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lis-likes-fics · 6 months

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A Christmas Movie

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x spider!Reader Word Count: 5.4k exactly Kink: Size Kink Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, love vomits, Miguel speaking Spanish… A/N: This is a few hours late but I literally finished it five minutes ago. Miguel describes the reader as tiny a lot, but it is only meant in comparison to him, not as a physical description of the reader. Thank you! Also A/N: This can be read as a sequel to this oneshot, but can also be read as a standalone. Thank you and enjoy!

“Is this necessary?”

You rub your side as you lay on the floor, an ache in your muscles as you get thrown to the hard floor again. Looking up at him, you move to stand. “Yes.”

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest, his gray hoodie loose enough not to allow you the pleasure of seeing his muscles bulging through the material. “Why?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to recover before he advances again.

You stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back pop with a heavy sigh. “Well, you saw my attempt just then. You threw me like a fucking ragdoll.”

He shrugs. “Are you ready?”

You sigh, shifting back into your starting stance.

“Firmer stance. I shouldn't be able to move you.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Of course you should. Have you seen yourself? You're huge…in more ways than one.” You smirk at him.

He just rolls his own eyes in return. “It should be harder to push you. If I can use my finger to make you fall, your stance is flimsy.”

“You can use your finger to make me fall apart any day.”

He ignores you. He walks over to you, ignoring your remarks as he fixes your stance. He nudges one leg further from the other, widening your feet before pressing down on your shoulders to lower you slightly. He shoves you, you stay standing.

“Better. Do that,” he says.

“You're so grumpy,” you mumble.

A chill rushes up your spine and your right cheek flutters with heat. Ducking, you narrowly miss Miguel's fist to your face. “Dude, what the fu–!”

You backflip, landing in a crouch as he went for another attack, this time aimed at your feet. “Always be on guard. I could have knocked you out,” he instructs, still coming toward you.

His webs shoot toward you, and you act quickly as you jump up once again. You flip before planting your feet off a wall and jumping off just as fast to fly over his head. Another web threatens to wrap around your body, you block it with your own web.

Miguel bounds after you. When you land, you shoot your webs at him one right after the other. He dodges them all, nearing you like a colossus. When he's close enough, you flip back again and spring off your hands. Your foot almost makes contact with his face, but he turns just in time to step out of the way, grabbing you midair and throwing you away.

You're about to fly into a wall when you manage to change your position enough to bounce off of it. He isn't fast enough to catch you this time. You hook your leg around his neck and manage to wrap them both there quickly. You squeeze your thighs tight around him. He reaches up to grab you, and you web his face to blind him.

Miguel's hands grip your body, but you tighten your legs around him and lean back with as much force as you can muster. You shoot webs to the floor, gripping them tight to add some strength as you manage to flip him forward. He lands hard on the floor, and you land in a perfect crouch.

He groans at the impact, moving to rip the webs from his face quickly to an attempt to stay on the attack. But while he's distracted, you web his hands to his face and web his foot to the floor, shooting a few extra for good measure.

He rips the webs on his hands almost too easily, breaking free from the restraints. In one swipe, his foot is free. He comes for you immediately, pouncing at a surprising speed.

You roll onto your back, propping your knees to your chest. You manage to maneuver him so he flies past you. He rolls to avoid another hard hit to the floor.

The chill in your spine is just a second too late. His webs shoot at you. You lose your balance as you try to stand, and you fall back in the middle of turning to face him. In the next second, he's on top of you, a hand around your throat and your hands pinned above your head.

His face is inches from your own, his breath heavy and his eyes are nearly glowing red with exertion. “What were you waiting for?” His voice is insistent and rough, high on adrenaline.

A shiver blossoms through you, a rush of pleasantness prickling your skin. Your breath is shallow and quick. As you stare up at him, wide-eyed and also on an adrenaline rush, you smirk. “Do we always end up like this?”

He tilts his head, confusion finding its way to his face. Then he remembers. You're in the training hall, this is just practice, and you're you.

He rolls his eyes, and the adrenaline seems to fade. He doesn't get up. “You're smaller than me, which makes you faster. You can't let down your guard, and you can't slow down for any reason.”

You huff. “Okay, but that kick thing was impressive.”

He stares at you, debating. Then he shrugs, “Wasn't bad.”

Again, you roll your eyes. “Get off me. You're heavy.”

He does, moving to stand and give you room to do the same. “Okay,” you stretch. “Let's go again.”

“No. Go home.”

You straighten your spine immediately, surprise taking your face. “What? No!”

He peels his hoodie off, leaving his top bare as he walks over to the shelf of towels. “Yes. Go.”

You run over to him, blocking his way. “We don't have to train, you know. We could…” You pause to think, clapping when you have it. “We could watch the surveillance systems! I love the surveillance systems!”

He raises a brow, walking past you. You walk with him. “You hate the surveillance systems.”

You pause. “I do hate them. But you'll be there anyway.”

He stops, looking down at you, unamused. He brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Go home,” he says, looking at you now. “It’s Christmas. You should be…” he thinks for a moment, “out spending time with friends. Not here…looking at surveillance with me.”

You shrug. “Okay, then we can do something else together.”

“Isn’t there some Christmas party for you to go to?” He starts walking. You follow at his side, shrugging again as you nod your head.

“Hobie’s throwing one in his dimension, yeah,” you mumble. “But I’m not there. I’m here.”

He stops again, turning his full body to face you with a raised brow. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go home?”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly as your gaze slips from his. You sigh, letting the silence stretch a moment too long as you come to terms with saying it. “I have no one waiting for me at home.” Miguel’s stare softens, becoming a little more sympathetic as he processes your words. “And, like you said, it’s Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

He looks at you again. With a sigh, he shakes his head gently. “You’re too nice to me.”

You smile, accepting his defeat. “I know. Go get your shower. I’ll see you after.”

One day, he'll tell you.

Miguel’s shirt swallows you whole as you pull it over your head. It’s huge and gray, and it hangs at your knees , sagging off your shoulder. Your fuzzy socks are pulled up to your mid-leg, silencing your steps as you walk to the side table.

Miguel’s room in HQ is small, almost like a mediocre hotel room—the tiny room with a single bed and drawer (minus the TV) that nearly takes up the whole space, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny living room with an okay-sofa and a TV. He has a small area for a coffee maker, a fridge, a cabinet, and a microwave, but that’s as much of a kitchen he has. A mediocre hotel room. He has a house, but he doesn’t go there often.

He comes out of the bathroom, steam rising from his shoulders as his white towel hangs low on his waist, He’s still dripping with water, tiny droplets from strands of hair, little tears streaming down his skin. He’s beautiful. You look away from him.

You pick up two DVDs from the side table, turning the cases over in your hands to examine the front. “Okay, so I got these from Movie-Verse.”

“Movie-Verse,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as his broad body stands in front of his dresser. He opens the third drawer and grabs the first pair of shorts he sees.

“Yeah, the movie store next to the cafeteria. Has a ton of movies from all the ‘verses.” You wave a hand dismissively, setting one of the cases down and taking the other in both hands. “Anyway, I picked this up. It’s called The Nightmare Before Christmas by some guy named Tim Burton.” You use a mysterious voice when you say the title, stretching the drama. “I think it would be cool.”

He finishes patting dry the water from his skin, tossing the towel onto the bed to pull his shorts on. “Sounds like a Halloween movie.” His tone is flat. He seems almost bored, his face dropped into that grumpy expression he’s taken on.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “but it says Christmas on it. Look.”

You toss the case to him. He catches it in one hand effortlessly, his gaze fixed on the drawer he was closing. He examines the front. “There’s a skeleton on it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you matter-of-factly. “Put it in. We’re watching it.” He does as he’s told. You go to his little kitchenette and pull open the fridge. “Do you like eggnog?”

He’s retrieved his towel once more, rubbing it over his wet hair. His muscles flex with every little movement. Part of you wants to make a sly comment, but you refrain.

“No.”

“Yeah. Me, neither,” you hum. You close the fridge, pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two glasses he has stowed away (one that had already been in his cabinet and one you’d put there for yourself months ago). “I just got wine and hot cocoa.”

He practically grunts as a reply. He sounds uninterested, unimpressed. Your pep sours, and you feel yourself physically deflate as you try and fail to brush off his seeming apathy. You set the glasses down with a gentle click and fidget with the fabric of the oversized shirt.

Your voice is small when you speak, almost embarrassed. “Do you want me to leave?”

He looks up at you then, directing his attention. His brows furrow as he holds the remote in his hand, which dwarfs the “tiny” device. “What?”

You shuffle from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “I can go if you want… Hobie has that Christmas party, like I said, and… I can just go there if you don’t want me here.” The last part comes out choppy, your lips unwilling to form the words, your mouth reluctant to speak it.

There’s a long pause as he stares at you. His furrowed brows soften, and he takes in the sight of you. You’re wearing his shirt, and it looks huge on you. He can see the outline of your soft panties through the material of it. You’ve got on fuzzy socks, long ones that cover most of your leg and your hair is set free.

You look shy. It’s something he doesn’t see often. You relish in dirty jokes and confident suggestiveness. You’re sarcastic, and you thrive on the sass you hand to him. Even during the times where he has your body in his hands, off on another rendezvous to release stress—his and yours—you still hold that glint of mischief and wit.

You look sad. You look sad and small, and he hates himself for making you look that way.

Miguel’s shoulders fall. He turns his body to face you, taking naturally large steps to stand in front of you. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him, but your disheartedness only allows you to reach his chest before giving up.

He raises a hand to your chin and lifts it just a little more so you can see his face, which he tilts down this time to better view you. He sighs and speaks softly, earnestly. “I want you here.”

You blink once, searching his face as your gaze shifts between his plump lips and his russet brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

He leans forward slowly, giving you time (partially because it’s quite the journey) before gently pressing his lips to yours. It’s far too gentle and far too sweet, but you relish it anyway. They’re gone just as quickly as they came as he pulls away just enough to break the kiss.

“I’m sure,” he says.It almost sounds pleading when he says, “Stay.”

His eyes examine your face for another couple of seconds before he steps away from you, lets his hands fall back down to his side. “I have a blanket you can use.”

You breathe a tiny chuckle out of your nose, effectively reassured by his warm and gentle plea. “Is it big?” you smile, considering his offer.

He shrugs a shoulder, beginning to turn on his heel when he shoots a rare smile at you over that same shoulder. “For you.”

It makes you giddy, your courage slowly returning. “I’m not that small.”

His back turned to you, he continues. “You’re right. You’re smaller.”

You roll your eyes at him, turning toward the counter again. You unscrew the wine bottle to begin pouring. You shake your head as you chuckle a little. “Oh, fuck off.”

He opens his tiny closet and pulls out a cream colored blanket (basically a thin duvet). He picks the remote up again, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide. He makes the couch look tiny. “You look even smaller in that. Mujer pequeña.”

You move into a pose, pretending to be sexy. “You like?” You wink comically at him.

He licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to sit?”he asks, avoiding the question.

You giggle to yourself, pouring the dark wine. “You love.” You carry the glasses to the sofa.

He's already started the movie, not that you mind. The music starts, the billowing of wind whistling in the background to set a spooky tone.

“The first song is literally saying it's Halloween,” he comments, lifting his hand from his lap, your feet kicking up and resting on his lap as you pass him his glass. He takes it and spreads open the blanket.

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, “you make me sick.”

He lifts the glass to his lips. “You chose it.” He takes a sip from his glass, resting his hand on your ankle as his thumb strokes the skin over it.

You both sit and watch the movie in silence. You tuck the blanket closer. You sip tentatively at your cup as you direct your gaze at the screen. You miss the way Miguel's eyes linger on you, his gaze tracing the features of your face: the length of your nose, the curve of your lips. He memorizes the details of your face before he realizes he's been staring too long. He looks away.

Another little while passes of being hyperaware of you before he glances over again, noticing your glass go to your lips as you take a sip. He sighs silently. “Come here.”

You look at him, humming. He waves his hand invitingly, You move the blanket, setting your glass on the table. You sit next to him, snuggling into his side. He reaches over your body as his hand lands on your hip.

Miguel lifts you, pulling your body over his lap to straddle him. Your hands fall to his shoulders. He shows his affection the only way he knows how. He kisses you.

You hum lightly, pulling away from his lips and dipping your head, looking down at his chest instead of his eyes. You smile to cover your discontent as you lower your hands to his waist. “Is this why you wanted me to stay?”

His knuckles trace your cheek. “I want you to stay because, surprisingly, I enjoy your company,” he jokes.

You chuckle half-heartedly. “I'm like that.”

There's more quiet in the next pause as his eyes look over your face. “Why did you want to stay so bad?”

You look at him, biting your lower lip. “I told you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly as his hands stroke your thighs, over the curve of your ass. “Yeah, ‘no one should be alone on Christmas’. But, like you said, Hobie’s got his party. You have plenty of friends there.” He glances over your face. “Why aren't you?”

You lick your lip, turning your head away. Another song plays quietly in the background, the sound of sleigh bells and horns and clarinets creating a holiday symphony behind you. You wanna gloat. “Ha, I was right. It is a Christmas movie.”

You sigh gently, the tips of your ears hot and the pit of your stomach fluttering.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

He takes a breath in, inclining his head just a bit as he considers your response. His eyes flutter as he stares at your face, seemingly entranced. You look back at him, unflinching.

“You're too nice to me.”

You smile. “I know.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Your eyes flutter at that and your heart stops beating for half a second. You're warm, and you laugh as you speak, “What's that mean?”

He glances away as he sighs, looking back at you with an expression that's almost pained. His heart is heavy in his chest, and he holds his breath a little when you lift your hands back to his shoulders.

“Don't make me say it,” he almost whispers, his eyes pleading. “Please don't make me say it.”

You hesitate, staring at him as your heart hammers against your chest. Your breath is thin. “Say what?”

“Corazón… I–” he breathes in, his voice reluctant, “–haven't said this in a long time.”

You move your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, making him look at you and taking away his option to turn the other way. If he's going to say it, you need to hear it. You need to be sure. “Said what, Miguel?”

He breathes, staring into your eyes and softening.

Tonight, he'll tell you.

“I'm in love with you.”

Silence strikes the room. The movie plays in the background, long forgotten in both your minds as the quiet and the tension drones on. Your skin prickles, your brain is fuzzy, your mouth is slightly agape.

Miguel stares at you, you do not blink. You stare at Miguel, he does not blink. The silence stretches. He's desperate.

“Please say something.”

“I love you.”

His heart pounds at the confession, but he doesn't believe it. This kind of thing doesn't happen. “N–”

“No. I love you, Miguel,” you promise, leaning closer to his face and holding him a little tighter. “I'm in love with you.”

His mouth crashes down upon yours, a clash of lips and teeth and tenderness and insistence. You moan lightly into his mouth, standing on your knees just enough to get some height on him as you kiss him back just as eagerly as he. Fire burns in your belly, in your face, licking at your flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair and fuel it.

He begins to turn you to lay you on the couch. You press on his chest, encouraging him back so he's on his own instead. His hands fall to your thighs as you straddle his waist, his shorts and your panties the only thing separating the two of you. You bend down against his body to continue kissing him with everything you have.

Miguel whispers your name against your lips, moreso when your hips grind against him. His hands smooth along your skin, dipping under his huge shirt on you to feel your waist with his gentle but insistent touch. Your hands roam his chest, feeling his soft skin over his hard muscles, enchanted by the way he feels under you. He relishes in your touch, hypnotized.

“Your hands are so small,” he mutters, his fingers lightly digging into your sides.

You chuckle lightly, losing your breath as you speak. “You’re just big.”

He smiles against your lips, his hands on your hips moving you slowly up and down on top of him. But, like you said, he’s big. Your hips grind over his belly, but the movement alone is enough to make you moan. You sigh heavily against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak as your brows knit together.

“Miguel,” you breathe. “I need you.”

He nods, reaching a hand to the back of your head to encourage you into another kiss. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers. He opens his eyes to see you, and he loses his breath at the sight of you: disheveled with desire for him. You open your eyes to look at him, and he can see the way you gaze at him, like he’s everything to you.

His hand slips from your waist, down the length of your body until he’s dipping it between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as you moan at the way his fingers graze the thin fabric covering your pussy. Your whole body shudders at the feeling, and he just watches you react to him.

He rubs his finger teasingly over you, feeling as you slowly become more and more wet as he does. You grind your hips into his hand, eager to feel him. “You want my fingers in you, baby?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You want ‘em to stretch out this little pussy for my cock?”

“Please,” you mewl.

He's weak as he dips his finger underneath your panties and slips it past your folds, working it into you as he watches your lips part at the sensation. You grind against his hand, seeking more of him as his thick finger slowly moves in and out of your warmth. When you're slicked up enough, he slips another one inside. And then a third.

His fingers thrust in and out of you, slowly building in speed as he seeks out your delicious moans, the way your eyes flutter and your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

“So pretty,” he mutters. “Your little moans sound so pretty, querida. I love them.”

You breathe soundly, squeezing around his thick fingers as he curls them inside of you. “Fuck, Miguel,” you moan. “Mm, keep going.”

He does, spreading you open with his fingers as he gets you nice and slick for him. His cock is painfully hard now, restrained by his shorts as it tents them. He feels like he'll explode just watching you. As you continue to grind your hips down on his hand, he shifts his thumb over your clit and begins to rub circles over it. “Mírate. See how beautiful you are, mi pequeña cosa?”

Your breath blows heavily through parted lips. His words play over and over in your head. “I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you.” You moan and hold the sides of his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks as the pleasure rises within you.

“‘M gonna cum,” you shudder, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

He curls his fingers some more, massaging them inside of you against that spongy spot he knows you adore. “Cum for me, chiquita.”

You do, mouth parting and eyes squeezing as the wave of pleasure washes over you. He feels you tighten and untighten around his fingers, encouraging your spasms by pumping them through it. You moan his name, slowly coming down from the pleasure as your hips jerk at the feeling of his fingers.

He pulls them out of you, bringing you down into another kiss as his lips slide against yours. “You did so good for me,” he sighs, leaning into you as you hum against him.

You pull at his shorts, pushing them down his thick thighs to get them off him. He actually helps you, kicking them off and leaving him bare as you continue to straddle him with his shirt draping low on your body.

You go to take it off, but he stops you, his hand on yours. “No,” he says. “You look perfect in it.”

He set his hands on your hips once more, raising you to hover over his cock. He stops, waiting for you. You want to kiss him again, biting your lip roughly as you whisper. “Please.” You stroke his face, “I need you.”

He’s weak. He can do nothing but comply as he lines you up with him, letting you down just enough to squeeze the head of him inside you. You moan, closing your eyes at the feeling as he holds you steady with a grunt. It’s you who lets him sink deeper inside, grinding your hips against his cock as you make him lower you.

He stretches you out, a delicious stretch you could never grow used to as you moan all the way down. When he’s buried to the hilt with you sitting properly above him, he groans. “Fuck, I love this little pussy,” he grunts. “You always take me so well.”

You huff, catching your breath as you roll your hips slightly, shuddering at the pleasure. “So big,” you mutter, gripping his hips as you give yourself another moment to get used to his size before rolling your hips again. The feeling is electric, sets off a deep hunger in your belly that has you grinding down on him so desperately.

“You like that?” he breathes. “‘Course you do. My tiny girl loves it when I stretch her out like this.”

You roll your hips over him, moaning as his cock presses deep inside of you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, feeling your waist as he helps you grind down on him. Your rhythm is slow and measured, feeling everything. Every little roll, every little squeeze, every little ridge of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan again, relishing in him.

He smiles, continuing to watch as you fall apart on top of him. You feel him sit up, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your waist. You open your eyes to look at him, whimpering when he slips his cock out of you.

“Shh,” he says, flipping you onto your back as his massive body towers over you, his size that of a predator but the gentleness of his touch and the care in his eyes that of a man who loves a woman. “I’m gonna take care of you, mi corazón.”

His eyes stay glued to yours when he thrusts back in. Both your moans rumble in your throats as you watch each other. He rocks his hips back and forth inside you, thrusting so deep and pulling out so far before doing it all over again.

He holds onto your tight as he fills you with his cock, so wrapped up in you as you moan and squeeze around him. The pace, still slow, picks up as he thrusts deep within you, grinding against the deepest part of you with a groan in the back of his throat.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you bury your face in his chest. “Fuck, that’s good,” you whisper.

He manages to kiss your forehead, his hand slipping underneath you to encourage his steady rhythm as you continue to clench. His other hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he builds you up for another orgasm.

You tense, your walls fluttering around him at the feeling of his thumb on your clit. He grunts at the feeling of it, ready to fall apart as he watches you. “I love you, mi amor.” You shudder at the words. “I love your little body. I love your little smile. I love your little eyes. I love your stupid little jokes and the way…the way you care about me too much.”

You cradle his face in your hands, melting at his confessions. “I love you,” he says again, his voice spent and his breath speeding up as you squeeze around his cock and moan his name like a spell.

“Miguel, I…” you moan, the pleasure building into a knot in your stomach as you get ready to explode. You breathe in and you keep breathing in as he presses a little harder on your clit, circles a little harder as you clench him so tight.

Your eyes shut and your lips part as you come, moaning loudly as the ecstasy washes over you like a crashing wave. You roll your hips up into the pleasure, whimpering when he presses himself as deeply inside of you as he can go, grinding and intensifying every little feeling.

Miguel almost collapses on top of you when he cums, dropping his head down and grunting with a heavy breath as he spills inside of you, nearly fucking into you as he does. He moans something under his breath, all his muscles tensing as he keeps pumping his cock into you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

It’s a while before you both come down, catching your breaths as the pleasure wanes and leaves a pleasant buzz in your bones. He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He sits up to pull some of his weight off you, though you keep him down by his waist to feel his body still looming over you. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, your heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, looking up at him with a sticky smile. You readjust yourself so you can see his face better, taking it in your hands and pulling him down to kiss his lips. The kiss is soft, a gentle embrace as you take your time to pour your care into it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back at him, kissing him again and then whispering it once more. He smiles. It’s a slow and small smile that spreads over his lips. For a moment, he forgets about all the fears and pains and dangers of love and just thinks about you. How much he loves you. He kisses you again.

“And I was fuckin’ right,” you smile, a gentle chuckle in your chest.

He hums. “About?”

“It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you were talking about. It’s just then when he remembers the movie still playing in the background, another slow song in the background from the one girl that was meant to be a play on Frankenstein’s monster. He doesn’t remember her name, he wasn’t paying much attention.

He laughs. It isn’t a small laugh either. He throws his head and closes his eyes as a loud, booming laugh erupts from his chest and fills the room. It’s so genuine and so electric, you can’t help your own as you join his excitement.

You both laugh for a while, calming down enough for him to kiss you again and say, “You are right.” He takes a breath, staring down at you with a wide smile. “It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

You giggle again, sighing deeply as you pull his weight down on top of you (though he still holds most of it to keep from crushing your tiny body). You hum, speaking in a quiet whisper. “I love you.”

Miguel wraps you in his arms and turns you both around so you’re laying on top of him. He pulls the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor and spreads it over your body, slipping his hand under your shirt so he touches your bare back.

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here…

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the-magpie-archives · 2 years

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Like many of you, I am fascinated with the state of Jonathan Sims head archivist of the magnus institute London... In particular, his ribs! Many focus only on his missing two, but there are many more things to consider!

Jon's a fragile guy, I mean it's pretty much his whole canon appearance! For a man like him to be thrown around like a ragdoll for pretty much his entire time as archivist, he'd certainly have suffered more than a few broken ribs!

To contribute even more to the damage, after the unknowing, Jon was found with no pulse and not breathing, meaning he would have undergone CPR for at least 20 minutes. And trust me, THAT BREAKS RIBS.

Aside from bones, I can't imagine Jon's lungs are in the best state either. He's a long time smoker, was exposed to dangerous amounts of CO2, and survived a massive explosion followed by a collapsing building. Needless to say, these sort of things make it hard to keep lungs healthy!

Despite all the pain and horror, I like to think that Jon managed to stay looking at least relatively put together, so picture this:

A polite, slightly awkward office worker comes into your clinic. You decide that to diagnose properly, you'll need to do a chest X-ray! He's distracted, but readily agrees. After the brief wait, you get the images back, and see THE MOST FUCKED UP CHEST YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. A horrifying amount of healed fractures, warped and re-broken; two ribs are just straight up gone, both lungs scarred beyond survivability, and somehow this guy is just sitting there. Alive, as far as you can tell.

The man remains composed, and smiles politely as you stare at the X-rays, and you begin to think that maybe those aren't acne scars across his face.

#Overall I would just love to do a full medical examination on him... God it'd be fascinating.#Man's using otherworldly life support to keep his corpse up and walking #But seriously Google 'healed rib fractures' if you don't already know what they look like‚ shits interesting.#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus institute #Jonathan Sims #the archivist #The unknowing #jared hopworth #tma the flesh #tw injury #tw doctors #tw graphic description

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after-witch · 9 months

Text

Seeker [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Seeker [Yandere Mahito x reader]

Synopsis: Mahito wants to play a game. Just a lil thing I had to write after Mahito's line about wanting to hunt down humans in the woods from the most recent JJK ep.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of malnourishment, reader isn't having a good ol' time, mahito is his own warning

If you were prone to long bouts of deep thought in your current state of existence, you might ask yourself: How did it come to this? How did you go from an ordinary life of going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work--

To this?

To being held captive by some unknowable cursed creature with a patchwork face and a penchant for wild, impulsive violence?

To being pinched and held and kissed at his whims, to being kept inside a crude cage at night with a nest of blankets as your only comfort?

He had offered to let you sleep with him inside the hammock the first time you quietly asked if you could have a mattress, perhaps three weeks into your captivity, although your sense of time was no longer cohesive. But you thought about it (pressed so close to him, vulnerable, awkward, fumbling--) and shook your head, so he shrugged, grinning, and shut the door on your cage instead.)

You had only brought up the issue once more, pointing out that people slept on beds or mattresses, and if he was going to keep you then could you at least get something more comfortable than a few blankets on top of a metal cage bottom?

And he’d simply tilted his head and said, in a tone that might be called innocent if the phrase wouldn’t have immediately evaporated in his vicinity--

“Huh?” He looked genuinely perplexed, and you remember the twisting feeling it created in your stomach to see such a human-like expression on him. “But humans keep their pets in kennels, don’t they?” He had gestured towards the water bottle and bag of expired Family Size chips he’d thrown in your cage a few days prior, brows furrowed, voice petulant. “I even keep your food inside so you can eat when I’m gone! Most of them don’t do that!”

You shut up, then, and you certainly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his referral to you as his pet.

You don’t ask for elaboration on much nowadays, because you’ve decided it’s often better not to know. It’s better not to know how he chooses the victims that he transforms into monsters. It’s better not to know how conscious they are, when their mouths form pleas and screams. It’s better not to know if you’ll ever end up like them, writhing and deformed.

Except now, you are being hurled into a completely new situation that has every nerve in your body frayed and burning, and that need to know what the hell is happening grows stronger with every step.

He’s taken you out. Out of the drain and into the light--the brightness and softness of the outside world hurts as much as it provides a twisting sort of relief, competing furiously with the fear growing in your belly.

And, more specifically, he’s dragged you into the forest. Off the marked paths, pulling you here and there like a ragdoll while you trip and stumble to keep up with him, all the while he intermingles assurances of how fun this will be (“You’ll love it, I promise~!”) with giggles that make your stomach lurch.

Until finally he stops, in the middle of the woods. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar; the droning chirps of insects looking for mates, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Gnats buzz by your face but you’re too frightened to swat them away with your free hand, as Mahito has yet to release his grip on your wrist. He has yet to even turn around, instead looking around him--up and about, grinning, almost closing his eyes as if he’s forgotten that you’re there at all.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You have to know.

“Mahito?” Your voice cracks, dry from what little water you had today and the trek into the forest.

His eyes widen--like he’s just recalled your existence--and slowly, he turns his head towards you, a wide grin on his face.

“Ye-ee-es?”

You grit your teeth. You try not to sound frustrated or heaven--not that you think it exists, anymore--forbid, look frustrated, because that usually doesn’t end well.

“I was just…” You swallow, thick, and smile a little. “Wondering why we’re out here. Not--not that I’m complaining. It’s… really nice.”

He giggles. Which can be good or bad, and you’re not sure which of those two his current mood falls under yet.

And then he yanks your wrist, and pulls you close to him. You stumble against his chest, but he catches you, and keeps you still.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Oh. It was a bad giggle. At least for you.

“A… game?” You shouldn’t ask, you don’t want to know. But this isn’t the type of thing Mahito will let you close your eyes about, is it?

There’s an awful giddiness in his voice as he continues.

“Yes! I read about it in a book. Oh!” He grins. “And I’ve seen kids playing it at playgrounds. It’s called tag.” He pauses, and then continues, as if explaining something remarkably patiently to a child. “One person is the seeker, and they seek the other person until they find them and tag them! And then that person is the seeker.”

He’s going to chase you. He’s going to chase you. He’s going to--

You wonder if the feeling of your nerves trying to leave your body through your feet can show on your soul. Probably, because Mahito reaches up and squishes your lips together with his fingers.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be the seeker first, so you don’t have to worry about not catching me.” He stretches his neck to one side and smiles, giving a satisfied sigh. “I’m so generous, right?”

“Mahito,” you say, and you say his name again because he likes it when you do, “Mahito, I’m… not good at games like this. Wouldn’t you rather just have a picnic today? Or we could…” You look around, fumbling for something that doesn’t involve you running through the woods being chased by a monster.

He pouts. Honest-to-goodness pouts, puffing up his cheek, looking hurt and frustrated.

And then he whirls you around and presses himself up against your back, and the silly pout has drained from his body and his voice as he whispers low in your ear, dark and tinged with something distinctly inhuman.

“I’ll give you 60 seconds. That’s enough time, isn’t it, for a human like you?” You can feel goosebumps dotting the back of your neck, and you jolt when one of his fingers traces them on your skin. “Let’s see… how about we play for 5 minutes? And if I catch you, I get to play a different game with you! One you haven’t been letting me play…”

Fear constricts your throat. You don’t ask what this ‘different’ game is because the thought of knowing might just make you vomit.

You already feel like you might, bile and fear sticky in your stomach. This is happening. It’s going to happen. You can’t stop it.

He blows a puff of air in your ear, and the dark thread of tension has dissolved as he gives you a playful shove. You can hear the grin back in his voice.

He claps once, twice, three times.

“And… ready… set… go!”

You propel yourself forward on shaky legs and malnourished muscles. How long has it been since you’ve run anywhere? Much less in the woods, wearing worn out shoes, with a curse who could do worse than kill you with a single touch just yards behind you.

“Oh!” You hear his voice from behind you, distinct but growing fainter. “I’ll start counting, okay?”

You don’t answer--you couldn’t even if you wanted to, chest heaving and breath panting from exertion already--but keep putting your feet to the ground, desperate to put as much distance between you and Mahito in 60 seconds as you can.

“One… two…”

Should you run in a straight line for much longer?

“Three… four…”

Maybe you should turn another way, and make it harder for him to reach you.

“Five… six…”

You might even be able to find somewhere to hide, right? The woods could have tree hollows or caves or something, anything, that could give you some cover. You could wait out the 5 minutes in hiding, rather than trying to run.

“Seven… eight… nine…”

Your brain makes your decision for you, and you veer off to the left, keeping your legs pumping as fast as you can. His voice is getting fainter with every second counted, which must mean you’re making the right choice.

“Ten.”

Your body jerks itself back just as Mahito appears in front of you, hands on his hips, a sly grin on his face.

“Found you!”

Your legs stumble back, a weak attempt to turn and run, but he grabs your wrists and keeps you from getting anywhere. It’s not fair. It’s not--

You shake your head and feel the anger coming despite your fear and heaving chest and his firm grip on your wrists.

“You… you said you’d give me sixty seconds! That was only ten!”

Mahito shakes his own head, soft hair falling over his shoulders. “Mm… I said I’d give you sixty seconds, and I am! You’ve got mmm…” He considers, tilting his head. “40 seconds left or so.”

What is he talking about? You furrow your eyebrows. “But you… you said you’d give me a 60 second head start.”

He blinks at you, and you hate how he can look so innocent, despite everything. You hate even more that you’re never entirely sure when he’s being genuinely naive or pretending. “Nuh-uh. I didn’t say I wouldn’t run in those 60 seconds, too, just that you had 60 seconds. You really ought to pay attention when someone’s explaining the rules of a game!”

He grins foolishly at you and all you can do is tug at your wrists, hoping he’ll either make a mistake and let go or get bored of holding you and let you try to run for it again. But he does neither, simply keeping a firm grip on you while you pull and pull, feet digging into the ground.

Useless. Stupid. Weak.

The tears come, then. Ugly and hot, making your face squish and your lips curl even as you continue to uselessly pull against his grip. You were never going to get away and he knew it and you knew it, too, but did he have to make it so cruel?

“Th-th…this isn’t fair,” you choke out, your tears thickening your voice.

Mahito does release one wrist, then, but only so he can wipe at your tears roughly with his thumb and lick it afterwards.

“D-D-Don’t be a spoilsport,” he coos. Then he sighs, happy and content, like a cat who has gotten all the cream and more. “60 seconds is up, and I’ve still got you so… I win!”

He pulls on your wrist then, bringing you close to his chest.

“That means you have to play what I want to play now, okay?”

You look into his mismatched eyes and you’re terrified of what you find.

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek, humming happily.

“You’ll like this one, I think.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, the upward tug of his muscles. “Although I can’t make any promises!”

You don’t ask what game he wants to play now.

Sometimes, it’s better not to know.

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #afterwitch writes #I am perfectly normal for mahito

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yanderegrizzsworld · 5 months

Note

saw your post about taking digital circus content so may I request for Pomni or Ragatha or even Jax with a reader who's pretty calm when first entering in the digital circus and doesn't seem to mind everything else happening with how they're just like "hey, that's cool" basically they're pretty chill

Imagine: Platonic Yandere Pomni, Ragatha & Jax with a chill reader

TW/CW: Implied stalking & Mentions of Bullying

Pomni:

With Ragatha's reassurance, Pomni reckoned that everyone acted similarly to her upon their arrival to the Digital Circus. This did ease her perturbation, though not by much & far less upon your arrival to their Digital "home".

Are you alright? Complete & utter calmness is the last reaction the jester expects from a newcomer, yet reasons that you're probably seeking to assess your situation &/or keep focus. It's quite smart really, it means you're less likely to abstract in this world, such an easygoing attitude it quite a quick way to get her attached to you.

She'll strive to stick by you as much as possible, though is willing to give you your space if asked to as she wishes not to be regarded as chafing & will at most watch you from a distance. Expect her coming to you a lot whenever she seeks comfort from one of her paranoid episodes of searching for an exit, while Ragatha is very willing to be a nice shoulder to cry on, Pomni truly feels her anxious thoughts leave whenever she's in your presence & will progressively get more antsy the longer she can't find you in the circus.

Ragatha:

She reckons herself as the peacemaker of the group from being one of the oldest to be there, though one would be forgiven (& correct) for thinking that she seems quite close to losing it at any moment. From this, she always strives to ease newcomers to their new digital home, understanding how nerve-wracking it is.

Ragatha is chiefly clueless upon your arrival. Years of seeing new faces initially scared & addled to this world has made the ragdoll has grown accustomed to introducing the new performers, downplaying the existential dread of their circumstance, whether as so they don't abstract or so her own crisis doesn't get to her is up in the air. She takes her steps forward as she usually does to new people, but doesn't know what to properly say seeing as you're not freaking out about the situation.

Seeing her around you a lot is something you'd best get used to, whether it's a short, simple chat on how you're holding up or talking about nothing within the walls of the tent, getting Ragatha to leave is quite the task. She refuses to leave you alone with Jax, as in her eyes & years of being around him, he might chip away at your sanity, small at first but grows worse over time until it's too late, claiming she's somehow surprised someone hasn't abstracted because of him.

Jax:

Nobody's sure if Jax's frequent bullying is merely an aspect of who he is or his way of coping with living in the circus, it's doesn't matter either way, he won't give a luculent answer. Jax isn't one to comfort a new face, opting to hectoring them until Ragatha stops him towards causing the other's disquietude.

Your breezy attitude doesn't deter him from his usual antics, including said frolics being thrown at you. Your lack of reaction to the prank both throws off the lavender rabbit & bemuses him, just what goes through that head of yours? His motive shift from wanting a reaction from you to seeking to see what makes you tick, what you experienced to make you have the viewpoint that you do, that makes you merely laugh at your situation rather than panic.

Jax sees fit to insert himself into conversations without a need to explain himself & brushes off any questions thrown at him, every attempt to interrogate him tends to end with Jax dragging you off with him, maybe to not start an argument with Ragatha or Zooble or perhaps he got bored of the conversation, who knows what goes on in his head. Any thought of suspect for his behavior towards you is out his head a second later, you don't seem to mind so his mind discerns no issue with his comportment & is what Jax uses as an excuse, true reason for his frequent presence around you.

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leonsbunny · 4 months

Text

Lollipops and Lodorform !!♡

( Death Island!Leon x GN!Medic!Reader || patching up your favorite agent ♡ mutual pining || mentions of injuries/a bit of cussing ♡ if i missed anything plz tell me im so so so tired rn)

The anxiety of being in a waiting room was daunting for him. The feeling of guilt in his heart tugged at his chest as he waited. He didn't know why he felt guilty, like he did something wrong.

Despite the various times he'd been ragdolled on missions, cut up, thrown carelessly around by horrors that Leon didn't want to think about right now, the thing he feared most was hospitals. He didn't like the lodorform smell, the blinding fluorescent light fixtures from above that made everything below them look bland. He hated how enclosed everything was, long hallways, confusing doors.

Leon's cut out of his own thoughts when he hears his name called by one of the nurses up front. He practically jumps out of his chair, already on his feet, to see you.

The sense of familiarity with your last name gave him some sense of relief, he'd met you before out on the field, remembering the lecture you gave him on his ‘acting Rambo’ way of doing things. You'd probably give him another lecture once he stepped into the room you were assigned to.

“Didn't expect to see a person like you here (Y/N).” He comments, somewhat limping into the room. You were typing away at your computer, facing away from him.

Leon knew you well enough to call you by your first name instead of your last. He had the honor ever since you corrected him out in the field. You were a medic, not a doctor.

Being thrown around like a sack of potatoes wasn't too kind on his body. He whinces a bit in pain as he sits down on the parchment paper set on the exam paper. It crinkled under his weight as he sat down the best he could comfortably. “Same here, Leon. When I saw your name on my waiting list, I had to look twice.” You finally turn around, smiling at him. Your smile quickly fades as you see his injuries, Leon notices this but still tries to keep himself level-headed. As if he wasn't thrown across a room mere hours ago.

You get up from your chair, visibly concerned for him. Of course you were concerned, he was hurt. His right hand covering his arm, you lean closer to get a better look at his wound. “Who did this to you?” You ask in a concerned tone, already pulling out the medical supplies you needed to tend to his wounds. As always, Leon tried to play it off cool, play it off casual as if fighting biological man-made horrors was normal. Clearly, it wasn't. “Some guy.” He replies, not elaborating much on exactly who hurt him. At least he was giving you some idea. Usually, he'd rather talk about what you were up to without him or movies he's watched on the shitty cable TV he had back at the motels he stayed at during missions.

“Sure…some guy..” You repeat, gently moving his arm to size up what type of injury you were dealing with today. It was always something new with Leon, and you were always fondly surprised hearing about what he's done on missions by reading his mission excerpts. Glancing back at his wounds, you wonder who or what exactly caused them. You take his word for it. Some guy.

“What brings you over to a place like this? Shouldn't you be out in the field?” Leon tilts his head as he asks his question, leaning against the wall as he sits. “I asked the suits to be stationed here to help out. The staff is underfunded. I didn't expect you to turn up here either.” You reply, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic. He grimaces in anticipation of the stinging feeling he'd get once it makes contact with his skin as he eyes the contents of the bottle.

“Well they wouldn't send me to just any old hospital.” The agent says in reply, smiling nervously as you pull out cotton balls and dab the antiseptic onto them. “That's true. They probably sent you to me specifically for a reason.” That reason being you were a part of the DSO as well, though only you and Leon knew that. No one else did. They wouldn't send Leon to any old doctor. It must've been fate that brought you two together. Some cheesy shit like that, maybe. Or maybe Leon was watching too many romcoms again. Wasn't his fault they were the only things able to broadcast on the shitty cable TVs he had in the motels he had the misfortune of stayed at.

The agent sucks in a breath through his teeth, eyes quickly closing shut when the cotton soaked antiseptic makes contact with the tender reddened flesh on his arm. It'll probably take an hour or two for a full check-up with you. Just to make sure he's alright. That he's okay.

You hand Leon a lollipop, a run-on joke between the two of you. It was a joke at first, that joke turned into a routine whenever Leon eyed the bag of candy you always carried with you expectantly. He doesn't even bother to look at the flavor on the wrapper, stuffing it in one of his many pockets on his person. He puts the lollipop in his mouth, realizing the taste. Butterscotch. His favorite. Second to blue cotton candy. He's pleasantly surprised you still remember him mentioning that to you.

“You need to cut out the Rambo shit, okay Leon?” You sigh softly, Leon knew this was coming. The ‘acting Rambo’ lecture. “You know how much paperwork it is to send medical records to the guys upstairs every single time I patch you up? I worry about you, Leon.” You say, sitting back down in your chair and writing something down on a clipboard.

“You don't gotta worry about me, you know that? You don't have to. It isn't your job to worry over a guy like me.” Leon takes the lollipop out of his mouth as he speaks. He's a bit tired of the lecture you always gave him. But if it meant that he could see you, he'd listen to it over and over again like it was his favorite vinyl on record. Hell, he'd even repeat the words like a chorus to a song if it meant seeing you again. “I know, but…” you trail off, eyes softening as you look at him. Even though you were a medic, at this point, his medic you hated seeing him hurt. “You worry me...” You finish your sentence, getting up from your chair.

“Promise me you'll stop being so reckless?” You ask, crossing your arms. “Who are you, my mother?” He teases, chuckling softly at his own little joke.

That chuckle turns into a pained groan when he buckles forward, clutching onto his side again. You reach your hand out, though Leon gently swats it away. “You're hurt.” You murmur to yourself, pulling your hand away.

“Promise me you'll stop being so reckless.” You repeat as you kneel down slightly to look at Leon, who was still buckled over in pain. He breathes heavily, leaning himself back up against the wall again. “How ‘bout you promise me you'll never run out of butterscotch lollipops?” That dumb smile on his face Leon confidently asks his question makes you smile yourself.

“It's a deal, then?” You ask, getting up and handing Leon a blue cotton candy lollipop. This time, he looks at the flavor, smiling to himself even more. “Deal.” He says, putting the lollipop in his snack pocket.

♡ ⊹ ۫ ۪ ꒰͡₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ reblogs n' feedback r greatly appreciated !! support ur local fanfic writers !! ♡ ͡꒱

#꒰͡ ♡ death island leon ♡ ͡꒱ㅤ ㅤ #꒰͡₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ death island leon ily !!#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #death island leon #resident evil fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #dividers by pommecita #dividers by chilumitos #‧ ₊ ﹒ ୨ ♰ ୧ ﹒ ₊ ‧

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 2 years

Text

Eyeless Jack x Reader Headcanons: Ultra Horny Edition

HHhhhrrrrrr big monster man

I headcanon him as being around 6'7

Big boy

Big big boy

Jack is so much bigger than you. He honestly can't help getting hard when he sees you look up at him with big doe eyes. You really have to crane your neck to make eye-er-socket contact with him

He loves taking your chin between his fingers and making you look at him

His hands are so big and he has such big claws on top of that

Jack will super use the tentacles in his mouth to eat you out (vagina and non-vagina having friends alike)

Your legs thrown over his shoulders as he devours you in the most amazing way possible

Jack usually likes to tease you

He can't help but coo at how desperate you get for his cock

"Aww, does my little pet need to be fucked? Do they want me to bend them over right here and pound them until they can't move?"

He can't really finger you because of his claws. They're too sharp to safely put inside of you, but that does open up one of his favorite kinks: mutual masturbation

Touch yourself in front of him, stroke your sex, finger your hole(s)

Bonus points if you break out a toy and use it on yourself while begging for his cock

However, you cannot cum with that toy in you

If you cum on some fake dick instead of Jack's own cock, he'll overstim you for hours

"I'm sorry, babe. I thought you wanted to be used like a whore? I mean, the way you were creaming around that plastic toy made me think you were desperate enough to take anything! Aww, it hurts? My poor little slut."

This demon man is packing

Around 10 inches with a good girth

It's going to take a lot of practice to get the whole thing in you let alone let him knot you

Jack's goal in life is to make you cum so much you go limp and become a sort of fucked out ragdoll in his arms

He just wants to know that he made you feel so good that you can't move anymore

If you have a vagina and squirt on him? He'll go feral

If you squirt in his mouth while he's eating you out? Good luck trying to move for the next week

If you have a penis, Jack will abuse your prostate to the best of his abilities

Toys, vibrators, his tentacle tongues

You better be extra lubed up to take him

His favorite position is probably doggy where he has his arms wrapped around your waist, his teeth sunk into your shoulder, and his hips pistoning in and out of you like his life depends on it

His second favorite position probably has to be a good mating press

Just being able to see your face while he fills you with his cum

The way you're folded in half underneath him like a toy

He'll definitely buy a plug to keep all of his cum inside

Wear his clothes while you guys fuck

Jack likes knowing that he's yours and you're his

He's a possessive demon

You have to smell like him in order to go anywhere

Wear his cologne, wear his shirts, cuddle him, or keep his cum in you when you go out

Bonus points if you let him cum in your underwear and wear it for the whole day

Jack is just super nasty on a regular day

#eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack lemon #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta imagines #eyeless jack #my writing

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fushigur0ll · 1 year

Text

MY LIPS HURT

꒰ ♡ ꒱ — hobie loves your lips..that’s all i have to say

includes; kissing, ofc. fluff, kissing kissing and more kissing with black!fem reader! small little drabble; non proofread :)

“hobie- babe—HOBART” you snap, looking at your boyfriend who just smiles lazily and stares at your lips like he’s in a trance. the reason you snapped was because you couldn’t even get a single word out without him kissing your lips at any chance you let out even a monosyllable.

“yes baby?” he grins cheekily and leans closer to your face but only is to be met with your hand when you block his mouth.

“you’re acting like a animal more then usual” you chuckle and poke his cheek. “kissing me more as well? what up?” you tilt your head and look at him but all he does is just hums like he’s thinking whilst pulling you to straddle him .

“just loving my beautiful girlfriend that’s all” he leans in to kiss you again, slow but deeper then the others ever since your ass woke up. he holds you waist with one hand while the other hold the side of your face, tilting his own just a tiny bit to the left to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. he bites down on it and you gasp making him pushes his tongue inside your mouth, swirling it around with your as you get into the kiss more. he notices you not resisting anymore and smiles against your lips

“not fighting me anymore” he mumbles in between kisses and you huff, moving away so he’d whine and try to pull you back but you were too fast.

“okay! i’m sorry pretend i didn’t say that, come back” he frowns and follows you..then starts chasing after you when you run away giggling.

“come back!” he laughs when he sees you slip almost down the stairs and run towards the kitchen to behind big island that separates you both.

“boy don’t play with me!” you point a stern finger in his direction as he walks in slowly to the door of the kitchen but all he does his lean against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his sweats as he looks at you with those sexy low lidded eyes. “what ‘m i doing?” he smirks and walks towards you. you start moving backwards with you moving your mouth with no words coming out.

“why you ain’t saying nothing” he pounced forward with his arms reaching and catching you. you yelp and try to escape but he tightens his hold on you completely making you unable to move a muscle.

“why are you so strong” you whine and hang in his arms, literally. he laughs and watches you lay limp over his forearms. “i have no idea myself” he lifts you up with a small grunt and puts you over his shoulder.

“locking the bedroom this time”

you gasp and try to escape but he smacks your bum harshly making you hiss out-loud and whine. he chuckles darkly and gets to the room, getting inside and locking the door behind him like said.

“helpppppppppp” you lazily yell, allowing yourself to by thrown onto the bed and bounce like a ragdoll when he puts you down. “heeeeeEEELPPPP” you raise your voice when he starts hitting you with a pillow. then, you end up laughing and covering yourself when he then falls on you and hugs you like a bear.

“lemme see them lips” he tries pulling your arms away and you couldn’t stop yourself from saying this.

“which ones” you suck in your lips and bite back the laughter that’s tryna to rumble out your mouth and you peak to see your boyfriends face only for his face to just look mischievous and full of lustful intent making you look at him like he’s so crazy

“hobie you’re deadass?”

“mhm” he nods and leans down to kiss your shocked figure again and at this point you just accept it and kiss him back.

“can never win with you” you speak in-between kisses and he hums. “you know me” he places his hands on your bum, squeezing them and bringing you closer to kiss you deeper, loving the feeling of your arms wrapping around his shoulders to just enjoy the moment with him

“i love you” he pulls away staring into your eyes and you stare back into his with a warm and loving look.

“i love you too hobie” you cup his cheek, rubbing his thumb under his eye and he leans into your hand, closing his eyes.

“cant believe you were complaining over my kisses” he mumbles and cracks opens his eyes with you smiling at him. “you know i love your kisses handsome, ‘m sorry” you kiss all over his face and he chuckles softly, digging his head into your neck and relaxing there. you both cuddle with each other for a while enjoying the warmth and presence of one another…until he ruins it

“..will you allow me to see them other lips- boy bye” you laugh and shake your head as he grumbles and digs his head into your stomach.

you love your man so much y’all don’t worry<3

#—fushi’snotes #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spider verse #across the spiderverse #x black reader #x black fem reader #hobie x reader #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie x you #hobart brown #hobie x black!reader #spiderverse fluff

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50c4l-f7m-r4p3b417 · 1 month

Text

Aftermath!

Holy fucking shit I'm a wreck in the best possible way, and I didn't even get fucked!

Daddy said I'm gonna be seeing him multiple times a week from now on to be his free use rape toy 🤩

He expects me to cook for him, clean, and do literally anything he wants sexually, which is all a goddamn dream come true

I sucked his cock for. Four. Fucking. Hours. He had me tell him every time Ive been raped/molested, how my old female roommate would grope me in my sleep, everything, and I just felt his cock getting harder and harder with every word.

He called me a good girl the whole time, never once even vaguely referenced me being a man or trans other than to make fun of me and tell me how hot I am as a girl~

I'm gonna be getting puppy training, with my own bed and leash and everything 👀 I can't wait to have puppy paws and be even more helpless as he makes me crawl around his apartment on my hands and knees.....

Back to the night! I was slapped, spat on, thrown around like a ragdoll, choked, and hogtied so he could finger my ass and threaten to fuck my ass without prep, even tried! I was too tight tho so he said I'm gonna be forced to take him next time 💙

I walked home in my skirt, without my panties, wobbly and my makeup all smeared from sucking cock.

God that was perfect

(Note at the bottom out of kink-

This dom vetted me and I did the same before we actually met up. I had a safe person watching from a distance and someone watching my location on a safety app. We had discussions on limits and safe words, and multiple times throughout the night he listened instantly when I had a concern/issue. Mostly my disability making me puke every time I got too turned on, which is a new upsetting low ngl. Even in the deepest kink, practice SAFE SANE AND CONSENSUAL)

#r4p3 kink #personal #misgender kink #misgender me #ftmtf kink #outing👀

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old-schoolgenz · 1 month

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So, been thinking about Mystreet again. And I always assumed in the early days that everything that happened in MCD would eventually happen in Mystreet as well. That didn't end up happening but just... bare with me for a sec.

Imagine for a second, what finding Lilith would be like in Mystreet. I think about that so, so often. And how SO much could have been talked about had it happened along with cannon events.

Aaron, who had been driving for hours after coming back from somewhere, a concert, or something equally modern and kinda boring. Aphmau half falling asleep in the passenger seat, starting and stopping songs that she'd sing under her breath. And Laurance dead asleep in the back, laying on his back without a seat belt, lightly snoring.

Then. Aphmau looks up, nearly screams because at that moment Aaron had glanced away from the road to ask her something.

"CAR!"

Aaron pounds the fucking break like it owes him money and Laurance is thrown into the back of their chairs like a ragdoll, and he yelps from the backseat as Aphmau tries not to fly through the windshield by gripping the console. Aaron's arm in front of her like it would do anything instead of break at her weight hitting it at the speed they were going (because Aaron has a lead foot and speeds like he's going through a mid-life crisis.)

And there's this flipped car in front of them, right in the middle of the road and A and A just look at each other like "Well what do we do?" And Laurance has been half- knocked out from the speed his face met the back of the drivers seat and he's groaning from the back in pain.

So they get out, minus Laur, and do the classic, look around to see wtf happened here. And there's broken glass and oil everywhere but the car is cold and had been there seemingly awhile.

And then they hear crying, coming from the ditch just below them, and Aphmau's the first one down it because of course she would be. And Aaron hears her gasp but he doesn't want to face-plant because the ditch is soaked and the ground keeps moving beneath him.

And he gets there and Aph is holding a fucking baby, like it just appeared out of thin air. And she's trying to calm it down while looking just as flabbergasted as he does. And his brain doesn't want to work because truly, what the actual fuck?

He looks around and there's a carseat that had been upside-down, but there's still no sign of the adults that actually crashed the damn thing and all that's in his head is "They wouldn't leave a baby right?" while thinking about his parents and doubling back like "Well they might." All the while there's little golden salamanders everywhere, and they're just as distracting as the crying.

So he wraps the little one in his red jacket and A and A climb back up the side of the ditch and Laurance is crouched down by the driver's window looking like he is about to hurl. And they meet eyes and Aaron winces because it's the look of someone who just saw a mangled corpse.

You get it right? Like the "dragons found a baby and tried to capture a cow to feed it" is just WEIRD, and only fits within the weird lore of MCD. If you wanna do it in Mystreet it has to become way fucking darker, they'd have to call 911 and watch as corpses get dragged out of the car and follow them to the hospital.

And then the baby would have to get a checkup, and that trio is just there. At the hospital, and shit sucks because that's way more traumatic then just "finding a baby." It's "I found a gruesome accident and a baby that just lost it's parents." Furthermore. Aaron and Aphmau would be, at this point. Just freinds if we're following the MCD route. And they would struggle heavily with the whole orphanage/foster care system because they're unmarried and unrelated to the baby.

I don't know, I just kinda wish I could've seen that. So much character development, so much angst. I might write it properly some day just to get it out of my thought rotation.

#aarmau #aphmau #mystreet #aphblr #aphmau mcd #aphverse #aaron lycan #I feel like Laurance would become more of an Uncle #like damn in MCD he just does not help at all even after saying he would.

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

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Can u make an oneshot of junkook and yn having rough jealousy sex??

WELP this was a really fun one 🥴🥴 hope all you JK hoes enjoy~*~

i'm gonna stop asking for freaky reqs because i already have enough to write for the next million years probably 😂😂😂 i REALLY appreciate how many of you have sent stuff in!!! i'm having (probably too much) fun with this. y'all are truly the BEST 💜

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 1.9k oops contains: established relationship, perilla-leaf based jealousy (i had to don't @ me), jungkook and reader are fucking dramatic and honestly mean to each other, discussions of imagined infidelity bc reader is a b-r-a-t 💀, a lot of physical aggression, ppl get thrown around, breast/thigh/pussy/ass/FACE slapping 😳, biting/marking, reader put her thang down flipped it and reversed it (and surprised EVEN ME), unprotected sex, minor cervix ramming lol, is this hot???? is it toxic???? is jungkook a cuck?????? much 2 consider 🤔

“I’m surprised you didn’t walk out of the restaurant holding Jimin’s hand.”

Your boyfriend has been pouting all night.

“You can tell me if you’re in love with him now.”

He has not stopped since you got in the car to drive home from dinner.

“Just make sure you invite me to the wedding.”

It is driving you up the fucking wall.

“Jungkook!” You snap as you slam the fridge door shut, having just tucked the container of leftovers inside. “It was a fucking perilla leaf! Get over it!”

“How am I supposed to get over the fact that you’re going to leave me for Jimin?!”

Your eyes roll back in your head so hard you swear you see your brain. You have to take a long, slow inhale to fight off the desire to choke him out in the middle of your kitchen.

“I’m not talking to you when you’re like this,” you say, attempting to feign serenity over the rage simmering inside of you. “Go to the gym or something, and call me when you calm the fuck down.” You don’t wait for him to answer before you storm off down the hallway to your bedroom.

You don’t even have to turn around to know that Jungkook is hot on your heels, and when you make it to your room, you hear the door slam behind him.

“You just want me to leave so Jimin can come over and fuck you, and you can start your new life together.”

When you whip around, you find yourself face-to-face with your boyfriend. His cheeks are flushed from the wine you shared with his friends at dinner, and he’s sweating a little, bangs sticking slightly to his forehead. You hate that he looks so good, all the time, even like this.

“You’re being a fucking baby.”

A muscle in Jungkook’s jaw jumps at your words. Now his voice is deadly serious, too, nearly a growl. “I am not a baby. I am twenty-six.”

“Well, for your big age, you sure are fucking stupid.”

You turn around to march back out of the room, beyond done with his antics, but just as you pull the door open, his palm is there, slamming it back shut with enough force that it rattles in the frame.

“What did you just say?” Jungkook’s voice is low in your ear. When you turn to look at him, your cheek digs into the door as his hips press flush against your ass. You realize as he grinds on you that he is fully, probably painfully erect; you can feel his dick straining against his pants.

You shiver a little at the thought of how he might punish you for your words, and then you spit them at him again. “I said. You’re fucking. Stupid.”

The breath is knocked out of your lungs, and you can only squeak as he wraps an arm around your waist, turning around and throwing you down onto the bed so hard you bounce against the mattress like a ragdoll. You barely manage to sit up before he’s on top of you, legs straddling you, his hips pinning yours in place.

You can feel your panties already starting to soak through, and suddenly calming your boyfriend down is the furthest thing from your mind.

“You’re right, Jungkook,” you say, and his eyes are wide when his head snaps up to look at you. He clearly wasn’t expecting those words. “Maybe I should fuck your friends.”

His hands come to your breasts, pulling down the top of your dress and your bra beneath it simultaneously, and your exposed tits bounce from the aggressive movement. The action only encourages you.

“Jimin would be so gentle and loving. He wouldn’t fucking rough me up like you do.” You choke on a gasp when Jungkook’s tattooed hand cracks down over your breast, pain sparking through you like a shot in the arm. His eyes burn with intensity when he meets your gaze, but you refuse to back down. “He’d take care of me, just like he did tonight.” Jungkook slaps your other breast, forcefully enough to grunt with effort as he does it.

You’re sure you’ll see the outline of his hand there tomorrow, and your core throbs at the thought. It might be fucked up, but you like the marks he leaves. You want more.

“And H-Hoseok,” you start, and your voice shakes as you try to get the name out because Jungkook has just brought his mouth to your neck, right under your jaw, and is now starting to suck hard. It nearly feels like he’s devouring you, dragging blood to the surface to bruise purple beneath the delicate skin there. “He’s so trusting, he’d let me do whatever I want, ngh–”

You’re cut off mid-sentence by your own moan when Jungkook repeats the same process at the point where your neck and shoulder meet, where he knows you’re extra-sensitive, and you writhe under him.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, your head kicking back against the mattress.

When you hear him give a soft, triumphant laugh against your skin, it renews your conviction. You try again. “Yeah, Hoseok wouldn’t be so fucking possessive, because he’s not an insecure baby.”

Jungkook bites down on your shoulder, simultaneously bringing two fingers to tweak one of your stiffened nipples, and you let out a strangled cry as a fresh wave of arousal floods your pussy. His other hand moves as he does it, roughly shoving up your dress to expose your lower half, so he can see your drenched panties, your thighs that are now slick with your own wetness.

“Don’t stop now,” he growls, and then he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your upper thigh and your head spins.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You gasp, clawing at the bedsheets.

Quick enough to give you whiplash, he releases his mouth and replaces it with another swift slap, the flesh of your thigh rippling under his hand. “Who else?”

The built-up pressure in your core is enough to make your upper body tremble as you press yourself onto your forearms, leaning up so you can look him in the eye. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice severe, and Jungkook slaps your thigh again, hard enough to make your jaw clench while his mouth shifts up to suck an angry mark into your hip bone.

“I bet Yoongi would love to fuck me with his thick cock,” you hiss.

The thin, soaked-through fabric of your panties does very little to dull the sensation when Jungkook’s hand cracks directly over your cunt. The sweet sting, pleasure and pain, is enough to make your head tip back as you groan. You spread your legs in a silent plea for more, and he does it again, harder.

Your mind is starting to swim a little, overwhelmed with animalistic desire, but when Jungkook shifts to crawl back up your body, you don’t miss the opportunity.

Too fast for him to react, you tighten your legs around his waist and use all the energy you can muster to throw yourself to one side, taking him with you. You let the excess momentum and soft bounce of the mattress beneath you propel you up to your knees, leaving Jungkook flat on his back and you straddling his hips.

He can’t quite hide the impressed look on his face, and you take a moment to revel in the way he bites down on his bottom lip, wide eyes blinking up at you.

Then you reach between your legs to tug your panties to the side with one hand, fish his cock out of his pants with the other, and sink down on him in one swift movement.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook groans, and you have to whimper a little, too, at the stretch of him inside you. You circle your hips, enjoying the way his cock twitches as you grind down on him. When he leans back against the mattress, arching up to match your movements, you bring a hand to grip his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” you command, and Jungkook nearly spits the word back at you.

“Mine.”

You reward him with another roll of your hips. “Louder, baby. Like you mean it.”

“It’s my fucking pussy,” he growls, punctuated with a slap to your ass, but you can already tell he’s starting to lose himself to your movements. You can see his eyes rolling back in his head. “Made for me.”

Both of Jungkook’s hands drop to cup your ass, encouraging you to go faster. Determined, you flatten your feet against the mattress so you can properly start to bounce on his dick.

“Not Jimin’s.” You lift up as high as you can, nearly losing your grip on him, then slam back down so hard you feel the head of his cock ram against your cervix, making you gasp a little. Jungkook moans loudly at the feeling, hips bucking beneath you. “Not Hoseok’s.” You repeat the motion, and he’s even louder, his breathing ragged now. “Not Yoongi’s.” You bounce a final time and the noise Jungkook makes is more like a sob.

“Shit, shit,” he whines. You still have a hand on his jaw, and you shake his head side to side, enough to get him to focus on you again.

“It’s yours,” you say softly, and the tone of your voice is a stark contrast to the harsh slap you deliver to his face. “So fucking act like it.”

It’s enough to send him into overdrive. His fingers dig so hard into the soft skin of your hips that you cry out, and then he’s fucking up into you, stroking so fast and deep that pleasure coils hot inside of you, threatening to burst.

“So fucking wet and tight,” he gasps, “just for me, just for me,” and the way he pounds into your g-spot over and over is suddenly all too much.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you moan, gripping his thighs with both hands, your nails digging into his skin as you squeeze tight around him. “I’m gonna come, baby, yes.” Your walls begin to flutter, pulsing over and over, and you can feel his cock twitching as you milk his orgasm out with yours.

Jungkook keeps rutting into you, thrusting through your climax as he follows after you, words now slurring together. “Yeah, come on this cock, come just for me, oh god, oh fuck–”

With a final strangled cry, you feel him empty his release into you, your cunt shuddering with oversensitivity as he fills you up. You’re still breathing hard when his hands press into your ass, gently guiding you down to your side on the mattress next to him, his softening cock slipping out of you as you move.

You lay like that for a minute, heart slamming in your chest, eyes dropping shut as you attempt to recover. Cum is definitely starting to leak out of you and stain the sheets beneath you, but you can’t find a fuck to give about it right now.

You eventually feel the bed shift as Jungkook rolls over, pulling you close to him with a soft grunt. He presses a gentle kiss to your hairline, and you can feel him smile a little before he speaks.

“I will admit, I may have overreacted.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #anonymous

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goosewriting · 1 year

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I've been thinking about the 7th scenario with Donnie but it's the reader the one that protected him (preferably if it takes place during the first shredder fight) and they manage to mutter the 36 pink prompt before passing out, and Donnie says the 3th purple prompt? (Don't worry they'll live, they're just gonna need some time to heal 😭)

Protect you (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

scenario 7: Shielding the other with their body to save/protect them. prompt 3: “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.” prompt 36: “I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop protecting you.”

summary: reader shields Donnie with their body to protect him.

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: mentions of injuries, blood mention, reader gets flung around, happy ending

word count: ~950

A/N: i couldn’t figure out how to place this in the shredder fight so it’s just a generic fight! :’) hang in there reader 🩹

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

It all had happened so fast that Donnie was almost unable to process what was going on. One moment they were fighting an enemy as a team, the next you were thrown back like a ragdoll.

You were never meant to be a part of this fight. Regret and guilt fell over him, weighing him down on the spot, where he remained frozen for a split second as he watched your unmoving body lying on the ground at an awkward angle.

Like a bolt running through him that startled him awake, the turtle heard himself calling your name, and he came running to you. Crouching down next to you, he held onto his bō staff planted on the ground for balance; he had also gotten quite a beating, just like his brothers. His legs felt like they were about to give out any moment, even more now that he saw you in this state. His other hand shakily reached out to wipe some dirt off your cheek, and his touch lingered.

There was a nasty gash on your arm, a trail of blood trickled down from your temple and any visible skin was scratched and bruised. Your brow was furrowed, your face contorted in an almost comical grimace, trying to bite back the pain to give him a weak smile. Given the worried, almost desperate look in his eyes, you assumed you looked just as bad as you felt.

Somewhere in the background you could hear the other turtles fighting, there was some metal clashing, grunts and yells. And as your eyes finally focused on Donnie’s face, you saw something moving from behind him. There were several big pieces of debris flying in your direction.

“Watch out!” you yelled hoarsely, and your body reacted faster than your mind. Grabbing Donnie by the shoulders, you pulled him to the side, rolling him over and climbing on top of him all in the same motion, so that your back was now shielding him. Immediately after your change in position you felt the debris hitting you and you couldn't help the yelp that escaped your lips. The impact pushed you even further down into the turtles’ chest, your arms doing their darndest to keep you up. But they gave out not a moment too soon, and you collapsed on top of Donnie.

He called your name again, right from under you, but to your ears it sounded like it was far away. You felt him turn you around to pull your upper body into his lap, and everything was spinning around you.

“Why did you do that?!” Donnie reprimanded you, voice laced with anger, worry, and everything in between. He quickly looked over your injuries and it didn’t take a doctor to see that you were badly hurt and needed medical attention ASAP.

Wiping away the blood from your face, he searched your eyes, which were struggling to focus and starting to fall closed.

“No, no, no…! Please say something” he pleaded, voice cracking, his tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto your chest. “Why would you do that… I’m the one supposed to be protecting you!”

Using the last of your strength, you reached up with your trembling hand and wiped away his tears.

“I will never stop fighting for you” you said, and inhaled sharply at the pain in your chest when you spoke. “I will never stop protecting you.”

Your hand fell back down over your stomach, limp, and Donnie felt your body start to weigh down on him as you lost your conscience.

“Hey, no. Wake up” he patted your cheek repeatedly, choking back a sob. “You have to wake up. Please. For me.”

The last thing you heard was your name being called repeatedly, and then everything faded to black, the void calling to you with the promise of stopping the pain, and you had no strength left in you to fight back.

— — —

When you woke up, you noticed two things: your surroundings had a purplish tint to them, and every single part of your body ached like you had never felt before.

Once your eyes got used to the light, you looked around and realised you were lying on a makeshift hospital bed in Donnie’s lab. Your gaze wandered further to the side and you saw him sitting next to your bed on a chair, with his head on his arms, which were crossed on the little space available beside you. He was facing away from you, but holding your hand in his. You observed him for a moment, watching his uncovered shell rise and fall with his breaths.

You tried to sit up but grunted at the sharp pain that shot from the base of your back to the nape of your neck, so you limited yourself to squeeze his hand.

Donnie’s head shot up when he heard you, and that’s when you saw his arm was bandaged just like yours. He wasn’t wearing his mask, which was a rare sight, but allowed you to see he had a cut on his forehead. You let go of his hand to carefully graze over the gauze-covered cut with your knuckles, then cupped his face.

“You’re hurt” you croaked out.

The turtle scoffed and took your hand back in both of his.

“Stop worrying about me” he said, and it almost sounded like he was scolding you, but then his voice went so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “It was you who almost died out there.”

You gave him your best apologetic smile, closing your eyes and leaning back into the pillow to relish in the knowledge that he was safe now.

“I already told you: I’ll never stop protecting you.”

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt 2018 #rise donnie x reader

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princesssmars · 1 year

Text

wildfire

some starmora x reader nsfw headcanons

wc : 1.162

cw : nsfw content! triad poly relationship (fmf). dom!gamora, switch!peter, sub!reader. some sex position links bc i think they're fun. strap-on sex. anal. pda with butt slapping. masturbation.

an : watched gotg 3 and definitely not broken. new gamora is cool but im always gonna miss og gamora so expect more starmora stuff to come bc im bisexual and sad <3

so lets say you joined the guardians early, peter and gamora already have that spark between them and now you've arrived and thrown them for a loop.

while you and gamora are still mostly trying to deal with your romantic feelings, peter is being driven crazy by his sexual ones. he's not stupid enough to jeopardize the budding relationship he has with the both of you by sleeping around.

(not to say he didn't get tempted, there was this one chick with blue skin, big doe eyes and four arms and-)

still. he's not that stupid. but, he does have needs, so he jerks off. a lot. every time he does it he thinks about the both of you. the feel of gamora's skin when his hand brushed against it that morning, the smell of the new shampoo you pick up on the last planet. even just the memory of you two laughing at one of his shitty jokes is enough to make him finish.

not to say gamora doesn't get herself off as well. i don't think she would have that much sexual experience or at least not as much as peter does. just a brief hook-up occasionally to take the edge off. but when you complimented a new armored top she bought that complimented her arms and peter agreed with that stupidly charming yet sleazy smile of his, she couldn't help but lay in her bed that night and rub her puffy clit until she had to bite down on her hand as she came.

it wasn't long after that you all became official.

in the bedroom, gamora is a dom and peter is a switch. to her, there's something about quill commanding the team during missions and casual settings and being reduced to a man on his knees begging for you to touch him anywhere.

but don't for a second think you're off the hook. if you ever get too cocky when she's dominating peter, she won't hesitate to put you in your place. her favorite way to do it was sitting you on a cushion with a direct view of the bed, your hands bound behind your back with a vibrator stuffed inside you as you were left to whimper and beg as she rode peter into oblivion. she keeps eye contact with you while she has her hand around his threat, teasing you about how flustered you look.

gods help you when they're both in a dominating mood. it's mostly after they got roughed up after a mission or the person who hired you was more of an asshole than usual. on those days they don't hesitate to toss you around like a ragdoll and do with you as they please.

one time you were left behind to take care of the ship while they negotiated with the person who hired you, which must have gone wrong with the looks on their faces when they got back. before you know it you're pressed into an arch on your bed, gamora's hands pushing your mouth and tongue deeper inside of her pussy, as peter grabs your hips and helps you throw it back on his dick.

peter would love positions where he can make eye contact, loves the intimacy of it and loves to see the facial expressions you make. doing the counterblow or fireworks in the pilot's seat, a deck chair, or python in bed when your both craving contact. right before you both cum he'll pull away from sucking on your tits or neck to look you in your eyes, whispering "i love you"'s and "cum for me, cum all over me baby"'s as you both reach your highs.

gamora will take you in any position she can. not to say she doesn't love the intimacy occasionally as well. there have been more than a few times where she gently drags you to her room, places you on the bed, and eats you out agonizingly slow for over an hour before crawling on top of you and slotting herself over you, riding your cunt until neither of you can move from overstimulation. her faves would be 69, eagle, plain, and a full nelson if she's feeling pent up.

oh and gods help you when she gets her hands on a strap-on. she found it in a sex shop on a little excursion to a shady planet for rocket to find some rare materials for an invention. quill had seen it first, practically begging the two of you to go inside with him. while he and you were pointing at different beads and gadgets and giggling at the obscenity and absurdity, gamora is busy stalking along a back wall, looking at the different dildos and harnesses with piqued interest.

when she tells you that she booked a hotel room for the three of you for the night, you can't help but get a little giddy at the idea of another night of pleasure with the two of them without having to quiet yourself by biting or gagging. you don't expect gamora to come from the bathroom, a black harness around her hips with a long and thick dark red dildo attached to it. after she gets your consent and gets you prepped, your body is held up and squished between the two as peter thrusts into you from the front while gamora takes the back. you didn't leave the hotel room for two days.

they are very different in how much pda they like to show in public. gamora is more subtle, still wary to let others know how much you really mean to her, plus she likes to keep the romantic and sexual side of her life more private. she'll settle for soft smiles across the room, brushing her hand across yours when she walks by. if she's feeling devious she'll come up behind you while you're doing something under the guise of "helping you", when in reality she's pushing her entire body against yours and maybe throwing a small little thrust in there too. nine times out of ten it will leave you flushed beyond belief and she'll walk away satisfied.

peter is. a whore (affectionate). he is not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. hand holding, hugging, kissing, etc. you already know he's fond of slapping your ass, and will do it every opportunity he gets. if you do it back to him he will literally go like :0. definitely doesn't get a boner.

their aftercare is unparalleled. while you're coming down from your high, peter will rush to get a rag for you all to wash off the liquids and sweat, while gamora will whisper sweet gentle praises while making sure the both of you are hydrated. no matter how rough or quick the sex was. they will always end it with you cuddling in their arms as they whisper to you how much they care about you. <3

#marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #guardians of the galaxy #gotg x reader #peter quill x gamora #peter quill #peter quill x reader #gamora #gamora x reader #peter x reader x gamora #starmora x reader #starmora #starmora x reader smut

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