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clowningaroundmars · 8 months ago

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morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

#mine #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miles morales #miles g morales #BOY that sure is a lot to read huh. well. if u read all this here's a heart ♡#can u tell i am Not Normal abt these two #esp wrt them being potential parallels to their father and uncle.........#i can scream FOREVER abt this #the morales family always has me All Up In My Feels man #also LOL @ me writing fanfic again in this post #what can i say...... i guess i can't help it lol #i just love these two they are my babies............#also guess how many times i went and started writing “miles” for 1610 before having to backspace after realizing #yea thats right. Too Many Times #anyways hopes this like uhhh reads okay. the formatting might be weird cuz i had to copy n paste this from my notes app #but i think its cool. i hope #hope yall enjoy aallll of this lol

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11vr1 · 1 year ago

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Now hear me out here… Miles Earth 42 x F!Reader dancing Bachata🤭 Orrr something like they are at a party and a family friend decides to dance a rather romantic song with us so Miles gets jealous. So many different scenarios with Bachata and dancing I wouldn’t mind fluff either where like they dance in the living room or smth I just love Bachata and romantic dancing ♥️😊

-J

Eres Mía ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › Miles gets jealous and a nearly gets into a fight, so he makes it up to you by teaching you bachata.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › Request.

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, tooth rotting fluff, swearing, bad Spanish, jealousy, pet names, a tiny bit suggestive

P.S. › Thank you for this ask! I had so much fun. A nice change from the angst. <33

P.S.S. › I am now making a taglist!!! Lemme know if you wanna be on it. I also think I want to find mutuals and get more involved in the community…

When Miles asked Y/n to be his plus one, she almost couldn’t believe it. His delivery was cool and casual as if he didn’t invite her to a party with all of his family and closest family friends in attendance. They had become official a little over a month ago (though Miles swears it’s been longer), so the first family gathering was a big deal, a huge milestone most couples put off until much later. When she tried to explain to her boyfriend the significance of this event, he didn’t understand. “Don’t start stressin’. It’s jus’ my abuela’s birthday party,” she remembered him saying.

Abuela?

Abuela!

If his grandmother was anything like Rio Morales, Y/n would be walking into a lion’s den. Miles did nothing to placate her worries, making her do the exact thing he told her not to do: worry.

The weekend had arrived and so did the much anticipated birthday party. Y/n spent a considerable amount of time getting ready, choosing a tie front top with a cami underneath and satin skirt to combat the sweltering city heat. She double checked every angle in the mirror before leaving her apartment.

The corners of the gift envelope addressed in her elegant script were slightly bent from being clutched in her nervous hands all the way to Harlem. It was easy to find the building. Y/n simply followed the booming sound of music and laughter to the rooftop. The party was already in full swing. Half of New York showed up to celebrate Gloria Morales’ 70th birthday.

Y/n moved through the packed party-goers to the gift table, not seeing a single familiar face amongst them. She felt out of place. Does she introduce herself? Wait? Look for Miles? Certainly he wouldn’t leave her to brave his family alone. A tinge of panic settled in her stomach as she looked again.

“You lost, babygirl?” Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin hearing a strange voice beside her. The boy was taller than her and around her age or a little older. His feather duster of a mustache curved with his smirk as his leering eyes roved her head to toe slowly. Painfully slow.

She prickled, immediately raising her guard. “No, I’m just waiting for someone.” He glanced around, seeing everyone engrossed in their own conversations.

“I ain’ never seen you round here before. What’s your name?” Y/n hesitated to answer, but gave him a curt reply. “Thas cute. Real cute.” This was a party after all, the point was to mingle. And she didn’t want to seem rude. She had no idea who this guy was. He might’ve been a cousin, a family friend, someone who could easily say the wrong thing to the right person about her. “You know how to dance?” The night was starting to look very long.

Where was Miles?

⋆

Miles was very late. On his way, but late. His mother has surely noticed his absence by now. Abuela was definitely asking about him. And Y/n…she was probably already there. He cursed himself underneath his mask. That last job was pushing it. There was no time to go home, change, and take the subway like he originally planned. Luckily, he knew a shortcut through the skyscrapers and shadows of New York.

The window of his abuela’s apartment squeaked as it slid open. Miles rushed to shed his Prowler persona in the guest bedroom and stuff the suit in his bag. In a second, he appeared to be a normal teenage boy despite the forming bruises. He prepared himself to face the wrath of his mother, grandmother, and girlfriend. What he was not prepared for was seeing Y/n about to be pulled to the dance floor by another guy. They were close. Too close for his liking.

Something burned inside Miles, one he was reluctant to identify—jealousy. Dare he say doubt? He was new to the boyfriend thing. Sometimes he said the wrong thing, silent at the wrong times. But he tried. Was Y/n already fed up? There was no denying she was gorgeous. She could pull any guy she wanted.

He stalked closer, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. “Oh, come on! I’m not asking you to marry me. Just one song.” The guy tugged at her again. Miles recognized him. Eric and his family were friends, though Miles only endured his presence when they were forced to be in the same place. They’d never gotten along, finding each other to be a nuisance and a relationship beyond neutrality unnecessary. But that little understanding might just end right here, this was not about to fly on his watch.

“I told you I don’t want to dance,” Y/n separated herself out of his grip. The sheer expression of disgust on her amused Miles. She found him as annoying as he did.

Eric made the mistake of reaching towards her again. He had the chance to back off and it sounded like he had been warned more than once. This was not about to fly. Miles decided it was time to interfere. He swiftly placed himself at Y/n’s side, his footsteps soundless, a skill learned from his…side hobby. “La escuchaste, cabrón. Retrocede.” Venom laced his tone, an unspoken threat at the tip of his tongue. The air turned to ice around the three of them. You heard her, cabrón. Back off.

The confidence drained from Eric’s face. He knew good and well Miles was not to be messed with. There were rumors about him and his penchant for beating anyone who pissed him off into the ground. “Ella es tu chica, Morales?” He stepped up to him in a vain attempt to mask how intimidated he really was. Miles moved Y/n behind him. She watched the standoff silently, keeping a hand on Miles’ bicep in case it went south. She’s your girl, Morales?

Miles tilted his head, sneering down at the posturing fool. “Sí, ella es mía. Ahora déjala.” Yeah, she’s mine. Now leave her alone.

“No estaba tratando de hacer nada,” Eric scoffed. He turned his attention back to the pretty girl hidden behind Miles. “If you get tired of this asshole, come find me.” I wasn’t trying to do nothing.

Miles lunged, thankfully, with some supernatural girlfriend sense, Y/n was quicker and held him back. Eric flinched, his fear visible for that split second. Heads turned. “You need to calm down, Miles.” Her hand made its way into his, gently pulling him away. He backed away, never breaking his cold glare from Eric.

⋆

Together they left the party. Miles muttered curses in Spanish Y/n couldn’t catch as he stomped down the stairs. “Miles! Miles, baby, slow down!” She called his name again. “You not ‘bout to make me run after you in these shoes!” He stopped. His jaw was tight, eyebrows set low on his face, hands burrowed in his pockets to hide his balled up fists. Damn. Even seething he was gorgeous. “We talked about this. You gotta talk to me.”

He was silent for a few moments, he merely stared down at Y/n as she wrapped her arms around his middle. His heart pounded in his chest. (It was because of her. Miles refused to admit those lustrous eyes and her touch still had such an effect on him) “Ian like seein’ you wit him. Shit pissed me off. For a minute I thought…” She fixed his collar, avoiding his gaze to keep herself from smiling. “Nothin’.” Miles was jealous and willing to protect her by any means necessary.

Y/n heard the words left unspoken. Miles was a fortress locked up tight to keep the outside world out. But behind his many walls he was a boy with feelings and insecurities. “Miles, I’d never do that. I like you too much.”

“Yeah, I know, ma. Sorry for gettin’ all upset.”

“‘S fine. That’s not what I’m mad about.” She eyed the fresh bruises coloring his cheek and temple. “Where were you?” At this point, she was more concerned than angry. Miles wasn’t inclined to long conversations, but he was decent enough to send her a text. Although dry and vague it was something. Y/n would take what she could get.

Miles stiffened in her embrace. “I had to take care of some stuff. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Lemme make it up to you.”

“You owe me a dance.” Prying it out of him would get her nowhere. She decided to let it go. Just this once.

“A dance?” he asked. She grinned, happy to catch him off guard for once.

Y/n nodded. “Mrs. Morales told me you’re a wonderful dancer. Don’t be holdin’ out on me.”

His sigh was long and deep, directed towards the ceiling of the narrow hallway. Miles was in no place to refuse. He took her hand and started walking. “Alright, but we not goin’ to the roof.”

He led her to his grandma’s apartment. It was sizable and definitely decorated by an elderly woman. Y/n admired the photos sitting on the mantle. There was Rio and Jefferson Davis, dressed in white for their wedding day. She paused on a picture of an infant covered in paint, smiling from ear to ear with two teeth. She awed at Miles. He was so cute, so carefree without the shadows of the world dragging behind him.

“Ven aquí, mami.” He stood in the middle of the living room, hands outstretched, a song playing behind him from his phone. She peeked at the song as they joined hands. Come here, mami.

“Eres Mía” by Romeo Santos.

The song was unfamiliar to her. “What? You thought you was gonna to twerk and grind on me?” His low chuckle sent shivers through her. She didn’t answer. “Nah. We gon dance for real. Bachata.”

“Wait, Miles. I don’t how to—”

“Imma teach you. Two steps to the music. Thas all it is,” he showed her. Y/n mimicked him, each step hesitant and unsure, but Miles was encouraging and a surprisingly good teacher. “See? Easy.”

He raised his arms to spin her around and brought her closer. Y/n faltered. “Aye, come on, mami. I know you can move your hips better than that.” He repositioned, hands at her back and waist, his thigh between her legs, ruffling her skirt. Miles guided her across the floor, his fingers wandering to the trim of her cami, drawing a distracting trail of heat on her bare skin. Her own hands found their way to his nape, brushing his twin braids as they swayed to the beat. Soon she found her rhythm.

“There you go,” he praised, rolling his hips into hers. She followed. Her body trusted him. She trusted him wholeheartedly and fell into his lead.

They rocked together in silence, the song having long since ended. Miles nestled in the crook of her neck to breathe in the sweet scent of her perfume. “Thank you for helping me. I should have said so earlier,” Y/n said from above him.

“It’s my job, princesa.” Miles left the softness of her neck. “Eres mía.” You are mine. Y/n blinked while he returned to her warmth. She hoped he didn’t feel the way her temperature rose.

In three short months he made a place for himself in her life. He was the most unexpected surprise. She had a list of the ideal boyfriend and Miles Morales didn’t check off a single one. Yet everything never felt more perfect than in his arms, dancing to the distant sirens and traffic.

His phone buzzed from the end table. “Is that your mom?” He shrugged in response. “We should go.” Y/n suggested, but Miles’ grip only tightened.

“One more minute. They can wait.”

#iivri writes ˚·⊹ ⟢˖∿#iivri mail ·♡˖﹒ ₊˳#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles g morales #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #atsv x you #astv miles #spider man: across the spider verse #miles spiderverse #fluff #marvel

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cosmic-ships · 1 month ago

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I have a cute little nickname that {🗡} calls me~

I'm his little sparrow~ ♡

#it came out of nowhere when i was writing like ????#IT SURPRISED ME #i was like OH? Ohhh~ aweee ♡#brb c r y i n g #{🗡}

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mondaymelon · 11 months ago

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haksjs didn’t wanna de anon so fast but.. woah google translate- and yes it is a pity (hxhsh I don’t like studying it’s a pain to stare at the same piece of paper for hours)

okayy gonna go bye

🏃🏻‍♀️💨

- 🥦

omg 🥦 anon has revealed herself to the world !! round of applause everyone :DD

i dont know what to do in these situations help i dont have enough anons for this SOBS

WOAHHHH LOOK AT THAT. XIAO PFP. INSTANT LOVE AND ADORATION TOWARDS WHOEVER THIS RANdOM INTERNET PERSON IS <333

and LMAOOO GOOGLE TRANSLATE IS MY BELOVED. THE WAY IT MESSES UP SIMPLE SENTENCES IS THE SILLIEST but it worked okay this time ngl

"you're welcome, im only telling you what i believe in hahah <33 children are as digusting as bugs

are you really studying? it doesnt sound like it...

you can only speak mandarin, not read or write it? how pitiful..."

byebye 🥦 anon, you better actually study this time (i know you wont and i cant blame you cause i dont either ..)

#★ ˎˊ˗ melonrambles!#★ ˎˊ˗ inbox... anons!!#⋆˙⟡♡ᝰ.ᐟ - 🥦 anon (and cmon anon .. do i still call you that. nvm)!!#cmon if you tell me you cant read it OF CO U R S E im gonna start only writing in mandarin.#its like telling someone not to do something and then walking away for like 3 minutes and you come back #and theyre doing the same exact thing you told them NOT to #like suuree i wasnt even thinking of commiting such an act #but now that youve told me not to..#morbid curiosity has filled my veins.#and there is nothing you can do to stop it. GI G G L E S

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emjiroki · 2 years ago

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gojo thoughts plz♡

where do I begin with him? A menace. Truly. If a "shit eating grin" was personified it would take form as Satoru Gojo. A sopping wet paper towel meow meow man.

I want to throw bricks and tomatoes at him but also suck his soul out of his dick while he's tied down to my bed you know? *Taps Mic* this man would LOVE being tied up.

I love to hate him. Hate to love him. He's the ex I never forget and we meet up every weekend.

Seriously though he's so hot I can barely stand to even look him. I want him. Carnally.

#i always get the primal need to dominate that man any time i see his stupid pretty eyes #i want to look at my engagement ring while suffocating him with my pussy #CANT STAND HIM UGH SICK *writes E+G=♡ in little hearts*#i want to kiss him #gojo satoru #i refuse to make a ship tag for him lmao #inbox 💌#em talks 👄

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vairuler · 1 year ago

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now that it’s been a while since it released, i have to let it out & say that t/otk’s story & over all writing imo tbh absolutely sucked

#°｡ﾟﾟ ☼ ┊ ❪ ᵒᵒᶜ . ❫ BENEATH THE VEIL . ❜ ╯#tbd /#dont get me wrong !!!! i still absolutely adore the game #i have. WAY too many hrs playing it. but the fun i experienced from it def wasnt from the writing #just.....no consequences. too many coincidences. literally NO tension despite g/anon being v dangerous #im still v bothered by the 8th heroine reveal too. oh my god #breaking news tho !! im ignoring that ♡#gallilea is still the 8th heroine u can take it off my cold dead hands

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b1mbodoll · 1 year ago

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read ur kink list and ik u write gp, does that also include gp reader?

bc i’m js thinking about stepmom!jihyo milking her virgin gp!stepdaughter for all she’s worth. just starting off with handjobs and blowjobs to tease her, then training r to dump as many loads as she can in her. jihyo definitely prefers her stepdaughters cock over her husbands, it’s much longer and no matter how inexperienced she is and how many times she cums in her cunt, she’s always ready to give another load. training her to only think about mommy’s cunt and only want to suck on her tits, ruining r for anyone else.

pairings: park jihyo x f! reader

warnings: stepcest + milf! jihyo + g!p + lactation + pregnancy + breeding + infidelity + manipulation + overstimulation + impact play + mommy kink + degradation + squirting + mind break

💌: ok i have not and after this, will not write g!p reader but i had to answer this real quick bc milf! jihyo is so yummy

stepmom! jihyo taking advantage of her sweet lil stepdaughter’s innocence <3 takes it as far as telling you that if you don’t let her help you empty ur balls it can make ur dick explode. and you, of course, believe her because you’re clueless when it comes to this stuff n why would ur mommy lie to you, don’t you trust her?

the first time she made you cum, she didn’t take things too fast. just lazily wrapped a hand around ur cock n kissed the tip, swallowing your potent cum. it’s hard for her to take things slow but god is it worth it when her training finally cements itself in your brain. you are her toy, she can fuck herself on you whenever she wants and if she wants to ride you to the point of overstimulation you just let her because jihyo hates brats.

slaps you forcefully when you cum without permission or jerk your dick when she isn’t there to take your seed. degrades you too. “you’re such a dumb slut, aren’t you, puppy?” she mocks, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise. “‘m not a slut, mommy. you showed me how to do this! i was jus’ doin’ what you taught me.” the sarcastic smile on her face quickly morphs into an angry frown n she slaps you hard. “so you’re saying it’s my fault?” she sneers, “‘s not my fucking fault you can’t control your pathetic dick.”

jihyo’s scarily upset now, her hands squeezing your balls harshly while she overstimulates your weeping cock. “since you wanna cum so fucking bad let’s see how many times you can fill me up.” you barely have time to process her words before she seats herself on your long cock. every time she rides you she squirts, making a mess on your pelvis. also tells you she’s gonna get knocked up one of these days !!!! blames you when the pregnancy test comes back positive, saying you’re the one who took advantage of her n now u have to take responsibilty for the baby in her belly <3 rewards your dedication to pleasing her by allowing you to cuddle into her chest, nipples leaking warm milk into your wet n waiting mouth.

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lcveblind · 2 years ago

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WISHLIST. If there's one thing I want to write out with Ava, it's her learning to be a mother to a kid and what it means to be a mom.

Because right now? She has this whole image of who a mom should be: kind, sweet, patient, gentle. A whole saint and a half, maybe even an angel. She knows she isn't one--not with her history, and definitely not in the eyes of other moms.

But I want her to learn that being a mom isn't some rigid mold to fit into. It's just... caring enough about your kid to try. Teaching them things. Helping them grow, even if you fumble and they're a pain in the neck sometimes.

I just really want to see her try.

#♡ || wishlist.#♡ || red light knockout.#♡ || ooc.#just...#character development m a n #I wanna see her get better!!#I wanna see her grow--maybe even into something she never thought she could be!!!#g osh I didnt at all expect to get this deep into writing her already when I #havent even written a whole thread with her yet #bUT I SURE AS HECK AINT COMPLAINING #anywho #/hit me up in dms if youre interested because ho b o y is she going to be a doozy--/#... I should probably add her to my interest tracker now too huh aKSBSHS #tIME TO GO AHEAD AND DO THAT--

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vipercloud · 2 years ago

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────────────── gentle intake of air offers mild ease to the ache of disruption that quivers through her chest , gaze remains fixated on the beaded catastrophe before her as she manages to tune out the steady thrum of the harsh rain that has plagued new haven ; the weather was the perfect parallel for her foul mood , and if paris were more religious , perhaps she’d be praying for some form of reprisal from the storm ( or the idiocy of the so - called ivy - league - worthy girls that she’d been unfortunate to dorm with ) . there’s a quiet creak of the door , and paris immediately knows that it’s @gilmor returning to the room , the only person in their shared space that had any form of common sense , the only one conscientious enough to avoid disrupting her calming mantra or workflow .

❝ 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 . we don’t need the airhead breaking her neck by slipping on the mud that you would’ve tracked in . and the last thing that i need is a death staining my record before i’ve even graduated undergrad . that kind of thing could ruin a girl’s career . ❞ heavy sigh escapes lips as hands drop project in mild frustration , figure pivots to face the other . ❝ or perhaps it would become the perfect traumatic story to get my foot in the door . ❞

♥’d

#this isn't that good #my first time ever writing paris lol #let's see if it sticks #idk idk idk #i wrote this while half asleep at work so #ig it can only go up from here #lmk if u want me to change anything #<33 #gilmor #♡ ⁄ 𝙾𝚆𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃 ミ threads.#♡ ᜵ 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝚂 ¸ paris g #♡ ⁄ 𝙾𝚆𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃 ミ q.

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clowningaroundmars · 7 months ago

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morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 2

okayyyy this part's a slight bit longer but hopefully, uh, worth it lol

kinda made myself tear up a lil at the end ahahaha

also pls don't ask when this takes place, like either in between istv and atsv or atsv and btsv.... idk bro LMFAO this is technically a whole other au in and of itself soooo yuh

disclaimer: i'm a whole ass anarchist, however miles and milo are two teenage boys who've grown up with a cop dad and they play a lil lip service to the police force during their big speech so... yeah i don't support the existence of the police force, but it is what it is. characters don't reflect author's beliefs and all that

>1st part here<

Jeff happened to be lucky enough to be pardoned for the rest of the night, and he also opted to use some PTO on this very very important occasion, so he sped off in the squad car with his sons in the back immediately after visiting the police department and signing off on some papers. He did not utter a word until they all got back home safely.

In the car, it was eerily silent as Jeff fumed in the front. Miles practiced what he was going to say over and over in his head, picking at his suit and avoiding his twin brother’s eyes. Milo held what remained of his mask in his hands, gauntlets off and tucked between his feet on the floor of the car. They both hung their heads low, counting down the minutes until they got back home and had to face their inevitable death sentence.

They were in so much trouble. Yikes. This was exactly what Miles dreaded for so damn long now, and it almost felt like a dream the way it happened so quickly.

Back home, both boys were sat down in the dining room area behind the couch, waiting for their mother to come back from her night shift. Milo was given an ice pack for his head and some painkillers, and then they were both sternly ordered to take off their respective suits.

Miles turned inquisitive eyes towards his dad.

“If your mom comes in and sees you two wearing those outfits right after work, that woman will have a heart attack and faint. Take ‘em off,” was Jeff’s sharp explanation.

They were not gonna argue with that. To the bedroom they both went.

“And then you both come right back out the second you change, got it?”

“Yeah dad, got it,” was Miles’ unenthused mumble before closing the door.

Miles turned back around with his mask in his hands, and immediately threw it at Milo.

“What were you thinking?!?!” he hissed, arms flying up into the air, making grabbing motions at his twin brother’s neck. “You absolute idiot, my god, we are so. Freaking. Dead!!”

Milo ducked back, scowling. “Me?!” he hissed back, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper as well. “What did you want me to do, pendejo, just let our dad fry, just like that? I didn’t see you moving to stop the guy!”

They were both snapping at each other, hands flying everywhere as they argued in harsh tones and whispers. They only stopped when they heard a loud knock on the door.

“Don’t take all night, either,” came their father’s booming voice from behind the wood.

Miles hung his head. Milo rolled his eyes and moved towards the closet, ripping his jacket off and kicking off his shoes. “Yes dad,” they both intoned at the same time.

A few glares were exchanged as clothes were tossed onto the floor, and Miles sighed loudly as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants, throwing himself onto his bed to get them up his legs all at once. He glanced at his bedside alarm clock, knowing his mom would be home any minute now. He felt his heart beat in his chest much louder and faster than usual.

Milo pulled on a hoodie over his head, gingerly easing the fabric over his bruised chest.

“Did the blast hit your chest too, man?” Miles asked quietly, eyes playing over the mess of a bruise over slightly-scarred skin, wincing a bit.

Milo exhaled sharply. “Shuddup.”

Miles frowned. “You have to let mom know about that soon. Don’t ‘shuddup’ me.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Miles knew his brother was sulking, but that really looked… bad. If he was responsible for not only dragging his brother into vigilantism, but also putting him in the hospital as well, he had no idea how he was getting out of this one alive. He was probably never going to see the light of day until college. Maybe not even then.

Once ready, both boys stood side-by-side in front of the door, hesitating. They both glanced at each other, then back at the door.

This was it, they both thought. The moment of truth. This was the night where it was all gonna go down, and their painstakingly-kept secret would finally be revealed to their parents. D-day. My god. He didn’t even know if the speech he prepared in the car on the way home was even gonna suffice against their mother’s explosive anger. She was gonna have a cow the second Jeff told her. Damnit.

Guess I can kiss the whole Spider-man thing goodbye, Miles thought, the very idea leaving a very heavy weight in his chest that he just couldn’t ignore. He leaned forward to turn the knob and swing open the door. With one last glance back at his brother, he stepped out. Then his brother followed him slowly, ice pack pressed to the side of his head again.

It was like a funeral procession the way they marched solemnly back to their chairs placed side-by-side by the table. Jeff leaned on the doorway to the hallway with his arms crossed sternly over his chest, still in his police uniform, hat already hung up.

As if on cue, Rio’s keys jangled against the door, and she stepped inside once the lock clicked open. Her slightly tired expression changed in an instant once she hung up her bag and walked into the apartment.

“Hello boys, I’m home!” She announced, a bit surprised. Not only were her husband and two sons all home at the same time, but they were all hanging around to watch her come home after work at such a late hour. Granted, it was summertime and the weekend, but still. Weird.

Jeff had texted her that something important came up and that she needed to be home ASAP, but didn’t elaborate further. She didn’t know what to expect when she got back. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn’t that bad, if her husband texted her instead of calling. If it was an emergency, surely he would’ve called.

Right?

Her eyes widened once she saw the ice pack Milo held against his head, and quickly made her way over to him.

“Qué pasó?” She kneeled next to her boy, checking him over quickly.

Milo winced and tried to dodge his mother’s hands, holding a protective arm over his chest that no one missed. “Ma, stop. I’m fine, seriously. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Is it? What is going on, why is everyone so… so sad right now, and what are you two doing sitting here like this? Jeff…?” She turned to face her husband but he was already making his way back to the boys’ bedroom, scooping up their respective vigilante costumes and heading back out with the incriminating evidence in both hands.

Once he got back to the table, he tossed them onto the surface and crossed his arms again.

For a second, no one moved. The whole world held its breath for one precious moment.

Then, with deadly calm in her tone, Rio slowly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “...What are those things?”

Both boys braced for impact.

“Well?”

Miles swallowed hard, hands gripped together tightly. “Uhm. They’re. They’re… our outfits. Y’know… for fighting crime.”

Rio gaped at her sons.

“He’s Spider-man, mom. Miles is Spider-man,” Milo clarified solemnly. His chin was at his chest now, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

“...And you’re the Prowler.” Rio finished.

She took a step back and exhaled, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her face. “Oh… oh my god. Dios mió, me voy a morir. I knew it, but still... me voy a morir!” ¹

Finally, Jeff spoke up behind her. “They’re not Halloween costumes, either. Guess where I found ‘em tonight?”

With tears in her eyes, Rio looked back at her husband, a pleading look on her face. “Don’t tell me,” she begged. But Jeff continued anyways.

“I took tonight’s shift on as a bit of extra, and when I was called to take care of an electric freak close to downtown, I found these two at the scene already.”

Finally, Rio exploded. “What?!?”

The twins flinched.

Jeff exhaled and pressed on, licking his lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but Milo here took on a direct blast of electricity to the face. He jumped in front of me and put himself in harm’s way!”

Scandalized, Milo leaped up from his seat, wincing only a little bit. “Wait a minute, I did it to protect you! That’s my job!”

The anger fizzled out immediately once both parents swung their withering glares around back to him, rage hot enough to almost burn two holes into his skull. Miles pulled Milo’s hoodie sleeve and quietly hissed, “stop making it worse!”

Milo clammed up and quickly sat back down, pouting.

“Your job?” Rio shot back incredulously, laughing angrily.

“That is not your job, Milo! That is mine! My job! I wear this badge every single day so that I can protect the people of Brooklyn. You are a kid with homework and chores to do, not fighting dangerous bad guys on the streets like some kinda—” Jeff worked himself up but then stopped, as if he suddenly ran out of steam. He placed his hands over his head, clearly stressed, and exhaled loudly.

“How long?” Rio’s tone was sharp.

They were definitely not getting out of this alive. Damn. Rest in power, Morales twins.

Miles shuffled his feet, hesitating. “Uhm—”

“Speak up, Miles. How long have you two been running around behind our backs and lying to us like this? Huh?”

Miles sighed. “I, uhm. We’ve been doing this… for a while now.”

“A while?”

“…A -a year.”

“A YEAR?!”

“I mean I’unno about Miles, but I’ve only been doin’ this for like a couple months, so…” Milo mumbled half-heartedly beside his brother. That comment earned him another set of glares, including one from Miles.

“A year. A year! A year, that’s how long you’ve been lying to us?” Jeff was pacing now, clearly stressed out. He was mumbling things under his breath that both boys would rather not know anything about.

Miles jumped up from his seat, seizing the opportunity when he could. “Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait, guys. Mom, dad. Listen to me, please,” he begged, hands splayed out in front of him.

He took a breath. He opened his mouth.

“Until college.” Rio interrupted, holding a finger up. “Both of you. Grounded! Until college! You will both be adults before you ever go out without my permission ever again!”

Miles deflated. “O-kay but mom, please! Hear me out first!”

Rio held a hand up. “I don’t wanna hear it! I cannot believe that both of my sons would lie to me like this! For an entire year, no less! Dios, dame paciencia, coño!” ² She shook her head as she held her face in her hands. “Do you two know what you’re doing to me? Look at me, I’m getting grey hairs as we speak!”

Jeff immediately took her side. “Do you realize what you’re doing to your mother? You’re killing her! And you--” he rounded on Milo all of a sudden, jolting the poor boy into sitting up straight. “You are killing me! You’re going around wearing those godforsaken gloves around, punching bad guys just cuz you wanna feel like a big man, huh? Do you know what that does to me?!”

Milo visibly prickled up, hunching in on himself. “I’m not doing it for me,” he bit out angrily.

“Then for who, huh?”

“I wanted to save the little guys on the street... when the cops couldn’t. I wanted to help Miles.” Milo sounded tired, and for a split second he looked much older beyond his years. Both of his parents softened for only a fraction of a second before Jeff rubbed his eyes and turned back to Miles.

"And who made you Spider-man all of a sudden? What happened a year ago? Tell me the truth. I don't want any detail left out!"

Ah, interrogation mode already, Miles thought humorlessly.

He sighed and dutifully got started on the whole backstory, careful to leave out the fact that he was with Aaron the moment he got shot, skipping to the part where he "found" his uncle's nearly lifeless body in that alleyway that fateful day. It was a harmless enough lie… Miles presumed. Right?

"Did you… then... h-how did you see who shot Aaron, Miles? Were you there?" Jeff asked quietly, also looking as tired as Milo did. Miles paused, not expecting the question.

Rio shot him a look. "Jeff, mi amor, please. Now is really not the time." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Right now, we have to talk about this... this... situation we have going on here. What's next?"

Miles shrugged, palms facing forward as if to say and the rest is history. "I'm... pretty sure you guys know the rest. Dad... you were uh, there. At the collider. I stopped Kingpin and then I just. Well, yeah. Y'all have already watched all of the news stories and the videos. So," he finished lamely.

Then, a surge of confidence as he looked at the concerned expressions dawning on his parents' faces. It's now or never.

"...B-but I love being Spider-man! Dad, you've seen me out there, the way I fight, the fact that you guys have less to deal with cuz I'm out there kicking ass!"

Oops. Wrong words.

Miles' confidence deflated as soon as those concerned and sympathetic looks turned into ones of anger.

"Kicking ass?! More like getting your ass kicked, little boy! How many NewTube videos are out there of you getting crushed by cars," Jeff started to count off of his fingers, "hit by buses, tossed in the air, punched and flung halfway across the block--"

"Jeff, please!" Rio cried, wobbling a bit. She pulled out the chair closest to her from the table and slumped down into it, rubbing at her temples.

"S-sorry, hon..." Jeff placed an apologetic hand on his wife's shoulder.

Rio sighed deeply.

"I get it. I know. But dad..." Miles steeled himself this time. "When you put on that badge every single day and you go out into those streets to protect the city, you think you're never gonna get shot at? Jumped? It is literally your responsibility to put yourself in the way of danger so no one else has to." He turns to the table and grabs his mask.

"For me," Miles continues, "this is my badge. Okay? I put this on every single day and swing out into the streets so people can shoot at me, or ask me for directions, or wait for me to get weird guys in stupid costumes away from the train tracks. I do this every single day, because if I don't, who will? Peter is dead--" ...wow, that feels weird to say.

"Miles..." Rio's big brown eyes gaze sadly at her boy, standing tall with this awful mask in his hand. A mask that she desperately wished wasn't his.

"Mom. Peter is dead. He is. Okay? If I don't step up and take his place, knowing what I can do? Then I might as well not even be alive at all." He tosses his mask dramatically back onto the table to punctuate his point. "I can shoot webs from my wrists and I have strength like y'all wouldn't believe. I can stick to walls and do everything that Peter Parker was able to do before he passed away. If I just sit here doing nothing with these abilities while everyone struggles to live their lives every single day, letting bad guys with superpowers do whatever they want, then what's the point of anything? The exact same reason why I put on this suit to go fight crime is the exact same reason why you do, dad." Miles turns to his father now. "You have your suit, I have mine."

Milo jumps in, enthused. "And the reason why I put on my mask is because of him. And the civilians, too... of course. But it's not because I 'wanna feel like a big man', dad. It's because it drives me crazy seeing my own brother taking on all of this responsibility on his shoulders all by himself. Miles is gonna do crazy things now that he got bit by a super-spider, right? We literally cannot stop him, even if we tried. Trust me. Might as well go along with him and support him so he doesn't get himself killed out there. That's why I do this. Every single day."

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but is then cut off by Rio's own small, sad voice. "... Why does it have to be you two?" She asks quietly.

She looks so small sitting there on their wooden dining room chair, and a million times more tired than when she came in through the door. She wasn't even out of her own nurse's uniform yet, either. Miles felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Miles... did not know the answer to her question either. He really didn't. Why was it him-- out of all of the people in Brooklyn-- that got bit by that spider? Clearly, the universe had a grand, elaborate joke planned for him. That was really probably the only explanation for it all. But, no. No, there had to be something else in the cards for Miles. After all, he was bitten by the spider while out with his uncle who was secretly the Prowler, and he was present for not only Peter Parker's death, but that same uncle as well.

He squared his shoulders. And then told the truth.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "But... I do know this. Growing up, I always knew Spider-man was there to answer the call no matter what. He didn't pick this life of battling bad guys that wanna tear the city up all the time, a spider bit him, too. But he made me promise something before he died, and I have to live up to that promise. What else am I gonna do when I'm able to pick up cars with my bare hands?"

Granted, it was only a promise to stop the collider from opening a black hole inside of the city they lived in, but. Details. Anyways...

Rio hid her face in her hands again.

Miles softened his tone, sitting down. "This is something I worked really, really hard for and it's important to me. Milo... is kinda right. You can ground me. Until college. Or whenever. But as long as I've got these powers," he held his hands open, propping his elbows on his knees and meeting his mom's eyes, "and there's people out there that need saving? I gotta do what I gotta do, mami."

Milo leaned forward, too. "Yeah. Same here. He's not alone. The same reason we do this stuff is cuz... ever since we were little, we also watched you guys answer the call, no matter what. I never met Spider-man, before... y'know, but it doesn't matter. We do this for New York City."

Neither of their parents spoke for a bit, digesting all of this information in solemn silence. The anger from earlier all but melted away as they ruminated over all of this. All this time, their little boy was running around in a spandex costume, swinging around, punching bad guys and lifting fallen buildings off of people. There was... a hint of pride underneath all of the fear and anger and betrayal and anxiety, even Rio couldn't lie.

But god, how would things ever be the same again after knowing that the very hero who swung from building to building and knocked villains down before webbing them up was the very same boy with the brightest brown eyes they've ever seen; the boy who brought home A's on his test like he won a medal, the same boy who sang horribly off-key while doodling all over his sketchbook, who refused to tie his shoelaces and drove Jeff up the wall when he found graffiti and stickers all around the city in Miles' name? It was impossible... Rio's heart broke into two pieces.

And Milo... a tougher counterpart to her little ray of sunshine, but just as sweet. The same boy who would feed stray cats on the block, beam like a ray of light after winning a boxing match against a tough opponent, who would hide behind Rio at parties and join her happily to watch the latest episode of the new telenovela they both got hooked on... that same boy was wearing those gloves, swinging around the city looking like a bad guy himself. Rio's shattered heart gained another huge crack before finally breaking into three pieces.

Finally, she sighed again.

"You have superpowers?" She asked, hesitantly.

"... I... yeah, I do." Miles answered, fearing that this was a trick question.

Rio nodded sadly. "Of course. Of course..."

Jeff spoke up, now kneeling beside his wife, caressing her hand clasped in between both of his. "Just because you have superpowers, doesn't mean you're invincible. Miles, we do this because we care about you. Maybe we won't be able to stop either of you from putting yourself in harm's way... I mean, hell, nobody can stop me. But... god, isn't there any other way?"

Miles raised a brow. "Any other way to...?"

Jeff blew out a breath. "I-I dunno, can't you use your super strength to... well, maybe help the transportation department move some tracks around, build some new stations... that'd help the city. Swing around and deliver medicine to people for free? God, I don't know. I just don't want either of you to jump in front of bullets for other people... man..." he shook his head.

Miles and Milo exchanged glances. "I... I know it's tough to accept this," Miles started, unsure of what to say. "Maybe I can scale back the dangerous stuff some but... I... can't just stand around directing traffic when someone's getting mugged. Or a bank is getting robbed. Dad, I just can't. Maybe you guys will hate it every time I put the suit on and swing outside but... I can't give this up now. I'm sorry." He dipped his head apologetically.

Another long stretch of silence.

A clock ticks on the wall in the kitchen, and the ice maker in the fridge starts humming again. It's all so painfully domestic, painfully ordinary, it's almost an insult to the people living in this apartment facing these serious revelations all at the same time. It sure is a sharp contrast to the solemn mood settling all over everyone right now.

Rio looks deeply into Miles' eyes, then Milo's. After a while, she turns to face Jeff. "Jeff. You will not like what I'm about to say."

Jeff returns her look with one of confusion. "Honey..."

Rio shrugs, a small gesture but one that makes Miles and Milo's hearts skip a beat. "Mi vida, these are our boys. They have... this big responsibility now, to the people here in this city. Just like you. Just like me," she swallows and continues. "You and me? We've seen what Miles is capable of. Well, the both of them. And as much as it hurts, it would probably hurt even more if we kept them both back from being the heroes they need to be. What we need to do now is... we need to support them. We love them. They need us. We need them! Qué más puedo decir?" ³

Jeff looked deeply into his wife's eyes and then inhaled deeply. Not quite a sigh. That was maybe a good sign?

He stands up.

"...Boys."

The twins took their cue. They both stood up, too. Milo quickly discards his ice pack on his chair. Rio joins them, leaning on Jeff for support.

"When police officers get sworn in, they usually just have to do paperwork nowadays. Not too much of the whole bells and whistles due to high turnover rates, but tonight... if either of you want to continue to fight crime in this city, you both have to put your right hand up. Right now."

Miles could cry. Milo bit his lip to try and hide his grin, and they both dutifully raised their right hands at the same time. Jeff does the same, and reaches his left hand out to take Miles'. Rio takes Milo's.

"Pretend we are the Bible. Not paperwork. The Bible."

Both boys nod with all the seriousness they could manage, looking their father in the eyes.

"Do you solemnly swear on your mother and father's life that you will uphold the law and do right by the citizens of Brooklyn, New York, so help you God?"

"I mean... the law law? Cuz sometimes we--" Milo started, immediately earning an elbow to the side. He shut up.

"Yes, the law. I will not be having the DA of New York City up in my home lookin' for you two in case anyone gets badly hurt. I don't want him in my office, either." Jeff gives them both a look.

Miles pipes up. "Yes, we swear, so help us God."

"Milo?"

Milo nods emphatically. "Yes, I swear, so help me God."

Jeff nods once.

"Mijos. You will both be allowed to go and fight crime outside, con mi bendiciones. But. But... you will both also do it under two conditions. If either of you break my rules, you will have wished that spider never bit you," Rio glared at Miles. Then to Milo, "and you will have wished you never stole your uncle's gloves from his apartment. Got it?"

Both boys nodded, still holding onto their parents' hands.

"So, my two rules are this. Only two. Easy to remember, okay? Number one. Milo, you will take care of your brother as best as you can. Miles, you will take care of Milo as best as you can. Both of you will always be seen together when going out and doing hero things, do you understand?"

"Yes, mamí" the boys say simultaneously.

"Never, ever go out alone, ever. Neither of you will be alone for even a second, especially during the nighttime. Promise me this."

Miles puts his right hand down to take his mother's other hand in his. "Yes, mom. I promise. We both promise."

Rio bows her head. "...And as for my second rule."

"Do we have to have a curfew?" Milo asks quietly. Everyone shoots him a look again.

"No, no curfew." Before the boys could get excited, she quickly adds, "except for on school nights." They both calm back down.

"Your education is always, always more important. Don't forget this," she lets go of their hands to hold up a finger. "But as for my second rule? No more secrets between us. All of us. Okay? You tell me exactly when it is you leave to go and do what you need to do, and exactly when you come back. Promise me this, too."

This time, it was Miles' turn to start saying something dumb. "I meaann, like every single time? Cuz sometimes it's not really a one-and-done kinda thing, like a shift or--"

Everyone glares at Miles. Miles promptly shuts up.

"...Sí, mamí. Te prometemos todo eso." ⁴ Milo answers seriously.

Rio sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay..."

She looks as if she's about to burst into tears, so everyone draws in tightly for a group hug. Rio sniffles against Milo's shoulder and Jeff leans his chin on Mile's head. Miles laughs wetly.

"Geez, y'all are crying? Man, for what? Ain't nobody dying or anything..." Milo interjects suddenly, causing the whole mood to dissipate all at once. Everyone laughs incredulously.

"Boy, if you don't know how to read a room..." Jeff starts, a warning tone laced into his playful grin.

"Man, I was just trying to lighten the mood! Damn, I mean shouldn't we be celebrating? Miles literally has super strength, you guys. Like c'mon, right? That is literally the coolest thing in the whole world!"

Rio groans, tossing her head back. "Mira esté, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... déjame agarrarte, maldito cabron..." ⁵ she mutters sarcastically, moving to grab at Milo's neck in the exact same way Miles did not even an hour earlier. He playfully dodged out of the way, putting his arms up to block, out of habit.

"Cabron?! Mom, you're so mean!" Milo complained.

"C'mere!"

Jeff leans in and interrupts their banter. "Milo. Son. You have to sit with me on the couch now, cuz we have to have a little chat about how you got your hands on those gloves, actually..." He grabs at one of Milo's arms, his smile just a tad bit too wide. Milo gulps.

Jeff continues, steering them both away from Miles and Rio. "And we also have to talk a bit about the history behind those things, too..."

Rio turns to Miles and cups his cheeks in her hands, looking into his eyes. "Do you actually, actually swear to me that you will try your hardest to stay safe?"

"Yes, mom, I do! We said it like a hundred times."

"Your father was right. Just because you have super strength now--"

"And super-healing."

Rio stares at him for a beat.

Miles squirms nervously. "...What? I do!"

"Super-healing, sure. Uh huh. If I catch you with bullet holes inside of you, I am not taking you to the ER then, Mr. Invincible."

"Ouch. Harsh."

"I warned you! I'm smiling like I'm joking but I'm really not!"

"Okay, okay, geez. C'mon, ma. It's really not that big of a deal. I don't get shot at as much as you'd think! Seriously! I'm fast. And... and I've been doing this for a while now. You have to trust me, okay?"

Rio sobered up. "I know. I know. I just... mi amor, I am your mother. I worry about you. You know... I've been taking care of my two little boys for so many years now. I just... I care about the both of you even when you two drive me completamente loca! I trust that you can both handle yourselves, I really do. It's just hard. It is. I-it'll... take some time to get used to."

Miles nodded. "Growing up is tough. I get it."

Rio smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow! What, it's true! We're all growing up right now, I'm not a little kid anymore and... and you're not the mom of two little kids now. It's just... it's a transitional period! Life's tough!" Miles shrugs, smiling warmly.

Rio smirked, crossing her arms. "Uh huh. It sure is."

Then, she opened her arms for another hug from Miles, which he happily returned.

"I mean it, Miles. Whatever happens, I want you to keep yourselves safe. And ask for help. Papí, your father is a police officer. And whatever you need, whatever you need... I'm here, too."

Miles beamed at his mother with tears in his eyes.

"I know, mom. Thank you."

☆ translations:

¹ "my god, i'm going to die."

² "god, grant me patience, fuck!"

³ "what more can i say?"

⁴ "yes, mom. we promise you all of that."

⁵ "Lookit this guy, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... lemme get my hands on you, fucking bastard..."

#mine #miles morales #miles g morales #spiderverse #i'm getting soft..... deadass tearing up at the end while writing and editing GOD how embarassing #ugh anyways #hope all that wasn't like ooc or anything #i know miles will eventually have to reveal his identity in btsv so i'm not even going to attempt to imagine that #but writing TWO hero identities getting revealed was actually more fun than i imagined #also did yall like the movie lines i slipped in there? ahaha #yes i HAD to make miles' speech mirror gwen's cuz... well yeah #they're both spiderpeople and so they obvi mirror each other in a lot of ways #esp cuz they both have/had cop dads #so anyways hope yall enjoyed this one :)#will i write more after this? who knows #i MAY have more hc posts up my sleeve for the future but We Shall See #oh yeah also the aesthetic pics used as dividers in both posts are not mine ofc #i mostly found them trawling thru pinterest and tumblr 🤙#thx 4 reading ♡

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tonycries · 11 days ago

Text

NNN

Synopsis. No Nút November finally came, and so did he!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, losing NNN, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, bréeding, creampíes, cúmming in his pants, oraI (fem receiving), cúmplay, spítting, húmping, making Geto WHIMPER, exhibítionism (Geto), jealousy (Gojo), GOJO’S POWERS, innap. use of jujutsu, true form Sukuna, dp, p slapping, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Y’all have no idea how I’ve been waiting to write this since FEBRUARY.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8th Nov. 7:48PM

“S’stupid, so stupid-” Toji’s spitting, teeth grit so hard that he thinks he could taste the tang of metal. With a roughened grunt, his big palms smear open your sopping lips, “Such a stupid challenge, n’ a stupid month ah-”

And oh how Toji wishes he could reel back the babbles spilling from his ravaged lips. How he wishes his rumbling baritone didn’t shake ever-so-slightly near the end.

Because Toji Fushiguro was going crazy - and it was all your fault.

“Deprivin’ me of her-” Every single shred of his needy frustration from the past eight days bleeds into each gush of his furiously weepy cock. Fingers curling around the hilt to smack! smack! smack! his round, pinkish tip on your soppingly wet lips. “-ya know how hngh- crazy it drove me?”

One strong arm of his flexes mouth-wateringly tight around your squirming body, massaging your perfectly arched spine closer into his rock-hard abs. A full nelson. His favorite. One he’s missed for- “Over a week. Ohh- over a week n’ m’still not gonna lose.”

He already knew that was a lie.

Because just a single, sunken inch is enough to stretch your sloppy entrance so gapingly open, enough to have you keening for air.

To have him let his jaw fall slack with a hoarse drag of your name, drunken head falling back into the silken sheets when your gooey cunt swallows more and more of his hefty girth. So heavy and sweltering hot inside your clingy walls.

The first time in so long and it felt too good.

Your trembly fingers clutch Toji’s sweat-dampened locks. He growls with a rough pull of your hands, fat, readied balls giving such a painful squeeze at the simple gesture. Hiccuping a feverish puff of condensation by your ear, “What, ma? T-torturin’ me for eight days isn’t enough?”

“Not that–” you’re whining, batting away big bulbous tears of stimulation in your eyes. “Jus’ need you so bad.”

Fuck, that has every drop of blood in his body pumping right to his maddeningly hard dick, staggering size growing twofold.

You feel his velvety shaft kiss deeply into the bullseye of your g-spot, swollen length making your elastic walls constrict around him. Shit, all it’d taken was eight days to almost forget how jaw-droppingly big Toji was. How he was rutting up in mindless, squelching wet gyrations up into your dripping cunt.

“Shoulda thought of that before ya were holdin’ out on me.”

And Toji’s utterly seething, pressurizing his riotous hips with enough of his almost-inhuman strength that he’s fucking you like he hates you. Every one of his words are dripping in a scolding tone, pumping up harshly with sudden jabs into your snug pussy. Deeper and deeper and oh-

He can’t help but leer his glassy eyes over down at the heavenly view, splaying his beefy forearms underneath your quivering legs to stretch you out shamelessly.

“Did ya kn-know this was ah- gonna happen?” he gruffs, already feeling a slight trickle of drool down the side of his scar. “That this stupid fuckin’ challenge was gonna drive me mad? M’still not- not gonna ah- cum-”

Fuck.

But even Toji didn’t know at this point.

“Shit-” Your body bows in an even sluttier way, hips swiveling in slow, sultry grinds to guide the very end of his weepy cock into kissing your most sensitive spots. Drawing wet, translucent glides of steaming hot precum down your insides. “W-wasn’t on purpose, Toji I s-swear- s’a chall-”

“Challenge my ass.” he’s rolling his eyes, and you feel his lips graze across yours in a messy excuse of a kiss. Dark brows furrows, a low ah! ah! ah! leaving his mouth with every slurping plunge. “My only ch-challenge right ah- fuckin’ now s’to get you to cum–”

You shake your bleary head, fingers dipping to his wrist. “No– wan’ you to cum first-”

Earning you a sweet, simpering smack! right alongside the peak of your throbbing clit, he’s smoothing over the sting with methodical massages of his rude fingers. “Move that damn hand.”

Leaving you gasping when he shotguns his painfully hard cock at such an angle to mash ruthlessly into your g-spot, your cervix. Punishing, bruising spearheads to remind you. “A challenge and m’gonna t-treat it like one. Cum.”

But oh, if Toji Fushiguro thought that he was running on merely the fumes of his sanity before then he wasn’t ready for you to finally reach your orgasm.

Milking his cock in only a few more shuddering jams before you’re crashing headfirst into a sudden wave of your high, tightly stuffed pussy gushing out in honeyed gushes. It glistens down into his drenched tufts of black, squirting all over his rippling abs to shine an almost-creamy sheen.

His dewy eyes widen - you squirted. You squirted.

And in response all Toji can do is bite down into the tender crook of your neck. Bite and bite until he was cumming.

Whimpering out a broken tone into your skin, his sharp canines dig even more animalistically. Dangerously pulsing cock snapping upwards in a sudden surge that has his rummagingly fat tip bumping into your womb, a thorough thrust before dumping out thick, voluminous spurts of his cum.

“F-fuck–” he’s breathing out unsteadily, sculpted chest heaving for breath. Eyes still scrunched firmly shut no matter how much he wanted to see that prettily fucked-out expression on your face, because ever slight squeeze of your cozy walls had him twitching out another ribbon of cum. “Oh god- shit, ma- this pussy- gonna be- hngh- death-”

Easily overstimulating Toji until he could feel embarrassing tears prick behind his lids, cumming after what felt like so long and now he didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop.

Instead swirling a ravenous thumb down the edges of your leaking slit, pooling the creamy dredges of his seed that’d formed a little ring around his thick base.

Without warning he’s shoving every single pearlescent bead back into your already overspilling pussy.

“Heh, whatever-” he tuts, sliding his tongue down those syrupy splatters of your slick - glossing all the way up to his scar. “Now that I’ve already lost this stupid challenge, jus’ stop yer whinin’ and ride me proper, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 21st Nov. 5:31PM

Nanami Kento was not going to lose to your little challenge.

He was not going to let down his gorgeous wife.

He was not going to-

“Fuck.” Nanami heaves, he gasps for air. “Fuck.”

Thick fingers curl even tighter around his fat hilt, squeezing within an inch of himself. He’s hissing at the way that makes his angrily red tip blush even deeper, beading down glistening beads of precum that drip! drip! drip! right onto your pretty face.

“Tha’s it-” he’s huffing out, darkened eyes drooping into a sultry half-lid. Muscled thighs spreading further, he sears a firm five-fingered grip onto your hair. Cool wedding ring brushing over your scalp, “K-keep that gorgeous face still f’me, my love.”

But oh, despite that sweet, sweet pet name his tone drips with such sheerly primal need. Hoarse towards the end with something dangerous.

It was only a brief mention of this month that ended up with you two this - just a tiny joke of a special reward at the end that had Nanami clenching his teeth and his sanity to keep from cumming this entire month.

And he’d only made it so far.

All it took was a single pissed off work meeting, a single complaint from a client, one bad day at work for him to slam your shared apartment door open. Striding his way towards you darkly before spitting to you - his beautiful wife - “on your knees.”

Not even to have your pretty mouth on him- no, Nanami’s blond brows furrow deeper, sweat sheening a thin layer on his forehead when his greedy palms just drag down his drooling length. Over and over.

“Ken-”

“Shit.” His fat, rotund head twitches at the mere sound of your honeyed voice, his favorite song. Gushing out a steady stream of glossing precum against the side of your lips, and Nanami just hunches. “Shhh, darling you’re gonna have me-”

“I want you to, Ken.” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him gasp, admiring all the dips and curves of his sculpted body. “Please?”

He pants out such a shuddering breath that you feel fan your face, stern lips falling further and further slack with every sodden clench of his balls. Every swirl of the soft pad of his thumb around the bawling pinkish divot of his tip.

“Take it.” Reward be damned. He was nothing against you. His metallic wristwatch flashes with every hurried pump up and down up and down up and- “T-take it all f’me, my wife.”

And oh then he’s cumming - head thrown back, toned abs rippling, face burning red when he’s moaning your name like a mantra. Over and over again into the heady living room air because Nanami hadn’t even made it as far as the bedroom before giving into that dark urge to paint your pretty features white with himself.

Spazzing tip weeping out thick dredge after dredge of his seed that sticks to you like a sloppy second skin. Drooling down the side of your mouth, and he’s guiding his fat cock to gloss over your lips. Pretty.

“My love- get up-” he’s hissing through clenched teeth. And before those syrupy slurring words can even register in your mind, Nanami’s swiftly looping two strong arms around your waist. Dragging you upwards like some glorified ragdoll. “Need- hahhh– I need-”

Immediately, you’re being carried to splay all out on the plushy sofa nearby, Nanami hovering over you with kiss after messy kiss. Tasting himself, tasting you.

“Have no idea how much- hngh–” Shit, he can’t even speak right now, words breaking into the most whiny groans you’ve ever heard pulled from the man. “How much I missed-” And with a particularly loud squelch! he’s reeling back just enough from the filthy kiss. Drunken grin leering across his face at the dripping gleam all over the lower half of your face, delicate strings of spit and cum still connecting you to him. “-this.”

You’re blinking away the haze, pressing pecks into sight dimple at the corner of his mouth. “M-missed this, too- Hah, don’t even care about that ch-challenge.”

Gliding an open palm down your curved spine, he grins. “Exactly what I like to hear.”

And then you feel like you’re being split open apart so widely that it feels like Nanami’s reaching into your very lungs, swiping the milky tip of his still-hard cock against those hidden-away sensitive spots of yours. He’s prying open your snug cunt with steady, slow spearheads, barely even tugging away his work tie before folding you into such a thorough mating press.

“I remember–” he’s dancing a thumb across your sodden lips, glossing it over in the most obscene opaque coating of cum you’d never even imagine. Popping it into his mouth. Sucking. “-something about a reward.”

He’s smearing his left hand down your throbbing clit - purposefully, to chuckle at the way you whine and puff about the cool sting of his golden wedding band. But more importantly, Nanami’s other hand draws down an invisible line about halfway down your stomach.

Fuck.

Exactly where he could feel his leaky cock bludgeon solid, circular bruises into your spongy cervix. Bouncing back at the recoil, exactly where he knew that little nudge was, dragging his pulsing cock to massage your cunt, your womb-

You suck in a shuddered inhale, “Wh-what about the reward?”

“Well, since there’s no ngh- u-use in the challenge anymore…” His long fingers press down hard. And oh the way the realization dawns on your face makes you look so beautiful underneath him - his beautiful wife. But Nanami can’t help but think how much more of a beautiful momma you’d be. How perfect. Unable to tear his eyes away from the slow dribble of cum down your lips. “How about a reward for both of us, my love? Two or three rewards?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 11th Nov. 3:33AM

“S-Sugu-”

“...”

“Sugu-”

“Shhh–” Your leader’s silky smooth voice thrums at your throat, pressing an unapologetic trail of kisses down the tender skin. And you jolt at the sharp nip of his canines, “We’re trying to have a hah- meeting here, honey.”

But it was anything but that.

Fed up with your little challenge, Geto had all but demanded you sit with him through your next cult meeting. Plopping you down all prettily on his manspread lap as soon as the rest of your members filed in, acting for all the world like he wasn’t just taking filthy advantage of that short skirt he’d insisted you wear.

Stuffed staggeringly deeply inside.

Your saturated pussy lips bulge around his fat length, swirling his swollen cock around your walls with even the tiniest jostles. Firmly and readily cockwarming him for hours now.

And both of you were nearing your limits - especially Geto, but, of course, he couldn’t let you know that yet.

“Something wrong?” he’s lilting his baritone voice in volume, just enough for the surrounding members to catch interest in. Deliberate. One massive palm gripping a handful of your hips, “Seems like you’re having oh- difficulty gettin’ comfortable, gorgeous?”

Muscular thighs bouncing up and down in a relentless little cadence that had you gripping onto his decadent robes for balance. Tiny, rummaging thrusts of his sloppy length pierce your snug insides. Ridges upon ridges of his prominent veins massaging every single sweet spot he could reach - all of them.

They had him coaching those gruff grunts to the very back of his throat, fists curling on the table to prevent himself from simply slamming you down until you were stupid on his thick cock.

Babbling out in a desperate tone, “Suguru I can’t-”

Oh? He grits his teeth at the clingy squeeze of your velvety walls around his rotund tip, the way your ass jiggles at every slight gyration. So filthy. Raising one dark brow, Geto flicks a finger at the rest of the meeting to carry on. “Can’t even handle a lil’ cockwarming, hm? What h-happened to my stubborn girl from before? And her no-nut-Nov-”

“Stop teasing!” you’re mewling out with a pretty pout that makes him twitch inside. “Jus’ want you t-to cum–” d-don’t care that i-it’s November anymore-”

His rock-hard cock throb throb throbs inside your melty walls, bumping every oozing wave of precum into the very bottom of your pussy. And you could hear mutters spurting from every corner of the room now.

They knew. They always did.

“Oh so now, you don’t care?” Geto snickers, leaning back in his velvety chair to seep a bit more power behind his swiveling hips. “D-didn’t hngh- seem so greedy for my cock when ya made me p-promise not to cum for a month.”

As if to prove his point - and disprove yours - Geto’s hand comes slamming! down onto the vast mahogany table, grin wide. Dangerous. A primal rasp resounding at the back of his throat when he’d punishing your poor pussy with his first thorough thrust yet.

One. Two. Three.

“P-please!”

“P-p-please, what?” he’s mocking, dramatics of your own whiny tone.

“Please, Sugu–” You’ve definitely attracted the attention of every other person in this meeting room right now. But Geto couldn’t give a fuck. Not when those words fall from your syrupy sweet lips, “-m’s-sorry jus’ fuck-”

SLAM!

He stands. One hand at your neck, the other at your clit.

And as soon as your needy front is hitting the cool table, Geto’s merciless cockhead is diving thoroughly into your sweetened spots. The sudden change in angle letting him barrel his girthy shaft to tuck away at your very womb, all it takes for you to cum.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails clawing at the poor wood, he’s driving his weepy cock in to pound you through every single one of your highs.

Peak after peak that Geto can’t help but get addicted to, and he’s missed this heavenly feeling so much that he can’t help but let his mean mouth hang open. Dark, dewy eyes rolling so far into the back of his head that he’s forced to scrunch them closed.

The table rattles precariously when he’s rutting his hips into you ferally, sharp hip bones smacking aching bruises against the fat of your ass. Pressing you down with his entire body weight when-

“Oh- oh shit, all your f-fault. Fuck-” He half-collapses when he cums. Over and over in thick, stringy wads that gush into your very cervix. Sloshing around with each of his jackhammers, it paints your velvety walls with a dripping white coat. Again. And again. And again and again- “So jus- take it-”

Shit.

Geto almost forgot how unfairly good it felt to have his achy cock milked by your cunt. Mustering up every shred of will to crack an eye open, he could spy the way your soppingly wet slit was overspilling with so much of his seed.

Licking his lips, he’s holding back a whimper.

And, truly, it was almost embarrassing the way that obscene sight was all it took for Geto’s once-softening cock to shoot up another few wispy ribbons of cum all over again.

So much of it that he couldn’t control.

Couldn’t even think of taming the way he was hiking up one powerful thigh onto the table to drive even more forcefully into you. Fingers curling almost painfully tightly around your throat to reel you into a filthy kiss of teeth and tongue.

He has absolutely no shame wrapping his glossy lips around your tongue to suck. And even less at the way that honeyed taste of you is all it takes for him to shoot a well round of sputtering blanks into your pussy.

Chuckling tearily at those downturned, greedy eyes - shit, when did he even start crying? “A-aw look, you’ve interrupted the meeting, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 4th Nov. 10:01PM

“F-four days?” Choso’s swallowing a heavy gulp, burning face buried into the crook of your neck. And he can’t stop from heaving in deep inhales, from letting his mouth water. “-s’only been four days, baby?”

That cute, broken quiver in his tone has you tittering out a teasing giggle, something that only has his breath even more shortened. Brows knitting together when his hips just rut-

“Sorry.” your lovely boyfriend’s hiccuping, trembly fingers wrapping even tighter around your body. And he’s trying - scrambling - oh-so-desperately to stray his glassy gaze back onto the movie on-screen. He has to. He needs to or else he’s about to lose his fucking sanity. “Sorry didn’t hngh- didn’t mean to, jus’ ignore-”

But that’s when Choso’s breath hitches, when his large body wrecks with a violent shudder running down his spine. “Are you alright, Cho?”

Because oh, your taunting body was squirming up just right against the hefty girth of his swollen cock. Dragging your ass down the exact line of his sensitive slit in a way that has his hand grasping roughly onto your hips to make you stop-

“M’gonna ah- m’not gonna be able t-to do it, baby–” he’s pleading in a filthy kiss against your lips. Sucking. Begging. “Please- don’t-”

“Don’t what, Cho?”

Shit, that nickname has him hurling his hips forwards with a choked-up grunt. Seeing white-hot pleasure behind his eyes at every one of your smoothly swiveling gyrations, seeing you in all your dripping wet glory when he thumbs your drenched panties just to the side.

“Shit.” he gasps, dewy eyes widening, breath turning feverish at your neck. “Shit shit shit- wh-why are you so-”

And Choso moans, he can’t even finish his sentence right now. Can’t do anything but tug down his too-tight gray sweatpants to glide a steamingly hot smear of precum down your slit.

“So what- oh-” Your taunting mouth only drops further and further open when he’s dragging his achy cock down your cunt like he was addicted. Getting off to the way that your saturatedly wet pussy lips were coating him in a glossy sheen, sucking him up like you wanted-

“Just the tip.”

It’s his little mantra.

Rasped out over and over into your open mouth, panted in every messy kiss of his reddened, fat head against your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Pretty pecks to French kisses..

“What was that–?” you’re batting your lashes, your hips meeting his messy cadence when his own speeds up. Keening at the sculpted leg being thrown over yours to angle his driving pistons more determinedly - desperately.

With a low whine at the back of his throat, the curved tips of Choso’s fingers find their sultry way down to your clit. And he’s giving you a harsh tug at the very peak before sobbing, “Just want to put it in, baby- jus’ the tip- p-please-”

“Just the tip?”

The movie long-forgotten.

The resounding squelch! squelch! squelch! of skin on sodden skin rings louder in your ears, as do those tiny hitches in Choso’s pants. Words gurgled though those big, bulbous tears rolling down his cheek, “Please- can’t do it anymore. Ngh- wan’ to c-cum- can I cum inside?” Drooping, half-lidded eyes boring right into your bleary ones, “Please?”

And all you can do is nod.

All Choso can do is try not to lose his fucking mind just as soon as the thick circumference of his head is bullying past your swollen folds, feeding you inch after ragingly needy inch of his cock.

All it takes for him to lose - because with the most broken of moans, you’re being stuffed snugly full with the sheer volume of Choso’s cum. With just the tip. And there’s so much of it, it’s like he hasn’t cum for years, sloshing to hit the very back of your womb, slopping around in a way that makes you shiver.

Wrangling to slip out his cock the tiniest inch-

“No!” Choso gasps, eyes blowing wide almost comically. “No no no- wanted- inside- hngh-” His ruddy lower lip wobbles at the slow, sultry dribble of his potent seed down your inner thighs, glossing over his own hands when he’s smearing your sodden pussy lips stretched even wider. “Inside, baby–”

“O-oh my god-” your eyes can just barely crack open when two slender fingers slip into your slick entrance, plugging you staggeringly full as soon as he’s shoving you tight with the rest of his angry cock. Rock-hard length stretching your meshing cunt taut, the very tips of his fingers being jostled to the side of every spongy g-spot in your walls. “Cho- s’too full it won’t- won’t- ah-”

The sheer stimulation was maddening.

And Choso was drunk on your pretty moans.

“Yes it will-” he’s babbling, syrupy saliva being drooled in a streaming wad right onto your lolling tongue. And with his free hand, he’s prying your pretty mouth shut. “Don’t- hngh- don’t sound so cute, baby s’gonna make me- oh-”

But you could already guess.

Because just the slightest note of your voice, the slightest grind of your hips to fuck back into his mindlessly messy cadence had him jolting inside you. Too-sensitive tip twitching out in honeyed ribbons of precum that drip down your walls.

Choso hisses with a sudden thwack! of his hefty balls kissing up against your cunt, gliding a hand underneath your thigh to pound into you languidly. Desperately. “Four days- shit- couldn’t make four days without this c-cute cunt-”

“Baby—” you’re huffing, your half-lucid eyes drifting away to the black screen. “The movie’s over.”

He huffs out a wet bout of laughter into your lips, nipping slightly at the very bottom one. “But I g-guess that doesn’t matter when I ah- already l-lost does it, baby?” Reeling out the sticky digits of his fingers, snapping at those delicate strings of cum and your sweet, sweet juices. He grins. “Because I already have four day t-to make up for-”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 7th Nov. 8:29PM

Times like this, the king of curses found himself on his knees. Times like this, he wanted to ruin you.

“Awww, don’ be like that, woman-” he’s digging the rough dark claws on two hands onto the small of your back. Inhuman stretch wrenching you down, down, down that never-ending girth of his twin cocks. “Not when I’ve hngh- got you like this-”

But the only answer you’re giving him is another one of your stubborn pouts, brows scrunched together in a way that makes his tips twitch. Eagerly nudging up in a wet kiss against one of those sweet spots Sukuna knew would make you mewl.

Your lower lip wobbles with a whine, “M’ s-still mad at you, Kuna.”

Ah, he’d roll his eyes at your adorable antics but he knew that wouldn’t quite help his case. You’ve been like this ever since you’d joked about that little tradition humans did in November - and he took it seriously.

Too seriously, according to you, perhaps. With the way your devilish boyfriend was still fucking you into the decadent royal mattress - simply leaving you teasingly high and dry the mere moment he felt his orgasm coming.

And now, the very actions had him groaning. Powerfully muscled hips staggering upwards to bob you slowly on his cocks, rearing his fat tips against your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your- “What more do you ngh, want, brat?”

It’s asked with a sudden sopping swat planted on your beading cunt, and Sukuna’s taking the opportunity to let his other tongue take over. A slow, lewd drag of those massive tastebuds down your throbbing clit.

“I-I don’t ngh-” you’re moaning, and he already knows he’s winning. By the way your melty walls are cozying up even hotter around his thick cocks, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “-don’t know-”

“Awww–” The third of Sukuna’s big, beefy arms just can’t help but thread through one of your own, bringing it right up to his lips to leave a saccharine sweet kiss on the back of your hand. “My woman- my love-” One. Then another. And Another. “My queen, tell me what you want.”

Your tone cracks into a saturated whine when he ambushes a particularly sensitive part of your g-spot, drawing a wet glisten of precum down the side of your walls. Swelteringly hot. “W-want more-” Your trembly arms snake around his broad shoulders, digging into the smooth muscle. “-wan’ more, Kuna- hah- please-”

And who was Ryomen Sukuna to ever say no to you?

In just a few split-seconds, you’re being dragged right off of his bulging cocks. Throat just barely moving to whimper in disappointment, when Sukuna manhandles you to splay out pliantly on all fours on those silken sheets.

Face buried into the mushy pillows, his cocks buried in your dripping cunt.

“Shit-” he’s shuddering, heavy balls clenching at the newly sodden wave of slick that drools down your slit. And Sukuna can feel himself drool ever-so-slightly, hiding his burning face away in your neck. Thank fuck for doggy. “Is tha’s all you wanted, then–”

And every one of his surging thrusts have you plummeting further and further up the bed, gripping onto the mahogany headboard. He’s swiping down your thrumming clit, kissing a wet trail down your sluttily arched spine.

You sob when his smacking hips turn bruising, your gummy walls stretched to your limits. “Y-you were so mean-”

“Mhm– so mean, baby.”

“M-made me so hngh- mad- never liked that ah- stupid challenge-”

Sukuna’s just snickering, flashes of white-hot pleasure sparking behind his eyes. Every time he’s milking himself on your tight pussy forcing him to hold back his whimpers, his gasps. One large set of his rough digits curling around your throat to haul you off of the bed, your head airy when he’s fucking each and every single thought out of your syrupy mind. “Don’ worry, my ah- spoiled brat. M’gonna fill up this oh fuuuck- cute cunt n’ there nothin’ you n’ any stupid challenge can do about it.”

Both of his rock-hard cocks were so messy, dragging out the sloppiest of slurps when he’s rummaging around your velvety insides. Spurts of wispy white precum staining down your sodden walls, making you gasp.

“M’so close-” You’re arched into the perfect bow for Sukuna to drag his lips down yours in a filthy kiss, humming darkly. “Gonna ah-”

Your pretty cunt has Sukuna chuckling, babbling out drunkenly. “So cum then- hah- why dontcha cum. Cum all over my cocks-” And he wants it. Needs it now, and shit- he’s never participating in this puny human custom ever again. Lazing out his second tongue to squelch an unapologetic pathway to your clit. Rolling. Sucking. “-go on then, woman. Show off f’me.”

And each one of his words were trembling with sheer desperation, cracking, even when you’re finally reaching your peak. Pound after pound. Every flick of his monstrous tongue drags you through your high, letting your toes curl.

With a sudden, hefty shudder, his cum-filled balls clench - and Sukuna’s finally cumming. Harder than he has in all his thousands of years. Harder than he ever thinks he could.

You’re simply at the mercy of both weepy ends of his cocks when they burst out thick streams of his seed, reverberating the most filthiest of sounds that make your ears buzz. Doubly. And his balls smacking against your ass grow drippingly wetter, your poor pussy overspilling each of his steamingly hot ribbons of cum.

“Fuck-” Sukuna sucks in a sharp breath, tears crinkling at the very ends of his eyes from how heavenly it felt having his stringy seed slosh against and between his jostling lengths. His hand feels for that inflationary bump where you’d been stuffed full, purring. “Did you take your pill?”

You blink, “N-no?”

“Good. Because m’suddenly wanting for an h-heir this Christmas.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 1st Nov. 12:17AM

Shit, he’s going to lose. Gojo’s musing with whatever’s left of his syrupy mind - or wait, was it even November, yet?

Ah, he can’t even remember. Can’t even think to do anything but piston the very cockhead of his needy length between your puffed-up pussy lips. Spreading apart your folds with an easy, glistening swipe. And he’s so half-lucid that Gojo giggles at the way your ready cunt is taking him in so well.

“You’re mine-” Gojo’s panting out a feverish breath. Kissing your sopping wet cervix easily with each furious thrust, he’s spitting out a wet drawl of profanity into your lips. “M-mine, y’know that?”

“Toru–” Fuck, your cracking whine has Gojo’s glassy eyes veering into the back of his head. Murmuring out a vibrating groan. “S’jus’ hah- what’s gotten into you-”

And the strongest could babble about how seeing that newly appointed teacher at Jujutsu Tech churned his gears. He could tell you about how easy it is to conjure up a hollow purple when some bastard is making eyes at his wife.

Especially in November of all days, when he’d finally said he was going to make it through the whole month. He has to.

But, no.

Instead, he’s crackling the very soft tips of his fingers with jujutsu. Pinching your clit ever-so-slightly–

“Fuck!” Your spine’s arching into such a delicious bow that has his mouth watering. His thoroughly sunken cock bursts out in a few dangerously wispy waves of precum that make him shutter a gasp. “U-using jujutsu’s not ngh- fair-”

“Fair?” he hiccups, nosing down the side of your neck. “Not fair is how hah- good this pretty pussy of yours f-feel, sweetheart.” And he’s rutting into you so sloppily, massaging down your elastic walls with each of his prominent veins. Over and over Gojo can feel himself losing his mind- “Shit- I think I-I’m the one that-”

You can’t even react.

Because in a split-second, Gojo’s splayed out all the way near the foot of the bed. Teleported.

Strong hands jostling your legs spread even further open, drool dripping down the side of his mouth when he just drinks in your essence, feverishly hot breath hovering over your quivering cunt. And that pathetic mewl barely out of your lips before-

“A-at least I can’t lose the ch-challenge way, heh-” Gojo’s lips move sultry and slow over your already thrumming clit, wrapping around so prettily to suck on the saturated beads of slick.

You can only keen, you can only thread your shaky fingers through his snow locks. Giving a harsh tug that does absolutely nothing to deter his messy make out with your cunt - if anything, your husband’s surging his face even deeper into his favorite heaven between your thighs.

Nose meshing against the very tip top of your presoaked slit, dragging in a wet glide with every languid roll of his tongue into your sloppy entrance. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper-

He’s simpering out such a fucked-out smile on your pussy, long pinkish tongue lolling out to smear open your swollen folds. And all you can do is watch and watch as he’s slurping up syrupy stripes, slender fingers dancing their way dangerously up, up, up-

“Ah!” Your entire body wracks with a sudden surge of electricity - coming from the slender digits currently bullying their way into your slippery entrance. Gushing a thumb over your clit- “Toru what did I tell you about-”

“Ah, the jujutsu?” Gojo leans his head deliriously against part of your inner thigh, leaving a wet trail of bites. Hips mindlessly grinding down pathetically onto the plush mattress. Fuck.

And he looked so pretty like this - gaze drooping so close-lidded that they were almost shut, blue eyes half-glowing, mouth all glossed over with a dripping wave of your sweet, sweet juices. With this, you’re gifted with another swat of his thumb over your sodden clit, slurring, “Can’t r-remember a thing–”

And then you’re cumming.

Toes curling, your hips jerking upwards into his ready hold, fisting painfully at Gojo’s hair. If it hurt then he didn’t show it. Anything but. Because he’s hiking his legs up into a seated position, your trembly thighs splayed out shamelessly on the muscles of his broad shoulders.

Dragging and dragging you through your high with drippingly wet sucks on your clit, those drawing squelches ring in your ears and make you gasp. It was so filthy.

But not as filthy as the way that Gojo’s head drops backwards with a wet whimper, his eyes firmly scrunched shut. “O-oh sweetheart I-” Bedroom lights flickering.

And then nothing more is said as he just rips down the rest of his overpriced trousers until they were nothing but tatters hanging haphazardly around his slender waist.

Jittery fingers immediately taking hold of his cock - his furiously cumming cock. From just eating out his girl.

So reddish and weepy at the very thick tip of his, streaming out thick ribbon after ribbon of his seed that coats his fist a glossy white. You could see the way his hefty balls clenched, how his girthy shaft was twitching ferally in his fingers.

He bares you with his drunken gaze, lightning bolting at the ends of his eyes. Kiss electric. Sucking on your tongue over and over - before shoving two of his dripping wet digits between your pretty lips.

“There we- hngh- go don’t give a fuck about November-” You flinch when he smacks! his cock along your overworked clit. Circling the very edge of your entrance with his fat, sobbing tip.

Coated such a creamy ring with his cum. His.

Prattling, “Th-this is what my girl s’pposed to hah- look like. My girl.” And as soon as he sinks in just the barest of his bulbous head - the lights go out, in all of Tokyo. Soon, in all of Japan. “Heheh, doesn’t c-count that I lost no nut November if I can’t hngh- see it, right?”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely NNN *evil laughs*

Plagiarism not authorized.

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gojo-mochi · 1 year ago

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LO! OMGO FOGMGNSKSSKE IMMMMM I love the slime ball series’s so much I’m screaming Aahhh ZOROOOO HE SO MMMMMMMM, I would not trust him to drive me anywhere with my life, I don’t think he would know the way back to the festival grounds tbh but thats ok I still love him either way 😩💦💦💦

A Hayride for a Hayride // slimeball Taxi Driver!Zoro x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Written for @bastardblvd's House of Slimy Horrors Collab

Synopsis: Your date to the Grimetown Halloween festival cancelled on you last-minute, leaving you with nothing to do. Luckily, a certain moss-haired taxi driver lifeguard hayride operator offers you a free ride to get your mind off things, and you're soon in for the ride of your life. CW: slimeball au; afab!reader; no pronouns used for reader; mild action violence; vaginal fingering; unprotected vaginal intercourse; mild degradation WC: 5.4k // Fictober Masterlist

The sun descends in the evening sky over Grimetown, glowing through the permanent haze that hangs over the city and painting the landscape in tangerines and golds. You make your way around the festival grounds, sipping at something that tastes close enough to apple cider—you know better than to ask too many questions about the contents of beverages around here. The autumn leaves crunch under your boots as you traipse around, stopping to watch a fistfight that appears to be the result of a rigged pumpkin pie-eating contest—you’re rooting for the guy in the McDonald’s uniform.

The smell of all things greasy and sweet lures you towards the food stalls, and you almost consider trying the rat on a stick (rat isn’t in quotation marks but it’s gotta be a joke…they wouldn’t, would they?) when a noodly blonde man with a curly eyebrow poking out from his mop of blonde hair leans over the counter of the Flapjack Shack’s stall and begins to explain the complicated history of the humble omelet to you in between thinly-veiled innuendos. You nod and smile and wait for another customer to walk by in order to make your escape, plunking down at the edge of a fountain in the middle of the square, thick, white, foamy substance sloppily bubbling away inside. You would think they would have dyed the goopy substance green or something given the occasion, and you run a finger through the viscous liquid, wondering why the texture feels awfully familiar.

A sudden buzzing in your pocket pulls you away from thinking too hard about what you just dipped your hand into, but a quick glance at the message preview sends your fluttering heart right into a meat grinder.

[Soggy Man]: I’m still stuck at work, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it tonight.

[You]: Yuuta noooo ☹ how come you’re stuck? Aren’t you closed?

[Soggy Man]: last minute customer came by for an inspection

“An inspection?” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as though he’d feel your questioning glance through the screen.

[You]: I thought you only did those in the morning

[Soggy Man]: well you know how it is, sometimes I have to make exceptions

You wonder if this is the type of exception that all DMV employees were inclined to give, or if it’s more like the exception he made to waive your registration renewal fee when you offered to blow him behind the counter after hours. Either way, this isn’t exactly the best way to start off your attempt at a real first date, not after weeks of back and forth, navigating your ever-changing shifts at the coffee shop, and his abrupt late-night work hours.

[You]: No worries! I understand!

[Soggy Man]: I’m sorry cutie, hope you have fun without me

[You]: it’s ok! I know how to entertain myself.

[You]: we’ll try again some other time!

“Well, shit.” You shove your phone back into your pocket with a sigh that turns into a groan that turns into a momentary existential crisis—this was the seventh first date you’d tried to set up recently, and the sixth first date where you got ghosted before ever getting to try to disappoint them in person. Not waiting to see if Yuuta has anything else to add, you wander off, glancing around the packed festival in search of something—anything—to occupy your unexpected free time.

As you pass the shoddily assembled Ferris wheel, watching it shimmy with every rotation, threatening to come unbolted and roll away at any moment, a light fog starts to accumulate at your feet. It stinks, and not like how you remember fog machines to smell from your glory days as a stagehand at the Grimetown Community Theater; no, this is thick, and pungent, and a little nauseating. You walk deeper into the foul-smelling haze, and glance down to see the cause—a stubbed-out cigar rolls towards your feet, a few stray embers spraying out across the dirt.

“You alright, honey?” a low voice rumbles from just beyond the dissipating vapors. “You look like something’s wrong.”

You cough and sputter, waving your hand in front of you to clear the remaining cloud of smoke and see a man with green hair and a tanned complexion standing with his back against a wooden wagon, his extraordinarily muscled arms crossed over his broad chest, a thin white t-shirt straining to contain his brawny form. Three gold earring jingle softly as he cocks his head to examine you with his one good eye, and you wonder if the scar over his other eye is real or fabricated for the occasion.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you fib, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you stroll towards him. The last thing you want right now is some burly stranger trying to play therapist when what would actually solve your problems is guzzling pumpkin-spice flavored alcohol and stuffing your face with candy apples, then passing out in that weird gloopy fountain ‘til sunrise.

“Come on now.” He raises an eyebrow and gives you a pitying grin. “You sure you’re okay?”

You kick at the ground with the toe of your boot and huff a sigh. “Fine. I, uh—I got stood up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Dude texted me after I already got here saying he couldn’t come, and I don’t want to waste my ticket, so now I’m just kinda in limbo and not really sure what to do.”

“Pretty thing like you gettin’ stood up on a nice night like this?” He gestured towards the darkened sky, the moon covered in a dense mess of clouds, silver beams poking through and illuminating the space between you. “It’s a damned shame.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle in agreement.

“You know,” he says, running his tongue over his lower lip, “I’m technically supposed to wait until there’s a big group before I head out, but—I could give you a ride. A private one.”

“A private ride, huh?” You inhale sharply through your teeth and your eyes flit over his muscled form. A private ride with some grimy eye candy doesn’t sound like a bad way to recover from a hefty blow to your ego. “How much is it?”

“It’s free. Comes with your ticket.”

“You know what? Sure, why the hell not?”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” he grins, giving an exaggerated wink. “Don’t you worry—I’ll make you forget all about that loser.”

You head towards the back of the wagon, expecting there to be a step to hoist yourself inside, when a strong hand grabs your wrist and tugs you back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks as you stumble backward into him, your back pressing against his firm chest, sending a little spark down your spine.

“I—I was getting in the cart.”

“Oh, now that’s just for regular, everyday hayrides.” He grasps your hand and leads you towards the front of the cart, gesturing towards the bench that sits just behind the horses; he places his warm hands on your shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Private tours get the best seat in the house.”

You climb aboard and he follows, letting out a quiet, satisfied-sounding groan as he settles in beside you, scooting closer until his warm body presses right against yours. The bench is more than long enough to afford you both some personal space, but it seems the private tour also comes with the bonus of physical affection and suggestive flirtation—not that you’re complaining. The hayride operator reaches over and pats your thigh. “Alright. Where to?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” You shrug and gesture vaguely in front of you. “Where do you normally take this thing?”

“Oh yeah.” He furrows his brow. “Sorry, I’m just used to my day job.”

“What do you do for your day job?”

“Lifeguard.”

“Wait, wh—” Your inquiry is cut short as the horses take off, jostling you and pitching you forward, then back. As you try to right yourself, something shiny catches your eye; you glance over and see three sheathed swords nestled in the hay just behind you.

“Say, hayride guy,” you ask, reaching over to poke at them, “what are these for?”

He grunts and brushes your hand away without looking over. “Protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ah, he must be doing a bit—they’re props. You smirk, settling back onto your seat, leaning your head against his sturdy shoulder as you listen to the steady clip-clop of the horses and the rhythmic squeak of the wagon’s wheels, the only sounds in the depths of the darkened forest. The festival is low-budget, to say the least, but they cared enough about attention to detail to have the hayride operator carrying swords; you start to wonder if this is supposed to be a haunted hayride, and perhaps your beefy driver will be showing off his faux-sword skills before the end, fighting off a zombie horde or two.

You sigh as you press your cheek against his bicep and try to ignore the troublesome feeling inside you—that maybe Yuuta was trying to get a hold of you, that you should have just waited longer to see if his late-night inspection was over quickly enough he could join you. The phone in your pocket has been silent for some time now, and you carefully pull it out, just to check; no signal at all, and no texts, only a notification about your rent being overdue again.

“Hey. Don’t let him get you down, sweet cheeks.” He covers the screen of your phone and pushes it down into your lap, leaving his hand there for a moment, precariously close to the apex of your thighs. His touch is warm, radiating a kind of animalistic heat—one that feels a little too raw, and little too dangerous. He smirks, making some clicking noise at the horses as you wind your way through the deepening woods. “You know, I think you could do better than him, anyway.”

I bet you do, you grin to yourself as your limbs flood with heat and your stomach twists in knots, chewing on your lower lip at the way his muscles flex with every flick of the reigns. You feel a fire lighting at the base of your spine the longer you stare at him, the longer your body seems to melt into his as you snuggle closer along the trail—perhaps you’ll have to pay him a visit after the festival closes and see if he offers any after-hour tours. He certainly seems amenable to the idea, and it had been a while since the last time you’d been bent over a piece of farm equipment and railed in a spooky, secluded wood after all. You start to wonder if he’s all bluster, or if he’s adept at putting his big hands and his smart mouth to good use.

The fog of lust in your head starts to clear a little and you glance around, not recognizing the trees and landscape in front of you, the horses trotting over a layer of decaying leaves instead of the paved path that had been stretching out ahead of you. No, the woods directly behind the festival grounds aren’t this dense, the branches don’t hang this low, the air is never this still. You sit up, a sense of dread creeping up into your throat, and tap the driver on his forearm with a shaking hand.

“Hey, uh, hayride guy?”

“It’s Zoro,” he grouses.

“Right. Zoro.” You swallow hard, an icy shiver running down your spine as a cold wind whips through the trees. “So…where are we, anyway?”

“Tch, we’re on the trail,” Zoro scoffs as he glances around. He suddenly sits up straight, his mouth opening and closing, only faint sounds of confusion coming out. “Or, uh…we were.”

“What do you mean ‘we were’? Don’t the horses know where to go?”

“They don’t have built-in GPS, they just go straight until I tell ‘em to not go straight.”

He looks down at the ground, the reigns loosening in his grasp. “I, uh…I dunno.”

“So where the hell are we, then?” The skin on your arms prickles underneath your thick sweater and acid roils in your belly, that sense of dread that sits in your throat threatening to push its way out.

“Well, we’re in the woods.”

“I know that!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, okay?” It feels like he’s reassuring himself just as much as he’s trying to calm your frayed nerves, as if the machinations in his mind are just starting to turn, to decide where you go from here. Zoro stretches and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him; he smells like stale cigars and sweat and too much cheap body spray and it’s the most intoxicating thing you’ve inhaled all night. “Look, I can get us out of this. They don’t call me the world’s strongest hayride operator for nothin’.”

You slowly look up at him. “Is that—is that a thing? Do people actually call you that?”

“Ha! Exactly.”

A scream abruptly fills the air, cutting through the eerie quiet, followed by another, then another—the strangled cries for help of someone, or something, in distress. Zoro pulls you in closer, his fingers digging into your shoulder as you bury your face against his chest. It’s just part of the show, you tell yourself, choking on a shuddering breath. It’s just part of the show, and some dude in a shitty costume is gonna run out of the woods any minute and try to scare me. After a few agonizing moments, the bloodcurdling shrieks finally die down, the pained noises reducing to pathetic whimpers and then…silence.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re scared.”

Before you can say something equally flirtatious back, the horses come to a sudden halt; they whinny and stomp in place, clearly disturbed by something that only they can sense.

“Zoro…what’s going on?” It’s just part of the show, it’s just part of the show…

“I dunno,” he says, making soft noises at the horses to soothe them, his hand moving down and settling on your thigh protectively. “Something’s got them all riled up.”

The quality of the performance is good, you force yourself to think as he squints into the near-darkness, but his delivery could be more authentic. You join him in his scan of your surroundings, searching the foggy woods for whatever had frightened the horses, their heads bobbing and nostrils flaring at something in the distance. Leaves crunch and branches crack as something approaches, its pace slow and hesitant, a low growling emanating from the darkness—the sound effects are impressive, and you try to find the hidden speakers within the foggy haze.

“Zoro,” you mumble quietly, as you wrap your arm around his waist and cling to him, “I think there’s something up there.”

“Where?” He leans forward, peering into the shadowy distance.

“Right—right there.” You gasp as you see the source of the noise ambling out of the woods. “Oh my god, it’s a dog—it looks like it’s hurt!”

Without another thought, you hop down from the cart and carefully approach the dog, who slinks closer to you, eyeing you cautiously with each step. The moonlight peers through the clouds and illuminates the creature, its dark grey fur stained with blood, bits of viscera clinging to the matted hair around its face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Zoro shouts from the cart. “Get back here and stay on the wagon.”

“What? It’s fine, it’s all part of the show isn’t it?” Surely this was just someone’s pet, doused in red corn syrup and set loose as part of the haunted hayride.

“What show? This is just a hayride.”

“Sure, I got you.” You wink and snap finger-guns at him confidently, and turn your attention back to the injured pup. “Here doggie! C’mere sweetie, let me—oh my god.”

Your mouth drops open and a gasp pushes its way out of your lungs—the dog, you realize, is no dog at all.

The creature that stalks out of the woods appears to be a wolf, its eyes burning bright like smelted gold, teeth bared and lips curled back into a snarl, its fangs dripping with strings of blood-reddened saliva. You freeze in place, arms outstretched, hoping your vaguely threatening posture is enough to keep the wolf at bay as your heart hammers in your ribcage and your breathing comes in fits and starts. It senses something in you—fear, hesitation, weakness—and approaches slowly, one carefully placed paw at a time, sniffing the air and growling more desperately with every whiff of you that it catches.

“Get back.”

A strong hand on your shoulder jerks you back and shoves you towards the wagon. Zoro now stands in front of you—his shirt is gone, revealing a smooth expanse of streamlined muscle and sinew rippling under bronzed skin, a black bandana is tied around his head, and he wields his three swords, one in each hand, and the third held between his teeth. He widens his stance and maintains his position as the wolf approaches more boldly now, barking and growling, steam from its warm breath rising into the air. The creature leaps at him and he quickly crosses the two swords in front of him to block its attack, the metal shaking as he grunts and shoves the wolf back.

“Three-Sword-Style,” Zoro shouts, the words muffled by the sword still clenched between his teeth, “Grime Tornado!”

A strong gust of air suddenly swirls in front of him and disburses with great force, pushing the wolf backward as it struggles to stay standing until it’s shoved to the edge of the woods. The air settles, and the wolf pauses for a moment, teeth still glimmering in the moonlight, eyes glowing like embers, before it runs off into the trees again, its howls lingering in the still air. Zoro lowers his arms, letting the tips of his blades point towards the ground as he walks towards you, his broad chest heaving with every panting breath.

“I told you to stay in the damned wagon,” he mumbles through the sword still tucked between his clenched teeth. He walks over to the cart and carefully sheaths the three swords again, giving them a reassuring pat before turning to glare at you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“It—it was all part of the show, right?” Your hands tremble, the wolf’s glowing eyes still appearing behind your eyelids with every blink; the way they pierced you was unnerving, almost as if there was something human about them.

And the blood. The blood looked so—so real.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grunts as he walks over to you, scooping you up with startling ease and carrying you back to the wagon. He plops you down in the back like a sack of rice, your backside landing in a soft pile of hay, and he glowers at you. “Don’t get back out again. Not for anything. Understand?”

You nod, and the desire to jump into his burly arms again courses through you. As frightened as you are, the sight of him, shirtless and flexing, moving with a grace and speed you hadn’t expected from him, has a stranglehold on you—if he’d asked to bend you over right then and there, you would have gladly thanked him for his hard work and offered him payment in the form of whatever part of your body he most preferred.

“Thanks for saving me, Zoro.”

He grunts in response and jostles the reigns, the horses taking their cue and trotting off into the depths of the woods again. You pull your knees up to your chest and lean against a hay bale, your eyes focused on Zoro the whole time; he glances back now and again, quick looks of concern at first, then of something else, something that feels far less virtuous.

The horses seem to find their way back onto the path with some degree of ease, and before long, you can see the festival off in the distance, smell the greasy mystery meats-on-sticks, hear the noise that passes for music as some local band plays royalty-free Halloween music.

The wagon comes to an abrupt halt, the festival almost within reach—you can almost touch the goopy fountain again. Zoro heaves his arm over the divider that separates the two of you, leaning his bare torso towards you. “Listen. We need to talk.”

“Look, Zoro, let me be the first to say—I think the ride was spectacular,” you start to ramble, your hands gesturing wildly as you speak. “And I promise I won’t say anything to anyone about the—well, whatever the fuck happened back there. Or the, uh—the flirting. Not that I minded! I mean, I don’t know if it’s the most professional way of giving private rides, but it was, you know…appreciated. If you need me to fill out a survey about your services, I can certainly—”

“You talk too damned much, calm down.” He places a thick finger over your lips to shush you, leaning in until his face is just inches from yours. “Now listen to me very carefully, honey—you owe me.”

Your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and an aching heat that you had been trying to ignore begins to grow in your core. “For—for what? You said the hayride was free.”

“It is.” He licks his lips and raises a wide hand to your face, cupping your chin. “But the saving your life part is extra.”

“I—I’m sorry, I don’t have any money to give you,” you stammer, your voice a husky whisper. Your gaze flits over his face, noticing a certain predatory glint in his eye, a hunger lingering on the upturned corners of his lips. “I left my wallet at home.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he coos, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, “I don’t want your money.”

“What do you want then?”

“Same thing you do.”

You bite your lip shyly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes in your best approximation of an innocent glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tch. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me since you found me. The way you wrapped your arms around me when you were scared—and even when you weren’t.” He climbs over the wooden divide and into the wagon with you, kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on your thighs. “You’re really gonna try to play the coy thing? Because it’s not workin’ for you.”

“No?” He’s big—so big—and his body almost engulfs you as he leans in and grips the edge of the cart behind you, his massive arms caging you in on either side, his broad chest almost pressed to yours.

“Nah. See, I what I think is,” he murmurs into your ear, warm breath spreading across your chilled skin, “that you want the big, strong guy who saved your life to make you forget all about that little shit that stood you up.”

Without another thought—your mind drained of all rational notions, left only with fleeting images of how he’d look on top of you, behind you, underneath you—you lean up and kiss him impulsively, your lips crashing against his hard and fast, trying to satisfy a need that had been growing all night. He inhales sharply at the sudden kiss, then places one hand at the back of your head to hold you in place as he claims your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue before plunging it into your mouth and entwining it with yours. His free hand roams up the hem of your sweater, groping at your breasts, tugging at the fabric of your bra until his thumb finds your hardened nipple. He makes firm circles over it and your back arches as warm, gentle waves of pleasure move through you, and he groans at the way you writhe under his touch.

“Bet you wanna get fucked, don’t you?” he growls against your lips, his grip on the nape of your neck tightening. He lets out a low chuckle as you nod and whimper, your hands moving down his bare torso towards the waistband of his pants, palm brushing against the sizeable bulge that strains against the fabric. “Mm, somebody’s needy. Lay down for me, then—let’s settle up what you owe.”

You obediently recline in the hay and kick your boots off, stripping yourself of your jeans with a frantic urgency; Zoro moves down between your legs, nudging them apart to kneel between them. He drags two fingers up your clothed slit, his fingertips catching on dampened cotton, and a satisfied hum vibrates in his chest as he finally takes in the extent of your arousal.

“This for me?” he purrs, pressing down against your clit, rubbing you through your panties until your legs tremble and your hands grasp at flimsy pieces of straw.

“D-don’t flatter yourself.”

“You sure? I don’t see anyone else around here to make your pussy this wet.” He grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down over your hips, stripping you of them and tossing them behind him. He quickly undoes his trousers and slides them down his lean hips, his cock springing forth from the confines of his pants. Your jaw goes slack at the sight of it—thick and veiny, sitting heavy in his palm as he slowly strokes himself for you, the head growing redder and more swollen with every vulgar caress.

“Think you can handle it?” He lets a wad of saliva drip from his lips and onto his cock, spreading it over his impressive length until it glistens in the moonlight.

“Think so,” you whimper back, spreading your thighs a little wider to accommodate him as he moves on top of you, aligning his hips with yours. Zoro wastes no time in collecting his payment for his earlier heroics and slowly pushes into you, stretching you with every agonizing inch that slides inside; little sparks of pleasure ignite in your limbs, and that deep ache in your core grows with every bit of his fat cock that he bullies inside you.

“There you go,” he growls as he finally fills you completely and his pelvis presses against yours. “Took it all like a good little whore.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and nip and kiss at his jaw. “Not a whore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos condescendingly, his hips rocking just enough to give you a few tentative, shallow thrusts. “Would you prefer ‘slut’ instead?”

“I’d prefer you sh—” Your words are quickly cut off by the gasp that shoves its way out of your lungs as he pulls out and plunges inside again, knocking against something inside you that makes your eyes go bleary and your fingers tingle.

Zoro’s thrusts are quick and feral, the kind that make you pulse and press your thighs into his hips, the kind that make your hands grasp for anything within reach—his bulging biceps, his mossy hair, a handful of hay underneath you—anything to ground yourself as he fills you again and again until all he is all there is. He drives into you over and over, and you lift your hips upward to meet his, deepening every plunge until you’re bucking and arching and colliding in a seamless rhythm.

“Touch yourself for me,” Zoro grunts as he slows his movements to angle his hips, and his cockhead drags against that sweet spot inside of you. “I bet you look so fucking good when you cum, pretty little slut.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you reach down and move your fingers over your clit, already swollen and pulsing with need. A moan of pleasure claws its way out of you and you writhe and thrash under him while he watches closely, his gaze focused on your face, his jaw hanging open the more your expression twists and contorts in pleasure. That tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter with every plunge of his length inside you and every swift movement of your fingers over your sensitive bud, until your body is trembling and your muscles are seizing and you mumble something unintelligible about being close, so close, so very, very close.

“That’s it,” Zoro rasps, his cock throbbing inside you as you start to tighten around him, “now cum on this big cock for me.”

A profound heat spreads throughout your lower half as you tense and release in waves of shaking spasms; you wail his name, not caring who or what that may lurk in the forest hears you, as your cunt pulls him further in. Zoro moans quietly and fucks into you with messy, erratic thrusts, hitting you so deep that it almost hurts, bordering on that delicious line between pain and pleasure. His breaths are shallow and fast, his teeth clenched, his body beginning to shake as your fluttering cunt urges him towards his climax.

“Fuck, sweetheart—you feel so damned good, gonna make me cum for you.” A long, low groan carries in the air as he quickly pulls out of you and jerks himself off, his hips tensing and shuddering as his aching cock throbs, coating your stomach with his thick, white spend. He bucks into his fist, milking every last bit of cum from his pulsating length, and collapses next to you, heaving a satisfied moan in between deep, panting breaths.

As you begin to reassemble yourself and pull hay out of random crevices, you feel a vibration against your foot—your phone is buzzing in the pocket of your discarded jeans.

[Soggy Man]: Hey I made it! did you still want to meet up?

“Aw, shit.” You glance over at Zoro, busy catching his breath, his chest rising and falling as his hands settle on his stomach. His toned body glistens with sweat in the moonlight, his half-hard cock laying against his thick thigh, leaking onto his bronzed skin; if it weren’t for the fact he was technically on the clock and you were technically now on a date, you would gladly spend the rest of your night right here, just outside the noise and the lights and the people, indulging in a little more holiday hedonism.

[You]: in a little while. I’m on a hayride right now

[Soggy Man]: that sounds fun! we should go together when you get back

“Hey, uh…can I ask you something?” You sit up and fumble for your jeans again, pulling your wallet out of a back pocket. “How much would you want to, um—to keep quiet about what just happened?”

“Hm.” He puts his hands behind his head and stares up at the night sky, considering his options for a moment. “Give me a taste of that slutty little pussy of yours and we’ve got a deal.”

“I suppose I can’t say no to that,” you whisper under your breath, your cunt fluttering at the thought of him between your legs again.

“Hey…what’s this?” Zoro rolls over and snatches the wallet out of your hand, using it to point at you accusatorily. “I thought you said you left this at home.”

“What? Wow, that’s so weird, why would I say that…”

“Careful now. Lies are gonna cost you extra.”

He moves down between your shaking legs, shoving them apart and grunting something lewd about how good you look the way your slick spreads out across your thighs. He lays down on his stomach, hooking his thick arms under your legs, and lets out a satisfied groan as he nips at the inside of your thigh, lowering his head down to give your slit an exploratory lick.

“Extra?” A low moan tumbles out of you as his wide tongue licks a thick stripe up your cunt, then plunges it inside you, shallowly fucking you with it. “Then how about, after you’re done down there, I ride you—then you give me a ride back?

“A ride for a ride, huh?” Zoro murmurs against your skin, stopping his movements for a moment to glance up at you. He smiles, high on the fucked-out expression etched into your features, before flicking his tongue over your aching clit, groaning as you softly rock your hips into his face. “Man, I fuckin’ love this job.”

#the way you write slime ball Zoro gives me so much energies I’m gonna HHH G #softy moots (づ ᴗ ᴗ)づ♡#softy spice #Zoro smut #fics rec

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tiza0925 · 7 months ago

Note

Idk if you take requests but Hinata,Tsukishima, Or Atsumu with an S/o that has a choking kink?? You can write however you want (u dont have to take this req, if u dont want to) :))

how about all three hq men ♡ i loved this prompt, ty for the request anon

Wrap your fingers around my neck | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, riding, lap sex, raw sex, kissing, praise kink, creampie, finger sucking, degradation kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, squirting, petnames, fingering, needy!Atsumu, pussy slapping, kitchen counter sex, choking kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 YEARS

Pairings: Hinata Shouyou x Female Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Female Reader, & Miya Atsumu x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Hinata

It was an honest accident.

Hinata didn’t mean to do it—and you genuinely did not think he would follow along after but—

Hinata always loses himself a little whenever he kisses you.

He can’t help it.

Your lips feel so nice and soft against his. You taste so good when he licks his tongue inside your mouth and fuck—the little moans you make against him get his head all hazy, and he just wants his hands all over you—

“Shit,” Hinata murmurs, his breathing a little heavy as he pulls on your lower lip with his mouth, and his hands roam up your thighs, the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist—touching you everywhere while you sit on his lap, straddling him, as he sits up against the bed frame. “So pretty, angel.”

You let out a shaky breath against his mouth, and you grind your hips towards him—pulling out a hiss from Hinata as his cock moves inside you.

“Keep going, baby,” Hinata groans when you roll your hips again, and you gasp as his cock hits against your g-spot while your clit rubs against his exposed skin, and you dig your fingers into his broad, muscled shoulders for support.

“Just like that,” Hinata’s hands are squeezing your ass, holding your hips, grabbing your tits—they’re everywhere and he can’t seem to control it when he’s like this.

He just loves how you feel under the palm of his hand—maybe just a bit more than a volleyball—and his head is in the clouds as your pussy swallows him so perfectly, taking his thick cock like you always do, that he—

He doesn’t realize that one of his hands has moved further up to graze over your collarbone and shoulders.

He’s too busy focusing on how sinful your tongue feels gliding against his.

How your pussy is so damn wet—you’re dripping all over his dick—and god, you’re tight, that he’s so close to exploding—

Hinata doesn’t realize that his hand is near your neck—your skin is so soft and nice under his hand that everywhere feels the same—

It’s why he mindlessly circles his fingers around the base of your neck when his palm is there—he just needs his entire hand to feel you.

And you suck in a sharp breath as the feel of long, strong, and thick fingers curl around your throat—so hot and firm—and that’s Hinata freezes.

Shit.

He’s ready to apologize profusely—his fingers are already beginning to uncurl from your neck—because he didn’t mean to hold you that way but—

But then he hears you let out a moan—small, shaky, and wanting—and you buck your hips up against him, kissing him more feverishly, causing Hinata’s eyes to droop and roll back, a small groan ripping out of him when he realizes—

You liked that.

“Yeah?” Hinata breathes out in response to your moan, and his fingers stay where they are—just a little hesitant with the pressure—as you ride him, your lashes fluttering as his heavy hand sits around your throat. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

You nod, eyelids feeling heavy, and Hinata lets loose a low breath, shaking his head and smirking as he kisses you, murmuring against your red lips. “Should’ve told me you like that sooner, baby.”

Because now that he knows you like having his hand around your throat like that—

“Would’ve made that pretty little head of yours all dizzy a long time ago,” Hinata rolls his hips up as he says that, shoving his cock a little deeper until you swear you feel it in your guts, causing you to gasp with a wet moan, and he puts a little more pressure on the sides of your neck with the pads of his finger—his eyes focused on yours. “Is that okay, angel?”

More than okay—fuck, your head feels a little more light-headed now.

You can still breathe, but the pressure around your throat brings out a blurry fog around the edges of your vision, and your cunt clenches around Hinata’s cock—making him groan—as your fluids leak out, getting him all wet and messy from how heated you are.

It’s so overwhelming and you love it.

You nod, moving your hips in tandem with his—languid rolls as his dick rubs your g-spot over and over, bringing you higher and tighter and hotter for your orgasm—

“Good girl,” Hinata praises, breathless, and uses his hold around your throat to pull you in closer—letting him kiss you like he’s greedy for your mouth as he licks and sucks and nips until you feel all woozy from it—then he moves to brush his mouth against the shell of your ear, his voice throaty as he pushes his hips up. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?”

Your pussy throbs around the girth of him when you feel his fingers press against the sides of your throat a little more, his hold around the most vulnerable part of you feeling possessive like he can own you if he wanted to.

And you trust him enough to give it if he asks.

Your lips part with soft breaths being punched out with every buck of his hips, fucking you to make your mind melt, and he grazes his teeth against your earlobe—your heart leaping in your throat when he gently squeezes your neck, testing it until you moan in approval, losing yourself to how full you feel from his dick. “I want you to make a mess, angel, you always look so pretty when you do.”

God—

It only takes a few more pumps of his cock inside you, your walls sucking him in, while your puffy clit rubs against your stomach until your orgasm ripples through you—your mouth hanging open with a silent moan as you gush around Hinata’s cock, legs tensing and back arching as your vision goes blurry and white as he keeps his hands where they are. “Fuck—so good for me, baby, look at you—”

He fucks you through it, nearing his orgasm as you pulse around him, and Hinata cums with a guttural groan—sticky cum spurting into your plush walls—

And his hand stays around your throat the entire time—holding and pinning you in place just the way you like it.

Tsukishima

It’s not news to him that you like the feeling of his hand around your throat.

He’s been playing around with the idea for a while, now, whenever he’s touching you—just in subtle ways.

Whenever he kisses you, he places his hand just above your collarbone—not fully on your neck, but the tease is there—and slots his lips between yours with a sigh.

Or it’s when you two are out in public and it’s a little too busy and you easily become lost in the crowd—Tsukishima guides you with his hand wrapping delicately against your nape, keeping you close while he has you in his hold.

He always picked up on the way you reacted whenever he touched you there.

How blown your pupils would get.

How your breath would hitch with your lips parting with a small intake of breath.

How dazed you would look in the eyes—making him feel just a little smug about finding out a little secret about you that he definitely plans to use one night.

It’s when he’s got you lying on the bed all pretty for him—looking up at him with starry eyes as he pumps two of his fingers in and out of your drenched pussy—with his other hand caressing your cheek, his thumb teasing your lower lip.

And he’s smirking down at you—in his usual lackadaisical way— with one of his knees sitting between your bent legs as he presses the pad of his thumb down onto your lower lip to pry your mouth open. “You always need something to suck on, don’t you?”

He teases you, his voice low and mirthful, and all it does is make your pussy clench as you moan—rolling your tongue out to flick it at his thumb before wrapping your warm mouth around it, your cheeks hollowing as you give his thumb a slow, indulgent suck.

“Shit,” It’s the way you keep eye contact with him as your head moves, leaving his thumb shiny with your saliva as you suck it, that sends heat down to his cock, making him feel light in the head. “You’re a needy little thing, you know.”

You make a sound that’s similar to a moan around his thumb, and your eyes flutter, going half-mast, as you bob your head and swirl your tongue around his thumb as if it was his cock instead.

And Tsukishima can’t help it—you look so desperate like this, your back arching against his hovering body, looking up at him so obediently, with your tits all perked up and nipples pert and pretty as you leak all over his hand—

It’s filthy and you—

“A perfect little slut,” Tsukishima lets those words slip out, a groan in his throat, and you choke a little with a whimper when you feel him press his thumb into your mouth a bit deeper, affection lacing his rather filthy words.

And you moan—low and wanting—when you hear him call you that, and Tsukishima can’t help but chuckle darkly as he leans in a little closer, his head tilting almost mockingly as he watches you with desire and affection. “Yeah?”

He curls his fingers to rub your spongey g-spot, his palm pressing against your swollen little clit for friction that sends heat up your tummy and chest. “You like being a little slut for me, sweetheart?”

Fuck.

“Looking like the mess that you are just because of me,” Tsukishima hums, his voice low. “You can hear just how soaked you are, you know.”

You whine around his thumb as your orgasm balances at the edge—ready to combust with how tight your muscles feel—and you nod.

God—you’re too perfect for him.

He can’t help the small smile that threatens to creep up on him, trying to focus on making you cum—for the second time tonight—on his fingers before he finally fucks you the way you both need him to and—

And then his eyes widen a little, turning more amorous when his eyes briefly flit down to your exposed throat—

“…You can get a little more messy for me, right baby?” It’s not a question.

Just a warning worded more sweetly.

Because before you even get a chance to respond to him—

You feel his thumb slip out of your mouth—making a wet popping sound with your spit connecting a thin, clear string from your mouth to his thumb, leaving you gasping for air—

Only for it to be partially taken away again when you feel long, calloused fingers gently wrap around the area just beneath your jawline—and your eyes widen as you look at him, your breath catching, and he watches you with a knowing look behind his eyes.

Like he knows that no matter what—you’ll trust him.

And he’s not wrong—you do.

Enough to let your eyes immediately soften into submission, your lips wet from your saliva, and you let out a small moan as you tilt your chin up—giving him more room for his fingers to hold and cover.

It brings out a hiss from him, low and breathy, and you see the way things primarily shift in his eyes when you begin to pant, moving your hips as he fucks you with his fingers—encouraging him to push harder and make you lose your mind.

And god—he listens almost instantly as he squeezes the sides of your neck a little more, and you moan as you get a little hazy in the head, your limbs loose as his fingers move inside you.

“Fuck, look at you,” Tsukishima lets out a small breath that’s almost a chuckle, and he watches you with his dick throbbing as you let him take the weakest part of your body into his own hands to play with.

Giving him that trust that gets him all heady and needy to just—

To just kiss you and fuck you and take all of you until all you feel, smell, taste, and hear is him.

“Always so good for me, sweetheart.”

He grinds his palm against your clit with more pressure, moving it in circles as his fingers get swallowed by your pulsing walls—and then he’s pressing his fingers into your pulse points a little more, slowly playing with your ability to breathe, feeling his hand heavy around your neck until—

“Oh fuck—Kei—shit—”

You gasp, shaky, and your lower spine draws tight when your eyes get blurry from the brief lack of air—and that seems to snap something deep within you as you cum furiously around his fingers, spasming and gasping with your senses turning numb—

“Just like that, baby—get all nasty for me—“

Tsukishima finger fucks you through it, watching with dark eyes as he loosens up his fingers around your throat—and clear fluids squirt out of your sopping pussy with every thrust of his wrist inside you.

You end up gushing fluids all over the bed and his thighs—but Tsukishima doesn’t care.

He’s too wound up and high on watching you cum on him to care about how sticky everything is—

It’ll only get messier once he gets his dick inside you anyway.

You cry, coming down from your high as air rushes into your lungs after your orgasm—your pussy clenching hard from wave after wave of pleasure—

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” You hear him breathe that out. “And fill you up just how you like it.”

You’re still too out of it to respond with anything other than a languid nod, feeling light and a puddle of fire at the same time as he kisses you so achingly soft that you melt against him.

Atsumu

If he isn’t spending his time practicing or playing volleyball—

Miya Atsumu’s idea of using his time effectively is by having his hands and mouth on and all over you.

Specifically being able to bury his face in between your plush thighs—with his mouth and tongue pressed against your cunt.

It’s what he’s doing right now as he’s got you bent over the island counter in your kitchen—while he’s on his knees behind you, hands gripping onto your upper thighs to hold you in place, with his tongue running a wide strip from your clit to your hole.

“God—‘Sumu, you couldn’t have waited—?”

You moan with a small whine as he sucks on your folds, tongue dipping in and jaw working as he makes out with your pussy from behind.

“Sorry, baby,” Atsumu is breathing heavily when he pulls back, and he wets his lips as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass—massaging it before using his hold on them to spread them apart, giving him easier access to your cunt.

And his eyes go half-lidded, his cock hardening in his pants, at the sight of your spit-slicked and soaked folds. “Can’t help it.”

Then he dives back in, jaw slack as his tongue licks your pussy like he’s thirsty for it, and you whine at how embarrassingly close you are to your orgasm already.

“Ya looked so good in that skirt,” Atsumu murmurs against you, undulating his tongue against your clit before pushing the tip of his tongue through your drooling slit—

And he moans.

He actually moans while he eats you out—like he’s just so desperate to have his mouth on you, determined to get you utterly soaked as your juices trickle down his chin and your thighs from how much he’s gotten you worked up.

“Couldn’ wait,” Atsumu pants, swallowing before pushing his tongue further to lick your sensitive clit—flicking it with his tongue until he has you tensing and your thighs squeezing around his face. ‘Fuck—baby, so good—”

A whimper escapes your throat, and you rest your forehead against your arms that are on the counter, pushing your hips back to fuck yourself on his face until that ball of heat explodes in between your legs—and your orgasm throbs through you.

Liquid heat spreads through your body, and you moan through it all as Atsumu licks and sucks and eats, groaning so low and needy, until your clit twitches with oversensitivity and you’re whining.

“So pretty f’me,” You hear him mutter, sounding drunk off the taste of your cunt, and your entire body jolts as a sharp gasp slips through your parted lips when you feel a slap against your sopping folds.

And Atsumu’s head spins when he stands back up—his eyes focused on the way your arousal drools down from your pussy lips, a thin string of clear fluid running down to the floor and—

“God damn, baby, ya drooling.” Two of his fingers strum your slit, getting his fingers all nice and shiny and creamy from your orgasm, feeling your cute little cunt pulse around them.

Then—

You choke out a broken gasp when he slaps your pussy again, hearing the wet smack against his hand, and Atsumu’s voice comes out in a low drawl right after. “Turn around, love.”

Your legs buckle when you do—your movements slow with that ache still there between your legs—

But Atsumu is right there—guiding you with gentle touches over your legs and hips—and the moment you’re facing him—

He gives you one, heated look—his eyes lowered and so murky with desire—before he captures your lips with his, and you exhale a sharp breath through your nose when you can taste yourself in his mouth.

God.

You kiss him back, though, a little sloppy with how muddled your head is, and you make these tiny sounds that Atsumu eagerly swallows up—while his hands move to squeeze your ass, then move down until they’re at the back of your thighs and—

“Lift up for me,” He mumbles against your mouth, and you follow almost immediately—one leg moving to wrap around his waist after the other—and you use your hold around his neck for support, kissing him with a small grunt when he lifts you to sit your ass on the edge of the counter.

It causes the cool surface to brush against your bare pussy, pulling out a gasp from you, and Atsumu breathes heavily against you as he grinds his clothed bulge—god, it’s so fucking big—against your pussy, making you all dizzy with it. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay?”

He kisses you again, his rough hands running up and spreading goosebumps over your legs until they just reach the part where your hips and thighs meet. “And you gonn’ take it like a good girl f’me, yeah?”

You whimper with a small nod, kissing him and bucking your hips back at him almost impatiently.

“Say it, baby.”

Shit—

“O-okay,” You breathe out, too high off the bliss of your post-orgasm to care about the fact that he’s going to fuck you raw—

You don’t even realize he doesn’t have a condom on until he’s pulling his pants and underwear down to let his dick bounces free, and it slaps against your upper thigh—feeling so heavy and hot and smooth and—

Exposed—with his pre-cum leaking from the fat tip and onto your leg, making more of a mess on you.

“Good,” Atsumu praises you, kissing you as he slides his thick cock through your pussy folds, getting it all nice and wet, before sliding in—pushing the fat tip through your hole so easily and he’s bottoming out in one, fluid motion. “So fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

Your eyes roll back, and your legs around him tighten as he pulls out—only to roll his hips against you, making you feel the heat of his skin flush against yours as he fucks his cock into your needy walls.

He fucks you with his hands pinning you down to the counter by your hips—making your body jolt with every thrust—and tiny, wet moans get punched out of you as your mouth hovers against his.

It causes your juices to gush out with every rock of his hips, making a mess on the counter, as loud and wet squelches fill the kitchen to show just how wrecked you are.

And it all just adds to the feverish warmth that’s flooding your clit and lower belly—that tension building until it’s ready to snap again with every brush against your g-spot and—

And you don’t realize the fingers around your throat until you feel a slight pressure in your head, and heat pressing against the sides of your neck.

And when your eyes—all wide and glossy—flit up to meet Atsumu’s—

He’s already looking right at you, watching you, focused to see your reaction—as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop—while still fucking your sensitive pussy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you let out a moan in approval, your eyelids dropping in response, and your cunt clenches around his girth as you kiss him softly, panting against his mouth with a soft mutter. “Harder.”

And god—hearing that does astronomical things to his head and dick.

“Fuck,” You feel his groan vibrate against you, all low and throaty, as his fingers grow firmer around your delicate throat—and his pace picks up as he starts to get needier for your sweet pussy. “Don’ think ‘mma last long, baby.”

He doesn’t let you respond.

Not when he’s quick to hitch your legs higher—and he uses his hold around your throat to push you down until your back is flat against the counter’s surface, and your eyes blow wide with a woosh of your breath escaping your lungs.

“Ya think you can keep all f’me inside you, sweetheart?” He asks, voice so sweet and cooing as if he isn’t fucking your guts and making you choke as his body hovers over you, and he’s smirking down at you as he takes in just how good his hand looks around your neck.

“I want this pretty lil pussy to get messy, kay?”

Your eyes roll back when the pressure under your jawline grows, making you feel light-headed, and—

You should feel somewhat alarmed with how easily he can choke you.

To hold the power over your body just like that—with no effort whatsoever.

He’s stronger than you.

So much bigger than you.

And his hands and fingers are dominating and heavy but—

But all you do is look up at him in submission, all hazy and eyes shiny with lust as your fingers wrap around his wrist as support, laying there and taking his cock as another orgasm rips out of you.

You trust him to never hurt you—to take things too far.

He’s always knew just how far to take things with you—to dance on that delicate line of risk and pleasure for you.

It only takes another few strokes inside you, your g-spot overstimulated, for you to cum around him, electrified and feel like you’re floating as he fucks your pussy—all puffy and abused as it squirts so much on his dick and the counter—

And nothing but the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin fills your ears, and your entire body shakes when Atsumu moans so desperately against you.

And his hand never leaves your throat, even as he kisses every inch of your face to soothe and praise you while you cry from your orgasm—and he’s following soon after with his hot cum filling you up till your pussy is leaking both of your fluids everywhere.

Getting you all messy like he said you would.

end ♡

Masterpost

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