#spike x jess

[raisedbythetv89]

Me when the manipulative character manipulates irl viewers into ignoring all the bad and only seeing the good and then treating me like I’m the crazy one because I see through the manipulation and see the characters for who they really are instead of how they want to be perceived

[userlaylivia]

@maya-matlin, @nikkisgwens, @makeyouminemp3, @useragarfield, @nessa007

ps since some are tied i couldn't add zekaela, slexie, or a couple more but bellarke/stydia are tied at #2 on my otps list and spelivia/bughead are tied at #3 lol

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

For people with Hobie x OC ships:

Does your Hobie have bionic or genetic webs? I'm curious.

Also same for your oc? Bionic or genetic?

Also also does he let them wear his vest?

Thank you.

[satinestales]

can you write something like hobie ‘using’ reader (consensually ofc) and degrading her? no pressure if it’s too much :) thank youuu 🩷

cold rings | hobie brown x fem!reader

pairing: hobie brown x fem!reader

summary: porn without a plot

warnings: degradation, objefixation (mentions of being used), rough sex, little praising, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it kids), oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, hair pulling, teasing

author's note: First thing, I'd love to thank @hanasnx for correcting me and apologise for not crediting him first. I took a big inspiration from Indy's oneshot Moth To A Flame (Hobie Brown), and I definitely recommend you check out his blog out. I adore their writing <333

I solemnly believe Hobie is a sweetheart and a sub and loves to watch you do anything to him, but since he's a punk, there's a high chance he's into BDSM. Also, he was finally confirmed to be 20, so we're the same age woohoouu. Enjoy my try for a readable smut <333

m.list

You laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, shivering slightly as the chilly weather crept into your room, but the warm sunset light falling into your window provided some solace. You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets, leaning your body towards the tall figure sitting next to you.

The spikes on his bracelet met your skin, cold to the touch as he wrapped his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel his chin on the top of your head, pulling you closer to him, relaxing in his arms. He was warm, and the cold quickly left your body. You smiled, closing your eyes right before his hand slipped down your body to play with the hem of your tank top, twisting it between his fingers.

You couldn't bother to wear anything else than lavender-colored panties and a black tank top that didn't reach further than your ribs. You couldn't judge Hobie after he made fun of you for being cold. It was purely just your fault.

"Didn't Jess want us to be at the HQ by dusk?" You mumbled into Hobie's shoulder, carefully scanning his long fingers, now outlining the fabric of your panties, tickling your lower stomach.

"Prolly," he responded, you could hear him smiling while answering you. You knew Hobie for too long to know he doesn't do anything he's told to do. Unless it's you. Any words that come from your mouth, he is determined to fulfill. "Rather be with you, tho." Kissing the top of your head, his hand moved back up to sweep the hair strands falling into your eyes.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, lifting yourself on your arms to take a proper look at your companion. His legs manspreading on your bed like he owns the place, his right arm still laid out on the headboard, and a smirk on his lips. You had to hold back a smile, biting your cheek, and looking into his big brown eyes.

"Miguel will beat your ass," you uttered, sitting straight, your knees bent under you and touching his. "And mine." You added not amused by the boredom in his expression. You shared his annoyance towards the Spider Society, but you didn't want to get your ass beaten by a big-ass leader whose claws could tear anyone apart. You already tested his patience last time, and you weren't in the mood for another discussion of how useless you are.

"Babe, don't worry about it," He saw your smiley expression turn into a face of concern and decided to comfort you. He threw himself away from the board leaning towards you, grabbing your hands in his and caressing your palm with his thumb. "S'gon be okay and also, when did a little trouble scare you?" he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction.

"Never," you shook your head, adding a dramatic tone to your voice. You leaned to give Hobie a quick kiss on his lips before jumping out of the bed and walking around the room to find your suit. "But I don't wanna be sent home just because I didn't meet his stupid deadlines, Hobes." You spoke, bending down to open a box with your suit in it. Wrinkled and dirty from the last mission, you totally forgot to clean it. But this time, it was Hobie's fault after he dragged you into his place after you finished your mission to release some steam. He was partly the reason why your suit was torn up in certain places.

Hobie leaned back again against the headboard, arms behind his head as he enjoyed the view of you bending down, your panties barely covering your ass.

"I'll make you your own watch," he uttered, not taking his eyes off you as you turned around to face him, throwing your suit on the bed. "Let him kick you out, and we can visit each other any day." A smile played across his lips as he crawled to you, towering over you, and pulling you closer to him by holding your waist. You could feel his breath because of how close he was and his cold rings touching your lower back. You couldn't smile at his idea, lips forming into a light smile. You wanted to protest and say you can't afford it, but he shut you up by leaning into you, his lips meeting your ear. "I'd finally have proper time to take care of you," he whispered into your ear, his hand sliding down to grab your ass. Chills traveled down your spine as you heard his voice and the cold jewelry on his hands meeting your ass.

You couldn't help but moan at his action and be rewarded by Hobie's cocky smile and his hands traveling under your panties to hold your bare ass properly. As many times as Hobie touched you, it always felt like the first time. His long, slim fingers slid down your skin, playing with the hem of your clothes, playing with your hair, or fingering you while lying beneath him. You always ended up begging for more, and he devoured every sound you made.

Words began to form on your tongue but quickly again disappeared when Hobie attacked your neck and started leaving light kisses on your skin. You leaned into his touch, mind blank, forgetting about the suit ready on your bed, and Jess probably waiting for the both of you to show up. Now, all your thoughts were full of Hobie's lips, already on your collarbones, and his fingers still holding your ass.

"Hobie," a moan left your lips as he moved his hand up to pull away the straps of your tank top down your shoulders. He stopped all his movements, looking up at you with concern in his eyes. You bent down to give him a proper kiss, pushing him back against the mattress, your weight falling on his. Both of you let out a surprised gasp, his hands grabbing you more tightly than before.

"I'll stay," you whispered against his lips, lifting yourself to sit on your knees on his lap while he laid beneath you. You could see the sudden change in his face, a smile glowing on his lips. "But," He raised his eyebrows, confused and waiting for what you were about to say. His hands moved back to hold your ass, your already wet core so close to his reach.

"Remember last time? At the dorm?" you asked, hoping he'd remembered. But you doubted he would forget you beginning as he pounded into you against the wall and called you names, you'd be too ashamed to admit you like being called.

As expected, he tilted his head, scanning your face to find out if you were joking. When he decided you were not, he nodded his head. "Could never forget that," he joked, gripping your ass harder and pushing you against his growing crotch, gasp leaving your mouth.

You bent down, hands on his chest as you whispered against his full lips, your teeth gently tugging on his cold piercing. "I want you to do it again. Use me like you did back then." You closed your eyes as you felt his lips move against yours, his hands moving up to hold your waist.

"You sure?" he asked gently, wanting to know you're certain about your wish. You didn't waste any second and gripped his shirt, pulling yourself closer to his body. Hoping that serves as an answer.

You felt Hobie smile against you as the kiss deepened, growing more passionate and fuller of desire. You needed to feel his touch, his tongue, his fingers, his cold rings against your skin.

"Hobes, please," you whispered as his hands slipped up your tank top, caressing the skin of your underboob, teasing you. Testing how much you can take. His other hand traveled from your waist to find your hair, pulling them down so he could have more access to your neck. You let out a moan as he kept pulling your hair, holding your head thrown back. His lips attached to your neck, leaving wet trails as he moved down slowly.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice deeper and more demanding. It made your walls clench over nothing. His hand under your tank top finally moved up, your hard nipple meeting his cold rings. You gasped, closing your eyes, digging your nails into his thighs. His thumb ran over your nipple while still assaulting your neck with painfully slow kisses.

"Touch me, please." You begged between moans before you felt Hobie's lips move away from your neck and let off your hair. His brown eyes, now darker than a few minutes before, pupils dilated, stared back into yours, a smirk playing on his face.

"Barely done anything, and you're so needy already." Tilting his head, holding back a smile. His gaze fell, where your crotch met his, thoughts playing in his head.

"Pathetic," he mumbled to himself before grabbing you by the waist and throwing you under him, your back meeting your soft mattress. Hair spread on the bedsheets; legs spread for Hobie to fit in between. Your tank top slid up, exposing half of your boobs and if Hobie looked down, he could've seen the wet spot between your legs.

"You look a fucking mess." You watched him draw his fingers alongside your tank top, moving them down to meet the lace of your panties. You waited patiently for his next move, moving your hips against his hand for some friction. But he caught your action and pulled his hands away. You rolled your eyes at the frustration, pushing away the desire to finish this by yourself. But you asked for this, and Hobie always respected your wishes. No matter how twisted they were.

"Hobie, please just," Your tone was filled with annoyance, which made Hobie laugh, admiring how needy and beautiful you were for him. Lying there, leg spread out, tits out, waiting to be fucked like a whore.

"I'm gonna do what I want," he grabbed your cheeks, eyes staring into your soul. "And you will take it." His dominant voice traveled straight to your core, wanting nothing else than to be filled by him. Nodding your head, you didn't protest and let Hobie place his fingers back on your skin, teasing you for minutes before his fingers finally landed at your inner thighs. You were now sure he saw how wet you are, dripping through the panties.

"Fuck," he let out a sigh when he saw the mess you made on your underwear. "You're so predictable." His laugh filled the room followed by a gasp when his fingers touched your clothed cunt.

"D'you like it?" He raised his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off of your cunt. You nodded to answer his question, gripping the bed sheet from the frustration you felt. If Hobie won’t pleasure in the next few minutes you swear you were going to go crazy and do it yourself. Your irritation wasn’t hard to see and Hobie decide to spare you from the torture. You could barely catch him kneeling and ripping of your panties, throwing them away to the pile of clothes from earlier days. Your wet cunt now revealed to him and exposed to the chilly air in the room.

“Fuck,” he breathed out his hands spreading your legs further from each other. You lifted your head to watch him, finding him laying between your legs and taking one of his bigger rings, holding it between his thumb and his middle finger. You were confused at first as to why he took it off until you felt him slide it down your dripping clit. The coldness of the ring sent shivers down your spine and made you tremble.

“Jesus, Hobie.” You gasped, his cold ring still touching your slit. Head falling into the pillows you let yourself relax while Hobie kept working on your cunt with his ring. You could feel his breath, his lips, and his tongue so close to your soaked clit.

Hobie liked seeing you struggle under his touch, but he couldn’t feel sad for torturing you, so he quickly pressed his lips against you, drawing a moan out of you. He could drown between your legs, thighs crushing him. As if you already weren’t a mess, he added a finger, circling your wet core to coax it to loosen. “When you’re away I daydream about this.” His deep voice sent vibrations through your cunt, making you groan his name out. He took advantage of you being distracted by his words to shove his finger inside of you, your moans spreading across the room. His tongue stopped the movements on your clit, quickly being replaced by his thumb. As much as he loved tasting you and devouring your cunt, he wanted to watch you quiver underneath him. Under his fingers. So needy to be fulfilled.

Adding another finger to stretch you out, you grab his arm to stable yourself as your eye roll to the back of your head, overwhelmed by his finger pumping in and out of you. “Like it? Fucking your cunt with my fingers?” he asked, mockingly, smiling at you trembling, all because of his fingers.

“Yes, fuck.” You cried out, Hobie’s fingers speeding, curing inside of you hitting all the right stops. He was sure people outside the apartment could hear your cries, and he loved the idea of them knowing you were getting fucked and used by him. All his to take.

“So desperate,” he laughs at you, stopping his fingers but leaving them inside of you. Your head flew up, your face filled with confusion and frustration. You were so close, he could feel it, but he decided to let you cum only around his cock. He made the decisions tonight. You did as he said.

Without answering he took you by the waist and turned you around, on all fours, ass up. You tried to calm your breath and compose yourself, mad he didn’t let you cum. You felt the heat in your stomach fading away as you waited for Hobie to take you. You practically begged for him, crying for his dick to fill you up.

“Music to my ears.” He whispered into your ear, moving back behind you, admiring the view. Your ass ready to be fucked, your cunt wet, walls clenching around nothing. “All mine,” he murmured, and you could hear him playing with his belt, his pants falling to the floor.

“Yours.” You confirmed, resting your head on your hands, pleading for him to finally fuck you and use your cunt like he did many nights ago. You know he’s just toying with you, testing your patience which is about to run out. You hear his silent laugh and the next thing you know; his cock is spreading you out, deep inside of your cunt. The delicious stretch draws a moan out of you, your head covered in the pillows.

He waits for a few seconds, letting you adjust him before he starts thrusting into you, slowly starting to pick up speed. His hands on your waist, cold rings touching your skin, and his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck, could do this all day.” He moans, his thrusts becoming faster and rougher. "Feels good?" he asks as he leans in to grab your hair and pull it back. "Getting fucked by me." He continues, not stopping fucking you hard, his thick cock spreading you out, tears streaming down your face from the pleasure. You couldn't even speak, as his cock kept sliding in and out of you, only focused on how good he felt inside of you.

"Like being used by me, huh." He knew you loved it. He knew how much you liked being called degradatory names, letting him spread your cunt and fuck you senseless. One of your favorite thing to do.

"Yes, Hobie," you screamed out as his cock hit your cervix hard, deeper now than ever before. His one hand still pulls your hair as his other keep your ass in place so he can pound into you like crazy. "Fucking love it when you use me like that." You let out between moans, closing your eyes,

"Fucking whore," He doesn't stop as he slides his finger under your belly to feel himself in you. The pressure of it makes your walls clench, orgasm approaching. You don't even notice his hand moves down until you feel him rubbing your sensitive clit. You were still so wet, basically dripping to the bedsheets.

"Such a good whore for taking my cock like that," he says out loud, pulling you up to press your back against his chest. His hand quickly travels up to hold your bouncing tits, playing with your nipples as he fucks into you deeper, knowing he's gonna cum soon too. "Your pussy feels so good around me." Whispering in your ear, biting into your earlobe. His cold piercing tickles your neck, making you shiver. You feel overstimulated, but it only brings you closer to your peak.

"Your fucking whore. Fuck me like your personal toy." Tears coming down from your eyes, enjoying the way Hobie fucks you like you're his personal sex toy. Like you're his possession and only he can fuck you like that.

"That's right, you're mine. Mine to take and fuck." He growls into your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy, alerting you he's close to orgasm. And you are too, as your knees start to give up and your body weakens, under Hobie's restless cock spreading you out fast and hard.

"Fill me up, Hobie." As on command, he cums into you, filling you up with his seed. You follow him right after, falling back to your bed, letting the pleasure take over. Hobie doesn't hold you anymore and lets your knees give up on you. His cum dripping down from your cunt mixed with your own. Ass red, hair, messy, and nail marks on your hips. Marked as his. Mark as his to take.

You lay there for a few minutes, the body still trembling from the hard orgasm, until you feel Hobie fall next to you, cloth in his hands. He also looks tired, his cheeks red and eyes lighter now. You lift yourself to move closer to him, your lips meeting his.

"Thank you, Hobes." Smiling against his lips, you feel his hand move to your lower back.

"Ask more often, please. Feels fucking awesome." He jokes, now playing with your sweaty hair, which reminds him. "Look like shit, we need a shower."

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Hi! Just here to say that i loved What's in Between so much and i truly was meltinggg with part II 💕💕💕

I've never requested anything before and I don't rlly know how this works so it's all good if you decide no to write this one, but for the request: is it possible for it to be a hurt/comfort, Miguel x reader with the prompt "Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer"?

𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a regular mission on any normal day at Spider Society, but momentary distractions are costly and you may have just paid the ultimate price.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, BUT IT GETS SOFT I PROMISE.

“Miguel!” you say, bounding up to him with a pep in your step. He looks down at you with a small smile on his face, but it disappears as Jess glances over at him.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be stoic all the time, how long have we known each other?” She asks, and he only rolls his eyes.

“This isn’t pretending,” he says to her before turning back to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Always.”

Today was like any normal day at Spider Society, filled with missions to protect the canon of the multiverse. Albeit a little different, because it wasn’t too often that you were able to go on a mission with Miguel. He typically went on them alone, working best without distractions. But whenever he needed a partner you were his first choice.

With one last glance at each other (and a wink that makes Miguel snort) you both head through the portal.

It never gets tiring, travelling to a different dimension. What’s fascinating is the in-between, swirls of bright oranges, reds and blues all as an interconnected web between all possible universes in the multiverse. You get lost in the view, which is probably why you never realize that at the same time, Miguel gets lost in you.

After a little bit, you both emerge on the other side.

“That never gets old,” you grin at him.

“No…no, it doesn’t,” he says, his eyes trailing over your form for a moment.

“So, what’s the deal with this universe today?” you ask, and Miguel huffs softly.

“You would know if you ever listened to the mission briefings,” he says, giving you a side-eye as you both walk around the abandoned factory.

“Why do I need to listen when you’d just tell me anyway, love?” you ask, and he only sighs.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have to say it twice, amor,” he mocks and you laugh out loud. Your laughter is contagious because Miguel lets out a chuckle himself before continuing.

“She’s a villain from Earth-17502, her main weapons are wooden spikes that emerge from her back and a pistol. What she lacks in speed she has in brute force, and the spikes can be shot out at 100km per hour, regenerated with hammerspace,” he explains.

“So like…a demented Sonic the Hedgehog?” you snicker.

“What? No, I just said she wasn’t fast,” he says, confused.

“No wait, a demented porcupine,” you say, and he only snorts. “Sure, querida.”

“Ugh, disgusting. Romance,” a disembodied voice interrupts, and the two of you immediately go on the defence. From the shadows emerges said villain in question, a cruel expression on her face as she readies her pistol by her side.

Without warning she begins shooting, but the two of you are fast and in sync, splitting off and slinging away with your webs.

“Look bud, I’m sorry that your love life is sad but don’t take it out on us!” You shout, swinging around with a relaxed look on your face.

She only lets out a growl, continuing to shoot at you to no avail. Behind her, Miguel is making his own advance, but like a triggered trap her spikes shoot out before he can get too close.

“Shit!” he says, leaping out of the way just in time.

“It wouldn’t do you well to sneak up on me, little one,” she laughs cruelly. “Wouldn’t want to get skewered!”

Now it's a game of ‘try to avoid the bullets and the spikes flying in all directions at once’, and it seemed like you were at a stalemate.

“There’s no way to get close to her!” you say frustratedly, leaping from pillar to pillar as you continue to evade her bullets. It seemed her frustration seemed to reach a peak as well as she lets out a shout, unable to hit her marks. You move down to the floor, trying a new approach from the ground.

“We’ll figure it out, we always do,” Miguel reassures, and you let out a little smile.

But in that minuscule second of distraction the villain finds an opening, and before you know it a spike is flying straight for you with no time to evade it.

“NO!!” you hear him shout, but it was already too late. All the while, the villain only laughs in the face of your anguish. The spike impales your side, and for a few breathless moments, you don’t even feel it, as though it was nothing more than a punch to the side, a bit of pressure. The adrenaline pumping through your veins does its job of allowing you to not feel the pain.

But as you stumble slightly, it starts to settle in. All at once the searing hot pain hits you like a train, and you collapse to your knees, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

Every breath you take becomes more difficult than the last as a ringing fills your ears.

In front of you, Miguel fights with a new vigour you had never seen in him before, claws slashing and webs flying. Each action is served with purpose and no restraint on his strength, and the villain can no longer keep up. But before long your vision starts to fail you as well, closing in on your line of sight as you collapse onto your side with a wheeze. What felt like an eternity was in reality only maybe 30 seconds, but you were so, so tired.

Out of the corner of his eye Miguel sees you collapse, and all he sees is red. Before he can realize it his fangs are out, and he bites through the villain’s neck effectively paralyzing them instantly.

Within moments he is by your side, scooping you up into his arms as you blink blearily up at him.

“LYLA, SEND BACKUP NOW,” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end and for once there is no funny banter between the two of them as she does his orders immediately.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Slowly you feel your eyes begin to close, but he shouts your name.

"Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open, just a little longer,” he begs, clutching you close. You’ve never heard his voice so broken, not even when he told you about his past.

“It-” you gasp. “It hurts so bad, Miguel,” your voice weak with pain.

He looks at you with panic and fear, but most of all a feeling of helplessness.

“Querida, come on. You’re strong, mi vida. Stay with me, alright?” he says, his hand gently brushing your hair back before he scoops you up, carrying you in his arms.

You can’t help but cry out in pain as he does, the spike digging deeper into your side.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, moving as fast toward the portal Jess had just opened up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need to get you to the infirmary, alright? You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay,” he says, trying desperately to believe it himself.

But he doesn’t know anymore. You’ve lost too much blood, the injury too serious.

It throws him back to when he was carrying his daughter like this, frantically running as the world falls apart around him.

But this time it was you. His light, the best to have ever happened to him amongst the infinite possibilities throughout the multiverse, the one person that managed to pull him out of the pit he had fallen into after the destruction of his daughter’s world.

You were his salvation…and he was about to lose you.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say softly, before you let out a violent cough. “In case…in case I’m not here to say it anymore.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. You’ll be able to say it a million more times, alright querida? A million more, and even then it won’t be enough,” he says, but you can’t hear him anymore. You can’t even make out his beautiful face so broken in anguish.

All you can see are the colours of the space between the universes. The oranges, reds and blues.

~

You didn’t think death would be so cold and monotonous. You weren’t exactly sure if you believed in the concept of ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’, the Fields of Elysium were probably closer to what you expected the afterlife to be like. But you definitely didn’t expect it to be so…bland.

It was like an endless void you walked through, no warmth, no ‘light’ to go towards, just you and your thoughts.

Your thoughts.

Miguel.

The guilt hits you like a tidal wave at the fact that you left him alone. Another person was ripped from his grasp by the hands of fate. You couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, and you did just that by leaving him behind. Even though you promised each other forever on your wedding day, here you were breaking that promise.

You couldn’t find the strength in your legs to continue walking aimlessly anymore. Like that fight in the factory, you fell to your knees, not because of your injury but because of the pain you felt in your heart for hurting the one you loved the most.

You remember his face as he held you in his arms, pleading for you to stay.

He was so warm. He always was.

You missed him.

“Miguel…” you whisper. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind,” you sob.

~

~

~

“Don’t leave me, querida,” a voice says, far off in the distance. Your head whips up at the sound, and you look around desperately trying to hear it again.

“Please…please, I can’t. I can’t do this without you,” the voice says, and in an instant you’re back on your feet following the sound.

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me, vida mía. Somehow loving me in spite of my brokenness. I don’t…I don’t know how to live without you by my side.” You’re running toward the voice now, running through the darkness with it as your guide.

“Don’t leave me…” the voice whispers before fading away, leaving you with nothing to follow anymore.

“NO!” you shout, and before you know it your webs are shooting out from your wrists, catching onto something, and then you’re swinging forward into the unknown.

~

Your hearing is the first of your senses to return, the steady beat of the heart rate monitor gratingly irritating after a while. It was ironic considering it was the first to disappear when you first got injured.

Next is your touch. You feel the weight of the hospital blankets, scratchy but warm.

Not as warm as the hand that grasped your own though, holding it tight.

Your sense of smell and taste come back around the same time, the sterile scent of the hospital unfamiliar, your mouth dry.

The last is your sight. Granted it was a bit difficult to see with your eyes closed, but you hadn’t quite found the strength to open them until now.

Blearily you blink as the bright lights temporarily blind you, but your attention isn’t on them for long. Instead, you turn to Miguel who sits staring at you in shock, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

“Hi,” you say softly, and he only blinks once before his forehead is pressed to your thigh, a broken sob escaping his throat. He grasps your hand all the tighter, as though he was never going to let go.

It makes you almost want to cry too, but instead you lift your arm up weakly before running it through his hair the way you knew he loved.

“I thought, I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, his face still pressed into your leg. He says it so quietly that you can barely hear him, like if he uttered the words too loudly they would come true.

“I could never leave you, my love,” you say. “I have to say ‘I love you’ a million times before then, remember? Or was it a billion?” He can’t help but chuckle, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

He looked exhausted, his usual dark circles darker than usual, his red eyes bloodshot. But he looked so, so relieved.

“No amount of times could ever be enough, vida mía,” he says before pressing his lips to yours.

You both smile into the kiss of a thousand swirling emotions, a million words left unsaid but you both understood even despite it all.

“Guess I’ll just have to get started then,” you say with a grin as you pull away.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say.

“I love you, querida,” he says in turn.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@phobia0325, @remuslupinwifeee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @alcinas-darling-side

A/N: Was thinking of leaving it on a cliffhanger, thought that would be too cruel LMAO. Thank you for reading! And thank you for requesting, anon <3 I had fun with this one hehe

[tomblythismyhusband]

i hate you [ billy the kid x fem!reader ]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!cowgirl!reader | You had always hated Billy, ever since you joined the gang of cowboys. You had always assumed he hated you too until he makes a move you never would’ve expected.

[warnings]: 18+, smut, gun play, language, slight blood

[wc]: 2.5k

[note]: [ requests are open please feel free to request any kinda fic]

The low lit glow of the porch casted shadows on the face you couldn’t help but despise. Oh how you hated his smug grin, his brown curls, even his name sent a spike of annoyance up your spine.

“What ya want Billy?” You grumbled, lounging in an old wooden rocking chair. You even hated the way your mouth shaped to welcome the sound of his name.

The sound of cowboys laughing and drinking could be heard from inside the ranch house you were residing at. You were on the run with them, Jesse Evans as the leader.

You had taken a liking to Jesse, he made you feel safe. He would never betray you and you knew that. Trust was not something easy to come by, especially running with a group of outlaws.

Out of all the boys in the group everyone was sweet to you, like real gentlemen, except Billy. Not that you expected it from him, you weren’t the kind of girl who needed to be praised.

The problem with Billy is that he purposely went out of his way to make your life living hell. Stealing your rounds of bullets, giving you dirty looks, and always voicing snide remarks. You weren’t sure what his deal was or what you had done to deserve this.

Of course all his actions earned retaliation back from you. You didn’t shy away from speaking down to him and giving him cold glances in return. He didn’t get to disrespect you like that, you wouldn’t let him, no matter how attractive he was. Which was another thing you hated to admit. How gorgeous he was. His strong jaw, gleaming blue eyes and broad shoulders would be easily admirable if it weren’t for his shitty personality.

Billy strode closer to you, floorboards creaking under his steps. You knew he wanted to intimidate you. You were alone on the porch, the night sky glowing a faint blue. Things never ended well when the two of you were left together, usually one of you ends up injured and the other pissed.

Taking a sharp breath, you tried to calm your already stirring thoughts about snapping at him.

“Whatcha doin out here all alone?” He drawled, eyes glistening with mischief.

“Trying to avoid you, but that clearly ain’t workin.” You mumbled, placing your hand lightly over the gun at your side. You decided you had no time for his bullshit. Not tonight.

He let out a chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now what could’ve I done now? I’ve said about 5 words to you.”

He leaned slightly closer. “And really? Reachin’ for your gun already? How mature.”

You felt his eyes peering down at you as you stared out to the night sky, trying to ignore his presence. You let out a deep sigh.

“Are you just here to piss me off or what?” You spat, sitting up now.

Billy threw his hands up, stepping back, an amused look still pulling at his lips . You wanted to slap that smug grin right off his pretty face.

“Woah there cowgirl.” He chuckled as he watched you stand up, shooting him a glare.

“I want to enjoy my evenin’ without you botherin’ me.” You said sharply. You didn’t want to spend a minute longer alone with him.

He gave another chuckle that instantly made your blood boil. “Fuckin’ insane how bitchy you are.”

You brushed off his comment as you angrily strode past him into the house, bumping against his shoulder. You ignored all the hoots and hollers from the guys - they were calling you to join their game of cards but you were uninterested.

You clomped up the wooden stairs, boots feeling heavy after a long day. All you wanted to do was relax and of course Billy had to ruin it all. You didn’t want to see him, hear his raspy voice, or feel his blue eyes on you.

When you got to your room you shut the door and started to pull off your boots. Might as well go to bed. You pulled out your hair from the neat side braid it originally was in, combing through it. You let out a puff of air. Finally your body was starting to relax, your muscles relieving from tension.

You tried to get Billy out of your head. ‘Stop letting him have so much power, he’s just a guy’ You thought to yourself as you sat down in the bed, feeling a bit sleepy.

You were about to lay down when all of a sudden your door swung open, a cowboy stepping inside before shutting the door behind him again. You blinked as rage started to seep in your nerves.

Billy.

Fed up with his shit you pounced up, slamming him against the door, gun drawn. Your arm was placed to his neck while your other hand gripped the handle of your revolver. “What the fuck is it now?” You growled, eyes darting to search his face for any sign of fear.

To your disappointment you found none, only amusement. He always thought everything was so fucking funny. Was this all just a game to him?

His eyes flicked down to your arm which was pressed firmly against his throat. “Sorry jus’ came to talk.” He murmured.

His arms stayed by his side which made you realize he wasn’t fighting back. Why the hell wasn’t he fighting back? If the roles were reversed and he were to do this to you would’ve fought back in an instant.

Your grip on your gun slightly loosened. “About what? I’ve clearly told you I ain’t in a mood for talkin’.”

His eyes met yours, causing conflicting feelings in your body. You could smell the faint stench of whiskey from his breath. Was he drunk? Is that why is came clamoring in here?

“I came to apologize for how I act towards ya.” He said calmly. His usual smug grin was replaced by a serious expression. “I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

You were taken back by his statement, your breath slowing. “What the hell do you mean you're sorry? You’ve been tormentin’ me ever since I joined this gang.”

His intense gaze never left your face. He looked as if he had something he was holding back.

“It’s because I hate you.”

You let out a scoff. “Well I fuckin’ hate you too, glad we have somethin’ in common.”

A smug grin pulled at his lips again. “I hate that all I can ever think about is you.”

All of a sudden your face flooded with heat. The way he had said that sentence was slow, thoughtful, seductive? You felt stunned.

He seemed to enjoy your embarrassment, staring at your eyes as you avoided his gaze.

You leaned in closer finally, your arm still firmly against his neck still as he stood pressed up against the wooden door.

“What are you talking about?” You said in a whisper. His breath tickled your nose. This was definitely the closest you had ever been to him. A part of you honestly enjoyed it.

You felt his hands grab your hips, pulling them flush against his own. You tried to ignore the gun at his side digging into your thigh. Heart thumping, you pushed down the feelings in your tummy as you stared up at him, breath ragged.

“I think you know what I’m talkin’ about. Your clever.” He said quietly.

He was right, you knew exactly what he meant.

“So what? You’ve been crushin’ on me?”

You feel swirly inside. Being this close to him, feeling his hands on you, you should be pushing him away but you aren’t. Why not?

“Trust me. I’ve tried to kill these feelings, doll.” He replied roughly. His fingers tightened their grip around your hips making you gasp. You had lowered your arm from his neck now.

“I thought you hated me.” You said again in disbelief. His smirk grew as he leaned in close to your ear. His breath warmed your cheek as you shuttered.

“I hate how badly I want you.” He whispered.

Your anger had melted away into a feeling you couldn’t understand. Why was he doing this now?

“Wha- Billy are you out of your fucking mind?” You whispered lowly. Pushing out the feelings of lust in your body you took your hand and pushed his head back against the door. He tilted his head, curls brushing over his forehead as he smirked.

“Fine. I’ll leave you be then. Just offerin’.”

You hated this. Hated how you didn’t want him to go. Hated how his words affected you.

He slid his hands off of your hips, giving you a nod. Panicked, you grabbed his hand. It was like your body was under his control.

“Wait Billy. Don’t go.” You whispered.

You hated him. Right? Then why did you feel like this? Why was your stomach fluttering, your breath short, your heart pumping so goddamn loud?

He looked at you, studying your face. “I would never force a woman to do anything she didn't want to do. I’m leaving.”

Did you want him? What was going on? You couldn’t think straight.

“Well what if I do want to?” You asked, a little harsher than you intended.

“Do you fight about every fuckin’ thing, doll?” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

Fed up and full of lust you grabbed his face, mashing your lips against his. It was like your body was moving and acting on its own, why were you kissing the man you’d despised?

Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

He let out a surprised gasp into your mouth as he wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you close to him again. Billy’s lips were soft, inviting, intoxicating.

“Mmmph- Fuck doll.” He mumbled into your lips. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You dropped your gun, sending it clacking to the ground as your hands flew up to tangle themselves in his hair. Your eyes were squeezed shut as your mouth molded into his perfectly. Almost too perfectly. It felt as if his lips were made just for you to kiss.

Billy stuck out his knee, placing it between your thighs, digging into your now throbbing cunt. You let out a soft moan tilting your head back as his mouth traveled down your neck.

“Like that, doll?” He teased, his teeth grazing against the skin of your neck. You let out another soft moan as his knee grinded against your clit through the fabric of your clothes.

“I still hate you.” You breathed, though your body was obviously telling a different story.

Billy’s hands slid up your waist, hands under your shirt. You felt his rough hands squeezing and caressing your body as he kissed your neck. As much as you hated to admit it, you were in heaven. You hadn’t been touched like this in so long.

“I need more.” You sighed, as you rode his knee, it wasn’t enough to give you the mind shattering orgasm you so desperately wanted.

You felt Billy nip at your neck, his lips in a small smirk. “Someone’s needy.”

“Billy please.” You begged. You were finally giving in to him, all you wanted was his hands and lips all over you.

He smiled as he moved you backwards so you could walk over and flop down on the bed. You started to frantically undo the buttons of your shirt. Billy was doing the same, sliding his suspenders down his shoulders, pulling off his shirt.

You kept undressing till you were bare, and so was he. Billy’s cock stood erect making your heart beat faster and your thoughts swirl around with desire.

He was gorgeous.

Billy seemed to be looking at your own body, noticing each delicate curve, each scar and bruise.

“Wow doll, you’ve got to walk around naked more often.” He teased, climbing on top of you.

“Your funny.” You replied pulling him closer so his lips were against yours again. The sweet taste of whiskey from his mouth made you feel dizzy as he kissed you harder.

“I need you.” You mumbled into his mouth, tired of just kissing. You needed all of him. Desperately.

“Maybe I should just leave now… leave you a hot mess” He said as you kissed him. You bit his lip at this, making him grunt.

He pulled away from you, wiping his mouth, examining the tiny smear of blood that came from his bottom lip.

“That’s how you want it darlin’?”

He gave a low chuckle, still looking at the blood. He didn’t seem mad, only more turned on. You bit your lip staring up at him. He hooked his arms under your thighs unexpectedly, making you yelp.

With your bare pussy now on display to him he let out a low groan.

You let out muffled whimpers as he prodded his tip at the entrance, making your stomach twist and turn.

“I want to hear you beg.” He said, a smug grin on his face. You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“Billy you-“ You whined before you got rudely cut off again.

“Beg for it cowgirl.” He said fiercely. You felt his hands squeeze your thighs. You wanted him so bad now, you were desperate at this point. So when mumbled begs fell off your lips he smirked in triumph at your submission. You were giddy with anticipation as Billy finally sunk into you.

You let out a soft gasp, as his cock filled your aching cunt. His size was bigger than you expected. You had always assumed he acted like an asshole because he was compensating for having a small dick. Clearly you were wrong.

He started to move in and out of you roughly, stretching you out. He definitely was not going easy on you.

Your hands gripped the sheets as the waves of pleasure coursed through your entire body. Each stroke moving you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Mm- Fuck- Right there.” You moaned as he pounded into you.

Billy gently set down your legs, shifting your body so his mouth could reach your lips again as he continued to make deep thrusts into you.

“You feel so good.” Billy choked out, his mouth now nipping at your neck.

You felt the knot in your gut tighten and tighten, signaling that you were reaching your limit. Your hands flew up to grip his shoulders, which were already slick with sweat. He moved his cock in and out, hitting your g-spot perfectly. The feeling of his skin against yours was heavenly.

“Billy- I’m-“ You whimpered.

“I know sweetheart, I’m almost there, hold on.” He said gruffly as he thrusted against you even harder. Your body shook violently as pure pleasure pulsed through your nerves. The tightness in your gut melted away as you reached the edge.

Billy felt your cunt squeeze around him as you orgasmed, letting out a muffled cry.

“Oh- Fuck y/n.” Billy moaned. His thrusts became sloppy, his body hot as he pulled away. He came on your belly, creating a mess of warm milky substance.

You both laid there breathing heavily for a moment. Billy was still propped over you, placing his forehead against yours.

“Fuck doll..” He murmured. His eyes flicked around your face as you still laid there shaking and breathless.

Noticing how much you were shaken up Billy’s lips spread into a smirk.

“Well this is one way of shutting you up.” He teased.

He leaned down to kiss you as you mumbled “I Hate you still.” Against his lips.

He pulled back, a smug grin on his face.

“I’ll let you hate me as much as you want darlin’ if this is what it gets me in the end.”

[gnreadergames]

Find Something to Wrap Your Noose Around (pt 1)

Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Plot: Miguel gets tapped with a poison that makes him feral. His relationship with the reader is a stake…but neither want to give up that easily.

Cw: Angst! It gets better in later parts though…

WC: 2820

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

There was a harsh slam from the front of the apartment.

From your place in the back bedroom, folding fresh laundry, you jumped. Miguel must be home. He must’ve had a bad day.

Lyla confirms your suspicions when she pops up next to you, giving you half as large of a scare.

“Jesu-“ you clutch your heart, “Lyla you can’t ju- whatever- is he alright?” You ask, quietly as you can because you know Miguel will pick up anything he can focus on across this apartment and even through the walls with his heightened senses.

Lyla shakes her head, and your stomach drops. He’s either pissed or hurt. Or both.

You abandon the laundry to seek a more important goal.

You find Miguel clutching the kitchen island. His knuckles are torn through the suit, something hard to do with the nearly impenetrable fabric. You can see other tears littering the surface of his torso and powerful legs. You swallow.

It’s never usually this bad.

“Miggy…” you say, quietly. “What happened honey?”

He doesn’t respond so you decide to gently, slowly reach a hand out to touch his shoulder. But before you can even make contact he whips around towards you and leaps with a feral snarl.

“MIGUE-“ you can’t even get through the scream of his name before he’s on top of you, red eyes glowing and fangs popping out even longer than they usually seem. His talons sink into your thin flesh and for a minute you genuinely think you’re about to die, here on the floor of Miguel’s kitchen on some average Tuesday.

Lyla has thought ahead though, and at that moment a light flashes in your peripherals a swirling portal of blue and orange. Before you can turn to look, the weight of Miguel is thrown off you to the side and a loud crack echoes across the apartment as his back meets the side of the island with a harsh dent.

Three people hop out of, what you can only assume, is a portal.

A tall man with brown hair, a 5 o'clock shadow and a small red headed child strapped to his chest, a very pretty very pregnant taller woman, and a smaller girl with blonde choppy hair all fold out in a line.

You’re still not sure what’s happening, and your brain is on too much adrenaline to think of anything other than the immediate danger right now.

Somehow, your sweet, caring, and sometimes grumpy boyfriend has become some sort of…feral killing machine.

You realize suddenly that you’re practically hyperventilating as Lyla stands over you and snaps a few times, calling your name.

“Y/N…Y/N!” She says. Her glowing form is painful to look at right now but not as painful as the shallow cuts on your arms from Miguel’s claws. You belatedly realize you’re bleeding when the younger blonde woman comes over and crouches beside Lyla to inspect your arms.

“Peter, they’re bleeding.” She calls back to the man, Peter, you assume. You glance in that direction to see him and the other woman standing over Miguel.

“What's happen-“ you try to sit up but your head spins.

‘Minorly concussed’ Lyla explains. Which also explains why you’re pretty sure you’re seeing other Spider-people right now.

Unless everything has just suddenly gotten weird.

It seems it can only keep getting worse though, as it’s then you realize that Miguel could be getting back up any minute. You turn your head sharply with a twinge of hot pain up your neck as your heart rate spikes at the thought of the experience you just had happening again.

Your fears are quelled though once you see that Peter and the other woman, Jess, you learn from the blonde one talking to her too, have Miguel in some sort of cuff like contraption he struggles against.

He’s also muzzled. You’d almost laugh if he hadn’t tried to kill you a few minutes ago.

The baby on Peter’s chest babbles and yeah, you’re definitely seeing things now because this is just so bizzare you can’t imagine how you had gotten dragged into this.

Suddenly, a large and lanky man with a scary looking Mohawk of spikes steps through the still glowing circle in your wall.

Lovely. More of them.

Peter and the man talk for a second and then you see the scary man look towards you.

No. No.

Whatever is about to happen you’re not on board with it as this strange man hoists you bridal style like you weigh nothing. You’d attempt to fight back if you had any strength left in you, but the further you get towards the glowing portal the more your brain begs for sleep.

As the man steps through, you drift off into a dream.

-

You wake with a start.

The first thing you notice is that your headache is much, much, worse. The second thing is that you are pointedly not in your own apartment.

You were hoping the thing with Miguel was just some sort of fucked up bad dream but judging by your bandaged arms and throbbing temples, it was all real.

The blonde woman is sitting in the corner of the room, a white and sterile looking place that you’d assume to be a hospital room if you couldn’t see an absolute amalgamation of spidermen, just like Miguel, milling about outside the glass wall on your left.

Your jaw drops.

What is happening.

Are you suddenly crazy? Have you seriously gone mad? This has to be some sort of psych ward if this is what your brain is coming up with.

The blonde woman notices your consciousness. She has another young man with curly hair beside her, a similar age you guess from their similar build and height.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks as she stands from a chair and walks to your bedside.

“Am I going insane?” You ask.

She blanches at that, obviously not expecting it.

“Um- no you’re not. This is all real. My name is Gwen and this is-“ she gestures to the boy, “Miles. We’re assigned to watch over you until you wake up and are feeling better.”

You swallow. That explains almost nothing.

“But- what is this place?” You look back out the window.

“Oh! This is HQ.” Gwen says, like that means anything to you.

“HQ for what?” You say.

That seems to make it click for Gwen. “You mean…Miguel didn’t tell you?” She quirks an eyebrow seemingly genuinely confused that Miguel wouldn’t share his involvement in…whatever this is.

“No- no he hasn’t mentioned anything. I mean, I know he’s Spider-Man but there’s like- a million of you…” you drift off, shifting to sit up in your bed.

Miles laughs from behind Gwen. She shoots him a look and he blushes looking down at his feet.

“Well not a million but- yeah there’s a lot.” She says. “This is HQ for the spider-multiverse.”

“The what?” You ask, still confused.

“You know what let me just-“ she sighs and pulls up a watch on her wrist. It’s identical to the one Miguel used to wear around his arm back home. He’d always been shady about it but now you know why.

“Lyla, help me out here will you?” She asks into the watch. The familiar glowing figure pops up and it sends such a pant for homesickness into your heart that you almost want to cry. She’s an island of normalcy in a horrible sea of crazy right now.

“Hi, Y/N!” She greets in her constantly chipper voice.

“Hi…” you repeat. Gwen slips the watch off her wrist and holds it out to you. Gently, you clutch it in your hands as Lyla explains the many, many, thousands of worlds and Spider people in them. The information is shocking enough but most jarring is the fact that Miguel has been running it all almost 24/7.

You knew nothing about this.

For a brief, fleeting moment you feel slightly betrayed. He didn’t trust you with this, so what else could he be lying about?

But then you remember where you left off with him. A spike of fear shoots up your aching spine.

“So where’s Miguel?” You ask frantically, looking between Gwen, Lyla, and Miles for an answer. None of them seem to have one for you.

“Let me get ahold of Peter…” Gwen says as she lifts the watch out of your hands. You twiddle your thumbs nervously, the movement of the muscles sending tiny waves of pain up your arms.

Gwen finishes whatever call she turned to make with this Peter guy and spins back around.

“So, this is going to sound weird.”

You laugh.

“This entire day has practically flipped my world upside down. Hit me.” You deadpan. Miles laughs again but Gwen huffs a snort with him this time.

“So, currently Miguel is being held in our prison sector.”

Your heart drops.

“Why? Is he okay?” You shoot off questions faster than she can answer as you sit further and further up in the bed.

Gwen holds her hand up to slow you down and you take the signal, snapping your mouth closed.

“Ok, well here’s what I know.” She starts. “Miguel got some sort of poison from his last battle. It reacted badly with his DNA that’s part Spider and he’s currently pretty feral. That’s why he attacked you. They have him in an impenetrable cell in the holding area and he’s been muzzled for his own safety.”

You cannot believe this.

Those scratches, they must’ve been really really bad to cut through his suit like that. That must’ve been why he had come home in such a foul mood, he wasn’t thinking straight.

He must’ve been out of his mind completely when he attacked you.

“They’re working on an antidote, hopefully it’ll be ready soon.” Gwen says with a small smile. It does little to cure your nerves but it’s still nice of her to try.

Miles pipes up finally from behind her. His voice is soothing.

“We can take you to see him.” Miles says.

Gwen really does shoot him a look then. You giggle to yourself. It reminds you so much of you and Miguel’s relationship. If these two aren’t together they probably will be soon, you think.

“I’d like that.” You say, standing from your bed.

-

They were right. Miguel isn’t himself.

He’s huddled up in the furthest corner of the red block. The cell borders are reinforced, so you don’t fear much when you walk up to crouch next to the front wall.

Miguel smells you or senses you, something along those lines, because the minute you rest on the balls of your feet, his head swivels like a snake around to fix you in that terrible red gaze.

His eyes are practically glowing as he barrels towards the wall you’re at and slams his full body weight into it. His talons are out, clawing furiously and futilely at the screen. If this cage was even half as sturdy as it currently is Miguel would’ve killed you by now.

You can’t imagine what would make him act like this, even if his primal instincts are being tapped into. You’re his partner. Surely even in such a state Miguel would recognize you?

Apparently not, as Miguel also attempts to bite at you through both the muzzle and the wall. You sigh.

There’s something cold and unsettling about seeing him this way. He’s barely ever gotten angry at you, has never once blown up on you and it’s absolutely unfathomable that he would ever lay a hand on you. So now, seeing this side of him, it breaks your heart.

“He’s a little crazy right now.” A man’s voice says from behind you. You look up from where you’re sitting cross legged on the ground to see the same man from before, Peter, standing with his hands gently bouncing the smiling baby in front of him.

You can’t help but smile as the little girl lets out a joyous giggle, even as Miguel still tries to claw his way to you from inside the cage. You’re glad it’s soundproof, you’d probably have to leave if it wasn’t.

“You know him?” You ask. Peter takes his cue and sits next to you with a groan as he saddles his body down into the same position. You feel that same sensation, painful joints and now painful muscles with your injuries. You can’t imagine throwing the exhaustion of a kid into the mix.

You won’t lie though, you had thought about it. Miguel had mentioned a hypothetical child once or twice, but you could tell it was something he wanted more than anything. And before all of this, you would’ve given him what he asked for in a heartbeat. Seeing Miguel as a dad would’ve made you the happiest person in the world.

“Yeah I know him.” Peter finally answers your question. “I’m like his right hand man. Or I was at least. Maybe his left hand man now that I have this one,” he tickles the soft tummy of the girl and she cackles with glee. You smile at them.

“He never mentioned any of this.” You say.

“He never mentioned you.” Peter says.

That breaks your heart a little, but you don’t let it show.

On the other side of the screen Miguel has seemingly given up on trying to kill you, at least for now. Tiring himself out seems to have mellowed him slightly as he now sits eye level with you, panting and crouching in anticipation.

You sigh.

“How long will he be stuck like this?” You ask. You don’t expect an exact answer, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“I…I don’t know. We shouldn’t have let him go home like that. It was our fault you got hurt. Jess and I-“ he must mean the other woman you surmise “-we thought he lived alone, and even though he doesn’t get cut often we had no idea the anomaly could do that.”

“You couldn’t have known.” You say, trying to comfort him a little, even though you feel slightly hollow.

“We’re working on it though. We’re gonna fix this.” Peter says with a new determination. You smile half heartedly. He stands suddenly, renewed with more energy than he sat down with. “I’m going to go check on that antidote. You’re a little better right?” He gestures to your arms.

You nod. It’s the best you can give him in this situation.

He nods back and walks towards a large hallway opening.

You turn back to Miguel.

The area in which they have him housed is empty and large. His cage stands in the back part of the room. As far as you can tell, it’s just you two now.

Your arms still hurt, but your head has gotten better with some walking and Tylenol.

“Miggy…” you sigh. There’s so much built up stress just from the past few hours that it makes your entire body tense. You lean forward and place your hand on the glass-like substance.

Miguel’s eyes flick quickly to it and for a second you see a look on his face that seems almost like himself again.

It shocks you when he puts his hand back up to the glass mirroring yours.

You tear up.

“Miguel.” You beg. “Please, please come back.”

He doesn’t seem to understand, and the moment passes, as he licks his fangs through the muzzle. His talons pop out and he begins clawing where your hand just was again. You sigh.

It was worth a shot.

You stand, pushing yourself up of the ground. “Okay, we’ll- if you’re like this there’s no point in me being here.”

You turn to leave, maybe you can find Gwen and ask her to get you some food. You have a suspicion you’re going to need more Tylenol to-

“Y/N-“ a ragged voice says from behind you.

You whip around.

Miguel, your Miguel stares back at you. His eyes are wide and terrified but it’s definitely him even if it is for just a split second.

As quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Whatever is overriding his system comes back with vigor as you race towards the cage and press yourself desperately against the glass.

“Say it again- Miguel, please, say it again-“ You are breathy and panicked. He’s in there. Somewhere.

Miguel, the feral one, continues to paw at where you stand with his nails.

“I’m going to get you out.” You press your forehead up against the glass and look into his eyes.

There’s a sound from behind you and Gwen’s voice echoes from the doorway.

“Hungry?” She asks as you quickly pull away.

“Absolutely.” You say, following her.

As you leave you glance backward. Miguel stands, watching you leave.

You’re going to get him back, even if it kills you.

[tojisbbygworl]

Pain Is Pleasure - Vampire!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Imagine your vampire boss wants to fuck you despite his aversion to silver

Tags: 18+, Smut, Reader is pierced tf up (tongue, lip, nipple, COOCHIE), Pain kink

Masterlist

Vampire!Miguel who glowered when he first laid eyes on you. Jessica brought you back to HQ singing your praises after watching you fight a particularly difficult anomaly. Your suit was “worse” than Hobie’s what with all the chains, spikes, and studs that littered it. How you flung yourself through the air without getting caught on anything was beyond him.

Vampire!Miguel who visibly recoiled when you took your mask off revealing your metal-stricken face. You had a piercing on both eyebrows, studs on the top and sides of your ears as well as a daith, on both of your nostrils, a septum, a Medusa, right under your bottom lip, and two rings on the right side of it.

“Just give her a watch already and get her out of my sight.”

“He’s a real ball of sunshine,” you had said once you and Jess left his little ‘lair’.

“It’s all that silver,” she laughed.

Vampire!Miguel who can’t take his eyes off of you whenever you’re around. Your piercings are just so vile that he has to inspect every single one of them whenever he can. Even if it makes him look a bit weird.

Vampire!Miguel who notices your quick wit and sharp mind with an infectious positivity that even he can’t resist. No matter how much he wants to.

Vampire!Miguel who eventually finds your company enjoyable leaving him to seek you out at HQ as well.

“I need you to figure this out for me.”

“Hey, you busy? Something’s wrong with Lyla and I know you’re good with technology.”

“Need you for an assignment. It wont take long.”

Vampire!Miguel who starts to ignore the natural repel he has towards silver to go on missions with you. Sure, Jess told him that you were more than capable of handling them yourself and if you needed back up then she could go instead, but Miguel is insistent that you need proper supervision. No one who has that many piercings can be fully trusted, and who is better for the job than the boss?

You, who initially thought he hated your guts and was genuinely surprised when he first asked for you to accompany him as long as you “kept those weapons of destruction away from him”. When you both met he was grumpy and distant. Actually, he straight up avoided you like the plague. You guess he’s been warming up to you lately which, although you were very happy about it, it made you anxious.

Miguel O’Hara is a fine man. He easily towers over you, his eyes are always low, the red gleam making him look all the more dangerous. That along with his sunken cheeks and strong jaw, it’s no wonder you shake every time he’s near. It was easy to control your crush (let’s face it, lust) when he was avoiding you, and now it seems that he wants you attached at his hip.

Vampire!Miguel who you didn’t know could smell the effect he has on you. Vampire!Miguel who has to focus when he’s with you to keep from drooling from the intoxicating scent you give off. It was light and floral with the smallest hint of blood from all the metal. Each inhale would slightly singe his nose hairs, and he found himself liking it.

Vampire!Miguel who starts noticing how much you piercings enhance your beauty. Your Medusa brings out your Cupid’s Bow while your labret accentuates your bottom lip making it look like you have a natural pout. Your eye brow piercings brought out the arch better. And the nose piercings were simply just adorable.

Vampire!Miguel who finds himself having to retract his claws at the very mention of your name. His breathing gets heavier, he salivates more, his eyes become a deep crimson; he’s starting to get it bad. He imagines the burn he would feel from biting and sucking on your lips and gets excited. Oh no.

Vampire!Miguel who kicks you out of his office the moment you both get back so he can give his aching dick some attention. While he panted and hunched over his desk fucking his fist, you stood outside of the room slightly hurt by his actions.

Vampire!Miguel who was so close but had to stop because he heard Hobie speaking to you. “What’s got you so down, love?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Thanks, though.”

“Where you running off too? Come chat with me.”

Vampire!Miguel who immediately opens the door to chase after you and tell you that he needs you again.

Vampire!Miguel who resists sinking his canines into your neck as he bullies his dick into your wet pussy. His mind is clouded with fiery hot lust that’s fanned with each sweet moan that escapes you.

Vampire!Miguel who grunts in pain as he softly nips your ear. He can’t help it, you make the cutest whines when he plays with your pierced body parts.

He surprised himself when he attached his mouth to yours. The pain was small and insignificant, it felt like pressing a hot spoon to his lips. And then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and pushed you away. “Fuck,” he cursed holding his own tongue.

You were horribly confused and then you realized, “Shit, I have a tongue piercing,” you told him. He watched you open your mouth and stick it out to show him. At that moment, he was no longer concerned with his own safety, you looked so slutty with your tongue out for him like that.

“Keep it open,” he commanded walking towards you. He grabbed your neck and spat onto the piercing. “Swallow.” You obliged.

Vampire!Miguel who started reconsidering this decision when he finally got you out of your suit completely. Your body was more amazing than he imagined, but there were two things keeping him from enjoying it. Although, he couldn��t lie, they made your tits look ethereal.

The throbbing of his dick and the precum pooling on the floor made his choice for him. He grabbed you to sit on his lap right on top of his member, hissing upon impact. You slightly lifted your hips to look down at the angry red patch on it. It healing as soon as you rose.

“What you got down there?” He asked, although he already knew.

If his heart was working, it would have beat out of his chest. With the small smile you gave him as you angled your hips upwards and spread your pretty cunt to show him a piercing on your clit, Miguel completely melted in his seat. He grabbed your hips and sat you back down not waisting anytime hooking his mouth over your nipples.

The burn from his mouth and dick translated to an intense blanket of heat on your own body. It felt amazing and you found yourself grinding into him. The groan he let out rumbled in his throat.

“Ah,” he grunts which each lick of your nipple. The metal sears his flesh. He hisses and moans from the pain. But how could he stop, when you were whimpering so desperately and humping him like a fucking whore?

You almost came from the stimulation, but before you did he pushed you off of him and bent you over the desk. He aligned his dick with your wet entrance and spat on it. Then, without warning, he stuffed you full of his hot length.

“This is what you wanted?” He teased, his hands gripping your hips for dear life. “Acting like you didn’t want to cum every time you looked at me. Answer me.”

“Yes, baby, fuck,” you moaned into the air.

“I’m the only who can see you like this?” He asked, a sense of possession rushing over him.

“Y-Yes, Miguel.” You’ve completely lost your composure, not being able to focus on anything except his thick dick stuffing you with every thrust. You gushed as he drilled you, making him throw his head back. You both felt a coil build up in your abdomen.

“You gonna cum?” He smirked when you nodded dumbly, not able to speak from how good he was fucking you. You squeezed him as you came undone and Miguel closed his eyes and fucked you harder.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“On my face, baby.”

He thrusted a few more times before pulling out of you and beating himself off. You turned around and kneeled down sticking your beautiful tongue out again. “Ohhh, fuck,” he moaned, holding your head as he spilled his hot cum over your face and body.

His final spurts landed in your mouth and he slapped his dick right in the piercing, hissing and jerking his hips from the sting. But, he guesses he likes it.

Vampire!Miguel who definitely isn't letting you go. He needs to feel you roll that metal ball over his tip. He wonders how badly it would hurt, and how quickly he would come.

Yeah I needed to let this one out. This was super quick and barely-assed so it's kinda sucky. pls read my much better Miguel story

Masterlist

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Four

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

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

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and injuries

Seven months later

This shit was getting old.

One of Doc Oc’s tentacles rammed into Miguel’s side, tossing him against a wall and leaving a crack in the concrete. She smiled in satisfaction, oblivious to the spider-venom blaster he’d stuck to the underside of the mechanical arm. With a quick chirp and blast of energy the arm was blown off. It landed with a pitiful twitch on the ground as electricity sparked through its circuitry.

“Let’s go!” Hobie whooped, slamming his fingers down the guitar strings with so much force Miguel was surprised they didn’t snap in two. 

Doc Oc screamed, blown backward by an eclectic spray of pink and purple newsprint. 

Three arms down, five more to go… or so they thought. 

New arms sprouted from their old stumps, flailing around for a brief moment before they shot out towards Hobie. 

He barely dodged the series of blows.

“Is that hammer space, bruv?!” 

Joder.

Hobie lept around the barren stage, launching battered amplifiers slathered in a dozen layers of stickers towards her. A stray limb punched through the drumset as Hobie spun out of the way. 

He gasped. The amps they could replace, but no one fucked with his instruments.

“Is it time to call for backup?” Lyla asked Miguel as Hobie gripped the neck of his guitar (the battle-safe one of course) and swung at Doc Oc’s head.

“Do not call for backup!” Miguel growled in annoyance. 

He could handle this.

“Yeah, I didn’t even ask you to come, mate!” Hobie yelled over the sound of Doc Oc sailing over the empty mosh pit and crashing into the guard rails. “I ain’t part of no band.”

“You literally just finished a concert three hours ago!” 

“That got nothing to do with you.”

Miguel groaned, ready to bash his head into the wrecked drum kit. 

No puedo más. No puedo más. He found himself thinking that a lot lately.

But as much as Hobie and Miguel liked to pretend they hated each other, they made a good team out in the field. They swung from the ceiling lights, electric blue and pink lights showering down on them in that crazed, photomontage way that tinged every part of Hobie’s world. It was enough to give Miguel a headache. 

The worst part about the multiverse is that there was no telling what kinds of powers and modifications existed out there. For example, Miguel didn’t know a Doc Oc existed that had lasers shoot out of their tentacles.

“I feel like it’s time to call for backup.” Lyla repeated, casually watching from the safety of her AI existence as Miguel’s webs were split in two and he took a sickening punch to the jaw. He shook his head, blinking away the dots in front of his eyes as he took a moment to rest in the comfort of his rubble sofa.

“Do not call Jess. She’s on maternity leave.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jess.” Lyla grinned mischeviously. 

Miguel narrowed his eyes, “No. Absolutely not.”

It was too soon, far too soon for him to drag you into a fight like this. 

“CALL FOR BACKUP!” Hobie cried out from the confines of Doc Oc’s tentacles, squirming around and trying to use his head spikes to free himself.

“You weren’t saying that earlier!”

“THAT’S THE TOXIC MASCULINITY TALKING! YOU GOT TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH CHANGING YOUR OPINION AND ADMITTING YOUR FAU-”

A portal opened up stage left. 

Miles swung out first, black and red suit standing out like an ink stain.

“¡¿Alguien pidió ayuda?!” Miguel could hear his smug smile through the mask.

“You already called him!?” Miguel scowled and hopped onto his feet, sprinting to join the fight as Miles landed his first punch against Doc Oc. 

Relief flooded his system. He thought that-

“I actually called her.” Lyla said, pointing a finger with a grin.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat.

You stepped through the portal, adjusted the gloves on your newly designed suit and teleported yourself onto Doc Oc’s back, casually blinking away any tentacles that got too close. 

You were absolutely buzzing with excitement. Nevermind that you were currently blinking across spacetime to avoid the lazers that left behind scorched scars on the grass. This was your first real mission outside of occasionally helping Miles with his friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. And in Hobie’s dimension no less! Ever since you’d seen his unique color palette and design you’d been itching to see his world for yourself. Maybe you and Miles could take an impromptu field trip to the nearest museum afterwards.

“Lyla said you didn’t want to call me.” You said, happy with the way his eyes slightly widened beneath his mask. He coughed to clear his throat.

“You’re supposed to be at work.” Miguel said, tearing into Doc Oc’s tentacles with his forearm blades, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s summer break.” 

“You said you were teaching summer classes.” 

“I am! Only five kids are enrolled and he,” You tilted your head towards Miles, who waved back before he tore off an arm, "was the only one who could come to the Met field trip. Which you so rudely interrupted by the way.” The smile in your voice exposed the fact that you were quite ok with the interruption.

Miguel rolled his eyes half-heartedly, hoping you didn’t notice his restrained smile.  “Let’s just get the job done.”

And you did. 

Fighting a flesh-and-blood supervillain was a far cry from the simulations you’d fought at Spidey HQ where the only injury you could sustain was a blow to your pride when Lyla flashed the battle stats on the screen. Your training also didn’t account for the absolute chaos of working with a team. You nearly got in the way of one of Miles’s spider venom blasts and accidentally teleported onto Hobie’s back, throwing him off his rhythm long enough for a punch from Doc Oc to send you both crashing. Miguel had nearly lost his mind after that.

But after walking away from the fight with only a bruised jaw, cut upper arm, and a very disgruntled Doc Oc in tow, you were going to call your first real superhero outing a success.

“Sorry about earlier,” you said, extending a hand out to Hobie from where he groaned on the ground. He grabbed your arm and rolled onto his feet, shaking the dust off his jacket.

“Eh, it’s part of the learning.” He straightened his coat and reattached one of the pins he’d tucked safely away in his pocket, “Not bad for a first anomaly though.”

“Hmmmm, are we counting Spot?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

A shadow fell over your shoulder and you smirked, turning around on your heels to come face to face with Miguel. The fight was over, but somehow Miguel looked even more tense and irrate than before. Behind his back you saw Doc Oc yell and punch at the orange walls of her prison. 

“Are you here to say good job?” You teased.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice tight.

Hobie brushed past you, “I’m good, cheers.” he said, patting Miguel on the shoulder before heading over to where Miles stared in awe at the anomaly. You felt more than saw Miguel roll his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you.” 

“I know.” 

Hobie’s reply widened your smile. There was something glorious about seeing Miguel lose his cool. Normally you tried to get him to smile or laugh, but sometimes annoyance was an easier emotion to muster from him. It reminded you that beneath all that hard-won armour was a man just trying his best.

“I’m fine, Miguel.” You said. 

He gently tugged at the bottom of your mask and you took the hint, pulling it off entirely. Miguel’s frown deepened as he gently tucked a finger beneath your chin and turned your face to the side, eyes narrowed in on your swollen jaw. You tried not to blush under his watchful gaze. It really wasn’t a terrible injury, and with your enhanced healing it would fade within a day, but it stll felt like a gut punch to Miguel.

You were used to this kind of attention from him. The first two months after joining the Spider Society had been a pool of uncertainty that you’d flapped around in with little control - you’d been uncertain about your powers, the multiverse and your place in it, and your relationship with Miguel… especially your relationship with Miguel. 

His aloofness was only matched by his sincerity and once you’d forgiven him for what he’d done to Miles, you found him easy to like. His grouchiness and sarcasm pulled smiles from you as easily as water from a spring, and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice that you were the only one who could make him laugh and crack through his walls. But there was always that itch in the back of your mind that told you he only cared because you looked like his wife, not because you’d both grown to know and care for each other. 

You tried not to think about it too often. 

It made moments like these harder to handle.

“Nada que no pueda manejar.” You said softly, pulling his hand away and towards the anomaly, “Now come on. This anomaly isn’t just going to hop dimensions on its own.” 

Miguel opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately relented, allowing you to lead him to where Hobie and Miles bent their heads towards one another, shooting jokes back and forth as easily as their webs.

Margo portaled in to help Miguel take Doc Oc to Earth-928 and you watched their retreating backs disappear with a blink before Hobie turned towards you and Miles, rubbing his hands together and pulling you both into his side.

“Now! Who’s ready to see some real art?”

______

“I can’t believe all the museums in your dimension are Koons-themed.” Miles said, slouching in his seat and looking positively disappointed.

“Why’d you think I took you to the back alleys, mate. Real art’s cheap.”

“Say that to my bank account after a trip to Blick.” You muttered, biting into your empanada with a groan of satisfaction.

You sat cross-legged on top of the bench, watching Margo’s cyber body split into two as the Go Home Machine whirred to life. Its metal claws clicked together, sounding like the chirping of birds as it spun its web around Doc Oc as she watched with no small amount of curiosity.

“You think you could ever do that?” Hobie asked, leaning against your shoulder and slinging his arm around you casually. 

You raised your eyebrow, “What, forcefully send a living person back to their home dimension?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You try interdimensional travel without your fancy watch and tell me how easy it is.” You said with a grin, poking at his side until he squirmed away with a chuckle. You took the opportunity to steal a french fry from him.

“Alright, alright, stop. I think you could do it.”

The four of you watched as the Go Home Machine finished its kaleidoscopic work. Miguel always had a clinical view of the work he did and the machines he created. Whenever it was traveling to another world, or encountering a new being (Spider-Person or otherwise) the last thing on his mind was beauty or a fascination with the ways things were. That’s where you two differed the most. So while Miguel hardly ever stayed around to watch the Go Home Machine run its science-magic, you always craned your neck to catch glimpses of the worlds beyond Earth-928.

“I better check in with Miguel.” You said, hopping off the table once Doc Oc was safely back in her home universe.

Hobie, Miles, and Margo all shot each other a knowing look before you could notice. 

Now that school was out for the summer you found yourself spending more and more time on Earth-928, and after six months of training you could walk to Miguel’s lair from any part of the building with a blindfold on. The first few weeks you hadn’t been able to suppress the slight unease at entering the dark room where many of the captured anomalies would sneer at you like you were a meal to be hunted.

Now… not so much.

“You’re still here, Norm?” You asked, catching sight of the familiar gentleman who shrugged and smiled. He sat comfortably on the floor, purple hood and goggles abandoned beside him to expose his weathered face.

“Still here,” He repeated, “I suppose I’m not as high a priority to send home now that I’m not, you know, evil anymore.” He sighed, “I just can’t believe my luck. I leave an alternate universe and not even a year later I’m sucked into another one!” He chuckled.

“I’ll talk to Spider-Man about it.” 

“Peter?!” His eyes brightened at the possibility.

“Ummm…no. Sorry.” 

He nodded, shoulders deflating every so slightly, “Thanks anyway Spider-”

“Y/sh/n, actually.” Miles and Gwen had helped you come up with it.

“Well, thank you Y/sh/n.” He said and waved you on before he could steal more of your time.

“I told you it’s dangerous to talk to the anomalies.” Miguel said, eyes still trained on the screens as you blinked next to him. One day you’d manage to sneak up on him, but today was not that day. 

You frowned when you saw he was still wearing his mask. 

“Well you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?” You said, bumping his shoulder with your own before climbing onto the empty space on his desk he subtly reserved for you.

Miguel stiffened and his fingers froze over the keys. It had taken you months to fully forgive him for all the terrible things he’d said and done to Miles - the things he may have said to you if you didn’t have his wife’s face… if you were just a regular anomaly.

“That’s not what I-.” 

“You also said Earth-199999’s Peter Parker took care of the Green Goblin. I think we’re fine.” 

He nodded and sighed. His eyes were killing him right now and even the faint flicking of the red-orange lights from the screens felt like blows to his skull. 

“He wants to go home.” You said and saw his eyes flicker to the anomaly on the screen, red and tired.

“I know. He’s scheduled to be sent back tonight. I promise.” 

You nodded with satisfaction and snapped your fingers, a pair of sunglasses blinking into the palm of your hand, “You should take a break. You’ve been working non-stop for over two days now.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“The multiverse is not going to shatter because you take a thirty-minute lunch break, Miguel.” 

He eyed you warily and shook his head, fingers flying across the touchpad like they were racing to win gold. 

He always did this. He always worked himself to the bone until you would find him red-eyed and slumped over the tabletop for one of his thirty-minute “power-naps.” 

“Lyla.” You called out. The woman appeared perched on your shoulders.

“You rang?”

“Can you please tell Miguel that the multiverse isn’t going to collapse before he does?” 

“Ooooh you said please. I like you.” Miguel muttered a few choice words under his breath, “The multiverse is holding steady. I’ll alert you if anything changes at all.” Lyla winked at you and disappeared. 

“Realmente necesito cambiar su código.” Miguel grumbled.

“¡Ni se te ocurra!”

Miguel tightened his lips but said nothing. You slid over to sit in front of him and pushed against his chest until he finally relented and sat down in the chair. He didn’t want to admit this, but the only reason he agreed to sit down was because he’d fractured two ribs in the fight, and you pressing against his chest hurt like a bitch.

“Did you really come all this way just to get me to rest?”

“Obviously.” You tossed the sunglasses into his lap along with the extra empanada you’d been carrying around the last half-hour. You hoped it was still warm, but then again, if it weren’t for you he probably wouldn’t have remembered to eat at all. 

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Gracias.” 

“Solo cállate y come. Lo juro, es como si estuviera tratando de mantener viva una planta de interior. Una planta de interior muy obstinada.”

He tilted his head down, hiding his face as his mask disappeared. 

You held your breath, reaching out instinctively to hold his face in between your hands. Color rushed into his cheeks, emphasizing the dark, purple bruise that crawled its way up from his jawline to his cheek bone, the flesh around it swollen and warm when you carefully traced it with your finger. The bridge of his nose was similarly bruised, the strong slope of his nose tilted ever so slightly to the left. 

Miguel also stopped breathing, the pain hardly registering as he felt your eyes against his skin as physical and real as your hands.

You became all too aware of the closeness, the way he was looking at you. A familiar and malicious voice scratched the back of your mind - What are you to him? Who are you to him? Who is he really thinking about when he looks at you like that?

You let go of his face, your heart sinking in your chest.

“¿Qué te sucedió?” You murmured. His brown-red eyes were wide and soft.

He cleared his throat, disappointment gathering in his chest when you withdrew your hands, “I guess I should have called for backup sooner.” 

“Where else are you hurt?”

“I’m not-”

“Where else are you hurt? Y no te atrevas a mentirme.” 

Miguel melted under your fiery gaze. You weren’t one to show your anger - teaching teenagers had strengthened your patience - but Miguel had a special way of pushing your buttons, whether he knew it or not. 

“I may or may not have cracked a rib… or two.” 

“Miguel!” 

“I’ll heal!” 

“Estúpido, bastardo terco.” You muttered under your breath with no small measure of affection.

You reached over and gently pressed on his stomach, hearing him hiss in pain. He grabbed your arm to get you to stop, shame coloring his bruised cheek.

“I’ll be ok. I promise.” He whispered when you leaned down from your seat to inspect his jaw again. Any longer under your watchful gaze and he might just combust.

“I know you’ll be ok. I just…” Your lips tightened. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

You’d been in this situation before with Miguel a few times. It always ended with him promising to take better care of himself, holding to that promise for a few weeks, and then falling back into old, self-destructive habits. The others said he had gotten better about taking care of himself ever since you’d come into the picture, but you found that hard to believe. 

“I don’t like to see you hurt either.” He admitted, gently rubbing up and down your forearms. He eyed the tear in your suit, and the clean white bandage that peeked through. 

Who is he really thinking of?

You told that voice to shut up.

“So you can imagine how worried I get when I see you like this.” 

Miguel sighed, running his hands through his hair and mussing up the curls. He could imagine it all too well. Every time you left for your own dimension a knot of worry would sink in his chest like a boulder dropped into a lake, and it wouldn’t dissipate until the next time he saw you safe and whole. He flinched at the very thought of you sporting bruises and cracked bones like the ones he had - the scars he bore after years on the job.

“What would you have me do?” He asked, “I can’t just give this up.” 

“I’m not- No one is asking you to. I know you need to do this. But you don’t have to do it alone. You know any of the other Spider-People would be more than happy to help monitor things in the Spider-Verse.” 

“One - it’s the Arachnoid Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. And two - the other Spider-People aren’t like me. They can’t do what I do.”

“You’re right, they’re a hell of a lot funnier” He scoffed, setting his jaw in a scowl that had pain flaring up the left side of his face. “And they don’t go around punching teenagers.”

“That was one time!” 

Your lips turned in a downward smile, trying to suppress your laughter at the indignant expression on his face. The scowl on his face slowly but surely loosened, twisting into a barely concealed smile.

“Stop doing that.” He muttered.

“Doing what?” You asked innocently.

“Getting me to smile and laugh. It hurts my ribs.” 

“All the more reason to get some rest, Miguel.” You said, ruffling his hair and gleaming with satisfaction when he finally allowed himself to smile. You plucked the sunglasses from his lap and placed them on his face, careful not to upset his healing nose.

How was it possible that he hated and loved the way you said his name so much? He knew you cared for him. The first two months had been tense and filled with questions of what you were to one another - A mistake? A bad memory? Husband and wife? It had been a time when every touch, glance, and hidden smile had been given with a measure of uncertainty and restraint.

Miguel didn’t feel that way anymore. When you messed up his hair and forced his hidden smile out into the open he just saw you. Not some version of his wife. Not someone he’d barely known. Not someone he’d lost. 

Just you.

“If I promise to take the night off to sleep and let Ben and LEGO Peter take care of it, would that satisfy you?” 

You hummed in thought, “How many hours of sleep are we talking about?” 

“Four.” 

“Seven.” You countered.

“Five.” 

“Deal.” You stuck out your hand, a wide grin on your face that Miguel matched when he shook your hand.

“What would I do without you?” He asked sarcastically.

You scoffed, “Shrivel up and die, probably.” 

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note: Here's Chapter Four! Y/n is feeling some insecurity about her relationship with Miguel... I wonder if that will come up again in the next chapter 👀...........

As always, please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

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

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Marching on

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets yelled at, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

“Quicken that pace battalion, this isn't some training course on Kamino!” 

If you had to hear one more fucking command from Krell, you may just inject him with all the painkillers in your pack.

It’s been almost 4 hours of his self-importance. You were patient, but by all the gods in existence you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Fives scoffed next to you, “The uh…new General has a way with words.” His tone was directed at Rex, who had wanted you at the front of the march with him. 

His reasoning for such a formation? ‘Keep an eye on the supplies’. In reality? ‘to protect you.’

The clone captain looked to the ARC trooper, “He's just trying to keep us on schedule.”

“By raising everyone’s ire?” You leaned forward slightly to look over at your lover. You didn’t mean to give him any grief, but it was a good question. Just what was Krell hoping to achieve by annoying everyone?

“Either way he's in charge, and we got a job to do.” Rex responded taking your question in stride, “Treat him with respect and we'll all get along fine.”

You sighed, “As long as that respect is mutual.”

“You know we don’t always get that luxury.” The captain looked at you. You could practically feel his disapproving gaze through his visor.

You backed down, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already was, “I know…I know…just…” With another sigh, you gave him a soft smile, “Just want to keep you and everyone else safe.”

“Especially me?” Fives chimed in, a smirk clear in his voice. 

You snorted, “Yes Fives, especially you.”

Rex let out a soft laugh, “That’s enough chatter. We need to focus.” 

“Speaking of.” The ARC trooper nudged the captain and pointed upward, “Do you see that?”

In the distance, two glowing…beasts were flying directly towards your battalion. They had impressive speed as they descended quickly. Their bodies were triangular, with bioluminescent under bellies and spiked tails.

“Yea, ready your weapons!” Rex commanded, pulling his pistols. The other troopers followed his lead. The barrage of blaster fire began as soon as one of them swooped, yanking an ARF trooper, Jock, from his AT-RT. It turned sharply and let go, slamming the clone downward into the ground.

You heard the crack through the blasters.

The second dove and grabbed a trooper behind you. He cried out in pain and fear as it flew upward again, taking him from the ground. The shots continued and you got up from the speeder to tend to the down ARF trooper. 

You didn’t make it far, as the first glowing beast made a second swoop aiming for you. Jesse, to his credit, did a wonderful job of protecting you by tackling you to the ground for the second time in a rotation, “Oh no you don’t!” He growled, aiming his gun upward and firing. 

The bioluminescent creature dodged every shot and made another turn, lifting upward to make another pass. 

“Thanks, second time you saved me.” You nodded to him, getting up and rushing to Jock. His leg was broken, fibula stabbing through broken plastoid. Immediately you administered painkillers. This poor man was probably in agony.

Krell had quickly disposed of the second. The Jedi had leapt upward and ripped the beast's claws open, dropping the other trooper. His size and weight worked to the advantage as the animal couldn’t lift. 

The two of them hit the ground where the besalisk stabbed both his lightsabers through its torso. It died with a high pitched screech before Krell sliced the last one as it tried to swoop, bringing it down as well. 

Rex and Fives kept their guns pointed at the beast, but the new General shouted, “anyone else want to stop and play with the animals!?” He punctuated his point by driving his foot down on the creature's body. It jerked before going still, “Didn’t think so. Now keep moving!”

You huffed, turning back to the soldier, “I got you.” Your voice was kind and soft, “I’m not going anywhere, OK?”

He nodded, gloved hands trembling and gripping his thigh. Even with the painkillers, you knew he must’ve been feeling like absolute hell. 

“Jesse,” You looked up at the senior trooper, “Can you get the speeder please?” The soldier needed surgery, but you couldn’t do it here. Not in the open. 

He saluted and quickly stepped away. 

“How bad?” Kix asked, pulling off his pack and kneeling next to you. He remained calm, despite the earlier excitement, “Damn, Jock. Don’t worry. We got you.”

“We are moving!” Krell shouted somewhere behind you. 

“Give us a few minutes!” you snapped, not looking up as you worked. “Help me stabilize the leg, I can't fix it here.”

“We have bacta and medication to deal with any infections later.” the medic beside you nodded, “Get a splint in place.”

“North, take his AT-RT,” You heard Fives’ command the ARF trooper you treated earlier. As soon as the ARC troopers words were spoken, North had gotten up from the stretcher as Jesse approached with the speeder. While you would have preferred him to rest, that currently wasn’t an option. Thankfully, he was at least conscious enough to operate a vehicle. 

Plus, leaving behind a perfectly functional and even devastating weapon in the hands of the enemy was a very bad idea.

Jock was trembling. Pain and shock from staring at his broken leg most likely. Even hardened soldiers would panic at the sight of one of their bones stabbing outside of their body, “Hey Jock, don’t worry. We got you, ok?” You shifted slightly, lowering your face so he’d pay attention to you and not his wound.

“Troopers!” 

“Can you not fucking see-!” a heavy hand yanked you back and to your feet. You stumbled, but kept upright. 

Krell was glaring at you, a fire of wrath in his eyes,“I told you, we. are. Moving! Do not ignore a direct order!” 

Now it was your turn to be enraged, “Respectfully, General, my priority is to the wellbeing of this army. It is my duty as a field doctor to help them when they’re injured. Surely as a jedi you understand the importance of duty.” You kept your eyes on him, refusing to look away. 

Arguing with your General normally wasn’t an option. However, in your training it was emphasized that your rank as a medic held special privileges, such as ignoring orders that may inhibit you from caring for the wounded.

But something told you that the Jedi in front of you didn’t really care.

You didn’t see how Hardcase held Rexs’ arm, doing his best to keep the captain from making a grave mistake. He was normally able to think clearly and not let his emotions dictate his decisions. Unless it came to you. The one he loved so dearly.

The new General huffed and straightened his back, “You have 60 seconds to get him stabilized and loaded on to the stretcher,” He clasped his arms behind him again and began to walk to the front, he turned his head back at you, “Next time, I will not stand for such insubordination, because it is my duty to lead these troops so the Republic can take the capital of this planet.” 

You swallowed and saluted, turning back to Jock. With the help of Kix and Jesse, the injured trooper was situated on the stretcher. You gave him another dose of painkillers and let him drift off to sleep. 

“You can tell the General we had 20 seconds to spare.” You grumbled to Fives, getting back on your speeder. Within minutes a formation was established again. Your pace was with the men, staying behind Rex, Fives and Krell. 

“Are you ok?” Kix asked as he walked next to you. 

“Yes.” You rubbed your face in your hand, ignoring the small sting of the blaster burn to your cheek. You still hadn’t dealt with it yet. 

Your medic friend patted your back in sympathy. He shared your frustrations. 

Anakin would never have pulled you away from tending to the injured. He would have knelt down and helped you, or had his lightsabers ready to protect you. His padawan would have done the same, perhaps even go after whoever injured the trooper to begin with. 

But Anakin wasn’t here. Neither was Ahsoka. Instead, you were stuck with Pong fucking Krell. 

About an hour later Rex had slowed his pace to walk next to you, “Mesh’la.” He spoke softly, making sure no one else could hear, “You haven’t dealt with the cut on your cheek.” 

Oh. Right, you keep forgetting about it. 

“It’s alright.” You gave him a small smile, “the men are going to need all the bacta they can get. A tiny scratch like this doesn’t matter.” 

He remained silent for a moment before shaking his head, “Please be careful, the men need you.” His words hid the true meaning, from everyone except you. 

I need you. 

“I am, Captain.” You answered, “You just promise me you’ll stay alive to lead us.” 

Please don’t become one of the injured I have to treat. 

“I promise.” His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to cup your injured cheek and kiss it better. But not right now. Not around others. Not in such a hostile place.

“Captain Rex.” Your voice became quieter, “Ner kar’ta.” 

“Ner narser.” He whispered back before straightening up. Your lover became the captain again, needing to focus on the mission at hand. Still, to hide your relationship, he spoke slightly louder, letting others hear, “you can’t disobey orders again, understood?” 

You nodded, “yes, Captain. It won’t happen again,” Subtly, you gave him a smile. 

He returned to his position closer to Krell after that. However, occasionally he’d cast a quick glance back at you. 

After about an hour, you heard some whispered chatter behind you. Looking back, you noticed a trooper, Oz, leaning against Tup and limping. You gave him a look of confusion and slowed the speeder to get next to them.

“It's nothing to worry about, Doc.” Oz informed you, “Just…probably twisted my ankle when that beast dropped me.” It was a clear lie. From your perspective it looked more like something had fractured in his knee.

Your gaze drifted to Jock, soundly knocked out on the stretcher. Why are so many soldiers getting leg injuries? 

“Regardless, we can’t know the true extent unless I get a proper look.” your gaze drifted to Krell. The bastard would flip out if he knew you stopped again. Still, Oz needed to get off that leg, “Take the speeder.”

“Doc?”

“You’ve used one right? It's easy.” You slipped off of the vehicle and pushed it along before Oz or anyone could argue, “Take it, at least to rest the ankle.” 

He paused but Tup pulled him slightly, “Come on, doctor's orders.” 

Without much more fuss, the injured trooper did as you directed. He sat down and let out a small sigh of relief, “Thank you.” clearly he hid his pain behind soldier bravado.

You nodded, deciding to walk next to Tup for now. Your eyes went to North, making sure he seemed alert and aware. For now, the ARF trooper was recovering from his wounds well, getting some weight off your shoulders. Still, everyone needed a breather. It's been about five hours since they started marching and while clones had stellar endurance, they would need a break at some point.

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on the backs of those in front of you. It was a few hours later when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Are you ok, Doc?” Tup asked you quietly. 

You couldn’t hide the irritation in your voice, “You are the second person to ask me that within the last few hours. Do I not look ok?” He seemed startled at your response and you honestly felt bad. Poor Tup was barely a shiny, so you sighed and nodded, “Just thinking, Tup. I'm alright.” 

Before he could respond, Hardcase draped his arm over your shoulder, “Hey Doc, I got a cut on my lip. Can you kiss it to make it better?”

You snorted, repressing your laugh. Sometimes the soldiers would flirt and joke, all in good fun. Hardcase was especially friendly, knowing went to chime in to lift the mood. Honestly, you appreciated it. 

Tup looked downright offended on your behalf, “Hardcase!” 

Jesse looked back from his position. Even under the helmet you knew he was looking confused. 

“Whatever happens next, I am not a part of it.” you responded with a shrug, looking ahead. 

“See? The doc doesn’t care, ease up.” Now the hyperactive trooper moved on to leaning against Tup. the two bickered quietly as you continued to walk. However, over time their voices died down.

It was around the 12th hour when you realized the silence was from exhaustion. Everyone, including you, was barely hanging on by a thread. The clone endurance you praised earlier had finally hit its limit.

“Kix,” You stepped up next to him, “Tell Captain Rex that we need a break.” your voice was a hushed whisper. You feared if Krell heard you make the request, he’d push the men even harder out of spite. 

The medic agreed with you and sped up his pace to speak to Rex. You, however, fell back next to the medical speeder and checked on the injured. Oz had been doing a good job at controlling the thing, though you could tell his leg was still bothering him. Jock was still out cold, you and Kix periodically checked to make sure he didn’t wake up in agony. North remained coherent and aware as well, he piloted the AT-RT as if he had never been injured, indicating the bacta you’d given him was working well. 

Your observations came to a halt as Krell’s voice pierced the air, “CT-7567 are you reading me?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Your secret lover sounded as confused as everyone was feeling. 

The jedi continued, “I ask you a question, CT-7567 do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?” Blessedly, he stopped to continue to yell at Rex. Despite how you felt at your lover being targeted so viciously, at least the men had something of a breather. And Rex was a man, he could take an angry General. 

The clone captain shook his head, trying to reason, “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile, despite the difficulty of the conditions the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.” It was a desperate attempt to get some kind of humanity out of the besalisk. 

The General practically snarled and continued his verbal assault, “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” He motioned over all the soldiers behind him, “Look back, see those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly, time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford!” Krell didn’t give up just yet, leaning forward an inch away from the captain's face, “The other battalions are counting on our support, if we fail everyone fails. Do you understand this? Does everyone understand this?!” His yelling was now directed at everyone around him. His critical gaze roamed over the battalion practically challenging anyone to speak up.

When there was only silence, he scoffed and turned, continuing his steps, “Now move on!”

Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly, but quickly, he returned to his stiff and professional posture. With a glance back and a nod, the 501st began to march again.

You shared a look with Hardcase and continued. It was going to be another long few hours of exhausted silence before you stopped again.

[the-kr8tor]

Omg requests are open again 🫣

Hobie and you in a Christmas-themed party (maybe hosted by Miles? Gwen?) Under the mistletoe? Perhaps a little inspired by this post https://www.tumblr.com/the-kr8tor/736942547927252992/arachkidsspider-society-seeing-hobie-and-you

Thank you for requesting, lovely! And happy holidays 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, spider person! Reader, cw food mention, cw drinking, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The party is in full swing, fellow spider people mingle and chat with each other. The drinks are flowing, the lights are bright and twinkling, the music is jolly and merry; there's discarded wrapping paper all over the floor. Even Miguel is participating, although he has had a few drinks courtesy of Jess and Lyla telling him they can't drink so he has to compensate for them. Both women are currently cheering him on to chug an entire bottle of eggnog, while other spider people take out their phones to record.

The trio are currently exchanging gifts with each other, Miles guffaws as Pavitr opens his gift, presumably from Gwen who slaps her knee in laughter. But there's an unmistakable space between them, one whose shiny spikes are currently missing under all the holiday lights.

You smile when you feel his chest behind you, the pins from his vest poke you as a greeting. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with his classic smirk, arm braced over you on the wall, free hand already on your waist to fully turn you around.

“Lookin' for someone?”

“Yeah, Ben Riley, I heard he has a present for me.”

Hobie grins wider at your teasing, “Whatever he's gonna give you I've got you somethin’ better”

“Another one?” You remember exactly thirty minutes ago that he already gave you your present, a necklace made from his guitar pick that's currently dangling on your neck. “C’mon that's too much, babe” looping your fingers on his belt loop, you pull him closer. Your smile is sickenly sweet as the Christmas cookies you've eaten.

He has a glint in his eyes, you're sure it's not from the lights. “Do me a favour and look up for me”

You scrunch your nose questioningly, but you still look up. Laughing, heat immediately rises to your cheeks. “Ever the charmer”

The mistletoe hangs just above you, held by Hobie himself who puffs his chest.

“You know the rules, love.”

You fake a sigh, “If I have to, it's tradition after all.” you're already leaning your face towards his waiting lips.

There's fireworks popping off outside, you hear people's footsteps rush out to the balcony to watch. Yet, you and Hobie still kiss unbothered by everybody. He tastes like the chocolate cake he devoured earlier, it's all tooth rottingly sweet as you hold on to his hips for dear life. His hand is splayed over the small of your back protectively.

The world melts around you.

“Jeez! Get a room, you too!” Gwen yells out. Both Miles and Pavitr boo at you two.

Hobie chuckles into the kiss, waving them off with a quick gesture before continuing to give you his second present.

[ao3-rex1223]

Twist Me series: part I, part III, part IV

Pairing: Professor!Leon x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn, Vaginal, Sex, Blow Jobs, Mildly Dubious Consent, Desk Sex, Creampie, Spanking, One Night Stands, Thigh Fucking

Summary: Sequel to "Twist My Words". You haven't stopped thinking about fucking Leon for a good grade at the end of last semester. One casual hook up with a frat boy ends up in some unintended consequences. When Professor Kennedy comes to the library where you work looking for a textbook. One thing leads to another...

A/N: I'm finally out of Tumblr Jail! I guess this blog got flagged as "spam" somehow? But to celebrate getting released, here's my newest Leon Kennedy fic!

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum!” the frat boy moans as he shoots his load inside you. You're not even sure you remember his name. It's something like Jason or Jeremy or…Jesse? Oh well; who cares? It's not like he even got you close to climaxing….not like with Professor Kennedy back at the end of last semester. God, that was the most incredible sex you've ever had! The memories of that day have been in your spank bank ever since. You had fucked him for a good grade but haven't really seen him since; you're not in his class or anything this semester so you don't really cross now.

The frat boy with the J-name releases your ankles from his shoulders and gets off you, wiping his cock dry with a towel he grabbed from his floor, one that likely has seen its fair share of jizz. He offers you the towel and you silently decline with a wave of your hand and a mildly scrunched face. You quickly dress, trying to suppress a look of disgust as you feel his cum oozing out of your cunt. You slip out of his room and go back downstairs to the party that's still going on, its guests seemingly unaware of but not likely to be surprised by the fact that you hooked up with one of the hosts. It's the Friday night before spring break so everyone is out partying. You grab another Soho cup and fill it with the concoction of punch and whatever alcohol with which it's been spiked then take a big swing, hoping to wipe the disappointing experience Mr J-name called ‘sex’.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a few students talk about Mr Kennedy. It seems like they're all taking his class this semester. One of them calls your name. “Did you just hook up with James!?” A petite girl asks. She looks like she's too young to be drinking, yet still has a cup with the boozy punch in it. Her tone is accusatory, like she's jealous.

“James! That was his name!” You reply, more so to yourself than her. You keep walking, uncaring of her perturbed state. She doesn't know how lucky she is! She gets to see Mr Kennedy every day! Your mood progressively sours and you decide to leave the party early. You unlock the door to your dorm and dump your keys on the desk. You kick the door closed with your foot and mosey to your room.

As you lie on your bed, you replay your tryst with Professor Kennedy in your mind. Your hand travels along your body, touching and caressing. You knead and squeeze your breasts, remembering the feel of his dick inside you, thrusting hard and hitting your cervix like an aggressive salesman knocking on a door. You moan and kick your pants and panties off, hand trailing south towards your wet folds. You recall the feeling of him bending you over his desk and holding you down roughly as you start stroking your clit, the pads of your fingers doing their best to stimulate you like he could. You start to pant, the tension in your belly building steadily. Slick coats your fingers and leaks down your ass cheeks. You rub faster and faster, playing the sound of his voice in your mind again…

…“That's a good girl.” … “Choke on my cock like a - ah - good little slut. You want an A, sweetheart? Better - mf - suck this dick like your grade depends on it…

You inhale sharply and cum hard on your fingers. You lay there, boneless, for a moment before rising out of bed to clean yourself up. After you wash your hands, you climb back into bed and fall asleep.

Monday morning you stroll into the library to work the front desk; your student job since you've been going here. Since it's spring break, it's very dead on campus. There's maybe one or two graduate students scattered about the whole building. You lean your head on your knuckles while you sit completely bored, staring at your computer screen with the list of overdue books. It's your job to send out reminder emails to everyone who needs to return what they've rented. No one is going to read them today, you figure. Everyone is on vacation…except you. You decided to stay behind and make some easy money.

“Hey!” You hear a voice sharply rip you from your wandering thoughts. It was harsh, like the owner of that voice had already tried at least once to get your attention. You look up to see him on the other side of the circulation desk.

Your jaw briefly drops, followed by a quick recovery. You swallow hard and straighten up. “Professor Kennedy! What can I do for you?” you ask, a little too eagerly.

He smirks meanly. “I'm looking for the Litigator's Handbook of Forensic Medicine, Psychiatry, and Psychology. Volume 2,” he states, as if he's pissed off that it's not already in his hands.

You nod and quickly type the name into your computer to find where the text is. Shit. “I'm sorry, Professor…all our copies are out right now.”

The professor glares at you, like it's somehow your fault. You look into more detail on who has the books and realize one is due back today. “There should be one available later today,” you add, but know very well there's a high chance it just won't get returned. Still, you're willing to say anything to make him happy.

His glare neutralizes into an unreadable expression. Then, with just a hint of a smirk he replies, “great. Bring it to my office then.” He turns and walks out before you can protest and tell him the library doesn't deliver.

But an idea pops into your head and sends a jolt of arousal to your sex. Maybe he'll be grateful for that delivery…

After trying numerous times to contact the professor who has the book you need, you finally get a hold of her and retrieve the book. With a big, dumb grin on your face, you high tail it over to Professor Kennedy’s office. You knock eagerly on his door.

“Come in,” he calls from inside his office, his tone neutral. You open the door and see him behind his desk typing into his computer, his expression unreadable.

“Professor Kennedy, I brought you the textbook you were looking for,” you announce. His office isn't much different than when you were in it last time…naked and getting deliciously fucked by him. Your pussy throbs at the memories that come rushing back.

He gestures with his hand to come toward him without looking up from his computer. You walk to him, holding the textbook.

“Desk,” he commands, still engrossed in whatever he's working on. You set the book down and turn to leave, convinced you're not going to make any worthy progress with him. You let out a silent sigh and head for the door. “Did I say you could leave?” He asks. You spin around. He's finally looking at you.

You stare back at him, mouth agape. “Wh-what?” Your heart starts to race; your palms sweat.

He lets out a snort. “Desk,” he repeats with the slightest smirk. His eyes flicker to the surface of his desk, the very same one where you just dropped the book.

You don't realize you're holding your breath as you walk toward him. Before you can even hop up on his desk he grabs your hips tightly and pins you between his body and the edge of the desk.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he demands.

Your lips part only just slightly and his tongue is inside your mouth, attacking yours. Your rational thought is quickly slipping away as your fingers tangle into his hair. His hands slip underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing your bare waist with his thumbs. The tingles shooting through your body could make you jump out of your own skin. You suck on his tongue, the memory of his dick in your mouth rushing back into your mind.

He slides his hands up further, pushing your shirt with it. He breaks the kiss only for a second to pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the side before roughly grabbing your breast through your lace bra and claiming your mouth again. You reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra. Before you can move your hands, he grips your wrists tightly and holds them behind your back. He kisses, licks, and even bites down onto your neck. “Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?” he asks with a gruff whisper in your ear. He nips at your neck again.

“Wh-what?” You manage to gasp out. Your head falls to one side, giving him better access to your neck.

He laughs meanly. “I have eyes and ears all over this school, sweetheart.” He gently kisses your neck. “Don't think for a second that you could get away with fucking some dumb ass frat boy without me knowing.” He nips at your pulse, dragging his teeth across your neck. “Don't move,” he commands darkly and lets go of your hands long enough to remove his tie and use it to secure your wrists behind your back. He cups your face, kissing you hungrily again. One hand slides down and cups your breasts. You feel his erection straining in his pants and pressing against your hip. “I think I need to teach you another lesson, sweetheart.” He breaks the kiss and smirks wickedly.

He pushes you down to your knees and slowly unbuckles his belt then tosses it aside. He unzips his pants and frees his cock - God, it's bigger than you remember. He strokes it a few times and shoves it into your waiting mouth. Hands grip the sides of your face, pushing you further onto his shaft. He combs your hair with his fingers, holding it all back with one hand fisted tightly, forming a handle with which he can control your head. “That's my good little slut. Suck my fucking cock,” he growls as he fucks your face. “You love this don't you? Letting me fuck you again and you're not even in my class. Fuck. I've been waiting to fuck you again for months. Can't stop thinking about your sweet mouth and your tight pussy,” he coos and gently runs a finger down the side of your face. You fight to hold back the tears pooling in your eyes as you resist gagging on the fat dick in your mouth.

But he's right. You do love it, you crave it, you need it. You suck him greedily, ecstatic to even have the chance to gag on his dick. Precum coats the back of your throat and you moan loudly. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be touched but with your hands tied behind your back, you can't touch it. His grip on your hair tightens and it makes you wetter. You can tell he's close, but before he can cum, he pulls your face away. He pants, looking like he wants to say something but is at a loss for words. He growls and pulls you up, spins you around and shoves you over his desk. You feel your pants and panties being yanked off of you together. His chest presses against your back, holding you in place against his desk, still covered with papers. You glance to the side and see the textbook you brought; your ticket back to Professor Kennedy and his magnificent cock. He slides his cock between your thighs, gliding under your cunt. He's teasing you. His shaft is coated in your slick, so much so it's about to start dripping down his balls.

“You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Gonna cum all over my cock before I've even fucked you?” He runs his hands all over your naked body, reminding himself of what he believes belongs to him.

“Please! Please! Please! Fuck me, Professor! Please! Fuck! I can't take it!” You beg, a few tears leaking from your eyes. You feel like you'll spontaneously combust if you don't feel his cock fill you up soon.

A loud smack fills the air followed by a stinging on your ass cheek. More slick gushes from your dripping wet sex. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. You don't call the shots. I do. And you still need to learn your lesson. So, for now, I'm gonna fuck your cute little thighs…nice and slow.”

It's torture as you feel his length slide back and forth between your thighs, ghosting your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through you but not nearly enough to cum. Your moans fade into whimpers and crescendo back into moans.

He plays with you for a while, never increasing his pace. You're crying, you're so desperate for release. “Tell me, sweetheart, was it worth it? Fucking that worthless frat boy?” He slaps your ass again. “Did he make you cum?”

You bite your lip. “...no…”

He laughs, as if he already knew the answer but it made it that much sweeter to hear it from your own lips. His hand rubs up your back and slides around your throat, squeezing gently and turning you on even more. “Did you let him cum inside you?” He asks, his voice dark and devoid of any humor. You know he's not going to like your answer.

“...yes…” you confess; you're certainly in no position to lie to him. Another smack hits your ass cheek along with that delicious sting. You don't need to see his face to know he's pissed. He rubs the spot tenderly then slaps it once more.

“Learn your lesson yet, sweetheart?” He asks, delivering another slap. His hips continue to move his dick between your thighs at a snail's pace.

You cry out for release. “What!? What is it!? What am I supposed to learn!?”

Leon stops moving and positions the head of his cock at your entrance, locked and ready to fill you with one thrust. He grips your waist with both hands, tightly, to keep you from pushing your hips back and impaling yourself on his cock before he decides to give it to you. He leans in slowly and gently whispers in your ear, “that you're fucking mine.” With that, he slams his cock inside you, fucking you ruthlessly. Your eyes roll back into your head. Finally, the addicting sensation of being filled by him is yours to savor once again. His fat, long dick hits your cervix over and over, rubbing your g-spot perfectly. It doesn't take you long to cum, screaming his name, panting, and gasping as you catch your breath. He doesn't slow his pace; instead he maintains, fucking you hard and fast as your walls contract and relax around him. He draws out your orgasm, reaching around to squeeze your throat again with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. Where you were just parched for pleasure, you're now overstimulated, between his hard and fast thrusts and his rough circles on your clit, you're about to combust yet again. He leans forward once more, biting and sucking on your neck, leaving deliberate marks. “In case any other fucking frat boys get any ideas about touching you,” he growls. You cum again, the pain and pleasure enough to send you over the edge a second time. You're covered in sweat and your body is sliding easily on his desk.

Leon slams his hips forward hard, sheathing himself balls deep inside you as he cums, his dick exploding with jizz all over the entrance to your womb. He holds you on the desk with his hands as the last globs of cum shoot out from his tip. Then, he leans down and tenderly kisses your neck. He helps you up from the desk, releases your hands from his tie, and even helps you dress.

“You know, if it's any consolation, I don't even remember that frat boy's name,” you admit.

“James C. Harold,” Leon rattles off without hesitation.

Your eyes widen. “How did you…?”

He leans in closer, looming over you. His smirk is nearly audible. “I had him expelled.” He hooks his finger into the waistband of your jeans and pulls you to him. “You. Are. Mine.” He growls then kisses you possessively. “Is that clear?”

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels: chapter 1

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 2842

Summary: You never had a 'spidey sense,' as you came to learn from your time as part of Spider Society. You'd gotten along this far without it and were an excellent spider-woman regardless. Then you meet Miguel O'Hara and it awakens something in you. A strange buzzing in the back of your head. It doesn't stop whenever he's in sight, and you think he knows what's happening to you.

Something about Miguel draws you in. What made him so fucking special?

Warnings: Smuuut, Oral (Fem receiving-in a public place), Mentions of masturbation (like barely), horny at work, Miguel being feral, spider hormone connection?? IDK

Notes: This is my first time sharing anything I've written, I have no idea what I'm doing. I just started this blog an hour ago for this shit. I swear a lot, i guess. Please go easy on me... and enjoy, my beloveds.

AO3

Next chapter

___________________________________

Chapter 1

Spidey Sense

At first, joining Spider Society was overwhelming. How could it not be? But also— strangely relieving. There were more of you. Enough to fill a 200-story tower. After years of doing this on your own, you had a community to lean on. A community just like you.

As your life in the spider citadel went on it became more and more obvious that no two spider people were exactly the same. Powers or personality-wise— well, actually all of you seemed to be pretty quick-witted. Everyone’s abilities seemed to differ ever so slightly, you were no exception.

You never had what you came to learn as a ‘spidey sense.’ You had wall-crawling, strength, agility, all the seemingly usual stuff— but just not this apparent danger warning your fellow spider people had. Your powers seemed to make up for themselves in the end. Whatever you may have lost with this other sense, you more than made up for in other ways.

You didn’t have an internal security system, but your remaining senses were easily double that of any of your counterparts. On top of that your webs were completely organic. No awkward shooters or web fluid to constantly worry about. You win some, you lose some. 

Still, it fascinated you. The ability to sense danger. A literal sixth sense. Having constant spacial awareness sounded amazing after the embarrassing amount of random pigeons you’d hit while swinging through the city.

You asked around about it whenever powers came into the conversation. It was as casual as talking about the weather for all of you. They all described it the same. An unmistakable gut feeling. A tingling in the back of your head, a spiked heart rate, and suddenly you knew every small detail that was happening around you. If you were being honest, it sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack. Random adrenaline spikes throughout the day didn’t sound like the funnest ability to deal with. You’d never felt anything remotely like what they were describing. 

Well, until you met him.

Met was a strong word, actually. Miguel was a reclusive leader. You’d only met him a handful of times. Jess was the one to recruit you into the spider-league and Miguel was just this invisible entity you’d only heard about in passing. Everyone talked about him with such high regard and respect that you just kind of mimicked their attitude without really knowing anything about him. He built this place. He had to be incredible. 

The first time you saw the illusive Spider-Man 2099 was in a meeting. Jess wanted to get you into some teamwork missions and you reluctantly agreed. You and about a dozen other of your spider-comrades were to inspect an anomaly in universe whatever. Don’t interact with anything. Only observe. It was clearly a bullshit team-building exercise for all of you. No one here really knew much about being part of a team.

The air in the room changed when Miguel walked in. Everyone instantly hushed. He commanded the space with such little effort. He was addressing the room when he made eye contact with you and you immediately felt intimidated. Christ, he was huge… and handsome. Beyond his obvious leg-buckling good looks, there was something else his gaze did to you.

A strange tingling in the back of your head.

His gaze stayed on you longer than you’d have liked, his head tilting ever so slightly before pulling his attention back to the rest of the room. The buzzing in your head didn’t go away until he left. 

What the hell was that?

“You alright?” Jess tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. The rest of the room was dispersing into the portal. Clearly, you paid close attention to the debriefing you’d just sat through.

“Yep!” You answered just a little too loudly. “Just nerves, I guess. Let’s do this.” Your lead Spider-Woman gave a cheeky smile before leading you both into the portal.

That was the first time you’d noticed something weird.

You’d only see Miguel in passing or in crowded rooms with countless other spider people. It quickly became obvious that he was the cause of whatever was happening with you. No matter the situation, you still got that weird feeling whenever he was around. He’d always glance at you more than you’d like— but then again you did the same. As you climbed the ranks you worried you’d get stuck on missions with him. Luckily, he seemed to take his jobs solo. 

Still, ever the attentive leader he was, he soon was in every briefing you were. Every meeting and training— sitting on the other end of the room making your newfound spider sense scream in your head. It would start going off even before you entered the room. That’s how you’d know he’d be there— and your sense was right every time.

The last time you saw him, he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. 

 A massive projection table stood between you and him. Lyla was showing some random science behind whatever the latest threat to the universe at large was. You couldn’t care less about what she said while this brutish man bore into your soul— again. 

Your sense was going crazy this time. No one else ever seemed to notice, so why did he? You’d heard through the grapevine Miguel was one of the few other spider people that didn’t have a spider-sense. He wasn’t much like any of the other spiders, really. Yet, he seemed to know what was happening to you.

How could he not know, since he was clearly the cause.

Your growing adrenaline morphed into something you didn’t expect. Your cheeks immediately reddened when you felt a heat rising in your core— and a gush of arousal between your legs. You squeezed your legs together, leaning on the projection table for support. Then Miguel’s expression changed. His eyebrows furrowed. You saw his jaw and neck clench. If you didn’t know any better he looked disgusted.

It was fucking humiliating. 

This was your job. These were your colleagues. You were all discussing what you needed to do to keep the literal entire universe safe! And here you were, getting horny over nothing like some teenager. Pathetic.

And he surely knew exactly what was happening.

Miguel left the meeting in a huff and you ran your vibrator dead that night when you got home. 

From then on, you actively avoided him. Both out of shame and for your own sanity. Whatever this was, you didn’t wanna deal with it. Out of sight of a mind.

It was obvious no one else had this weird problem with him so there wasn’t anyone you could turn to. You’d rather die than explain this to Jess and half of your other members were fucking teenagers. You didn’t want to ask Lyla so she could have this in her memory banks for Miguel to just stumble across one day and promptly expel you from Spider society. You loved it here. You loved being part of something bigger than yourself. It's why you took up the mantel in the first place.

Yet, surrounded by the people who understand you most, you were alone in this. Trapped by some weird spider-power puberty. Could superpowers even go through puberty? It made as much sense as anything else in your life.

You were walking to the training room when that doomed buzz pinged in the back of your head. Turning the corner to the empty corridor was that dreaded, broad figure you’d been successfully avoiding for weeks now. He pauses when he sees you, just for a moment, before continuing on his path. Your spider sense hadn’t shown itself this entire time and now it was like a car alarm in your head. Still, you managed to walk on. You won’t let him have the satisfaction.   

He mumbled your name with a small nod when you passed each other, you did the same. Honestly, you were surprised he even knew your first name. You were nearly at the corner when you felt the tingling morph into what you were dreading. You bit your lip at the building erotic sensation between your legs. You’d had enough. 

After that last encounter, you started to wonder if this was something he was doing. How could you not? There was something in his animalistic eyes besides pure hunger. There was knowing. There was smugness. 

Yeah, he was definitely doing something. This was his fault.

“Stop it!” You turn to shout at him, now standing yards away from you. Your voice echoes down the empty hallway. He turns to look at you, a grimace on his face. “This isn’t funny. I don’t know what the hell your doing or why you’re doing it, but just stop it.” You say again, stepping toward him.

“What I’m doing?��� he snarls, “What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re fucking with me for fun,” You accuse him, “I thought it was me. I thought it was something I was doing because no one else had the same problem, but it only happens around you. So you’re the one doing something to me!”

“Only around me, hm?” he scoffs, stepping toward you. “I’m not doing anything,”

“Liar,” you bite, “This only happens around you. That only leaves one option. You’re doing it.”

A bloated silence follows. You see his shoulders drop, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes in annoyance. 

 “You really don’t know what’s happening either, do you?” That gives you pause. “The constant… buzzing.”

No fucking way.

He… felt it too. 

He’s standing directly in front of you now, his expression softened ever so slightly.

“I’m not like most of them, you know.” He starts, his voice a low rumble, “No spider-sense, talons for wall-crawling, venomous fangs… enhanced senses. You’re not exactly like the others either, are you?” his form dwarfs you, backing you into the closest wall.

“You don’t know anything about me,” You hiss. 

“I know everything about you,” He retorts, “It’s my job to know.”

“You… you really don’t know what’s happening to me. To…us.”

This all just got insanity more confusing. Well, it already was but this was just another layer onto the shitty cake. He could be lying, you think briefly. He could see how much he affects you and finds it funny. Though that nagging feeling in the back of your head says he’s telling the truth— and you believe it. 

“Not yet,” his arms cage you in. His eyes shift to that familiar deep red as he drags his gaze over you, “I was suspicious the first time, then it wouldn’t stop.”

“It’s awful.”

“The worst.”

Then, for the first time, you actually feel small under his gaze— other than in a literal sense. He’d been staring you down for over a month but now he was so damn close.

“What’s it feel like… for you?” He asks.

You think for a moment, trying to ignore the heat rising inside you, “It’s… it’s like climbing a roller coaster. Anticipation. Adrenaline. You know somethings coming.” 

Your heartbeat is pounding. 

“Mhmm,” he lowers his head, “What else?”

“It’s—“, you shy away from his gaze. 

“I know what else,” he leans down, lips brushing into your ear, “I’ve been able to smell you for days.” 

If this were any other man you’d have knocked him unconscious by now, but something about him speaking to you this way made your legs nearly give out.

You feel a sharp pressure against your thigh. You look down to see the single talon of his index finger pressed against you, hooked through the material of your suit. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks, his voice a low growl now, “This is what it’s screaming at you?”

You bite your lip, taking in a sharp inhale before you nod. 

He drags the claw up your thigh and across your stomach, slicing with precision cleanly through the material of your suit and underwear. Another rush of arousal runs through you. The fabric gives way easily and your core is left completely bare. He grabs your thighs.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell,” he hoists your legs over his shoulders as he kneels down to meet your waiting cunt. He holds you on top of him like you weigh nothing at all.

Superhuman strength and agility had several perks you always felt you never fully utilized.

His mouth engulfs you, licking a long stripe up your entrance before enveloping your clit. You gasp and grab his head with one hand and stick to the wall with the other. It wasn’t exactly stable, but that was the last thing on your mind. The king of spider-kind was eating you out in the middle of the citadel— and god was he good. 

You fight back your moans as best you can, anyone could walk by. Anyone could hear you. When he sucks down on you, you let a small scream slip.

“Cállate!” He hisses underneath you. Your eyes briefly meet his before he’s back on you. You barely remember your 3 years of high school Spanish, but the tone of his voice was clear. Be quiet.

You bit down on your hand. Your toes curled in your shoes. He was unraveling you bit by bit with his tongue. Consuming you like a starved man.

His mouth wasn’t the only thing wrecking you. That annoying buzz in your head had dulled into something different— something entirely new. The strange tingling simmered into a warm sensation, raising every hair on your body. Every time he’d touch you, it’d electrify you even more. Did he feel this way too, you wonder?

He wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t slow and sensual. He was fucking primal, wriggling and squirming underneath you as if to try to get more of you— to get you impossibly closer. He’d retracted his claws but his fingers squeezed you so tightly you knew there’d be bruises in the morning. The thought sent a new wave of wetness to your cunt. 

He moans into you, sending vibrations all through your body. He was whispering some sweet nothings you didn’t have the brain capacity to try and understand. Really he was telling you all you wanted to know— he was enjoying this too. Whether it was for some sick kicks or he just liked the control, you didn’t care. He was giving you some much-needed relief you didn’t know you had pent up— and it felt like this was the same for him.

Then he finally looks up at you, his eyes overtaken by that inhuman crimson red— animalistic and feral and wanting. You should be afraid of him. 

His tongue delves into your heat, his strong nose still nudging at your clit. You were getting close now— already? Yeah, you were way more pent-up than you thought. Both of your hands come down to his head, lacing your fingers through his dark hair.

“Miguel,” You barely gasp out, “Miguel, I’m gonna—”

You don’t finish before it overtakes you. Your shaking legs crush his head while pure euphoric energy surges through you. Your face contorts into a silent scream, completely forgetting how to breathe for just a moment. It was raw. It was hungry and rushed, but it was perfect.

 He works you through it until your bones become jelly. He lowers you down onto his lap. The buzzing in your head is singing— and then it’s finally silent, washing over you like a warm wave. It was complete bliss.

Even straddling his lap, he still towers over you—crowding you in against the wall with his arms again. You’re both panting from the rush. Did you seriously just do that? Did he seriously just do that? 

“It… it stopped,” You finally say. “The buzzing.”

He grunts in response, which you can only interpret as me too. Running his thumb across his chin to gather your remaining arousal. Those red eyes never leave your face while he sucks the digit clean. You instantly feel another rush of heat at the sight. This fucking man.

You both turn to the sound of oncoming footsteps just around the corner. So much for heightened senses this time. You turn back to each other, both with the same question painted across your face. What the fuck do we do?

He’s the first to act, quickly typing something into his multiverse watch. A portal opens in the wall directly behind you. Without warning you fall into it, getting one last look at Miguel's smug face before it closes. Then— you're in your empty apartment. 

Your ears are ringing. Your heart is pounding. Too many thoughts are rushing through your head to even bother sorting out right now. As you sit there, shamefully bare in your most intimate area in the middle of your living room, you settle on one aspect of this entire fucked up situation to focus on.

That asshole ruined your last fucking suit. 

____________________________________

I don't know how to make a taglist.

Hope you liked it!!!

[qvrcll]

omg i just read mornings and i'm so happy ur requests are open cause i am in need for more of female shy reader x confident and whipped ellie please 🤭 so may i request their "first time" smut (+fluff) where ellie takes the reader's virginity 👉👈 make it soft & steamy please 🫶

on this thing called fire / avalon

summary: in which ellie and you take it a step forward in your relationship; maybe that involves being knuckle full of her and crooning with her mouth in places you’d dream of, but who’s counting?

warnings: major nsfw under the cut !! spit mentioned / use of nickname ‘bun’, u know the regular shmegular stuff

a/n: first of all i am so sorry for not responding to this ask! second, thank u so much for enjoying my works! i had been experiencing massive writer’s block when it had been sent and i wanted to give u my best so here we go :-) enjoy! (just a side note, my req’s are still closed for the time being)

The first time with Ellie would be purely coincidental, a haywire of nerves and spongy movements, soft-rimmed with awkward touches, hushed breaths and thoughts of hesitance.

The two of you know your boundaries before you speak of it — she would never force you to do anything and neither would you do anything of that sort of nature with her. Besides, when merged as a pair, you’re two paires of antsy nerves, stringing against each other like grass and rippling with raw shyness, hues of ‘I hope this is okay’. Still, it was enough, Ellie thinks, this was more than okay.

So, come to the day you’re both heavily slotted against one another, limbs tangled so ardently at the skin, it’s hard to anticipate anything headier. Her smell chokes you, makes you formulate a rational reason for the spike in your chest — maybe I’ve just never been this close to someone before.

But your brain is quick to fortify your hopes against you.

You’ve been in tight spots like these more than once — that one instance where you and Dina had monstrously jabbed the two of you in a swing-set half the size of you, meat of her thigh crushing your nerves as the two of you squealed. Or the time where Jesse had whispered apologies, crisp and awfully kind, when he’d nearly bruised you against the car window in an attempt to fit in the tight space (your knees throbbed when you’d exited the vehicle and his hands were spattered with his grapple with the Honda Civic.)

But neither of those times, did you feel a heat as constricting as this, hands muggy and wrestling for a feeling, a sentiment beyond the vest Ellie wore. It was different, incredibly so. This was Ellie, your girlfriend of months. Brutal and stuff of dreams to the touch.

But it all had led back to that pathetic little attempt to clench your thighs, simmer your whimpers to a lesser degree when she groggily swiped a barely restive hand against your back. In a particularly ‘Ellie’ fashion, full of physical affirmation, you were sure, but the heat that painted your back in ordeal left you weak, fighting to weld your nerves back into your body.

But it was never that easy, and Ellie was always two steps ahead.

“What’s wrong…?” she rasps, trickles with hesitation, like she’d done something wrong. The thought makes you awfully prickly, skittering with sweat and jitters, because god, if this was her doing something wrong, you’d like to see her worst.

Still, you shift your position, the heat in your belly never once reclining, shifting like a on-set febrility against you. A dead-set course. A fit of hormones. Endorphins. Fuck whatever fit the label, you were still squirming.

“N-Nothing, go back to sleep…” you spit out, crackle in embarrassment, as she pauses her kindly ministrations against your back. Now she’s awfully concerned, twisted in her idolatry because she’s so sure she’s messed up somewhere. It makes her jaw bleed with sweat, her brows crease with new born worry — she twitches her mouth, opens it, closes, and then lifts her head.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” her voice is louder, stronger, but not accusatory. It’s sparkly, in a pondering sort of way, but you don’t appreciate the rasp in her tone. It makes you filthy, coated in your want for her, sticky where you swear you shouldn’t be. But you refuse to look at her, resorting to bury your face so deep into her chest, you might as well carve a cavern in there and don it your new home, “Ellie—it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Your voice reassures her but your low tone worries her — her hand scratches that low spot below your neck and presses into the skin like relief. Like comfort. But the heat of it is only playing tricks on you and you curse yourself as you tighten your thighs, shaking softly as you feel hot all over.

Fuck.

“So something is bothering you?” she speaks, and her voice, vivacious and real, courses through you. She doesn’t even fathom the effect she has on you, not to this extent, because she’s figuring it’s something cruel. Something unfixable. And perhaps it is cruel, to you, but unfixable? Absolutely not. She continues, pressing her lips against your warm forehead, “let it up, bun. I won’t be upset. You know I won’t, mhm?”

And you feel yourself tremble, crack in her hold. You’d nearly fooled herself and you in the process. But this was getting you nowhere. Her touch catalysed something you resisted and it was overpowering your senses, sending you reeling for the floor and you had to tell her, had to tell her, tell her now, or else it would break you.

“I just—“ your voice picks up, humiliated, “I think I want you.”

A moment passes. You feel like there might’ve been better options. And worse. It makes you wonder if she knows exactly what you’re running from, this swelter plaguing you from the innards.

“I think you will always have me, bun—“ she chuckles, and it makes you spasm with denial. She’s not getting it.

“No—“

“No?” her brow lifts, as she presses against your body. Makes you shake. Makes you tighten with a looming threat.

“Not like—not like that…” you blush, grow silent. It intrigues her, suctions her to you as she brushes a calloused finger against your cheek, swelling the flesh with yet another string of warmth. It spurts you need, again, a terrible ache to your words, “I need you to…”

Her smile is small, calibrated, sick to the thought of not doing what’s right. Slippery and antsy for not being what you want — “What do you need me to do, bun?”

“I—need you to touch… me?” your voice curls at the end, a question, pathetic and dangerously simple, it shouldn’t confuse her.

Yet her eyes falter, fill with a sort of darkness that you hadn’t anticipated. Her lips go tight with a twitch, her hands now coiling impossibly closer around you, with her fingers padding against your waist. Your skin. You.

This whole time, you needed her to touch you? It had been as simple as that? Impossible.

“Touch you how, bun?” she asks and you nearly fumble, devastated that you’d need to spell it out with brick, chalky letters for her. But with the way her eyes curl with a deliberate evil, her tongue licking over lips like she was preparing for something, something big, you knew she was playing with you like meat.

“Ellie—“ you groan, creen against her. She laughs, amused, but doesn’t let up her antics. Instead, she locks you close, her fingers now sinking into the material of your panties. They’re airy, looking against the waistband like a routine, and you’re sick with the wait, “do I really need to say it?”

“You know you do” she smirks softly, pressing her cheek against yours in a sick attempt to taunt you. It works, though. Makes you sense. Feel. Share the heat of her skin as she makes it known just how much harder she was making this for you. And you sink, gut heaving for release.

“Please, El’s,” you murmur. Try the look of innocence. Play the smaller part. She’s not fazed, just merely mocks the look, encouraging a longer string of words, “I need you to touch me here…”

And the words die on your tongue, quickly, as you grasp her other hand, leading the farther weight of her large palm against the front of your shorts. You don’t miss the harsh bob of her throat, the way she sighs with amusement. With relief.

“Need a bit more clarification than that, bun,” she teases, splaying her palm against the front of your shorts and pressing against the fabric in senseless circles. It makes you whine, dig into her softly, breathless like a greedy thing. It only makes her chuckle, land a soft, wet kiss against the expanse of your neck where it allows her.

“I need—“ you pause, swallow air for some slant, “need your fingers in me. Against me. Please, Ellie, please—“ you choke, tears now threatening to poke against your lashes as you attach against her. But the strength of your pleadings makes her nervous, makes her feel better about it all.

“I think I get the idea,” her words come out rough, tangled like she’d wrestled with the idea of them, as her fingers brush past your panties and against your throbbing clit. It makes you creen with new noises — no one has ever taken you this far before.

She presses a small kiss to your cheek, lowers you onto the bed as she rests on her elbows to capture a better picture of the onslaught of your rapture — “you ever touched yourself, bun?” she rasps, as her fingers flicker up and down your slit to gather rhythm. When you shake your head no, she doesn’t lighten her pressure against your clit, but she does suck in a breath of air.

Knowing that you’d never done anything of this extent with each other was one piece of knowledge. Now, knowing you’d never been touched in this way, ever, not even with the weight of your own fingers, made her sticky in her boxers. Made her amble for her breath.

It made her want to please you all the more.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” her fingers ghost against your hole, and you tighten out of unlearnt routine, “want me to take care of you, bun?”

God, she’d be the death of you.

“Yes—want you to touch me, El’s…” you whine, grip her hand to gather a sense of your bearings. You’d only ever read words on a page of this sort of thing, pictures when you got too curious. Sentences that talked of parts, sensations, sticky feelings and the ‘right person.’ You’re sure half your knowledge on the matter would be fusty with nothing but sloppiness, half-hearted attempts to reach a high you’d only ever dreamt of.

But now, Ellie was crushing you with the kindness of her fingers. Delivering you that high you’d read in magazine books picked with prickly fingers, left behind when you felt all too awful about it.

Ellie smiles, brings that familiar puddle of warmth to your belly. Her fingers prod at your hole, “I’ll add a finger okay? Promise it’ll feel good,” and the sentence ends with the chime of your whine, groan, choke, all blended in one as her willowy, slender finger messily finds an opening within you.

Ellie pauses, breathing just as fast. It makes you heady, that look on her face — fucked out when she hadn’t even been touched. Red when it’s you she’s ruining to pieces. It makes you warm again, hopeless with moans as her finger begins to pump into you with moderate speed.

“Feel good?” she asks and you silently nod. But she’s breathless, her other hand coming to touch you, feel. Grab a taste of your warmth, and you’re pleasantly welcomed with your cheeks hollowed as she grabs them gently yet firmly — “kiss me?”

The question is stupid, window-worthy. It makes you scoff, makes her smile in return. The inquiry, burnt in ashes already, as you invite her mouth with a whine. You barely notice the addition of fingers within you as her tongue explores you like no one else, lathers you with her own saliva, behind your teeth and elsewhere.

It gets you hot again, impossibly so.

When she pulls back, she reverts to kissing your neck, punching the skin with her lips, as her fingers slot in and out of you. It had gotten to the point where you aimlessly discarded of your shorts, somewhere in the deep recesses beneath your bed.

Now, though, the sounds of her filling you gather as one, melding with the sounds of your cries as she adds yet another finger. Forms a cupping-form against your weeping cunt, as she aims to drill another hole into you. Her fingers are enough to make you sputter, creen, with saliva drooling out the side of your mouth as she works you up in her hold.

“Easy, bun, you close?” she asks. No, perhaps warns, and by the time you’re nodding fervently, she’s already letting out an airy chuckle. But it’s nothing of the malicious sort, just compact with knowing. Several layers of need. Of ‘finally.’

By the time you climax nears, her speed triples, the sopping liquids making it an easy endeavour for the abuse on your swollen cunt. You cry, somewhere in the bucket of noises, clutch onto her like you’re too unsure. You feel an unfamiliar feeling threaten to burst, and you’re half sure it’s a release similar to what you’ve read, and half convinced it’s you wetting yourself.

“El’s—“ you cry, but it’s jammed. It catches her attention, though, “Ellie—I think I’m gonna—“

“You gonna cum?” she asks, for absurdity. For nothing at all, because you’re frothing at both ends. It processes too late, too far, as you agree, pathetic cries too loud for any words but your body allows you a nod as you confirm the threat of release, “then do it, bun.”

And as quickly as you let the words out, the quicker you cry with the fullness of your orgasm, wet, clenching and full of sensations so foreign but diverting, you nearly lose your consciousness. But Ellie trains her eyes on you, as her fingers exit your sopping entrance and rub delicate, cautionary circles against your clit, a sign to come to.

“You good there?” she smiles, teases, tears with a chuckle as you gasp. You’re quick to lightly punch her in the sides, heaving with pleasure still, “you nearly killed me.”

“Killed you with my fingers?”

“Yeah, those fucking, beautiful fingers.”

She shifts, knees caging your thighs suddenly, as her weight hovers over you. In this light, she’s a verdant eyed jewel, gazing at you with tepidity and warmness unmatched, her fingers grazing you like a telltale sign that she’s not done letting you up.

“Ellie?” your voice is nimble, caught in your throat as she descends to your cunt, and before you can let a word of protest even hit her ears, she’s licking a long, aimless stripe against your cunt, and it makes you break.

“Ellie—” you cry, overstimulated and scratching against the sheets as she doesn’t relent her assault against your beckoning centre, heated and oozing yet again that it worries you. But she doesn’t care, merely hitches an arm around your thigh and drives you forward, jerks you with a sting so profound it makes you melt and begins eating you out like her life depended on the course of your pleasure.

Because it really did.

“Ellie—fuck—Ellie!”

She doesn’t listen, just continues, lapping at you and having at you like dessert. Cream. Pudding and pie. The fervor heightens as she prods her tongue where her fingers had busied themselves around, the tight muscle heady in its endeavour to have you crying against her. The zing of your juices has her puddling on her boxers, but it’s more of a priority that she has you seeing white — your second release is quicker, harder, more thrashing and clenching and a mess of hands and feet as you cage her head with your thighs. She sighs, glad for the grapple against her, as she pats against you.

She smiles when you fall limp against the sheets, swallowing air like you’d gone days without it — “did that feel good?”

“Ellie…” you start, warn with a disconcerting frown so faux it makes the both of you giggle, before knocking her useless as you kiss her again. Her kisses are fervent, meaningful, punched with colour and vigour as you pull apart — she chases your lips with a crunch of her eyebrows, a delicate sigh.

And suddenly, her face twists as your hands fall into underneath her boxers, surprised and deliciously wet under those layers.

Of course, you want to string her out — you’re barely recovering from her performance. But some part of you knows she gets excited from the innocent act. And you wouldn’t particularly be ‘lying’ when you acted deft in your attempts to pleasure her. So you do.

“El’s, can you teach me how to touch you?” you murmur, lips rolling into themselves as you fake a look of innocence, all compressed into a look of hopelessly scrunched brows and a small pout. It has Ellie sighing, chuckling quietly as she twitches, throws her head back.

“O-Ofcourse—I’ll—agh—“ your finger ghosts her clit, beating, surely, with want. It makes you pry more, makes you apply pressure against that spot a little more, have her hold your arms as she hisses through her teeth.

“I’ll teach you, bun” she barely breathes out, surging forward for another kiss.

This was going to be a long day.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[abbysleftbicepp]

The Thief And The Fairy

An Ellie Williams x Maleficent!Reader au. part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

An: This fic is the result of an idea that’s been rotting my head for months. The story line will be extremely close to Maleficent, and a lot of the lines will be exact to the film. Fair warning, it is a strangers to lovers to enemies sooo yeah 🫶 not proof read.

|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|~~~|

Once upon a time, in a far off land, there lived a little girl. She was no ordinary girl, for she lived in the branches of a tree on the top of a mountain. Most of her features resembled a human, however a few of her features did not.

The girl carried long, dark, feathered wings on her back, and upon her head were two scaled horns that curled ever so slightly. Her ears were almost human, as they spiked near the tops, and her cheek bones were as sharp as a blade.

The girls wings could carry her high up into the clouds and she felt like she danced with the stars as she flew, the wings never faltered nor failed her. She trusted them with her whole life.

Her tree belonged to her land, known as the Moors. It was located in a large forest next to a kingdom. The Moors and the kingdom had been at war for centuries, until 7 years ago, when the king had claimed her parents heads on his sword. Two years later, the king had died and his son, Jesse, took his place on the throne.

Because of this, Y/N was unfortunately the only one of her kind left in the Moors. There were goblins, Gorgons, Pixies, Sirens, Spriggans, mushroom fae and more. There were many family’s of each, creating a population of the Moor folk.

Although Y/N was only 14 years old, she claimed the title of the protector of the Moors, just like her parents once were. This was a mutual agreement between the moor-folk as she had the strongest wings and a power stronger than they had seen ever before. She was able to heal and break with the stroke of her finger, and she did not know what she was fully capable of, yet.

One day, Y/N was helping some of the pixies mend some of the crops, as a storm had destroyed their farmland the night before. As she used her magic to heal the poor crops, one of the Spriggan soldiers, Balthazar, came to her.

The Spriggan folk look a lot like trees. They disguise themselves as such from the humans, as a way to hide from them. Their ears are large and can shield their faces from harm, they have sharp wooden teeth and their body’s almost resemble a skeleton made out of wood. Their jobs were along side Y/N, as her soldiers. They usually carry wooden spears with them as weapons and did not speak human like the pixies and Y/N could, however they could still understand it.

Balthazar made some earthy deep sounds, which is the Spriggans way of communicating.

“What do you mean there’s a human in the Moors? there hasn’t been for years.” Y/N protested, slightly nervous to encounter her first human since the last war, where her parents were stolen from her.

He replied with similar noises as a moment ago.

“She’s stealing from the pool of jewels? Tor heavens sake we need to stop her. They’re not hers to take.” She announced before flying up into the clouds and towards the pool of jewels.

When she arrived, two more Spriggans were surrounding the entrance to a small cave in the mountain right next to the pool, however it was covered in ivy so she couldn’t see the human hidden inside. She landed on a grass covered rock inside the pool, in-between the Spriggans.

“Come out!” She demanded. She had no response from the human, maybe they speak a different language now? She decided to try her luck again.

“Come out this instant!” She spoke louder than before.

“No! They mean to kill me!” A female voice spoke. Her accent was different to the humans that Y/N remembered. Perhaps the humans had changed their way of speaking the language.

“They don’t mean to harm you whatsoever. They know you have something that doesn’t belong to you. You have to give it back!” She spoke loud and clear.

The hidden human hesitated, but slowly crept out of the ivy, into the open. She had auburn brown hair, pale green eyes and freckles scattered along her face. Her hair was tied up into a pony tail and she wore ragged old clothes, covered with an old brown cloak. She looked quite small for a human.

“Are you fully grown?” Y/N asked curiously, analysing the humans appearance.

“No..” The human responded.

“I believe she’s just..a girl?” Y/N said slightly confused to her soldiers.

“And you’re just a girl…i think..?” The human stepped into the conversation.

“Who are you?” Y/N asked the human who stood before her.

“I’m called Ellie. Ellie Williams. Who are you?” She replied with confidence.

“Y/N” The fairy replied with the same amount of confidence. One of the Spriggans quickly reminded her of why she was here, meeting the human.

“Yes! right.” She spoke. “Like i said earlier, i believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“No i dont.” Ellie said confused, trying to act dumb. Y/N rolled her eyes and held out her hand expectedly. Sighing, Ellie digged into her pocket, retrieving a jewel and chucked it to Y/N’s hand. Y/N then gently tossed the jewel back into the pool.

Y/N and Ellie walked together through the forest, as Y/N wanted to make sure the girl was safe leaving. Ellie’s eyes were glued to Y/N’s wings, she felt drawn to them. They were like nothing she’d seen before. She decided to speak before her stares got too weird.

“if i’d known you’d throw it away i would have kept it.” Ellie complained, knowing she could have gotten a meal by paying with that jewel, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a whole meal.

“I didn’t throw it away. I delivered it home, as i’m going to do with you.” She announced. The girls walked through the woodlands together in a comfortable silence. Ellie admired the nature around them, and gasped as fireflies flew passed them.

Finally, they reached the end of the forest where there was a large grass field that separated the Moors from the kingdom.

Ellie came to a halt, Y/N following suit.

“Y’know, some day i’ll live there,” Ellie spoke, pointing into the distance. “In the castle.” She frowned, hoping her dreams will someday come true.

“Well where do you live now?” Y/N asked curiously. She was so drawn to Ellie in a way she couldn’t describe. She’d never felt like this before.

Ellie turned her face away, embarrassed to face Y/N as she responded. “In a barn..”

“So your parents are farmers then?” Y/N continued, not noticing Ellie’s demeanour change.

“My parents are dead.” Ellie responded quite bluntly, her head hanging low.

“Mine too.” Y/N looked at Ellie with sympathy. Maybe not all humans were bad anymore. Maybe it was time for the moors to stop being afraid.

Ellie looked back at Y/N with the same expression. She stared into the fairy’s eyes for a while before speaking up.

“We’ll see each other again.” She said with confidence, turning so her back was to Y/N and took a few steps forward

“You really shouldn’t come back here you know.. it’s not safe.” Y/N protested, she almost cared for the human. She felt connected to her in ways she didn’t understand.

Ellie turned around again to face the winged girl. “and if i made that choice, if i came back…would you be here?” Ellie asked with a smile tugging on her lips.

Y/N looked around for a moment, she was lost in thought.

“Perhaps.” She shrugged with a smile. Ellie was beaming, and stretched her hand out to shake Y/Ns. When the girl took Ellie’s hand, she immediately took it back and gasped in pain. Ellie’s face dropped and concern rushed through her body.

“What’s wrong?!” She exclaimed, her eyes searching Y/N’s face for answers. Y/N gripped her palm in pain, where Ellie’s ring touched seconds ago.

“Your ring..Iron burns fairy’s.” She explained to the concerned human in front of her.

“I’m so sorry!” Ellie said apologetically, before she took her ring off and threw it as far as she could. Y/N felt her face heat up and her heart grow warmer. Humans were a lot kinder than she thought, so it seems.

“I like your wings.” Ellie spoke, interrupting Y/Ns thoughts. The fairy’s grin only grew wider upon hearing her words as Ellie walked across the fields, towards her home.

Later that night, Y/N couldn’t sleep. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of Ellie and how she, who had so little in the world, threw away her ring so that their hands might touch again. Her heart longed to see the human once more, and all her hatred towards the humans had shifted into peace in her mind. She believed that maybe they’ve changed, and that there is good in them.

The young thief who had once hoped to steal a jewel, had managed to steal something far more precious.

“Y/N?” Ellie called outside the forrest, where they she had last seen the fairy. “Y/N!” She called over and over again. After a minute or two of calling her name, she decided it was hopeless and sighed. Suddenly, there was a gust of wind behind her, and she heard something thump onto the ground.

Turning around in a haste, Ellie saw the girl she had hoped to see stood in front of her, smiling ear to ear.

“After all these weeks, look who came back” Y/N teased. Ellie smirked and walked closer to the girl.

“I thought it was worth the risk.” She replied, a smile growing bigger on her face by the second. “So, what do you do to entertain yourself around here?” Ellie asked, and Y/N only replied with a smirk.

“Follow me.” She spoke before running into the Moors. Ellie quickly followed suit, curious as to where they were going.