#patched petal
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majimasleftasscheek · 1 year ago
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patch art finished 🙏
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voiddesigns-wc · 1 year ago
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I drew these a few months back and forgot to post them! Only remembered them when the shyheart ask popped up.
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itsamepatches · 7 months ago
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"Today was a special day to watch the blooming of cherry blossoms, but things were slowly going downhill with an unusual breed of flowers bursting in place of the anticipated cherry blossoms - and these flowers aren't friendly to anypony; in fact, they infect ponies! This is definitely a Ponyville Petal Pandemic..."
Oh boy, I'm finally drawing ponies and baby dragons (can you tell I've never drawn them before?)
The stages of the (currently) unnamed "petal infection" will be posted in a separate post at a later date :B
Under the cut, I'll share some info about this infection AU of mine:
The mane six (6) are immune, thanks to the Elements of Harmony - Spike is also immune
The group is split into two: Twilight, Spike, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie -- Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy. The reason they're split into mentioned groups isn't random, but rather how much (or how little) luck the characters have in most other infection au(s).
There are 2 different outcomes: Ending 1) happy (a cure is found; however, folks are/will be infected but won't die) Ending 2) bittersweet (a cure is found but there are deaths)
Discord's illness is related to the flowers
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lillesfavouritecubes · 8 months ago
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I am absolutely in love with Cleo's Pogt in the Post office, so I had to have one for my me. Cross stitch style!
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demigirlvioletshine · 2 years ago
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thatsadguymochi · 8 months ago
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A pretty neat daffodil growing in my grandma's yard :D
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hollypies · 1 year ago
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More art soon I prommy I was busy with the new minecraft update :)
I made. A pink house :)
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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 11 months ago
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R u still writing?
yes, sorry to say it's slow and not for imagines though
i might come back to here one day, idk, it's a nice writing exercise
at the moment, though, i'm writing one (erm, three) long ass bishova au, but i do have plenty of authors to recommend if u wouldl ike some!
i do enjoy refreshing y'all on who's somehwat active on the kate/yelena x reader tag, just to keep 'em alive and to encourage authors to keep writing
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kaleidoscopekidco · 2 years ago
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Just a few new listings to cap off the weekend! 🫡💥✌️
Source: Kaleidoscopekidco.com
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theowlthatwrites · 14 days ago
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@patchwork-crow-writes Dunno if you already saw this, but this kicks... for me, at least!
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Happy Ace Week!!! 🖤🤍💜
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trauma-trove · 11 months ago
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🐅: If it turns out to not be as bad as I expected it to be, I'll feel ridiculous.
🌸: You have a right to be ridiculous. The way they're treating you is ridiculous. You're allowed to be upset.
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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago
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Wouldn't you like to see something strange?
HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.
P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...
Boo.
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On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.
The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.
He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.
The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.
Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.
He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.
He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.
"I figured this is where you were."
He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"
Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."
You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”
“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.
"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."
He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.
"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."
“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”
"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”
His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.
Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.
"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"
"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.
"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"
He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.
"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."
"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."
"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."
"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”
"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."
You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.
"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."
“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”
“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”
“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.
“Then…”
“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”
“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”
“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”
He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.
“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”
“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”
“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”
“Yes…!!”
The midnight waltz began.
He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.
“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.
“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.
They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.
For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.
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xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year ago
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Earth 703
Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader
Summary: You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? (Sex pollen. Except it's you this time.)
Word Count: 2.9k+
Warnings: language, smut, p in v, oral (male receiving), cum eating, some soft Miguel, maybe ooc. Not beta-read. Forgive the mistakes.
Part 2 of the sex pollen ask, by popular demand. Can be read as a stand alone but the lore stems from that ask. Hope ya'll like it.
...
Drowning. It felt like drowning.
The air suddenly felt thick as you fought to remain calm. The sensation of pins and needles ravaged the surface of your skin under your digital suit (designed by Miguel himself, as promised), running down your arms and abdomen until a burning heat settled between your legs.
Sweat began to bead along your brow, and you bit your lip to control your accelerating heartbeat. 
Shit. You fucked up. Badly.
You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? 
You’d recognized the daisies immediately—remembered the giant stems and the bright white petals, how it made Miguel greedy and depraved. 
The New York jungle of Earth 703 was just as dense as the last time you’d visited. It was a second mission in search of the anomaly, and you’d decided to complete it independently. That’d been a mistake. And not telling Miguel about it was an even bigger mistake, but unfortunately, you hadn’t put much thought into that last part. You wanted this mission done and over with.
But mostly, you wanted to prove you could do it yourself. 
Miguel would be furious if he knew the predicament you were in. But there was no need for him to find out, right?
The Prowler had a strength that you’d underestimated, easily tossing you into the mass of pollinated daisies before darting off, glitching with an array of colors as he ran away.
You’d been knocked out, waking up covered in pollinated dust like a pastry dusted in powdered sugar. You’d sneezed a couple of times before stumbling out of the daisy patch disoriented before finding the nearest tree and leaning against it, dusting yourself off.
And that is where you found yourself now, sprawled out with your back against the tree and your legs spread wide, your cunt burning with a need to be filled.
Okokokokok. This was fine. You could manage. If you just sat there patiently, the effects would wear off and you could go back to HQ without anyone noticing you were gone. However, that was easier said than done.
You fought the desire to touch yourself. 
You knew that if you did you’d be in trouble, and no one would be able to help. But you were weak of mind, slowly trailing your hand down your abdomen to lightly press your fingers over your throbbing cunt. You groaned, thumping your head back harshly against the tree.
It felt good but it did nothing to ease the growing sensation. You tapped your cunt again, the arousal running through you immediately. You were panting now, letting your mask fall so that you could breathe better.
The burning increased and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. You pushed your sweat-slicked hair away from your face with both hands, pausing for a moment to help yourself get a grip.
You felt so incredibly empty. You couldn’t tell for sure but you just knew your core was dripping wet, waiting to be filled by someone’s cock.
You didn’t want to think about that someone just yet, knowing that if you conjured up his image (and his cock) in your mind's eye, you’d be a salivating, mewling mess.
Again, you tried to alleviate the discomfort, this time pressing the heel of your palm over your core. You mewled in response, resisting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration.
It was beginning to hurt, the burning flaring into an intense heat, and you swore you could feel it running down your legs, making your toes curl uncomfortably. Your vision blurred as your eyes tried to make sense of your surroundings. 
Suddenly your watch went off, and when you struggled to raise your arm to answer the call, an image of Miguel appeared. 
“Where are you?” He demanded, “Why’d you turn off your location? I’ve been looking everywhere for you at HQ.” You wanted to respond, you really did, but when you tried to speak the only sound that slipped out was a pained gasp, followed by a sob as you pressed your free hand over your suit-covered pussy. 
“Are you—are you crying?” 
Were you? You hadn't realized, couldn’t feel the fat tears rolling down your numb cheeks and past your chin. You could hear the subtle panic in his voice, his image seemingly appearing closer as he pulled his watch toward his face to inspect you. 
You did nothing but whimper in response, choking on humid air.
“Baby, listen to me,” Miguel reasoned, his tone measured and confident but not free of worry, “Are you safe?” 
“T-think s-so,” you managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain running through you. You groaned, your head dropping forward as your muscles tensed. 
“Can you tell me where are you?”
“E-earth s-seven—” Miguel cut you off with a great sigh, his pixelated form running a hand down his face. 
“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”
You didn’t need to finish. He knew exactly where to find you.
At least the new suit came in handy.
When you couldn’t wait for Miguel any longer you deactivated your suit, leaving yourself stark naked in the middle of the jungle. 
Normally, you’d be completely mortified, but the throbbing in your cunt overpowered the embarrassment. You simply didn’t care, not when you were desperate for physical touch, desperate to be filled to the brim.
You’re assumption had been correct—you were absolutely soaked. You sighed as you allowed your fingers to swirl through your folds, your creamy juices clinging to your skin as you pulled out to inspect them.
“F-fuck,” you moaned, finally plunging your fingers into your needy little hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Your bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you let your other hand skim up and tweak at one of your sensitive nipples.
You bit your lip, breathing in harshly through your nose. It was good but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t what your pussy craved.
You continued to thrust your fingers inside, holding on to whatever semblance of relief you could get.
A portal appeared in the middle of you working yourself open, Miguel stepping through. Your eyes reflected the bright yellow glow of the portal until it disappeared behind him.
Miguel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he did so often when facing a predicament.  
“Baby…” he began, squatting in front of you, his red eyes observing your nakedness, your tear-stained cheeks and red lips, swollen from worrying them. You hadn’t stopped for even a moment, mewling as your fingers worked your messy pussy. You were so incredibly wet, the squelching loud enough for you both to hear.
He wrapped a large hand around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, but you hissed, pushing him away with a weak kick before continuing to stuff yourself. 
“Stop,” he said, grabbing your feverish face in his hands, “activate your suit. I’m taking you home.” 
“Don’t wanna move,” you cried, more tears rolling down your cheeks, “it hurts.” 
“I know, baby, I know, let me take you home.” He was barely successful in removing your hand from your sopping cunt, your fingers pruned with how wet you were. He fought to ignore the strong scent of your arousal and the way your slit glistened. 
Miguel held your body close, feeling how your limbs trembled. He stroked your hair to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back in comfort. His cock began to swell when you rutted against him, pushing him down so that he was flat against the ground. 
“Coño, wait—” 
You ignored his protests, grinding your cunt against him in deliciously slow circles, mewling all the while. Your mind felt hazy, the arousal so powerful that you couldn’t think properly, too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure of your cunt rubbing over Miguel's bulge. 
“Miguel,” you whined, your hands firmly planted on his chest as you moved skillfully over him, “I need you, please, just—just put it in real quick, I’ll be good, I swear, I just need your fat—”
“Shh,” Miguel, placed his finger over your mouth to silence you, his chest heaving as he watched you move above him, “I’ll give you what you want, yes? Then I’m taking you home.”
“Yesyesyesyes, whatever you want, please—” In a matter of seconds you were able to feel Miguel’s bare skin under your fingertips, his large cock springing to life, bobbing angrily against his stomach. Your eyes sparkled at the sight. 
You shuffled down clumsily, gripping his cock and quickly spitting on it to lubricate it. It was hot and heavy in your hands, and your mouth watered, desperate for a taste. You wasted no time in devouring him, lapping at the sides and swirling around the fat head, his precome already coating your tongue. 
“Damn,” he groaned, his head propped up so he could get a proper view of you. He licked his lips, watching you suck his cock as if you’d never have the chance to taste him again. 
His fingers weaved into your hair, careful not to tug on the strands too hard. You set a vicious pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. His cock twitched in your hands when you began to jerk him, a sure sign that he was close, “You’re gonna make me come.” 
You hummed in response, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and gagging when he hit the back of your throat. 
“S-shit—” Miguel slammed your head down into his pelvis, his hips lifting slightly away from the ground as he came down your throat, his large load making you sputter over his cock. “Fuck.”
He was a panting mess, his eyes lidded as he watched you lap up the come that slipped past your mouth and onto his dick, making sure to clean him thoroughly. 
Before he could get a word out you straddled his lap, taking his hardening cock in hand and lining it up with your needy hole. 
You looked up at him for a second, searching his eyes for protest.
“Take what you need from me, hermosa.” He panted, his hands running up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Ride me.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. 
You cried out when you slammed down on his cock, the stretch of him intense but nothing you weren’t used to. Your greedy hole swallowed him, coating his shaft with your creamy juices as you began to ride him. 
You came within minutes, your body quivering and your cunt squeezing him tightly, gushing all over him. He was moaning beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm before he choked, filling your womb with thick ropes of white. 
Miguel lifted you up by the waist, your pussy fighting to hold onto him as his cock flopped out, his spend and yours dripping down your thighs and over his hips and abdomen. 
“M-Miguel,” you whined, your fingers searching between your legs to scoop up some of the mess, quickly shoving your digits in your mouth for a taste. You moaned around your fingers, your eyes fluttering at the taste of him mixed with your tanginess, creating a devilish mixture that had you craving more.
“Shit, baby,” Miguel groaned, his eyes trained on your mouth as you sucked on your fingers, searching for every last taste of him, “you okay?”
“I-I need more, I need you,” your core began to burn again after being left empty for only a few moments, “i-it still hurts.” You rubbed your soaked core over his cock, making it hard again. “Let me ride you again.” 
Miguel’s brow twitched, and with a grunt he sat up, holding you flush against his skin. He placed a kiss over your sweaty brow, pressing his nose in your hair to inhale the earthy scent.
“Let me take you home, preciosa. Please.” 
“I need you now.” Tears began to blur your vision once again as you looked up at him. His expression was one of concern as he held you close, his lips set in a tight line. You were never this whiny with him, ever. “It hurts.”
“I know it does, baby, I know. I’ll make it better, I promise, just let me take you home.” 
You allowed him to fiddle with your watch, pressing a few buttons to activate your suit before he activated his own. You were clawing at his shoulders as he lifted you in his arms, your nails hardly breaking the barrier of his suit but still sharp enough to cause discomfort.
He ignored it, summoning a portal as you shook in his arms, and took you home.
He came down your throat for a second time.
You’d been so eager to take his cock in your mouth again as soon as he brought you to his apartment, sucking him off until he felt he had nothing more left to give you. 
And for the second time, you rode him, bouncing over him with a vigor he didn’t know you had, making him come deep within your walls. Your pussy was a drooling, sticky mess, unsatiated with the number of times Miguel filled you. 
You shuddered as another orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs ached and trembled as you pulled away, covering his skin in his spend. 
It still wasn’t enough. 
Miguel lay motionless on his bed, his hair a matted, sweaty mess, his body spent from the number of orgasms you took from him. His hands fell from your waist when you shifted away, his tired gaze regarding the wild look in your eyes.
“Amor, please,” he hissed, his eyes screwing shut as you took his cock in your small hand, slapping it over your mound to awaken him for another round, “s’too much. You gotta let me—fuck.” You spit on his shaft, pumping him a few times and bringing him back to life. 
“I need you, Miguel, need your cock,” you whispered, feeling him twitch delightfully in your hand before lining him up over your ravenous cunt, and sinking down.
Miguel choked, his claws sinking into his sheets and causing tears in the delicate fabric. He brought his legs up, bending them at the knees, hoping to slow down your movements but you couldn’t be contained, riding him for all he was worth. 
You caught a glimpse of his fangs protruding past his lower lip, and that was enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, clamping down on him and causing him to cry out as he filled you (again) to the brim.  
When you replicated the same steps from before—pulling out and allowing him a second before attempting to stuff him back in you— Miguel stopped you, a crazed look in his eyes.
“No more,” he begged. You’d never heard him beg before. It sounded so pretty with the tiniest hint of vulnerability that had your cunt aching for more. 
“I-It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him, “one more, okay? One more.” 
You carefully sat on his large cock again, sinking down carefully.
And whenever he hissed and groaned, you ignored it.
When you woke up you were in the bath. 
The warm water smelled of lavender and jasmine, caressing your skin pleasantly.
Miguel loomed above you, hair wet and a white t-shirt clinging to his moist skin. He lathered a bath sponge in soap before lifting your arm, gently scrubbing your skin.
You blinked the sleep from your tired eyes, gazing up at him. He looked beautiful. His lips were pursed in concentration as he focused on each individual finger, making sure to scrub the grime from under your fingernails.
“Miguel?” You called to him quietly, your fingers twitching in his hand. His red eyes shifted to your face, the concerned look from earlier still plastered over his features. “Are you mad at me?” 
Miguel grunted, dropping your hand to dip the sponge in the water before taking up your other hand.
“My girlfriend’s an idiot,” he muttered, scrubbing away at your fingers. You frowned, sinking deeper into the water until your mouth was barely above the surface. Your body ached but your pussy ached more. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered sadly, “I thought I could handle it on my own.” Miguel heaved a sigh, urging you to sit up so that he could scrub your back.
“I know, baby,” he answered softly, “but I don’t want you doing that again, ¿me escuchas? You need to communicate with me.”
“I’m sorry,” you said again, your head hanging low in defeat. You didn’t know how much you’d slept, but you were still exhausted, your eyes heavy with the threat of sleep. 
Miguel grunted in response, before placing a kiss to your brow—his silent way of forgiving you.
“I told you to stay away from the daisies the last time we were there.”
“It was an accident.”
Another grunt from Miguel. 
“How are you feeling?” You asked, brushing a wet finger over the bulge on his briefs. He hissed, slapping your hand away.
“Off limits.” He snapped.
“Are you serious?” 
“Yes. I can’t count how many times you made me cum.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” 
“Cállate.” 
You giggled, carefully reaching up to place a kiss over his pouting lips. 
“Love you too, Miguel.”
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messylustt · 1 year ago
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݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ little red — miguel o’hara + reader: an innocent walk in the woods to your grandmother’s, with your red hood and basket turns a little different than expected.
contents : intended age gap. non con/dub con. dark!miggy. red riding hood au. kinda monster kink. primal kink. size kink wc 2.5k.
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the whole town had heard the stories. a monster who lived in the woods. woods that parents used to let their kids frolic in, now turned into a desolate area everyone steered clear of. there were the occasional hunters who brought back food for their families, but they never travelled too far past the less denser trees. a horror story. that’s what it was. one kids told others to freak them out in the dark. the beast with claws, fangs, and blood red eyes. he ate anyone who dared venture too far. at least that’s the story the townspeople were going with.
“oh please, there’s no such thing as that beast.” your mother says as she tucks your hair into your hood. your hands clutch a basket, filled with breads and pastries that you insisted on baking yourself. “now, head straight to grandmothers cottage. no dawdling.” she speaks sternly, knowing how easy your attention can sway. you nod, adjusting the red hood around yourself. your grandmother was sick. ill to the point of staying bedridden. she hadn’t wanted to die in this dirty town, as she had put it. she wanted to die peacefully, alone in the woods. your mother was against it, but ever since you were young every argument had always been won by your grandmother.
you make your way out the door, as your mother calls behind you ‘to be back before the sun sets’. you raise your hand to acknowledge her words as you continue on to the edge of the woods. you could hear the distant birds chirping, the woods looking far less scary than normally portrayed. the way the sun gleamed through the gaps between the trees was actually rather beautiful. with a growing smile you skipped over a small running lake, the wood’s animals darting away from your feet.
you made it through the first section of woods with ease, your lips pressed together in a hum. but the moment you edged into the shadier parts of the bush and shrub the singing birds had fallen silent. your own soft tune slowed too, as you gazed around. most hunters stopped here, where the denser trees casted heavier shadows. grandmothers cottage shouldn’t be far. she had chosen a spot in the midst of the forest, as far in as she could make it, without being too close to the fast rushing lake.
you switched hands, holding the basket as your feet softly slipped past large twigs, the grass now a dark shade as the sun became blocked by the heavy leaves. you spared a look up, seeing less animals scurrying about in the trees, and even less on the forest floor. and that’s when you hear it. the faint snap of a branch that has you spinning on your heels. but the moment you turn you’re pleasantly surprised to see a small patch of sunlight, almost acting like a spotlight on bundles of flowers.
the gorgeous colours made your feet move, crouching down as you brushed your hand over the different petals, the worry from the snap gone entirely. “she’d love some…” you speak to yourself, thinking of your grandmother. along with the bread, some flowers would do nicely. a pretty touch. don’t dawdle. you could hear your mothers voice. “it won’t take long.” you say softly, as you fully kneel and begin to pick some of the flowers. “what brings you here, little girl?” a low voice has you pausing, hand midway from picking a tulip. you swiftly turn on your knees and gaze up.
there, standing before you is a man. no…your eyes dart down to his flexing hands. claws. you shift your gaze back up to his slightly shadowed face. and as he takes a step closer to you your breathing gets caught. fangs and red eyes. you stare at him, your body seemingly frozen. “well?” he asks, his tongue moving to run along his lower lip as he stares down at you. you rush to a stance, quickly looking around for your basket. “you make these yourself?” he speaks again, and you shift your gaze back to him to see him holding up your basket.
you’re hesitant to grab it off him, hesitant to even speak. “you’re a quiet thing, aren’t you?” his tone has shifted a fraction. his view of you originally being ‘intruder’, now instead…something else. something…small. something that smells so so sweet. “can you…can you give that back please?” your voice is so soft. almost like a caress to him. this only makes him tighten his hold on your basket. he keeps his eyes on you as he grabs out one of your pastries. he takes a bite as you hold back your protest. “mm.” he hums, still keeping those red eyes on you. “so…sweet…delicious.” he licks the small crumbs off his lower lip, giving you another view of his fangs. his eyes haven’t strayed from you. and the way he stated those words of praise. you had an uncomfortable feeling that he wasn’t praising the food. you carefully reach over, stepping closer to take the basket off him. “those aren’t for you.”
he watches as you near, letting you take the basket. he then leans down to your height, making your body stiffen. “what a shame.” his hand moves up to brush away a strand of hair, before his claw flips your hood down. he drags that same claw over you cheek, just feeling your skin. “maybe i’ll just have to try something else.” at first you don’t catch the look of hunger in his eyes, before his hand is drawing you closer by your neck. with wide eyes, you try and struggle away from him. “no, please, you don’t have to eat me. i’m…i won’t taste very good.” you try and persuade him, thinking him licking his fangs is a sign that he wants to kill you.
but he just chuckles, slipping that hand at the back of your neck, down your spine, making you straighten. his claws slip past your dress and coat, softly scratching at your back as he draws you closer to his large frame. “eat you?” he practically coos. “why would i eat you?” he’s still stroking the skin of your cheek, before he tilts your chin further up. “because…because you’re a…monster.” you tilt your head further back to get away from his grip, but he’s then picking you up, hiking your skirt along your thighs as you gasp and instinctively grab onto his shoulders.
“now that’s a little rude. you don’t even know me.” he says, claws nearly sinking into your legs, keeping you straddled around him as you do your best to try and struggle free. “i know of you. the beast in the woods. the one who eats those who trespass.” you breath out, gripping the material of his shirt tighter as you wriggle. his grip on you only harshens at your movements, as he manhandles you over his shoulder. you screech, your hits on his back doing nothing. with the fast flip, and the state that your dress was already in, your panties are now on display. cute, innocent panties that have easily captured the attention of the monster.
he tilts his head as he stares at your covered pussy, his mouth already salivating. “maybe i do eat those who venture too far into the woods.” he plays along with your fear, as his hand pushes your dress even farther over your ass. “no—“ but your words cut short when you feel two claws run right down the middle of your panties. your hips shift as you bite your lower lip harshly. “please…” your anger has dissipated, leaving you with only your fear. ���begging already?” he coos, sticking his two claws right against where your entrance is. he can see the stain beginning to form. you’re soaked, and the sight makes his grip on you tighten.
he suddenly flips you back around, manhandling you onto the ground, where the shadows create a little nook. his hands are fast as he rips the cotton of your panties. “what are you—“ you try but choke on your words the minute the monster slips two of his fingers inside you. your legs shake as you push up on your elbows. the sound of his fingers going in and out of you is embarrassing. you grab at his wrist, your legs already shaking as you try not to succumb to the immediate pleasure you had begun to feel.
“n-no.” you breathe. “yes.” he breathes back, curling his fingers inside you. any further words are choked, as your lips part in a pathetic whimper. “aw.” he coos, now holding you down with his other hand on your stomach. “stop…no—god.” your pleas fall on deaf ears. “yeah…you’ll do nicely.” he hums, continuing to fuck you with his long fingers. too long, in your opinion. his claws scrap against your already sensitive insides, as you squirm on the ground.
your cheeks and nose are flushed, your mismatched breath almost egging him on. “stop squirming or maybe i will have to eat you.” those words have you pausing, fists clenching around the grass. “please…” you gulp out, stomach contracting. but all the beast does is finger you harder, pushing at your thighs so he can get a good look at what a mess he’s already made of you. and just as you’re about to cum, your legs shaking, he pulls away. this fact seems to make you squirm again, as he pushes you completely onto the ground, before fully hiking your dress up and over your breasts.
“i’m only inspecting you, sweetheart. not to give you pleasure. so, stay. still.” he speaks as his hands grab at your breasts, beginning to squeeze and fondle them as he pleases. he bounces them, while pinching your nipples, as you try to gulp down any arousal you still feel. “you’re a very pretty girl, aren’t you little red?” he hums, glancing at the red hood surrounding you on the ground. “tell me, why aren’t you some hunter looking to kill tiny animals?” he hums out as he keeps playing with your breasts, pushing them together, before circling your nipples.
through hard breathes you manage “i’m going to see my…my grandmother.” the monster grins. “with these breads? how sweet of you.” he coos, as he nudged your legs apart again, flicking at your clit experimentally, as he keeps playing with your tits. “i don’t usually get little things wandering into my forest. and certainly not this far in.” he then catches your gaze as he leans towards you. “now be a good girl f’me, and flip over.” he whispers, so close to your lips. after your pause he continues. “eating you is still an option. i haven’t had something delicious in a whi—“
but he’s cut off as you quickly turn around on the ground, his grip on your hips keeping them raised, as he grins. “that’s it…” you’re now pressed up against the grass, your ass stuck out for him as he taps at your pussy, making you jolt a fraction. “you’re rather tiny…” his tone gives away that he likes this fact, his fingers spreading your pussy lips as you then feel something hard pressed against your clit. you can’t see him, but can instantly tell what he’s about to do. you grip the grass again, looking for stability in this unstable situation.
from the taps of his cock against your pussy you can feel how weighted it is. the hint at his size making your fear accelerate. he then begins to push the head of his cock into your entrance making a small cry leave you. and once he begins to rut into you relentlessly, your body moving along the ground at his harsh thrusts, your mind turns dizzy. your lips parting as you claw at the grass, ripping out strands. “are you drooling, sweetheart?” he hums. “open your mouth wider, let me see.” he gazes at your face, pushed up against the ground, as he fucks you from behind.
you slowly open your mouth, as his fingers slip down and drag at the flesh of your inside bottom lip. ��just as soaked as your cunt is, huh?” he then begins to play with your tongue, coating your spit over his claws and fingers. “making such a mess.” he coos, as his balls slap against your clit making a small whimper fall past his fingers. his free hand grips your hair, pulling your head slightly back as his cock goes deeper, making you cry out, drooling even more over his fingers. “how bout this…” he says, a little breathless from how well your hole is taking him. “your grandma can have your breads and pastries.” he glances at the basket, haphazardly thrown to the side. “and i can have you.”
he sticks his fingers further into your mouth until you’re practically gagging, your tits bouncing as he thrusts his hips into you. “that sounds fair doesn’t it?” he’s nodding, licking at his lower lip as he murmurs “dios…” you can hear his breathing change, showing he’s getting close. as his cock twitches inside you, he pulls out, bringing you around to kneeling by the grip of his fingers in your mouth. he holds your mouth wide open as he rests his cock on your tongue. “give it a lick, little red.” he’s so close. with drool coating your lower lip in a shimmer, and his fingers hooked inside, you drag your tongue over the tip of his cock, as his hips shudder, finally spilling down your throat.
he makes a mess of your mouth, your only solution being to swallow. you gulp down as much as you can, though some spill out due to the unwavering grip of his fingers in your mouth. he stares down at you, a new emotion behind his eyes, that says more than a passing hunger. he grabs your chin and leans down to lick the remaining mix of cum and drool off your lips. your mind is reeling, this whole situation feeling like a fever dream.
“i’m sure your grandmother is worried about you.” he hums, running his thumb over your chin and swollen lips. “you should get going. and don’t forget the pretty flowers.” his words are far too sinister to make you stand with a skip in your step. as he soothes your dirty dress down and fixes your hood, his cock away as if nothing had happened. he hands you back your basket, your shaky hands gripping it. “now run along, little girl. and please do remember to visit your poor, sick grandmother more often.”
it was a demand. not a suggestion.
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theveryworstthing · 4 months ago
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on patreon Convoluted asked for Gender Plasma and Hypothemya mentioned gay heathen deities which summoned Strike, or Lady Stormfather if you're being formal, from the Small Guide world.
Strike is associated with ocean storms, hurricanes, ruined maps, strange new courses, terrifying beauty, shapeshifters, and generally wild sea phenomena near the surface of the water. She is commonly worshiped by queer sailors and seen as a symbol of queer exploration due to stories of Her ever shifting gender presentation whenever She takes human form (She uses she/her in god form purely because Girl Time is her favorite and mixes it up to fit her current human form the rest of the time) and how She's always as gay as possible no matter what she's shifted into. this doesn't have a lot to do with her powers, She's just Like That.
She also seems to reveal Her hidden havens to queer people more often. there are many tales of Her storms sweeping ships to islands that shouldn't exist, and the sailors who feel compelled to come ashore returning to the boat Changed by whatever blessings they find among the patches of glassy sand and the smell of lightning charred trees. some of the changes seem small. a bit of added confidence in their body language, a strange infectious lightness in their eyes like a great weight had been removed, the warm glow of of some satiated need dripping from their every movement. others seem grander, as they greet their old crew mates with altered bodies still flush from being shaped by the wind and rain and new names that taste like the air before a storm. some even come back with guests, emerging from the brush hand in hand with new lovers and friends, all with Lichtenberg figures etched into their skin and stray hairs unruly with static electricity.
some never come back at all. that's how it is with the sea sometimes. the ships are eventually driven back out by a fresh storm and lightning-bright eyes watch the departure from the dark between the trees.
random fun facts: Strike is one of Bathomet's casual on again, off again, paramours and Her sigil animal is a ribbon eel. this is why you'll find artwork of ribbon eels outside of things like seaside gay taverns or tattooed on coastal dwarves. Her favorite offerings are flower petals thrown into the wind right before a storm, shallow dishes of fruit juice or alcohol, and small pieces of metal, preferably silver or copper.
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peachsukii · 1 month ago
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This post made me think about putting a flower in Bakugo’s hair when walking through the park with him.
“Aww, look at all these little guys!” You point to the patch of flowers in the grass, bending at the knees to get a closer look. “So many pretty daisies, and its been awhile since I’ve seen a buttercup. Do you know why they’re called that?”
Bakugo sighs, knowing you’re gonna tell him regardless if he knows or not. “Dunno. Why?”
You grab one from the bunch and stand, moving to hold it under his jaw. “They say if you hold one right about here and it shows up yellow, that means you like butter!”
“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” he laughs, gently swatting your hand away when one of the petals tickles against his neck. “S’gonna be yellow no matter what ‘cause of the pollen, idiot.”
“I know,” you pout before turning away from him, kneeling to gather one of the white daisies nearby. “Something I used to do as a kid. We’d end up with yellow all over our cheeks and necks.”
‘Cute,’ Bakugo thinks to himself, smiling while watching you admire the flowers. He whips his head in the opposite direction before you catch him, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“C’mon, we’re gonna be late for lunch with the others.”
Before he can protest, he feels something slide over his right ear, your other hand lying softly on his shoulder as you concentrate on placing the flowers in his hair.
“Now you’re the prettiest flower in the park,” you whisper before placing a quick kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand from his pocket. Bakugo’s face flushes instantly, unsure how to respond to such a sweet gesture. He rips his hand out of your grasp and stomps over to the flowers, grabbing a few and returning to your side.
“Hold still,” he orders as he tucks your hair behind your ear, sticking the stems in place like bobby-pins. “There. Now you’re the prettiest flower.”
With a roll of your eyes, you pinch one of his cheeks lovingly and a big grin spread over your lips. “There’s plenty of room in the garden, Kats. We can both be pretty.”
The two of you continue to the cafe in the city to meet up with your friends, ignoring all their little jabs at how sickly cute you and Bakugo are with your matching flowers. He tells them to shut the hell up as he fidgets with the petals every so often during lunch, a comforting warmth flowing through him with each touch — a reminder that he’s loved unconditionally.
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