins down at you, feral and triumphant with his mouth stuffed full of your fingers, of spit and old, dried blood gone wet by saliva. He shakes against you, trembling with elation, almost reverential in his excitement—and something about this man, this monster, this being carved from frozen hell-fire and spite and everything meticulously, hand-wrought evil, has you positively dizzy; spent, already, in the heat of his tireless frenzy. You go where he bids you, barely able to breath as you shift beneath the tug-and-pull of his weight as if connected to him by invisible wire, each limb of yours lulled opposite by choice of his own—your arms, your legs, the bend of your knees to his hips and even the flutter of your eyes as you look up at him.

Art is snug against you, his teeth sharp against the skin of your fingers, and all you find yourself capable of doing is watching, waiting, staring. He leans in. You hold your breath, unable to completely help the spike of arousal that warms you inside and out, from the wet, barren space between your legs and up, up, toward your fast-beating heart, your quick-heated face. Art’s smile is still wide, almost sinister, yet he holds your fingers in his mouth quite willingly, easily—and you think of moving them, of slipping your pinkie finger off and to the side if only to feel the sharp edges of his decayed molars, but then he’s sucking them in, cleaning them thoroughly with the flat and curl of his tongue before he’s letting them fall from his mouth to rest at your chest; and suddenly, it’s cold, cold, too cold to think straight, too cold to keep a grip on yourself, and—

“Oh,” you gasp, the noise sharp and gutted as Art shifts between your legs; he presses himself against you fully, the thick, hard line of his cock shockingly hot through the cloth that separates the two of you—he is eager, damn near distraught with the temptation of you and your flesh and all the good and gore you have to offer him as he ruts against you slowly, more curious of your implications than anything else: do you like it, do you enjoy it—could he coax you, if not? You tremble against him, wide-eyed and yet not at all un-wanting as the man—monster, being, forged from hell-fire and rot and ancient bone—on top of you moves, purposeful and slow and so, so intent on riling you up and eating you whole, all in one big gulp; and you’re already there, so quick, so easily, so hopelessly pliant beneath the pitch-black of his gaze.

Art thrusts lazily, his jaw hung open as he watches you, his mouth wide and wet and his tongue a darkened, slick pink with the dried blood that had been on your face, your fingers. You feel his cock rub against you, the fat head of it grinding up and against your clit between your folds—and it is so hard not to gasp, to want, to plead for more, but it is exactly what you do as you stare up at him, your eyes wide and your flesh flushed, your heart hammering and your skin tingling.

“A—Art,” you gasp, your voice high-pitched and strung thin as he fucks you without really fuckingyou, and you think it unfair, you think it damn near wasteful to not have his cock in you, to not have him bare and pale and lithely powerful against you—but this is almost as good, almost, almost, almost. Art grinds against your vagina, rutting and humping and pressing against you as if to split you open, all through the clothing you both wear, and you want, want, want. “Art. Art. Art,” you pant, over and over, a desperate, broken mantra of want and need and greed and desire. “F-Fuck. C’mon. Please, Art, please,” you ramble, your belly turned bottomless and your pussy soaked and throbbing as he ruts against you quick, quick, quicker, “Art, I-I’m so—”

And Art reaches out with one hand, fast as a serpent if only to grab at you—your hip, your waist, the plump, warm give of your thigh as it trembles against him; up, up toward your chest where your breasts bounce with the force of his faux-fucking, and it must be good, must be something he enjoys, because he squeezes your left breast with a firm, knowing grip, kneading the flesh and pinching at your nipple where it has long since been peaked and hard beneath your ruined, bloody shirt—and oh, oh, you moan with the feel of it, the power of him and his touch and the hard, continuous press of his cock against where you need his undisturbed touch the most.

“Art,” you moan, loud and wanton as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes; but all he does is stare right back at you, his eyes wide, his jaw still slack and his mouth hung open—and you watch as Art nods his head, again and again, not quite eager but not at all foreboding with his hand still gripping and grabbing and clawing at your breast. “Y-Yes? Yes?” you ask, the thought coming to you slowly, like dawn through the trails upon trails of blood the two of you have long since left since the night he had stumbled across you, bloody and reeling and shaking with the rush of revenge; and you watch, yes, as Art’s head continues to bob in a steady nod, and you whine and you keen and you moan as he thrusts against you, the line of his cock hot and hard and just right as it slides between your folds through fabric, and—

—you cum with a stuttered slur of his name, trembling beneath him as he bares his teeth and fucks against you with abandon, forgoing all else but his own high as you become oversensitive and stilted, moored with the rise and rise and rise of your undoing until you feel him, too, cum with a shudder and a newfound hot, wet heat between your legs; and before you can even take a breath, before you can swallow against the dryness of your throat and reach out for him with a lazy hand, Art descends upon you, his chest heaving and his breath moist and quick as he widens the gape of his mouth only to bite into the heat of your skin, tucked close in the crook where neck and shoulder meet.

#terrifier #art the clown #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #slasher x reader #!myfics

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grocerystorelist · 1 year ago

Text

the body of christ – matty healy

brash and rogue, you don't know what to do with how you feel about the new priest in town. so, you find yourself in the confessional booth... aka priest!au

minors dni. dom/sub undertones, oral fixation, oral sex, unprotected sex, the man hasn't kissed anyone in a decade let him live!! wc: 3.2k

The church is dark when you approach the confessional booth, the heels of your boots ringing out and echoing throughout the cavernous room. You wonder if he hears you. A single lamp is turned on next to the booth, yellow beams dancing across the shifting fabric. You can hear Matty shuffling around inside, the shiny tips of his shoes barely visible beneath the black hanging.

It’s been a week since he kissed you, all teeth and tongue on the bench outside of his apartment, an insistent hand burning a path around your waist.

“I’ve come to confess, Father.” You smirk to yourself, crossing your ankles and shifting on the wooden seat to sit on your hands. There’s something girlish about the way you’re sitting, and you remember when your parents used to make you frequent this very booth several years ago. Then your confessions were about swiping your best friend’s eyeshadow palette, worried hands picking at your bright blue nail polish as you pleaded for forgiveness from an elderly priest. Now, the darkness of the booth no longer scares you.

“I’ve been having all of these thoughts… fantasies, if you will.” You strain your ears to your left, hoping to hear a gasp, a reaction from Matty. “I think about him all the time, and I don’t know what to do because he just won’t let himself.” A low ache settles itself between your legs, and you know that he can hear your legs cross and uncross themselves as you try to relieve yourself. As you smooth your black skirt down your thighs, you finally hear a shaky breath through the tiny window.

“I wanted him right there on a bench a few nights ago but he stopped himself after kissing me.” Your mind flashes back to the witty back and forths of that night, dangerously toeing the line of inappropriate.

“It was dark and quiet and the only thing I could hear was his heart pounding against mine.” Your cunt throbs, filled with the image of you climbing on top of him on the bench. “I tried to get off when I got home, but nothing worked.” A beat.

“What did you do?” He breathes out. In disbelief, you manage to say through the haze, “I touched myself. I touched– I was so desperate for anything. “ The wood of the confessional booth creaks as you continue.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of him bending me over, the way his fingers looked wrapped around the bottle that night.” A thunk emanates from beside you, a groan resonating throughout the booth as you squirm. “I wanted his head between my thighs, I wanted to get down on my knees in front of that bench as he fucking ran his mouth.”

“Have you-” Matty starts, hesitating. You interject before he can continue.

“I’ve never had anyone before.” You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “But I want him.”

“Stop.”

“What? Father-”

“Kneel.” You wait until he repeats himself, sliding off the bench and settling yourself on the floor. “Kneel.” Hands clasped, you close your eyes, waiting for his next directive. In the few moments of silence, your mind wanders before you ground yourself, feeling the grain of the wood through the knees of your tights.

Suddenly, the curtain is ripped open, velvet whipping inches away from your face. You blink through the spots in your eyes to adjust to the light filtering through the stained glass. Dust motes float in a haze around Matty’s head, and you swear you see a halo for a moment. Lips barely parted, his chin is tilted up, considering you as he looks down his nose.

His eyes bore through you, brown irises giving way to widening black pupils. You rise on your knees, breathing shallowly and staring up at him, waiting for him to cut through the thick soup of tension between you two. Matty’s hand rises and his eyes flick to it, as if he can’t believe he’s reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

The heat of his palm reaches you first, and you instinctively stretch to reach his hand, brushing your reddened cheek to his cool fingers. Matty’s fingers twitch away, only to return to your bottom lip, thumb collecting your sticky red lipgloss. He pushes in further and you take the chance to suck on his finger, gently tonguing at the intrusion. The rest of his fingers come to rest on your jaw, curling around the back of your neck.

He drops to the floor of the confessional and mirrors you on your knees, eyes scanning over your flushed face. Matty slowly pulls his thumb out of your now open mouth, where it joins the rest of his fingers on the side of your face, the glistening digit smearing spit over your cheekbone.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly his lips are on your lips, and you’re gasping wetly as his hand travels down to rest on your hip, pressing you into him. He kisses and kisses and kisses you, a decade of desire being unleashed in the span of a few seconds. You grip onto Matty’s black shirt, running one hand through the gel that holds his curls in place. Delight blooms in your mind, and you grin as you kiss him. A sharp tug has Matty moaning into your mouth, tongue running over your bottom lip before you let him in.

You let out a giggle, realizing you’re the first person he’s kissed in ten years if you don’t count all the hands he kisses in blessing. Matty pulls back, a questioning look on his face, and you take in the string of spit that stretches between your mouths, the rise and fall of his chest, the shadow of the veins on his forearms. Now that you have him, you want to devour him.

He asks first, though. Matty’s hands slide down the back of your skirt, toying with the hem and tracing circles on your sheer black tights.

“Let me taste you,” he tips your head up, pressing a firm kiss to your lips as your head spins. You nod emphatically as you pull away, getting to your feet to sit back on the bench of the confessional. Matty rises too, and you look up at him as he undoes the top button of his black shirt, yanking his white collar out of the lapel and discarding it behind him. It hits the wood of a faraway pew, echoing through the silence.

All you hear is the blood in your ears as Matty gets back on the floor and hooks one hand underneath each knee to drag you to the edge of the bench. You feel your cunt throb with anticipation. He flips your skirt up, sucking in a breath at the visible lace of your underwear. Matty’s hands slide beneath the waistband of your skirt, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he fumbles for the elastic of your tights. He hasn’t looked up at you in a minute, transfixed by how the pale skin of his hands looks against the black of your tights.

You lift your hips to help Matty pull your tights off, his hands running reverently down you. They stop at your knees, grasping the meat of your thighs, digging in and pushing your legs apart to bare the damp red lace of your underwear.

“Did you wear this just for me?” Matty rasps out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You whimper your confession, hands falling behind you as you struggle to keep yourself upright, his kisses nearing the lace covering you. He licks at the fabric, contributing to the growing dark spot on the fabric between your legs. Your hips jump, and he presses down with a hand on your hip, silently telling you to stay in place.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. All wet for me.” His breath ghosts over you as he hooks his fingers on your underwear, slowly tugging down. “Is this what you looked like after I kissed you the other night?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out before he pulls them off, balling them up and stuffing them in his pocket. Matty finds your clit with an assured finger, rubbing circles. He bites down into the flesh of your left thigh, tongue soon following to soothe over the spot. Through the daze of the headrush, you see purple blooming as he traces his tongue toward where his finger is focused.

He attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and lapping at it with the same fervor as he had kissed you earlier. Matty eats you like a man starved, like it’s water in a desert, like you’re the sweetest fruit and all he wants is to consume you.

“Matty-” you moan. He slips his tongue into you, nose bumping your clit as he traces your walls. You grind into his face as he brings one of your legs over his shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“So sweet making those sounds for me, love,” he says, withdrawing from your cunt to grin devilishly up at you. Matty’s hair is unruly and all over the place, chin glistening with you. He looks like he’s found heaven on his knees, and he brings a hand up to swipe your juices off his face. With a smirk, he brings the hand up to your lips, pushing two fingers in. You take them down to the knuckle, laving around them, and you see Matty reach for the front of his trousers, palming himself.

“Such a good girl for me,” Matty groans, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “Going to make you come so hard you forget your name, your prayers” He reattaches his lips to your clit and brings his soaked fingers to your fluttering hole, slowly thrusting one in.

The fire in your lower belly is rapidly building, the waves of pleasure reaching new heights as he carefully stretches you around another finger. “Matty, shit, fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips. He diligently laps at you, and the euphoria hits you, trembling on the bench. You feel yourself spasming around Matty’s tongue as he continues to lick you through the ecstasy, legs splayed out for him.

Eventually, you push him away, bringing your thighs together and grinning dopily down to him. Matty is disheveled, his face covered in your juices. The hard line of his pants practically reaches out to you. I did that to him, you think, sticky and sweaty on the bench. Matty comes up to kiss you on the lips, peppering your face with soft devotion as he tugs your skirt down over the evidence of his worship.

The two of you sit together in silence for several minutes, the rise and fall of your chests perfectly synchronized.

“Good first?” Matty mumbles into your hair, playing and twisting your locks. You twist to look at him, an incredulous look on your face.

“You’re one to talk!” Your mouth drops open, laughing at the incredulity of his question. “You haven’t had sex in ten years.” Matty’s face drops momentarily before he runs his hand sheepishly through his hair.

“You’d probably never believe it, but back in the day I used to be quite a catch.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s why they sent me to seminary. The girls couldn’t get enough of me.” You hide your face in his neck so he doesn’t see your reaction, eyes crinkling and mouth widening at the thought of a Matty your age being the talk of the town parties.

Shaking your head, you stand up and push through the curtain, waiting for him to follow you. He emerges from the darkness of the booth like an angel, pushing back the sleeves of his shirt where they’ve started to fall down his forearms.

Matty presses a chaste kiss to your nose as his arms bracket you against the confessional. You tilt your head up to capture his lips, pulling him closer as he trails kisses down your neck. You let him for a moment before you slip out around him, spinning on your heel and smoothing your skirt down. Matty looks dangerous now, not understanding why you’re pulling him away from the booth — his eyes tell you he would take you right over a pew if you let him.

“The rectory,” you say, taking his hand in yours. Matty walks with purpose, his strides long, and you struggle to keep up with him.

“Can my poor girl walk after what I just gave her?” You roll your eyes at the endearment, focusing on putting one leg in front of the other. One wobble and you would answer his question, which you aren’t allowing tonight.

A few minutes later you lie on his soft white sheets, legs parted as you lazily slip your fingers through your folds. Matty stands at the corner of the bed as he pulls his dress shirt out of its tuck, nimble hands unbuttoning and sliding the garment from his shoulders.

“Didn’t know priests could be so fit,” you giggle. “Is there a priest gym?” Matty throws his head back in a laugh.

“The dress code is cassocks, and it’s just rows and rows of priests on weight machines.” He jokes. “It’s practice for lifting babies out of water.” You pull a serious face, nodding solemnly.

“I hope I’m not intruding on your priest gym time tonight.” Instead of riffing off you, Matty decides to lift you up, spinning to land you on his lap. The rough fabric of his pants zaps the nerves in your clit, and you unwittingly grind down, making contact with his length. The air in the room is charged once again, ions waiting to be aligned to carry the spark between you both.

In one move, Matty kisses you square on the mouth and rolls you over. He towers over you, eyes zeroing in on your dripping cunt. You grasp for his belt buckle, yanking it out of the loops and throwing it into a far corner. His hands replace your own as he tugs his pants down first, revealing his tight black boxers.

Your mouth waters at the sight, but your reaching hands are gently stopped as Matty breathes a question. “Condom?” He raises an eyebrow, and you frantically shake your head no. “On the pill,” you briefly explain. Matty’s eyes darken as he slides his boxers down. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and weeping.

He circles his hand around it, stroking and tugging. “You look like a wet dream,” Matty says reverently, sliding down the bed to position himself over you.

Your hand joins him on his cock, and together you guide him to your soaked entrance. He swipes through the mess, coating himself in your cum. Torturously slowly, he finally presses into you.

“So tight love, you feel so good.” You grasp at his forearms, fixating on the curl dangling from his forehead. Matty’s abs flex under your fingers as he slowly pushes into your cunt, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His pants throw a hot spear of need through you, and he stills as he bottoms out. He’s bigger than anything you could’ve imagined. Matty stills between your legs, the two of you suspended in a tableau of sacrilege.

“Move, please,” you whisper, hugging him close as the pressure subsides into pleasure. Matty draws out slowly, and you feel every ridge dragging within you. Pleasure runs up your spine, and you whimper as words leave you, hoping he can tell you want, you need more.

He slowly rocks back into you, hips setting an agonizing pace. You feel so hazy, and you have no idea how to make your mouth work and tell him to give it to you faster, harder. Your head lolls backward, eyes blurry with desire.

“Ask me,” he says, and you shake your head, not understanding. He reaches up to his own forehead, down where the two of you are connected, then to his left and right shoulders.

“Oh-” you gasp, reaching up with both hands to take hold of Matty’s fist. You press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.” Matty moans, his thrusts finding a new vigor. He drills into your cunt, kissing spots in you that have stars exploding behind your eyes.

Bending down, Matty laves over your tits, sucking your left nipple into his mouth as he rubs at your clit. He rolls your nipple between his teeth, spit pooling on your chest. His mouth leaves your breast only to be replaced by a hand expertly tugging and twisting at your nipple.

You spread the spit from your tits, pressing down on your lower belly at the hard bulge of him inside you. And shit – you feel him, tightening your body’s grip on his cock.

“Do you like that, love, me filling you up so well?” Matty groans, dragging his hand down, interlacing your fingers and covering your hand with his. He pushes down to feel his dick in you, watching himself thrust in and out as the head pokes at your belly.

You mewl, digging your heels into his lower back, letting him roll further into you, cock hitting places so deep in you you didn’t realize they existed.

“Where do you want me?” Matty asks with a hoarse voice. You lock eyes with him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “In me.” He swallows the rest of your sentence with a kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth in time with the buck of his hips.

“Taking me so well,” his hips set a frantic pace. Your eyes roll back in your head, spots dancing across your vision. “Come for me, love.” You fight the sensation off, wanting to come with him. Matty’s hand burns circles around your clit as he thrusts mercilessly, filling you over and over.

With the first clench of your walls around his cock he twitches, a low grunt slipping out of his mouth as he hoists your hip up with one hand and somehow hits deeper. You think you might die if you don’t come soon. Hurtling towards the edge, you light up on the inside as you convulse underneath Matty. Eventually, you topple over, arching up into his chest as his cock begins to pulse inside you.

Sticky warmth fills you, and he fucks you through the last waves of his own orgasm. “You’re fucking perfect,” he moans, one hand next to your head as his hips still. His cock softens in you, but neither of you makes any move to shift.

You smile blearily up at him, and he dips his head to press a sweaty kiss to your forehead. His bed suddenly seems all the more inviting, and you both nearly drift off before you start to feel your cum dripping out around him.

Matty shakes some sense in himself to get the both of you cleaned up, and you wince when he slips out of you. The sudden emptiness colors your vision as you clench around nothing. He pads back to the bed with a washcloth, gingerly wiping your folds of cum and throwing the square into his laundry. He slips on a pair of boxers before handing you a matching pair, tugging a faded navy shirt over your head and gathering your hair to pull through the neck.

You feel as if you’re about to burst from the tenderness as you gaze at Matty curled towards you, perfect mirrors of each other.

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing you.

“I will.” You close your eyes, hands reaching out to intertwine with his.

#ok well hi guys! im leila nice 2 meet u all this is one hell of an introduction #fleabag if they fucked in the confessional instead of him being scared off #tell me if u like pls #sorry for the end being abrupt i kind of got sick of it #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 #priest au #fics

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screamingcrows · 2 months ago

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I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."

#ahem anyway #we're all just going to ignore that this was supposed to be a 50 word shitpost okay #i promise I can be normal about those things #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #ratio hsr #dr ratio hsr #honkai star rail #crow with a pen #divider by @/cafekitsune

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shaisuki · 1 year ago

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SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, barou shoei

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ falling asleep is nothing but when you say their name while asleep things change.

ISAGI YOICHI

“you can sleep here, (y/n).” isagi commented. your eyes droopy and a telltale sign of you being sleepy. patting his shoulder and you only nod.

“thanks, yoichi.” putting your head in his shoulder and you were off dozing while the train ride starts.

busybodies step off on the train platform. smoothing out your skirt to avoid someone getting a peek under those isagi could feel the softness of your thighs, a blush adorning in his cheeks at what he was about to do.

“yoichiiiii.” you whined and isagi froze. he awkwardly laughs, explanation in the tip of his tongue but it stops when he sees your sleeping face.

isagi's cheeks burned at the call of his name, followed by a smile. you were too adorable in isagi's eyes and he smiles. shaking his head. before holding your jaw to better sleep in his shoulder.

he was all smiles until the stop.

BACHIRA MEGURU

he's bored and he's looking for his own sort of entertainment and what's more fun to pull a prank to his chubby girlfriend's sleeping figure. draw a funny emoji's to your face.

his bright, yellow eyes widens in amusement, a pen in his hand and the tip of it is ready to create cat whiskers in your cheek not until you move and a word that stops bachira from what he was doing.

“meguru, love you....”his golden irises widening at your choice words and his heart swells of love.

bachira can't help but to chuckle and presses his forehead to yours. kissing the tip of your nose.

“i love you too.”

ITOSHI RIN

the screen coming from the television was the only source of light in the dimness of the room. a stephen king movie playing. rin's gaze remain fixated on the tv screen.

his expression remains stoic throughout the movie. his heart beat pumps a few beat. adrenaline running in his veins. the blood it was everywhere, watching as a character dies in the movie. he was in the most climax of the movie not until a voice interrupted him.

"rin." a familiar voice calls out to him and rin looks below him. his girlfriend fast asleep while the movie plays in the background.

did he misheard you, probably he didn't. it was your voice but you where asleep or his head is playing with his imaginations. too much horror movies, he thinks and rin continues to watch not until he hears you call again.

your head in his thigh and your hands holding the hem of his sweater. cheeks squished in his thigh and rin's heart made a badump sound.

placing his palm in your cheek, "rin." you call out again and a ghost of a smile appears on rin's face.

sighing, you're too good to be true sometimes. if only you knew how much he loves you.

rin just rests his palm into your cheek and caress the skin there. his gaze returning to the television screen and for the first time, he showed emotion while watching those horror films.

BAROU SHOEI

“oi, where the fuck are you?!” barou groans, you were supposed to be helping him clean your shared apartment but it's been half an hour since you went missing.

barou didn't need help with cleaning. he can get the work done faster but he can't refuse his girlfriend to help him and it would only get him the cold shoulder if he refused.

now, he's stuck waiting for you. rubbing the spot where mold and spores would gather when ignored. you were supposed to be bringing him the solution that would surely rid the annoying mold in days and his patience is running out.

his heavy steps echoed through the place. first stop in the bedroom and damn, he's right. your plump form sprawled in the bed while you slept.

he can see the rise and fall of your chest and barou kept silent. admiring his girl and for somehow his annoyance dissipates while looking at you.

“shoei....” barou's eyes slightly widens. his red irises scanning all over you if you're awake but you only changed your position to the side, your soft belly squished to the side.

another call of his name was heard and somehow barou's expression softens. are you that attached to him to call his name in your sleep and pride swells in his chest. you were truly made for him. a queen fit for a king.

maybe he could skip on scolding you for today. yeah. maybe. nope. you two are cleaning today and barou pinches your cheek.

“wake up. now” he firmly said and you whined from being disturbed in your sleep.

you only stare at him through your half-lidded eyes. trying to adjust your eyes to your surrounding.

“sho-chan.”

“we have to finish cleaning.”

“okayyyy.”

standing up and you wrap your arms around him. barou only grunts. accepting the hug you gave him.

“that's enough.”

“eh, stingy.”

a tick mark appearing on his forehead and you only laughed.

“we cleanin' now. happy? can i get hugs later?”

“yeah. after this.”

the little things for you.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x chubby reader #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #itoshi rin #barou shoei #blue lock scenarios #chubby reader

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ensnapemysenses · 1 year ago

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Imagine Sirius's have a younger sister who finds sister HOT! Like practically drooling over him during every meeting and Severus being unaware because let's face it he can be oblivious to affection. Everyone finds it hilarious but Sirius is one word away from flipping out. -L

L, I know you sent this so long ago but I've been working on it and I FINALLY finished it! Not my best work but at least it's something! And yes I just had to make a little reference to Snupin

Warning: cursing, mentions of sex but nothing too explicit, some brotherly angst from Sirius, glimpse of dom Snape, not proofread

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Sirius snarled, teeth bared. “I don’t understand what you see in that treacherous fiend.” His dark eyes flickered yellow as they trailed after the greasy-haired man until he was out of sight.

The Order meeting hadn’t even started yet but hostility was on the rise. It was in the air, present in the guests' little huffs and puffs, and even in the bare bones of the house itself. Interwoven with its rich and equally dark history the Black family manor wasn’t a welcoming place to be. The dimly lit and depressing atmosphere seemed to have a grip on everyone who had the privilege to cautiously open its doors.

“Meetings about to start. You finish up in here and I’ll go on ahead,” you huffed, slamming down the bowl of snacks you’d been preparing and pushing past him in pursuit of the man who had left the room before you, Severus Snape.

Sirius absolutely despised Severus and no amount of sibling love between the two of you could dissipate the anger that only blossomed when they were close. It was odd really, whenever they seemed to catch wind of the other, the two men were immediately at each other's throats. Feral, raw anger pulsed through their veins with a mere glance. In fact, his hatred of the reclusive potions professor with the sharp tongue was so severe that you were convinced he would one day lose it and Avada Kedavra him on the spot. He’d gotten the first part of the spell out of his mouth with the second on the tip of his tongue far too many times than you’d like only to stop short by your pleading. No matter how much the two of you fought, you couldn’t lose your brother to Azkaban again. Not after finding out he was innocent.

Sirius’s feelings about Severus did nothing to dissuade your own. This was one fight among siblings that you were willing to put up with. With his deep voice and mysterious existence you couldn’t help but be drawn to Severus no matter how much your big brother pleaded with you to leave him alone. Severus was terrible news. And as a confirmed death eater, you couldn’t argue with his warnings but you didn’t care. Dumbledore, Molly, and even Remus were convinced of his true motives in taking down the one whom he had once called master and that was enough for you.

Though he sat silently apart from the brief moment when he had to report on what the death eaters were up to, your eyes rarely left his dark-clothed and lithe frame. He didn’t seem to notice though, his eyes stayed trained on whoever was speaking at the moment and his toes never left contact with the floor as if he were bracing himself to sprint out the door at a moment's notice. He always did that, bolted out the door the second the meeting ended, and you’d barely been able to say a word to him much less get him alone.

“Eyes on the prize, eh? You’ve rarely looked elsewhere,” Remus chuckled, nudging your arm. Since he was one of Sirius’s best friends, Remus was kind of like an older brother to you and you knew all too well that he thought you having a liking for Severus was hilarious. “You know Severus and I hooked up while in school a few times. I can give you a few pointers.”

“Remus! Stop it! I know you’re lying!”

“Ask him yourself,” he replied smugly. Remus shrugged and with a smirk diverted his attention back to the meeting.

“Quiet down with the chatter,” Sirius commanded, jumping to his feet and pacing around the room. “Now, unless anyone has anything of value left to add, I say this meeting is over. You will all receive details about the next one as soon as it is decided.”

“Catch that mouse before he scrambles away,” Remus chuckled. “Go on now! He will be out that door in no time.”

Sure enough, Severus had his hand on the doorknob by the time you caught up with him. He jolted in place at your sudden appearance next to him.

“May I have a word with you?”

“I must be going the Dark Lord…”

“He is surely aware of your current status at an Order meeting, Severus. A few extra moments will go unnoticed and could help you live up to your reputation.”

“Ah Severus, off so soon?” Sirius asked, sauntering between the both of you and throwing his arm over you. “Not bugging my sister are you?”

“He will be off as soon as I have a word with him… in private.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said moving to the side as Tonks let out a curse when she tripped over the rug on the way out the door. “Let’s move away from this crowded area, shall we?”

“Black, your presence is not required,” Severus warned. “Your sister asked to speak to me and me alone.”

“I think that whatever my sister has to say to you she can also say in my presence. Right, sis?” he hissed.

“Fuck off, Sirius,” you scoffed. “Severus, would you mind stepping upstairs to my room where it’s a bit quieter?”

“Lead the way,” he said, his cheeks turning a profuse shade of red. You thought it was quite cute to see him flustered as you escorted him to your room.

“So,” you started sitting down on the edge of your bed. Severus took the chair, sitting on the edge waiting for the torture of forced socialization to end. “Remus told me…”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “I don’t care what that lunatic said —”

“So you did fuck him, huh?” you giggled, coming to rest on your knees before him. You couldn’t help but smile when he shifted unconsciously closer to you. “How do you fuck Severus? Are you a needy little bitch? Do you whine and beg?”

“I’ll show you just how I fuck,” he hissed, his eyes darkening.

You couldn’t walk for a week after he was done with you and Sirius, having enchanted your room, heard every single thing. He hasn’t spoken to you since but you don’t care all you can think about is Severus fucking you again.

And Severus? He thought the whole thing was splendid and has every intention of fucking you after the next Order meeting. You're his little toy now.

#ensnapemysenses #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape smut #snape x reader smut #L anon

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year ago

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Only Yours

Witch/Demon AU: Price

Pairing: demon!Captain John Price x witch!reader

Warnings: suggestive mdni (18+), teasing, marking/scent, posessive!price, monsterfucking?, afab!reader

The air is hot.

Your house always ran a little warmer when he was around even during the summer months. Usually it was bearable, never enough to make you warm to where you need to change your clothes or to turn on a fan, and you always know that he's around when you get that cozy feeling.

Except this time it wasn't cozy.

Sweat pooled at your hairline and ran down you neck. You were stripped down to just a tank top and shorts because no matter how much you turn up the AC or try to cool yourself down with the countless spells you know, nothing was working. You wanted to take a shower, to get some sort of relief from the heat inside of your house but you couldn't move from your spot in between the counter in the kitchen and the demon who pressed you up against it.

Smoke curled around you, filling your nose with the bitter smell of cigar and ash that would stick to your clothes, your hair, and even your skin weeks after he would be gone.

Just as he wants it to.

Claws, dangerous and sharp drag gently across your burning skin which caused a shiver to run up your spine. His hands are so much bigger than yours and you feel him run them up your arms before one gently cups your breast through the thin tank top, your bra completely discarded because you were just so hot.

You whine as he massages his fingertips into the plump flesh, careful of his claws as he gently pulls at your nipple.

His other hand runs down to your hip, the tips of his claws peaking through the waist band of your shorts as he pushes you back against him more. He rolls your hips for you, having you grind against his hard cock which makes you clench around nothing as you imagine what it would feel like to have him inside of you.

You imagine the way he'd push into you, splitting you open while he would thrust deep inside of you that you'd see stars. The tip of his cock would hit every part of you that'd have you shaking, crying out for him to keep going and he would, he wouldn't think to stop until you couldn't stand on your own anymore and even then he might just keep going.

You're aching for him, desperate for a release after being teased for so long. Your panties are soaked through from your slick and from the amount of sweat that's on your body you're sure all he would have to do is just slide in.

His lips press against the back of your neck and you gasp when you feel the bristles of his beard tickle you. Your stomach flips as he starts to trail slow, hot kisses behind your ear, stopping to suck a mark there as he continues to press himself against you.

He pinches your nipple, sending a jolt through you and you moan, becoming dizzy from the heat, the smoke, and the feeling of his tongue running against your pulse as he places more kisses across your neck.

"Price..." You're breathless as you grip the edge of the counter tightly when his hand moves into your shorts.

You can't see him, can't turn your head to kiss him on the lips, but you know he looks beastly. Horns and glowing yellow eyes full of desire, lust, need stare at you. A sinful, demonic presence that demands your attention, demands your claim and you'll gladly give it to him as he teases your entrance with his dangerous hands that treat you like you're priceless china.

Price presses a finger past your slit, gathering up your slick as you writhe beneath him while he continues to assault your neck with open mouthed kisses. He teases your entrance, purposefully moves his fingers around your puffy clit to make you whine for him.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He whispers in your ear as he moves his other hand on top of yours, threading his fingers through yours. "My little witch, all for me."

All you can do is nod and squeeze his fingers as you wait for him to finally give you what you need and for him to take what he wants.

Tags: @coleishere

A/N: this au is in my mind often hope you enjoy there will be more to come

#captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #captain price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #captain price #john price x you #john price #captain john price #mw2 price #witch!reader #demon!141 #demon!price

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yellowbunnydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Masquerade (Part 2) (William Afton x F! Reader)

@ruh--roh-raggy .

Credit to; saradika-graphics for the page dividers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Want some ambience whilst you read?

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, Meet-cute! William in a suit, sunshine dad energy Henry, William is older than reader, kissing a stranger(?), flirty banter, light mention of murder, soft!dom Will, predator/prey metaphors

The encounter with the man had left you shaken, but the taste of fruit and alcohol on your tongue only served to remind you of how intense those silver eyes looked as he stared into your very soul. The sweetness on his breath, the subtle creak of leather gloves as he wrapped those large but somehow dexterous fingers around your wrist. The feeling of the warm leather stroking up the delicate and all too thin skin there.

But soon everybody started making their way over to the middle of the floor, leaving room in the middle as you looked over curiously, not moving from your little spot by the bar and too afraid that you could bump into the handsome, flirty stranger once again.

"Are you not going to see the performance, miss?" The bartender asked, making you turn your head as you carefully adjusted your mask to make sure it was still in place. Tipping your head to one side curiously before glancing back towards where people were gathering.

"Performance?" You somehow managed to pull enough of your thoughts together that you recalled the man had mentioned a performance, along with who seemed to be a friend of his before the two of you had met. Part of you hoped it was, the part that felt like that frightened little rabbit under his intensity didn't.

"Yes. Some of the donors are performing to help promote their newest innovations, I don't know how they got it approved, but it's supposed to revolutionise the entertainment industry." He shrugged, giving you a smile "But some people are sceptical. Especially since they requested that nobody go near the creations with drinks."

Something about the conversation you had overhead earlier stuck in your head, buzzing about annoyingly but never quite coming to you. Shaking your head, you headed over after placing your now empty glass down, feeling the pleasant burn and buzz running through you as you carefully picked through the masked crowd and to the front. Not that anybody seemed to be paying you attention.

Not when there was two giant golden animals stood in the middle of them all.

They weren't true animals though, you could see that much. They were rather anthropomorphic, one resembling a golden coloured bear with a purple top-hat and matching bow-tie, cartoonish big pale brown eyes and blocky foam teeth that made it look more like something from a children's show you might have seen once upon a time. The yellow rabbit by it's side however, made your heart skip slightly as you found it staring directly at you, head cocked to one side slightly like it was regarding you. The green eyes looked almost half-asleep, one ear flopped forwards cutely with a little purple bow-tie affixed to the neck, or rather just under the head.

A glass tinkled lightly, turning your attention there as you realised that the music had stopped, leaving room for the feminine voice that spoke to enunciate clearly and project to the large gathering.

"Thank you for attending everybody," it was the woman in the red dress from earlier, perhaps they were a troupe of performers? You could see her mask more clearly now, and how it was a careful construction of golden roses and leaves, placing the empty glass she had used to gather their attention onto a passing tray, noticing a shine on her hand that you assumed was a wedding ring of some form. "It is our pleasure to debut Freddy's newest innovations in Children's Entertainment, in honour of this year's chosen charity."

There were pleased murmurs from the crowd and a few glasses raised to toast, but you could also see a few people turning to each other and whispering like they had their own doubts. The name 'Freddy's' rang a bell, but it was lost in the back of your mind somewhere, faintly ringing as you simply looked on in awe.

"These suits combine the latest in robotics technology, developed in house, and combined with the life-like realism of suit-performers! The Springlock Suits! I'm sure there are a few faces that remember Fredbear's Family Diner, and the Fazbear-Family decided that they would like to revive those characters into these new iterations." It made you smile, that this seemed to be a company of some form that hadn't abandoned it's characters, but rather chosen to breathe new life into them. Your ear however, caught some discontented tutting behind you.

"What a death trap!"

"Yeah, they're really bringing those things back after that kid got murdered outside of Fredbear's?"

"I heard that an employee was killed inside the first versions of those things."

Surely it was gossip, just rumours that people liked to get riled up about without any basis. The drone of the woman talking about the technical specifications without giving away trade secrets and what it would mean for the local business filtering through without you really paying attention it. But the thought of those silver eyes lingering on yours, the closeness of his breath to your face as he stole your cherry, lingering over the words that had slipped out moments before from the both of you.

'Maybe it's you who's in disguise then.'

'Perhaps...'

Your thoughts were quickly snapped back to the performance as a large golden hand appeared in front of you, palm held up expectantly, your eyes tracing up the blocky but rounded shapes of the multi-part suit. Landing on those sleepy green eyes, the robotic parts clicking as the eyelids slid forwards in a blink. Hearing the faint hiss and crackle of static behind the voice that came from a voice box you couldn't see, although being this close you could hear that chillingly low baritone beneath it.

"May I have this dance, Miss Bunny?"

You paused for a moment, before your much smaller hand slipped into his, and you followed the yellow rabbit.

The orchestra started up again in a dark and whimsical version of what sounded like a waltz, the yellow rabbit seizing your smaller hand in his and the other wrapping around your waist. Squeezing you tightly against it's velveteen body whilst you tried not to step on the over-sized feet with your heels, not wanting to trip up the man inside as he began to gracefully move in time with the music. A quick glance around saw the golden bear moving amongst the crowd and gesticulating like it was showing off other features, but only you and the rabbit were dancing in amongst a crowd of other people who decided to join the soiree.

He moved with a shocking amount of grace and precision for both his natural size and the seven feet tall suit, hearing the tiny click and whirr of mechanics inside as the head blinked blindly down at you, over shadowing you as you caught a tiny glimpse of perhaps a salt and pepper beard through the darkness of the teeth. Up close, he still had that smoky, tart fruit smell about him, spiced cologne and the articulate fingers tightened on your hand as he spun and whirled you like he had done it a thousand times before.

"Such a pretty little thing." The dual voice crackled quietly, making you jump slightly as you snapped out of your focus on the flashes of skin inside the suit and the spinning lights all around, yelping and then laughing as he spun you out of his grip before pulling you back in, your shoulder hurting from the sudden snapping motions it had been forced through in the delicate twirl.

"Everything looks small compared to that suit, Mr. Rabbit." Heart racing inside your chest, you felt his grip tightening on you once more as you thought you heard a quiet hum beneath the music around you.

"It does...but you look particularly delicious in that dress." It seemed nobody could hear the two of you, your own little slice of personal time with the stranger as you could feel that cold, yet somehow heated gaze on your mask, your eyes, the curve of your collarbones leading to the valley of your breasts. "I could eat you alive."

"Do you want to?"

"More than anything, bunny. It's been a while since I felt anything like this....That burning desire to consume, to hold onto and burn us both out or keep the blaze roaring."

"You speak like an old man." You teased, earning a low growl from within the suit that was tactfully disguised as a cough as some onlookers glanced sideways at the pair of you. Your head was spinning, from the proximity or the whirling waltz you had been pulled into, you weren't quite sure.

"I speak my mind, little bunny. Tonight is not a night for patience or for holding back." Baritone mixed with the lighter notes of the character voice forcing a weird attraction to build in your head as he gripped onto your waist with what felt like bruising force, making you wince for a moment before gasping, heart pounding harder in your chest.

"Then don't, Mr. Rabbit...What's stopping you?"

You had a sudden view of the ornate plaster moulding on the ceiling, along with the glittering chandelier before the yellow rabbit put his head back into your view. Feeling his strong hand supporting your back as the music swelled to it's final act, unsure where the notes ended and your pulse began as your lips parted unsurely, taking shaking breaths before you saw the grin in the darkness of the teeth behind, licking over his own teeth and giving that low growl again as he gripped onto you.

"What's stopping me, is witnesses, Miss Bunny. I don't fucking share, particularly when it's something I really want." The tone of his words made the hair on the back of your neck stand up on end as even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could hear the feralness seeping through into his voice, feeling him slowly drag you back to your feet. The clapping of the audience you had garnered meeting your ears finally as you realised that the dance was already over. Watching the yellow rabbit bow as you curtseyed as best as you could on unsteady legs, watching the suit head tilt up slightly and tilt to one side before he brushed past you towards his collegue, whispering as he once again left you.

"Meet me in the butterfly study in an hour. You don't want to be late for a very important date, do you, Miss Bunny?"

Glancing at the clock at the end of the hall, his touch lingered against your skin at least mentally whilst you tried to catch your breath. Listening to the congratulatory conversation around you and feeling a few hands shaking yours, congratulations on your performance.

You heard none of it however, watching the second hand ticking by already as you wondered what awaited you in an hour. And you couldn't help but feel like you had been caught in an elaborate spider's web of fantasy whilst your hands trembled and you felt as if you couldn't move for fear of breaking the spell that the yellow rabbit had cast upon you.

#william afton #william afton x reader #steve raglan #springtrap #steve raglan x reader #springtrap x reader #fnaf movie #william afton x you #william afton smut #fnaf x reader

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