#v: man out of dimension

[nomanslannd]

❛  i think i've been in love with you since the day we met - scratch that, i know i've been in love with you since the day we met.  ❜ post russia #2 yaknow

ɪᴀɴ  ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ  ʙᴇ  ʟʏɪɴɢ  ɪꜰ  ʜᴇ  sᴀɪᴅ  ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ  ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ  ᴀ  ᴘᴀʀᴛ  ᴏꜰ  ʜɪᴍ  that  didn't  want  to  run.  Not  because  he  didn't  reciprocate  her  feelings.  But because  damn  right he did,  he  loved  her.  He'd  known  from  the  moment  those  hydra  agents  had  walked  into  his  cell  and  threatened  to  hurt  her,  if  he  didn't  corporate.  The  feeling  had  weighed  heavy  on  his  chest,  and  in  that  moment  he  could  have  ripped  their  hearts  out.  That's  when  he  knew  the  feeling  he  had  shared  for  Kira  all  this  time  had  been  in  fact  love.  @str3lok

So  he  felt  the  desire  to  run,  not  because  he  didn't  love  her.  But  because  he  was  fucking  terrified  that  he  loved  her  too  much.  The  type  of  love  that  would  have  him  burning  down  cities.  The  sort  of  love  that  would  have  him  putting  his  life  on  the  line  to  know  that  she  would  be  okay.  And  that  was  a  dangerous  sort  of  love.  It  made  him  feel  desperate,  out  of  control,  and  Ian  had  spent  the  majority  of  his  life  trying  to  push  away  the  parts  of  himself  he  didn't  like.  The  dark  parts.  The  parts  that  wanted  to  hurt,  the  part's  that  made  him  like  Zola.  

What  he  slipped  up?  What  if  he  hurt  her,  because  he  was  being  reckless,  because  he  couldn't  control  himself?  What  if  he  was  destined  to  be  some  self  fulling  prophecy?  "  I  -  "  he  began  to  say,  a  lump  forming  in  his  throat,  from  the  swell  of  emotion  he  was  expressing.  "  Kira  -  I  -  I've  been  in  love  with  you  since  the  moment  SHIELD  paired  us  up  for  the  first  time.  I'm  sure  their  regretting  that  one.  But  I  don't.  I've  never  felt  the  way  I  feel  about  you  for  anyone.  And  it  scares  the  shit  out  of  me.  "  

He  feels  raw.  He's  laid  himself  bare  for  her  to see.  But  as  scared  as  he  felt,  when  push  came  to  shove  he  knew  he  could  trust  her.  Trust  her  to  protect  his  heart,  rather  than  break  it.  "  I  may  not  always  do the right thing.  Or  know  what  to  say.  But  you  make  me  want  to  try  to  be better.  Not  just  for  you,  but  for  myself.  "  H͟e͟'͟s͟ ͟ ͟n͟e͟v͟e͟r͟ ͟ ͟b͟e͟e͟n͟ ͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟ ͟a͟n͟y͟o͟n͟e͟ ͟ ͟b͟e͟f͟o͟r͟e͟ ͟ ͟w͟h͟o͟ ͟ ͟m͟a͟d͟e͟ ͟ ͟h͟i͟m͟ ͟ ͟f͟e͟e͟l͟ ͟ ͟l͟i͟k͟e͟ ͟ ͟h͟e͟ ͟ ͟w͟a͟s͟ ͟ ͟w͟o͟r͟t͟h͟ ͟ ͟s͟o͟m͟e͟t͟h͟i͟n͟g͟.͟

[nomanslannd]

@str3lok

#i’m?? worth it??????

[pyxiscowboy]

actually i think it's cool that ayda will be gone for most of this season bc it'll be a fun parallel. fig spent part of sophomore year in hell and now ayda will also have her own time in hell [autistic on a family vacation]

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[nomanslannd]

Ian didn't really talk about dimension z much, but that was mostly because most people didn't ask. Too afraid to say or ask the wrong thing. ❛ The condition's are harsh. The days are hot, and the night's are below freezing. Most of it is barren land expect for the capital Zolandia, ❜ he explained.

❛ Which is ultra modern. The alien race that lives there--- they're called phrox are mostly harmless. Although most of them are loyal to Zola... my sister still lives there. ❜ He wasn't sure if that was still true, but that's the last time he'd seen her.

“What was it like…the dimension you came from?” Maybe she shouldn’t have asked that. It felt a little too personal. But Scarlett’s curiosity always got the better of her, especially during moments of boredom—like now, keeping watch over the building where they’d tracked suspected Hydra activity. This was definitely one of those moments, at least there was something to do. She cast a quick apologistic glance at Ian. “If you don’t mind talking about it, of course.”

@nomanslannd || starter call !

[newspropaganda]

Did Go Rush really suck? Opinion on ARC-V and DSOD?

Go Rush has sucked since day one. Octomadly said she enjoyed it, but some in the community hated it. I wasn’t a fan of the space opera setting, and after episode 26, the show’s theme became more of a generic battle shounen formula. It was hard for me to stay invested.

Both Dark Side of Dimensions (DSOD) and Zexal received mixed receptions, but I loathe DSOD—it’s garbage. DSOD was animated by that jackass Satoshi Kawabara, who ruined Zexal midway through Season 2, and it turned to crap. The fandom is more divided on these two products than I am. Also, if DSOD made money, where the hell was the funding for Vrains? Why was it left on life support? They didn’t even consider keeping it afloat. Takahashi probably stole that money, if I’m not mistaken.

Arc-V was decent at best, but the fandom ruined it with their pretentious thinking and mental gymnastics.

[stellamarielu]

on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel. 

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face. 

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed. 

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” 

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here. 

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?” 

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?” 

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice. 

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.   

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped. 

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall. 

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor. 

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice. 

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face. 

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you. 

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration. 

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.” 

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest. 

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction. 

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption. 

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches. 

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room. 

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman. 

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip. 

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.” 

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears. 

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back. 

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his. 

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going. 

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.  

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.” 

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..” 

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours. 

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall. 

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear. 

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance. 

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it. 

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material. 

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall. 

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?” 

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him. 

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation. 

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation. 

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans. 

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely. 

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation. 

“You’re so fucking arrogant.” 

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Maybe I have good reason to be.” 

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.  

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission. 

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment. 

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies. 

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed. 

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs. 

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again. 

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips. 

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor. 

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet. 

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours. 

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth. 

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers. 

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove. 

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor. 

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt. 

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock. 

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure. 

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him. 

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace. 

Then he pulled out abruptly. 

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess. 

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest. 

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you. 

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face. 

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest. 

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials. 

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile. 

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

[whor3ing]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖? | 𝐂.𝐁 , 𝐂.𝐒 & 𝐌.𝐒 ― 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒃𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌, 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ COMING DOWN , THE WEEKND

colby brock, chris sturniolo & matt sturniolo x ghost!reader

WARNINGS : smut, three-man, oral (fem & male receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, praise, completely reader focused worship, (no weird incest shit or contact between the boys ofc ew!) , usage of slut

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝟏𝟖+

It starts like it always does—with boots on cracked linoleum, flashlights sweeping over peeling wallpaper, and laughter too loud for a place that remembers suffering.

But this time, the air feels different.

You’re hovering in the corner of the old surgical wing, the same place your body once failed you, your soul never quite able to leave.

You’ve watched dozens pass through.

Paranormal investigators. Skeptics. Ghost hunters.

None of them ever really saw you.

Until now.

Chris steps into the room first. He slows almost immediately, brows drawing tight as his flashlight flickers. His breath hitches.

“There’s something here,” he mutters, but it’s not with fear. It’s reverence.

You move toward him, out of habit more than hope. Your energy brushes his shoulder—and he turns to you like he felt it.

“Holy shit…” His flashlight clatters to the ground.

Because he sees you. Really sees you. His mouth parts, chest rising and falling in stuttered awe.

Behind him, Matt and Colby file in, mid-laugh—until Matt looks where Chris is staring.

“Wait,” Matt whispers. “Is that—?”

“I see her too,” Colby breathes, stunned. “That’s not… that’s not a trick.”

You float closer, cautious, trembling at the edges. Three pairs of eyes on you. Three living bodies. Three heartbeats you haven’t felt in a hundred years—and now you’re surrounded by them.

Chris lifts a hand. His fingers shake as they reach for you, expecting air.

But you let him touch.

When his fingertips meet your skin, his eyes widen with a desperate sound caught in his throat.

“She’s warm,” he says, almost dazed. “She’s fuckin' warm.”

You shudder. The sensation—contact—rushes through you like lightning in water.

“Can you feel this?” Matt asks, stepping in close. His hands glide over your hips like he’s handling something sacred—fragile, forbidden.

His breath is warm against your cheek, and when your eyes meet, there’s reverence there. Awe.

You nod.

It’s not just sensation—it’s need. You have to feel it.

Because ghosts aren’t supposed to feel this much.

Because ever since your body gave out in this room, you’ve been trapped in the dull hum between dimensions. Cold. Numb. Existing without living. Until now.

And Colby? Colby just watches. That hungry, fascinated look like he’s not just seeing you—he’s studying you. Like you’re the one variable in a case that’s never added up.

“She’s responding to touch,” he says more to himself than to them. “Heart rate’s increasing. Expression shift. Eye dilation. You want us.”

It’s not a question.

You don’t remember the last time you wanted anything.

The last time you felt heat curling in your gut like smoke, your thighs aching, a slick pulse building between your legs like your body remembers what to crave—even in death.

Chris swears softly, almost reverently. “Fuck,” he breathes, stepping forward and cupping your face. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, grounding you. “You’re here. I can feel you.”

His lips crash into yours, and it’s not gentle—it’s a collision of everything you’ve been aching for. His tongue teases your lower lip before plunging into your mouth, tasting you, breathing you in, as though you need to be cared for properly.

Matt groans, voice thick with lust and something else—longing, maybe—and drops to his knees in front of you.

His warm palms trail up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the crease where hip meets pelvis. “She’s already trembling,” he says, awe in his voice. “Like she’s overheating.”

“She is,” Colby murmurs from behind the camera, still recording. Not for content—for research.

For answers. “Residual energy spikes with tactile stimulation. But—Jesus—she’s glowing.” His voice softens, loses its clinical edge. “She’s beautiful.”

Your breath catches when Matt’s lips brush your inner thigh, right over the place where your blood once ran warm. Now, it's almost like you’re buzzing. Alive.

He mouths higher, nosing the hem of the skirt you’re trapped in from the moment you died, like lifting it will release something ancient.

And maybe it will.

“Let us take care of you,” Chris whispers against your cheek, hand sliding down your neck, fingers trailing the slope of your spine like he’s tracing your outline to memory. “All of us. You need this, don’t you?”

You do. God, you do.

It’s not just about touch—it’s healing. Their hands ground you. Their mouths ignite something buried in your spirit.

You’ve been invisible, unfelt, forgotten for years. But now? Now you’re real to them. You’re tangible.

Colby sets the camera aside. His hands are warm when they cradle your face. He’s not as frantic as the others—he’s controlled, deliberate. “I need to see how far it goes,” he murmurs, and there’s genuine care in his voice. “How much you can take.”

You whimper, thighs clenching. “As much as you’ll give me.”

Matt lets out a broken sound. “Fuck, baby…”

He pushes your legs apart gently, reverently. Then his mouth is there—lips wrapping around your clit, tongue stroking you with soft, slow flicks that turn desperate in seconds.

Your back arches, arms trembling, pulse fluttering like a bird trapped in your ribs.

“Look at her,” Chris murmurs, stepping back so Colby can drop beside Matt. “Look how perfect she looks like this.”

Colby’s fingers ghost over your stomach, your hips, your chest—curious, reverent. “She’s sensitive… Her skin—fuck, it’s like touching lightning.” Then lower. “Tell me if you need more,” he whispers, sliding two fingers between your legs while Matt’s tongue still circles your clit.

You cry out, head falling back against the wall. Chris catches you. He’s behind you now, lips grazing your neck. “That’s it. Let them make you feel it. You deserve to feel all of it, sweetheart, that's fuckin' right.”

You’ve never felt this much. Not even alive.

You moan, high and helpless, and Colby catches your face between his hands. “Pretty thing,” he says, voice husky. “You sound so damn good when you fall apart, so fuckin' special.”

His cock is already hard when he pulls it free, flushed and leaking at the tip. He strokes it slowly as he watches you melt under Matt’s tongue.

“I want her mouth,” he says, not even asking—knowing.

Chris turns your body gently, guiding you to your knees like you’re fragile glass. Your knees hit cracked tile, but you don’t feel it—not when Colby’s cock is right in front of your lips, not when Matt lays down beneath your body, his tongue is still inside you, lapping at your pretty cunt.

You open your mouth without hesitation and Colby groans the second you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut. “That’s it. Just like that. Take me, baby, suck my fuckin' cock for me—mmmh good fuckin' slut."

His hands slide into your hair, holding your head still while he gently rocks into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling beneath his shaft as your moans vibrate around him.

Behind you, Matt doesn’t slow. His tongue is relentless—circling your clit, pushing inside you, coaxing sounds from your throat you didn’t know you could make.

“Look at her,” Chris murmurs. “Taking cock in her mouth and tongue in her cunt like she was made for this.”

You cry out around Colby’s cock, the sound messy, muffled, obscene. Spit drips from your lips, down your chin, over your chest. You can’t stop trembling.

“You’re shaking,” Matt murmurs, breathless, pulling away from your pussy for just a second. “You gonna come on my tongue already?”

You nod—frantic, overwhelmed.

Colby curses and pulls out of your mouth, fisting and pumping his cock himself, so fast as he watches. “Come for him. Come with my cum on your tongue.”

You do. Hard.

It rips through you, violent and pure.

Your thighs quake as Matt groans against your cunt, dragging it out with slow licks while Colby paints your mouth and chin with hot, thick ropes of his warm cum.

You’re sobbing by the end of it—head swimming, mouth open, body thrumming with overstimulated heat.

Chris catches you before you fall, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. His cock presses against your soaked entrance, hot and heavy.

“Still with us, baby?” he murmurs, brushing hair out of your eyes.

You nod, dazed. “Please.”

Chris pushes inside you with a groan—deep and slow, stretching you open. You gasp at the pressure, the fullness, the way he fills every inch.

“You’re so warm, how are you so fucking warm for us?” he breathes, kissing your temple. “Pussy's so perfect. So fucking tight.”

You cry out as he starts to move—long thrusts that make your whole body jolt in his arms.

And before you know it, Matt is beside you again, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, murmuring soft praise.

“You’re doing so good, such a pretty fucking girl for us,” he says, hand resting over your throat. “Taking him so deep, baby. We’re not done yet.”

Chris fucks you with rhythm, with purpose—each snap of his hips forcing his cock deeper, brushing against that sensitive spot inside that makes your eyes just fucking roll back.

You’re close—so close again, already—your body fluttering around Chris’s cock.

“Gonna come for me, pretty ghost?” he grits, one hand gripping your ass tight. “Let me feel you pulse on my cock. Let me fill you.”

You shatter.

Your second orgasm crashes through you like a storm. You scream, legs locking around Chris’s waist as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high.

He comes with a strangled moan, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he fills you with his sticky come. You feel it. All of it.

You feel the way his cock pushes against your cervix as he finishes, his come covering your walls and soaking your pussy even more.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers against your skin.

You can’t think. Can’t breathe. You’re limp, boneless.

And then Matt lifts you again.

You cry out from the sensitivity, but he hushes you gently, cradling you against his chest, reminding you that it's all okay. “One more, baby. Just one.”

His fingers slide inside with ease, your pussy so fucking messy against Matt's fingers.

“So wet. So fucking wrecked.”'

He fucks you slow with his hands—luxurious, sensual, like he’s savoring you.

Each thrust makes you whimper. Your body is spent, but your cunt clenches around his large veiny fingers like it can’t let go.

“You’re a dream,” he whispers. “You’re everything, such a pretty fucking cunt taking my fingers like that..”

Within no time, you come again, your cunt spasming against Matt's soaked fingers as they relentlessly move in and out of you, sliding against every nerve of your soaked cunt, savoring every moment inside of your sopping pussy.

When it’s over, they don’t speak, they only hold you.

Chris pulls you into his lap, wrapping you in his hoodie. Matt strokes your cheek. Colby wipes your thighs clean with the edge of his shirt, kisses your knee.

You’re not weightless anymore. Not trapped.

You’re held.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Chris murmurs.

You nod slowly, nestled against his chest.

“Still glowing,” Matt says with a soft smile. “Still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You blink slowly. You’re raw. Fucked-out. Worshipped.

And for the first time in over a century, you feel alive.

happy the video was delayed tbh !! I wanted to get this out around the same time <33

🍒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘-𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 - @chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @ivydre4ms @raes-library @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @courta13 @divinesturn @aaliyahsturniolo @chris-hallelujah @mi-co-uk @ivysturnss @sweetpeabreezyree @christophersgf @bluestriips @angelic-sturniolos111 @shadowthesim237 @moond0llie @eeyoresturnz @ellssturn @fratbrochrisgf @teddystvrns @pvssychicken @ribbonlovergirl @chrisspussygang @vanteguccir @tits4matt @bambisturns @luvs4matt @delilahsturniolo @fadedstvrn @ariieeesworld @oopsiedaisydeer @rubyychriss @babyt0matoes @kenah-sturniolo @desturns @ifwdominicfike @sturns-mermaid @pair-of-pantaloons @bbgirlmatt @backwardshatnick @gregs-child @sturnlovematt22 @tezzzzzzzz

credit to anyone with any ghost!reader au's !! I am unaware of any and this is just a one shot but I do not claim the au itself <33

[nomanslannd]

Ian chuckled, he had to give it to the kid, he had moxie. ❛ Envy? ❜ He repeated the word in disbelief. For starters Ian was old enough to be an actual avenger, not that he was interested in the slightest in being one, let alone a young avenger. ❛ Nomad isn't really a team player. I prefer to do my own thing. Team mates slow you down. ❜

He had worked a bit with Wilson, but that was different. For starters he enjoyed Wilson's company. Not that he'd ever admit it to the older man. ❛ Struck a nerve have I? ❜ he asked, titling his head.

❛ What I meant was, your mom's cool. We're friends. So obviously I'm going to have her kid's back. ❜ Begrudgingly but true.

@nomanslannd // cont.

Tommy widened his eyes and raised a finger, leaning forward slightly.

"Hey, you’re smelling that?" He sniffed a couple of times before turning his gaze to Ian. "Smells like envy to me—because someone wasn’t invited to join the Young Avengers."

He tried to keep a straight face, but it lasted only a fraction of a second. A sarcastic, teasing grin quickly took over.

Being part of the Young Avengers was a pretty big deal for tommy. It meant a lot to him. He loved that team. They were his family, so hearing the disdain in the other’s voice really got under his skin a bit. Crossing his arms, he let out a scoff, already growing tired of being there. He didn’t like to feel locked, after all.

"Oh, you like my mom? Tell me more about that."

[nomanslannd]

"  I  wasn't  going  to  hurt  him.  I  was  just  going  to  teach  him  a  lesson.  Guys  like  this  think  they're  untouchable.  It's  good  for  them  to  learn  that's  not  the  case.  "  

Ian  folded  his  arms  tightly  against  his  chest.  "  Oh  come  on.  Don't  look  at  me  like  that.  I͟  b͟e͟a͟r͟l͟y͟ ͟t͟o͟u͟c͟h͟e͟d͟ ͟h͟i͟m͟.  " // @writteninscarlet

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

"not a threat"

one-shot

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: He's warned you about it before. Told you not to tease him. And you just had to run your mouth—had to bring up the way he cuddled you last night, the way he whispered sweet nothings, rubbed your back like you were made of spun glass. And now you’re here.

Warnings: 18+!, language, Ben being a goddamn bully, smut (p in v, fingering, clitoral stimulation, overstim, dirty talk, mocking), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 1,214

A/N: This was born because of this ask. I quite often find myself daydreaming about Ben (and, let's be real, all Jackles characters... oops) being mean in bed in their own ways. It's my kryptonite. Hope y'all like it. <3 All the love.

He fucks like he’s fighting something.

You’ve learned that about him.

There’s nothing pretty about it—at least not at first. It’s teeth and hands and gritted snarls into the crook of your neck. Calloused fingers gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll bruise, the slap of skin against skin echoing like a gunshot through the room. He mutters filth into your ear the whole time—voice rough, breath ragged—words like “mine,” and “take it,” and “don’t you fuckin’ run.”

And you don’t.

You never do.

You take all of it—his weight, his need, the sheer force of him—because you know what comes after.

Because Ben may fuck mean, but he loves soft. Quiet. Reverent.

So when your muscles are trembling and your legs are too spent to move, when your body feels like a battleground and he’s buried deep inside you, moaning against your skin like you’re the only thing keeping him alive—that’s when he shifts.

That’s when he holds you.

He pulls out slow, panting, worn down to nothing. Presses one last kiss to your shoulder like an apology. Rolls over and brings you with him, dragging you to his chest with those huge, bruising arms that suddenly feel like heaven.

You end up curled against him like a lullaby.

And just when your eyes start to flutter closed, your back still raw and humming from the way he pressed you into the mattress, you feel it:

His palm. Warm. Broad. Sliding gently up and down your spine. Slow. Soothing. Like a lull in a storm. Like he’s making sure your heartbeat stays steady beneath his touch.

“Didn’t mean to go so rough,” he mutters into your hair.

You hum. “Yes, you did.”

“…Yeah,” he admits, voice hoarse. “You fuckin’ liked it.”

You nuzzle deeper into his chest. “I like this too.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps rubbing your back. Tracing lazy circles with his thumb. His lips brush the top of your head. His hand tugs the blanket up around your bare shoulders like you’re something delicate.

“Go to sleep, doll,” he whispers. “I got ya.”

He really does. Always has.

And you wake up sore.

Not the need-an-ice-pack kind of sore, but the fuck-me-that-was-good kind—the kind that lingers in the backs of your thighs and the arch of your spine, reminding you with every little shift of exactly what he did to you.

Ben’s already up. Of course he is. Shirtless, smug, leaning against the kitchen counter in nothing but boxers and his dog tags, sipping coffee like he didn’t rail you into another dimension last night and then hold you like something breakable.

He glances over when you shuffle in, limping a little, wrapped in one of his t-shirts.

Smirk. Instant. Sinister.

“Well look who survived,” he says, voice thick with satisfaction. “Didn’t think you’d be able to walk.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already smiling. “You act like you’re proud of that.”

He shrugs, sips his coffee. “I am.”

You pad past him, fingers brushing his back on your way to the sink. “Mm. Bold words for a man who spent the rest of the night rubbing my back and whispering sweet nothings into my hair.”

The mug clinks on the counter.

You don’t even have time to blink. He’s on you. Big hands grabbing your hips, spinning you to face him, lifting you onto the counter like you weigh nothing. You yelp, giggling, but the sound dies when his hand slides up your thigh under the hem of the shirt.

“Oh, you wanna fuckin’ tease me?” He growls, voice already thickening with heat. “That what this is?”

You bite your lip. “I just think it’s cute. Mr. Tough Guy playing little spoon—”

His fingers slide through your folds, and fuck, you’re soaked. He grins—wolfish. “Christ. You’re already this wet?”

“You—Ben—”

“From just a little teasing?” He taps your clit, firm. “Or were you hopin’ I’d bully this pretty pussy again?”

You whimper. It’s humiliating.

Which he loves.

“Oh, you like this,” he mutters, two fingers sinking into you without warning. “Givin’ me lip just so I’ll ruin you again. That it?”

You try to shake your head, try to breathe, but his fingers fuck into you slow and deep—then fast, then slow again—keeping you off balance. His free hand wraps around your throat, not tight, just there, grounding you.

“You were talkin’ so much shit a second ago,” he growls. “Where’d that attitude go, sweetheart?”

“B-Ben—please—”

He chuckles, mean and low. “Please what? Say it.”

“Need to come,” you gasp, legs twitching as he presses just right.

“Already?” He tsks. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Not even been up ten minutes.”

But he doesn’t stop.

He's warned you about it before. Told you not to tease him. And you just had to run your mouth—had to bring up the way he cuddled you last night, the way he whispered sweet nothings, rubbed your back like you were made of spun glass.

And now you’re here. Still on the counter. Legs spread. Eyes glassy. A complete fucking mess.

Ben’s got two fingers stuffed so deep inside you, he can feel every flutter of your cunt as you clench and stutter around him. He’s relentless—fucking you with slow, grinding pressure one second, then brutal, fast thrusts the next. Playing your body like it’s just another weapon he knows how to dismantle.

You’re sobbing.

He hasn’t stopped in almost twenty minutes.

“Oh, look at you,” he sneers, grinning down at your flushed, wrecked face. “All that shit you were talkin'—gone the second I spread your legs. Dumb little cunt, huh?”

Your hips jerk, thighs trembling as your next orgasm tears through you, loud and raw and shameful. But he still doesn’t stop. Not even close.

He slaps your pussy, sharp and wet, just to hear you squeal.

“Fuckin’ twitchin’ already? Jesus, sweetheart. What, are you broken now?”

You try to pull away, breath hitching, but he grabs your thigh—forces it back open.

“Nuh uh,” he growls, teeth bared. “You wanted to act smart, now you’re gonna take it.”

His palm presses down hard on your lower belly, forcing his fingers even deeper.

“You got this dumb little smile last night, all smug when I kissed your forehead—like you had somethin’ on me.” He huffs a cruel laugh. “But now look at you. Drippin’ down my fuckin’ hand. You can barely breathe.”

You whimper, tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s too much. He’s too much. Your body can’t decide if it wants to cry or come again.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, faux-sweet and condescending, “gonna come again? Just from my fingers? That’s all it takes now?”

His fingers crook just right. You scream.

“Goddamn, you’re easy.”

Your orgasm hits like a freight train—violent, messy, completely out of your control. Your body arches, thighs snapping around his wrist, sobs catching in your throat as your vision goes white.

Ben watches with a smug little smirk, eyes locked on your ruined, tearstreaked face.

“Thought you were so fuckin’ clever,” he murmurs, voice dipped in gravel. “Mockin’ me. Teasin’. But this?” He leans close, fingers finally—finally—slipping out of your spent, twitching cunt. “This is what happens when you forget who’s in charge.”

Then he kisses you.

Gentle. Soft. A single press of his lips to yours, like last night’s version of him is still there, hiding under all the bravado, before he pulls back, eyes sharp again.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me for bein’ nice,” he murmurs against your mouth, breath hot. “Or I’ll bully this pussy ’til you can’t walk for real.”

You hum, dazed and aching, head falling to his shoulder.

“That’s not as much of a threat as you think it is, Ben.”

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l <3

[nomanslannd]

ɪᴛ's  ꜰʀᴇᴇᴢɪɴɢ,  ᴛʜᴇ  ᴛʏᴘᴇ  ᴏꜰ  ᴄᴏʟᴅ  ᴛʜᴀᴛ  sᴇᴇᴘs  ɪɴᴛᴏ  ʏᴏᴜʀ  ʙᴏɴᴇs.  He  can  smell  damp,  and  wrinkled  his  nose.  When  he'd  agreed  to  take  this  mission,  he  hadn't  realised  the  mission  would  be quite  this  complicated.  The  briefing  had  made  it  seem  like  a  quick  in  and  out,  but  then  again  Anderson  was  known  to  fudge  the  facts  at  everyone  else's  expense.  

He  shifted  his  weight,  rubbing  his  hands  together  to  create  some  warmth.  He  would  suggest  they  start  a  fire,  but  the  light  but  reveal  their  location.  '  Maybe  we  should  pull  back,  '  Ian  suggested.  He  would  have  never  suggested  it  if  he'd  been  alone,  but  he  had  a  partner  to  thing  about,  he  couldn't  just  go  and  be  reckless.  '  Anderson  clearly  fucked  up  the  details.  We  could  pull  back  and  try  again  tomorrow.  '

The  only  problem  with  that  idea  was  that  they'd  loose  the  ground  they'd  made  today.  He  tried  to  shake  the  undeniable  feeling  that  something  wasn't  right.  The  mission  had  to  come  first;  that's  what  they  were  here  for.  '  Fuck.  Ignore  me,  it's  just  the  cold  getting  to  my  head. ' He  grabbed  a  cloth  that  looked  relatively  clean  beside  him,  and  tossed  it  at  Kira.  '  Wet  it,  and  cover  your  mouth  to  protect  you  from  the  mold.  I͟t͟'͟l͟l͟ ͟f͟u͟c͟k͟ ͟u͟p͟ ͟ y͟o͟u͟r͟ ͟l͟u͟n͟g͟s͟.  '  

plotted starter @nomanslannd

the past is not only always hovering over the present, it is not even passed. It waits, like some malevolent caged beast, ready at any moment. nothing hurts more than the past and nothing burns more than the cold.

2:35 am; settlement of kadykchan, magadan region, russia

kira put her weight against the center panel of the old door and pushed hard. it twisted inward, a sound like fingernails across a blackboard screamed from the rusty hinges. the room was a clutter of things rejected by the last occupant. an old mattress lay against one wall, blackened with grime and mildew. surrounded by jagged empty bottles, whose labels have long since faded. the smell in the air was unmistakable; damp, earthy; crudely said the place fucking reeked of mold.

the frigid air settled on her body ❝ i need a cigarette ❞ kira murmured, mostly talking to herself. she rubbed her hands together, doing her best to ward off the cold --and it wasn't working.-- it was freezing. what was even worse than that, kira had a bad feeling brewing in her chest. like something was bound to go south. ❝ how do you feel? ❞ she turned to ian.

[spaceycat]

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

𐙚 ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚋𝚘𝚋 𝚛𝚎𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: E.T by katy perry (3:26) // 𝄞⨾ ࣪𓍢ִ໋ " you're from a whole 'nother world, a different dimension.. " 𖤐.ᐟ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) literally always taking care of you if sentry or void comes out during sex he's ensuring that none of them hurt you or degraded you in a harmful way, will be at your beck and call for hours on end.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) his torso, he likes the way you ogle at him when his shirt peaks up a little bit - and how surprised you were when you realised that he was fully ripped, and how you like to drag your hands over his abs when he's on top of you.

he likes your hands a lot, he's completely addicted to your touch and obsessed by the way you feel him - he likes your hands in his mouth, wrapped around his cock or pushing at his shoulders when you get overstimulated.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) bob is just HELLA messy with cum, the man has a spit kink you cannot tell me that he doesn't adore messy sex and smearing his cum on your stomach, face tits, inner thighs or just fully eating it out of you afterwards and lapping it up like. A. DOG.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) he kind of gets off on the fact that other people can hear the two of you, therefore him being kind of loud during sex. people commonly infantilise him and say that he's not capable of certain things, so showing that he can fuck gives him an ego booster - even if that means walker staring at him awkwardly for the entire week like he didn't hear bob deriving unholy sounds from you from the other side of the tower.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) i feel like bob is very limited with his experiences and hasn't really had the time to really learn about himself or the needs of his partner, (i talk about this in i) but pre-serum bob used to turn to hookups a shit ton but never did do much outside p in v and stuff.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) sentry's favourite position is missionary, being able to push your legs to your chest and fuck is cock so deep into you makes him so goddamn happy.

the void's favourite position is you on your knees in doggy style, or if he places you across the bed, your head draped over the edge of it so he can use your throat as his own personal fucktoy, but let's be for real he's pathetic as fuck.

but bob, ever so simple bob loves for you to ride him or missionary, he loves seeing your pretty little face and understand that he is what's making you feel good and likes the power control when you're on top of him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) he likes it to be funny sometimes if it's really intimate and non-judgemental, but usually he'll think that he's doing something wrong and gets caught up in his own head.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) bob doesn't care about hair in the fucking slightest, he'll clean himself up every so often - but to be honest i dont think he gives a shit about hair on you either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) he values romance and intimacy so much because it takes a lot for him to fully trust someone in a way like this, because i full heartedly believe that when bob was addicted/pre-serum he just stuck to hookups and didn't want to burden someone with all of his issues and trauma by getting into a relationship but wanted the high and pleasure that came with sex. (i need to hug and kiss him better)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) he believes that his hands not enough to suffice sometimes, but he'll resort to jerking off when it becomes desperate times - he likes it messy but still placed his shirt in his teeth so he doesnt drool everywhere or get cum on his shirt.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) spit kink!! we all saw that man literally drooling when he was about to sneeze, and you cannot tell me he practically drools during sex or when you go down on him - or when he's going down on you it's messy and wet and we love that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) in your bedroom or shower is his favourite place, but when no one else is around he'll settle for the couch in the living room or the kitchen counter.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) he loves you and can get pretty turned on with you around but specifically when you're complimenting him or touching him - even if its a light brush against his arm that you don't notice, he sure does.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) hurt you, like at all - he hates the idea of injuring you during sex when it's supposed to be romantic and intimate and also with all of his past he really is deterred from that idea and is constantly checking with you that you're okay/feel good.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) GIVING 100%, he does like it when you go down on him but cmon! he's a drooling mess when he goes down on him, sure its messy and sloppy because he's inexperienced but it adds to it .

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) sentry is fast and praising (but in a mocking way) bob is slow and sensual (because ofc he is) void is fast, rough and degrading

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) i think bob mainly does quickies as sentry because sentry's a busy guy and doesn't have time to dwell on you, he has bigger things to do outside of you - bob takes it slow and sensual like i said before!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) very limited exhibitionism, he'll fuck you in the watchtower's open spaces as long as no one is there, he's open to atleast trying something in the bedroom with you a atleast once because he likes to experiment with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) with that sentry serum... he can go on forever (typically more so if sentry is the one who's in charge) but i feel like bob is just majorly touch starved all the time and can cum pretty easily.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) a strap on guys idk who said that.. ya'll dabble in pegging, i feel it - it just fucks the angst out of bob. i feel like he's rlly open to toys in the bedroom then gets a little insecure about how much pleasure its giving you and replaces the silicone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) sentry and void like to mock and tease when they're balls deep inside of you or have their fingers shoved into your pussy, but bob doesn't really do that all that often - he still does give the occasional one liner but thats just accidental sometimes, soft dom bob does some teasing im sure of it, but he's mainly trying to commit the experience to his mind so whatever he says, he says.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) like i said in D (dirty secret) this man loves to be loud and makes sure that people can hear the two of you, mainly moans and whimpers from him along with a shit ton of praises and pleas.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) uhhh i've kind of said a lot of wack shit for this entire alphabet, but mainly the entire pegging thing i covered in T.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) tell me why i think it increased because of the sentry serum, he was already pretty big pre-serum, but i think it mainly just got girthier and increased like an inch or a half maybe !!!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) BOB. YEARNS. he's a touch starved intimate man, like if you're looking so pretty during a morning meeting he's just staring at you like a lost puppy the entire time and is actively trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants, this tied with the super serum and this man's sex drive is high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) i feel like bob doesn't sleep well in general, but with people - specifically with you, he sleeps way better. but he always makes sure you are asleep before him, even if that means staying up for a couple more hours.

[adelliet]

Bob Reynolds x f!reader

DREAMY VACATION

Summary: You've been sent on vacation to take a break from saving the world, but there's no hiding from your emotions that will eventually take over.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, alcohol consumption, body insecurity, Sentry awakening (just for a second), erection, breast play, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hickeys

A/n: Hii! So uhm this is LONG AS FUCK, like a literal novel so I am warning you. Anyways I wanted to thank you for 1k followers?! How?! You have no idea how much this means to me. I am grateful for each and every one of you and I will try my best to improve my writing. Hopefully you will like my future projects as much as you've liked the ones I have done so far. Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

You and the rest of the Thunderbolts had been deployed to Spain on what was supposed to be a critical mission. The briefing was vague but urgent, something about a potential global threat developing near the coast.

On the plane to Alicante, you sat down next to Bob. He looked tense. Really tense. He was gripping the armrest like it might fly off on its own. His face was pale, and his shoulders stiff as stone.

“Hey,” you said gently, nudging him with your elbow as you got settled. “You okay?”

Bob didn’t answer right away. He blinked, clearly trying not to throw up, and then murmured, “Um… do you maybe wanna sit by the window instead?” He didn’t look at you, just stared straight ahead like a man facing death.

Without missing a beat, you nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

You stood up and let him shuffle over into your seat. The second he sat down, he let out a deep belch, followed by a hoarse, “Oh God…”

You were already leaning closer, scanning his face with concern. “You good?”

Your hand found his knee, giving it a comforting rub. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands now gripping the tray table for dear life.

He nodded slowly, jaw clenched. “I’m okay. Just… hate flying.”

You offered a soft smile and stayed close. “I’ll be right here the whole time, okay? Just breathe.”

He nodded again, and despite how miserable he looked, his posture softened slightly, just enough to tell you that your presence was doing what your words couldn’t.

“I’ll go get some water and a bag, just in case,” you told him gently, already sliding out of your seat. Bob gave a tiny nod, eyes still shut, lips tight as if even opening them would invite disaster. You made your way down the aisle, stopping a flight attendant with a polite smile and a quick explanation.

She gave you a knowing look. “Nervous flyer?”

“Something like that,” you chuckled.

A minute later, you returned to your row, holding a small bottle of water and one of those crinkly, shame-colored paper bags. Bob looked slightly less pale than before—his hands weren’t as white-knuckled on the armrests, and his breathing had calmed a little. But he still had that I-might-hurl-any-second look going on.

“Here,” you said, sitting back down and offering both the water and the bag. “Just in case. Don’t worry, it’s only a few hours.”

The moment the word “hours” left your mouth, Bob visibly tensed. He choked on his own spit and shot you a wide-eyed stare like you’d just told him he’d have to wrestle an alligator.

You raised your hands defensively. “Okay, wrong choice of words—ignore me.”

Before either of you could say more, the engines began to roar and the plane started rolling forward. Bob immediately slumped into his seat like a melting popsicle, shut his mouth and eyes, and gripped the tray table as if it were the only thing anchoring him to this dimension.

You couldn’t help a soft smile. He looked a bit ridiculous and miserable at the same time.

“This is the worst part,” you said soothingly, glancing out the window as the runway sped beneath you. “It gets better after takeoff.”

As the plane began to lift from the ground, your heart fluttered with excitement. A new mission in Europe. A whole new landscape, new memories. Even if you weren’t saving the world, part of you loved the thrill of the unknown.

You inhaled deeply, a soft smile on your lips… until you felt a touch.

You turned your head just in time to see Bob—eyes still closed, jaw clenched—reach out blindly and grab your hand in his. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look at you. He just held on. Tightly.

You looked down at your interlaced fingers. He was basically crushing your hand, but you didn’t pull away. If this helped him even a little, you weren’t going anywhere.

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles in quiet reassurance. You didn’t say anything. He didn’t either. But something in the weight of his grip, the vulnerability of that small action, felt more genuine than a thousand words.

Sure, your hand might be useless for the next few hours, but somehow that didn’t matter. It was Bob. That’s what made it okay.

The flight dragged on peacefully, and at some point, exhaustion won.

By the time the pilot announced the descent, both you and Bob were fast asleep. The flight attendant’s gentle voice over the intercom was what stirred you.

“Excuse me—we’ll be landing shortly.”

You blinked groggily, and as your senses slowly returned, you realized that you and Bob were still holding hands. The entire flight. Neither of you had let go, not even in your sleep.

You turned your head at the same time he did, both of you blinking at each other in a dazed, half-dream state. Then you both released your grips at once, slowly, carefully.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Bob straightened his seat and adjusted his hoodie like he could hide in it.

“…Feeling better?” you asked softly, keeping your voice low enough so only he could hear. He nodded, and for the first time that day, smiled at you—not the nervous, half-broken kind, but something real.

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.” His voice was quiet, but sincere.

You smiled back before you even realized it, heart tugging in that dangerous, stupid way it did whenever he looked at you like that.

Sometimes you wondered if Bob Reynolds was even real. Maybe he was a highly advanced hologram, or worse, a social experiment where you were the test subject. Because if he was a trap, a trick, or an illusion… well, you’d already fallen in pretty deep.

The moment you landed at the airport in a sunny seaside city called Alicante, your adrenaline was high, ready to face whatever was waiting for you.

But instead of military vehicles or local agents waiting on the tarmac, there was a giant banner reading “SURPRISE!” flapping in the Mediterranean breeze. An agent, smiling way too much for someone who usually briefed on extinction-level events, greeted you all with the bombshell: “There is no mission. You’re here on vacation for one full week. Fully paid. Mandatory.”

Everyone had a different reaction. Some of the team burst out laughing. A few gave each other looks of disbelief. Alexei screamed, “HELL YES, BEACH TIME!” and fist-pumped the air. Yelena already had sunglasses on. But not everyone was thrilled.

Bucky Barnes, for one, looked like someone had just kicked his dog. Twice. He crossed his arms and muttered, “This is ridiculous. I don’t do beaches.”

“Well, now you do,” said Ava with a smirk. “Welcome to bonding camp, grumpy.”

You were all told this wasn’t just a vacation, it was a “team-building retreat.” You were going to be forced to relax together, apparently to grow stronger as a unit. And no one was allowed to bail.

Despite the chaos of your missions and all the tension in the beginning, over the past few months of cohabitating in Stark Tower, you’d all grown… closer. There were still arguments, sure—someone was always stealing snacks, using someone else’s mug, or playing music too loud at 3AM—but you knew each other now. Knew who liked what, who needed quiet mornings, who hogged the bathroom, and who cried during certain movie scenes (spoiler: it’s more of them than you expected).

But the bond between you and Bob Reynolds stood out most.

Everyone saw it. From the moment you helped rescue him, you’d never left his side. You were the first to check if he was injured, the first to speak to him like a human being and not a walking nuclear reactor. You made sure he was okay. Like some stray dog the world had tossed aside—and you just quietly decided he was yours now.

And the team followed your lead. Despite what he’d done, despite nearly destroying the world and ripping open old wounds in everyone’s psyche, they welcomed him with open arms. Because you did.

“Vacation?” Bob raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused.

“Yup,” John said with a grin, giving him a playful nudge. “That’s when you don’t do anything and it’s totally fine. You should try it sometime.”

Bob didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked suspicious of the concept. His whole life had been built around duty, damage control, and trying not to explode. The idea of just… existing with no expectations felt foreign. Maybe even dangerous.

“Alright folks, let’s move out,” Yelena called, hoisting her bag over her shoulder with that bossy tone everyone obeyed without question. She might’ve shared the leadership role with Bucky, but she had the charisma of someone who got things done.

Like a herd of reluctant high schoolers on a mandatory field trip, the team followed—grumbling, joking, dragging their feet, but moving.

The drive wasn’t long.

A sleek black limousine pulled up to your destination within the hour. A row of elegant, private beach cottages spread out before you, nestled in a secluded cove just outside Alicante.

The sand was pale gold, soft as powdered sugar, stretching out toward the turquoise horizon. The sea shimmered beneath the sunlight, waves gentle and lazy. Palm trees lined the perimeter, their leaves rustling with every breeze, casting just enough shade to make the heat feel like a pleasant hug instead of a punishment.

The place felt untouched. Quiet.

Not exactly deserted—but exclusive. You could see why no ordinary tourists were lounging here. It wasn’t just the off-hour, it was the price. This was the kind of luxury reserved for diplomats and billionaires. For people who’d seen too much, done too much, and needed the world to shut up for five minutes.

For the first time, you felt the weight of silence around the team. Not the awkward kind—just a collective breath being held, like everyone was realizing at once how damn beautiful it was here.

The agent who’d escorted you out of the airport handed over two keycards with a charming smile. “One cabin for four men, and one for three ladies,” he said, giving them to Bucky and Yelena respectively.

“Enjoy yourselves.”

And just like that, he was gone, limousine and all, leaving you standing under the cloudless sky, surrounded by the scent of salt and coconut sunscreen.

You glanced around, soaking it all in. Then your gaze shifted to Bob. He was already looking at you. The moment your eyes met, he flinched and immediately turned his head, pretending to be very interested in a nearby bush.

You snorted quietly to yourself, lips twitching with amusement.

“This one’s ours, I guess,” Yelena said, pointing toward the cottage just a few steps away. Even from a distance, the place looked like it belonged in a luxury travel magazine. Creamy-white walls, light wooden trim, huge windows, and a little porch with hanging hammocks swaying lazily in the breeze. A dream come true.

You, Yelena and Ava made your way over with your bags. Yelena slid the keycard, and the door clicked open. The inside was even more stunning.

It was like stepping into a Pinterest board. The walls were painted in soft seafoam greens and sun-washed whites. Rattan furniture, pastel cushions, and airy curtains gave the space a coastal, boho vibe. There was a faint scent of lavender and driftwood in the air—relaxing, expensive, comforting.

Sunlight poured through the huge windows, illuminating a common area with plush couches, a breakfast bar stocked with fruits and snacks, and wide glass doors that opened directly onto the beach. You could hear the waves as if the ocean was whispering, You’re safe here.

“Holy shit,” Ava breathed out, spinning in a slow circle like she couldn’t believe this wasn’t CGI. “This is nicer than my actual apartment.”

Yelena dropped her bag on the nearest bed with a satisfied smirk. “This is acceptable.”

You couldn’t help but smile. A real, easy smile, the kind that felt rare lately. Everything about this place felt… right and peaceful.

And as you peeked out the back window and saw the boys dragging their bags toward their own cottage, you knew this week was going to be something different. Maybe even healing.

A few hours had passed since you arrived. You’d unpacked, showered, explored the fridge, which was magically stocked with mouthwatering, chef-level food, and finally settled into that post-travel stillness.

The late afternoon sun blanketed everything in golden light as you lounged on the front veranda of your cottage. Yelena had claimed the hammock and was swinging gently, sunglasses on, arms behind her head, looking like a war-hardened goddess pretending to be chill.

You and Ava had claimed two of the hanging lounge chairs, gently swaying as you soaked in the sun. Both of you had sunglasses perched on your noses, and the soft breeze kept the heat from being overwhelming.

“What are we even supposed to do here?” Ava asked, not bothering to open her eyes. Her voice was lazy, relaxed, a perfect match for the quiet waves in the distance.

It was a simple question. One you should’ve been able to answer. But you paused. Because… you honestly didn’t know.

Before you could respond with something vague, Yelena chimed in with a deadpan comment that made both you and Ava snort with laughter. It was something about team bonding meaning “not-murdering each other in close quarters,” and that this counted.

Then you added, perfectly flat, “I didn’t even bring a swimsuit.”

Ava blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait, me neither.”

“Didn’t expect this,” you muttered. “Was packing for death, not tanning.”

Yelena groaned. “Okay great. Let’s go buy swimsuits now. Or we’ll end up stuck here melting like idiots on a porch for the rest of the week.”

She was right, so without much debate, the three of you grabbed your canvas totes, wallets, and phones. None of you were wearing anything particularly beach-shopping-appropriate, but it didn’t matter. The streets near the coast would be casual, laid-back—just like the air already felt.

Of course, this wasn’t just a swimsuit run.

You were three women, unsupervised, in a beach town, surrounded by potential sales racks, accessory stands, cafés, and tourist traps. There was no way you were only coming back with swimwear.

As you walked past the guys’ cabin, Yelena suddenly veered off toward the door.

“I’m gonna see if any of the boys want to come with us,” she said casually.

You and Ava paused, hanging back by the path and watching her disappear into the house. After a beat of silence, Ava tilted her head toward you, voice sly behind her shades.

“So… are you two dating?”

You frowned, confused. “What?”

She shifted her sunglasses down her nose just enough to raise her brows. “You and Bob.”

Your eyes went wide. Your mouth dropped into a dramatic, perfect “O.”

“What— no, pffft, no! We’re just… friends. Like you and me.”

Ava laughed softly, but her gaze stayed locked on you, way too perceptive for your comfort.

“Then why don’t you look at me the way you look at him?”

The question hit harder than expected. You froze. Your heart did that thing where it picked up speed, like it was trying to run away before your brain could even catch up.

You opened your mouth to respond—but didn’t get the chance. Yelena reappeared, walking toward you like she owned the world, flanked by Johnny and Alexei, who looked far too amused to be joining a swimsuit shopping trip.

“They’re coming,” she said with a smirk. “Apparently the boys need suits too. And they want to pick out something ridiculous for Bucky.” That got a laugh out of all of you.

You glanced past them, half-hoping Bob would be in the group.

He wasn’t.

A tiny sting settled in your chest—nothing sharp, just that quiet flicker of disappointment. Maybe he needed rest. Maybe he didn’t feel like going out. Maybe… you were overthinking again.

You shook the thought away and caught up with the group, quickly weaving yourself into the casual chatter about the town, the ocean, and just how absurdly gorgeous these beach houses were.

Still… you couldn’t help but glance back, just once, at the boys’ cabin. Maybe he was watching. Maybe he wasn’t. But part of you hoped he’d noticed you were gone.

The shop you found wasn’t some cheap tourist trap. It was small, chic, and clearly catered to high-end beachgoers with taste. White walls, light wood floors, soft acoustic music playing in the background, and racks of curated swimsuits arranged by style, not size. It even smelled nice, like sunscreen and coconuts and fresh linen.

You, Yelena, and Ava wandered through the racks like hunters in the wild, each with your own goal. Ava leaned toward white or black prints. Yelena made a beeline for anything tactical-looking or black. You? You didn’t know what you were looking for, until you saw it.

A white two-piece bikini, delicate but bold.

The top had thin, adjustable straps and a soft triangle cut that showed just enough while still keeping you comfortable. The fabric was smooth, almost pearly under the light, and hugged your shape in a way that felt way too flattering. The bottoms were high-cut at the hips, elongating your legs, and dipped just enough in the front to make you feel sexy.

You held it up, biting your lip.

The fitting rooms were individual little cabins with thick curtains and full mirrors, and for a moment, you just stood inside yours, staring at yourself.

The bikini really did fit, almost suspiciously well. The white stood out against your skin like it was made for you. It hugged your waist, shaped your chest, gave just enough curve to make you hesitate. You adjusted the straps, turned sideways, checked again.

You weren’t sure if you felt powerful or exposed.

Still undecided, you pulled the curtain back and stepped out barefoot onto the cool wooden floor. Yelena was standing just outside, holding a one-piece camo-pattern swimsuit that looked like it belonged in some military-themed Sports Illustrated shoot.

When she turned to look at you, her face froze for a second. And then she blinked. Twice.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly. “Bob’s going to get an erection so hard he’s gonna pass out.”

You stared at her, completely stunned. “Yelena!”

She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “What? It’s true. That bikini is illegal. You look like someone who knows how hot she is.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. That loud, shocked kind of laugh that felt like it echoed off your ribs.

“I’m not getting it just because of Bob!” you protested.

“Sure. Of course,” Yelena said, already turning to hang her swimsuit back on a rack. “You’re getting it because of you. Which happens to be the same you that wants Bob to think about you every time he blinks.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because maybe she wasn’t totally wrong.

You looked back at yourself in the big mirror. Your fingers lightly touched the strap on your hip. Yeah, part of you wanted Bob to notice. And part of you was absolutely terrified he would.

“…Okay,” you said quietly. “I’ll take it.”

The walk back from town was filled with laughter and light teasing. John and Alexei were leading the way, both proudly swinging shopping bags, one of which contained a ridiculous pair of swim trunks Alexei had picked for Bucky, covered in pineapples and flamingos, while Bob’s were thankfully simple and classic.

You held a bag in one hand and kept your eyes on your feet, but no matter what, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting.

What’s Bob gonna do when he sees you in this bikini?

You hadn’t meant to obsess over it. The idea had just settled in your mind. Naturally. Like it belonged there. And now it was stuck. Even as Ava was telling a story about how she accidentally bought three identical sarongs, your mind wandered right back to Bob.

The moment you and Ava set the bags down on the porch with a thud, Yelena clapped her hands like a general calling her troops.

“Alright, troops! Try on your swimsuits, we’re playing beach volleyball in ten!”

You exchanged an amused glance with Ava. You were all tired, even Yelena was complaining on the way back how well she'll be sleeping. Guess that thought was gone now.

Still, the energy in the air was contagious and none of you had the heart to say no, so Yelena texted the guys while the rest of you headed to change.

When you stepped outside, the sun was warm on your skin and the sound of the ocean made everything feel like a dream. Bucky and Alexei were already out there, stretching and tying up the net between two poles. John stood nearby, casually tossing the volleyball between his hands.

But Bob wasn’t there.

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could spiral, Ava appeared behind you and gave you a sharp slap on the butt.

“Relax, your loverboy probably just got distracted picking the perfect outfit,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes with a groan, but your heart was beating just a little faster. You walked over to the group, the sand soft under your feet.

Bucky noticed you first. His eyes lingered for a second longer than they probably should have, but he kept his expression locked down – soldier mode. Alexei, on the other hand, had zero filters.

“WOW, GIRL, LOOK AT YOU!” he shouted across the beach. “YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDESS! AND YOU TOO! AND YOU TOO!!”

He even stumbled into the net and collapsed dramatically, like your beauty had physically floored him. All of you burst out laughing. It was ridiculous, but sweet.

Walker stood back, saying nothing, just calmly observing like always, the ball still rotating between his palms.

“Let me help you with this,” you offered, moving to Bucky’s side and helping him secure the net to the post. You worked silently for a moment until he glanced at you and said, in his typical stern voice: “You look good.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Then, behind you, you heard the soft click of the cabin door opening. Your head instantly turned.

Bob stepped out. He wore a plain green T-shirt and simple black swim shorts. His hair was a little tousled from the wind, and the second his eyes landed on you, he froze.

You gave him a small, friendly wave.

He just stood there. His brows twitched. His jaw tensed. Then, as if his legs had remembered how to move, he took a step forward and tripped a little in the sand. Your heart did a backflip.

“See?” Yelena appeared beside you, slapping your shoulder. “Told you he’d be wrecked when he saw you.”

You laughed, half in embarrassment, half in disbelief, and shook your head. “Shut up.”

“Alright, LET’S GOOO!” Alexei yelled, clapping loudly before peeling off his shirt in one dramatic motion. The dude was built like a Greek statue.

Then Bucky followed suit, revealing defined abs and a torso clearly sculpted through years of combat training. All of you fell into stunned silence for a moment.

Even Walker, who hadn’t said a word, took off his shirt and casually joined the group. His body was lean, defined, quiet strength. Bob arrived near the group, awkwardly raising a hand.

“Hey,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. All eyes slowly turned to him waiting. Expectant.

He looked around nervously. “What? Did I—?”

And then he realized. He looked down at his own shirt, then back up at the group.

“Oh! Uh… I think I’ll keep the shirt on. I’m kinda cold,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked. Cold? You didn’t believe him for a second, and you were pretty sure no one else did either. Still, no one pushed him. It was Bob. If he needed to keep his shirt on, he could.

Yelena turned to split the teams. “Alright, someone from the guys can join us, but anyone except Ale—”

“GOING WITH MY GORGEOUS LADIES!” Alexei yelled, cutting her off and dashing over to your side like a golden retriever on espresso.

Yelena let out the longest, most defeated sigh and rubbed her temples.

Teams were decided, and as fate would have it, you and Bob ended up on opposing sides. The game was lighthearted at first, filled with laughter and playful banter. But then John raised the stakes.

“How about this? Winning team gets treated to a round of rum by the losers!”

A collective cheer erupted, and the game intensified. The air buzzed with laughter, the sounds of sneakers shuffling and palms slapping against the volleyball echoing across the beach.

You were focused, at least, you were trying to be. But every time your eyes met Bob’s across the court, something fluttered in your chest. It wasn’t just the look he gave you, it was everything about him.

The way his green shirt clung to his chest, damp from sweat, outlining the gentle definition of his torso; the way his dark hair was slightly tousled, sticking to his forehead; the way he kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

And he was looking.

Almost every single time you looked over at him, his eyes were already on you. And every single time, without fail, he’d catch himself and look away. Fast. Like a startled animal. His Adam’s apple would bob slightly as he swallowed hard, clearly rattled by something—by you, maybe.

But then came the moment he didn’t look away.

You looked across the net, searching for Bob again, and there he was, watching you. He didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t look down or pretend to scratch his face. He stared. And you, feeling just a little bold, gave him a playful wink.

That did it.

Even from across the sand, you saw the way his face lit up red. Not just a hint of blush, but full-on, ear-to-ear crimson. His lips curved upward in a tiny, embarrassed smile—so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching for it.

And of course you were watching. The next serve came. Fast. Too fast. You turned just a moment too late, the ball whizzing past your shoulder and hitting the sand behind you.

Point lost.

Your teammates groaned in playful frustration, and you raised your hand apologetically. “My bad,” you laughed, even though inside, your stomach was doing backflips. Bob was still watching. Except now, he looked like he was having a different kind of crisis.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt nervously. His jaw clenched. His chest was visibly rising and falling faster than it should. His arms were tense. His fingers curled into fist, his knuckles white. His eyes were definitely not on the ball.

They were on you.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath and bent slightly forward. “Uh—sorry! I just need a… quick break!” he blurted out, turning so fast he almost tripped on his own foot. Without another word, he jogged off the court and toward the cabins, his shirt bunched up slightly at the back and clinging tighter at the front than before.

Everyone kind of paused.

“Everything alright?” John called after him, spinning the ball on his finger.

“Yeah! Yeah, all good!” Bob replied quickly, too quickly, his voice cracking slightly as he disappeared around the corner.

The group exchanged glances, some shrugged, some laughed. Yelena rolled her eyes. “He probably has bad stamina.”

But your heart dropped just a bit. Something felt off. You didn’t even think, you tossed the ball aside, murmured a quick, “I’ll go check on him,” and broke into a quick jog, sand kicking up around your ankles as you made your way toward the cabins.

Bob barely made it into the room before slamming the door shut behind him, chest heaving, face flushed and mind spinning. He pressed his back to the wood as if trying to barricade himself from the outside world, from you. His breathing was erratic. He glanced down.

“Oh no no no…”

The situation in his swim trunks was unignorable. His erection was pushing painfully against the fabric, a direct result of the way you looked—sweaty, flushed from the game, laughing with your hair a mess, skin kissed by sunlight. The way your bikini hugged your curves. The way your chest rose and fell when you ran. The way you winked at him.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. This was not supposed to happen.

He tried to steady his breath and think about anything else, but it was useless. All he could think about was you. How close you’d gotten. How dangerous it felt to even have you in the same game, let alone within touching distance.

Then came the knock.

“Bob?” Your voice was gentle, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He froze. Your voice was the last thing he needed right now. It sent a fresh wave of heat through him. His hands curled into fists.

“Yeah! I’m—uh—I’m fine. Just a headache,” he called out quickly, praying you’d leave.

But you didn’t.

“I can come in, I’ll bring you water or—”

“NO!” he shouted. Too loud, too harsh. The silence that followed was gutting. You stood on the other side of the door, frozen in place. “…Bob?”

He could hear it. The confusion in your voice. The hesitation. He hated himself instantly.

“I just—I need to be alone, okay?” His voice was muffled now, pressed into the crook of his elbow as he paced the room. He could feel his heart pounding, his frustration mounting—not just with the situation, but with himself. “Just leave. Please.”

You didn’t speak. He imagined your face, how hurt you probably looked, how your brows might have creased, how your mouth might’ve opened to argue before you stopped yourself.

Then… footsteps. Soft. Fading. Gone.

He felt the loss immediately. Like something had been torn out of him. He let out a heavy breath and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the door.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, too late. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell.”

No answer.

“Please don’t be mad… I just—I didn’t know what to do, okay? You—you do things to me, and I panicked. Please, come back.” But the hallway was empty and the only response was silence.

As you stepped out of the cabin, your eyes burned with unshed tears. You quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand, forcing a shaky breath through your nose.

“Hey, is Bob okay?” Ava asked, glancing toward the cabin you’d just exited.

You hesitated for a second, then nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “He just said he had a headache,” you replied, your voice carefully even.

You walked toward the volleyball net and joined the opposite team—the one now short a player with Bob gone. “Let’s keep playing,” you added cheerfully, hoping no one would question it further.

To your surprise, the game was good. Fast-paced. Fun.

Even with the ache in your chest, you gave it your all. Maybe even because of it. Every hit, every run across the sand, every cheer was your way of forcing yourself to focus on something else—anything else.

And in the end, your team won.

Yelena, Ava, and Alexei groaned in dramatic defeat while you, John, and Bucky raised your arms in victory. “Winners get the drinks!” Walker grinned.

“Fine,” Yelena rolled her eyes. “But we’re picking the place.”

The sun had dipped lower in the sky now, casting a soft golden glow over the beach. The heat lingered though, a warm comfort against your skin. Everyone decided to freshen up a bit before heading out, and you slipped into something light—a black fishnet-style dress over your swimsuit, barely-there but airy enough to keep cool.

The girls whistled playfully at you as you walked out, and you returned their teasing with a twirl and a wink. But your heart still felt heavy.

The bar you ended up in was cozy, loud with laughter, music humming low in the background. The lights were warm and soft, casting shadows across everyone’s faces. You weren’t drunk—just a little lightheaded from the rum, the kind that made your thoughts buzz and your limbs a bit too loose.

Yelena stuck by your side most of the evening. She laughed with you, poked fun at Walker, and even made a show of challenging Alexei to a drinking contest. But at one point, she leaned in, her gaze a little too knowing.

“You’re smiling,” she said gently, “but your eyes are somewhere else.” You blinked and looked away, sipping from your drink.

“I’m fine,” you murmured.

Yelena sighed and gave you a long look. “I’m gonna go talk to Ava for a bit, okay? You good here?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I need some time alone anyway.” She gave your hand a light squeeze, then disappeared into the crowd.

You sat in silence for a while, swirling your drink, the taste of sugar and burn lingering on your tongue. Your gaze drifted around the room, but you weren’t really seeing anyone. The voices blended together. The laughter felt far away. Until one voice didn’t.

“Hey…”

You froze. Slowly, your eyes shifted to the side.

Bob.

He stood just beside you, looking awkward, guilty, and entirely out of place. His hair was a little messy, his green shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been sitting in one place too long before deciding to come. His voice was soft. Tentative.

“…Can I sit?”

You just nodded faintly and let out a small, wordless hum of agreement.

He took the seat next to you, cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he really had the right to be there. You could feel his nervous energy radiating off him. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. His leg bounced subtly beneath the bar. It was obvious he’d been overthinking every second since earlier.

There was a long pause before he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice strained but sincere. “About before. I didn’t mean to—” He hesitated, sighed. “I panicked. That’s all. I didn’t want to shout at you like that. I don’t even know why I did. I just… freaked out.”

You were still leaning against the bar, your head tilted slightly sideways, cheek resting on your folded arm. With your other hand, you absently played with the rim of your empty glass, turning it slowly between your fingers. You didn’t look at him, but your shoulders rose in a small shrug. It wasn’t cold—it just said I hear you. But I’m still processing.

He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly frustrated with himself, then tried again.

“I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Can I… can I buy you another drink? Something strong, maybe? Vodka?”

That finally got a soft sound out of you—a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. You sat up properly, brushing your hair back and meeting his eyes, just briefly.

“No thanks,” you murmured. “I don’t wanna get drunk.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands, embarrassed. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

The quiet between you stretched again, but it didn’t feel quite so heavy now. Just… tentative. Cautious. Slowly, your expression softened, even though the sadness still lingered. You could see how hard he was trying—how guilty he looked, how much he regretted that brief flash of temper. And even if it still hurt, you knew it hadn’t come from a place of cruelty. Just fear.

You sighed gently, then gave him a tiny nod. “It’s okay,” you said at last. “I get it.”

His eyes flicked up to you in relief, and he nodded eagerly. A beat passed before you tilted your head slightly. “Are you having anything?”

He blinked. “Uh… no. Acohol— I don’t really— It doesn’t go well with me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shyly. “I’m not exactly the fun drunk type. More like the ‘embarrass myself and then cry about it later’ type.”

That finally earned a genuine smile from you. A small, honest one. “Alright,” you said.

“What if we uh…drink something sweet? Like juice?” Bob suggested cautiously and you nodded with a hum.

Bob grinned sheepishly and waved at the bartender, ordering two fruity, alcohol-free drinks. When he slid yours toward you and caught the way you looked at him, smile soft, eyes warm, his ears turned a little pink. You raised your glass and clinked it gently against his.

As the conversation carried on, whatever tension had existed between the two of you earlier slowly dissolved, like mist in the morning sun. You laughed together, genuine, unguarded laughter, and it felt easy again. Comfortable.

Before long, you completely forgot why you’d been upset in the first place. Bob was being his awkward, charming self, and it was disarming in the best way. He made a silly comment about the drink being too fruity for a “manly guy like him,” and you rolled your eyes so hard it made him laugh. You teased him back, and time began to slip by, unnoticed and unchecked.

Eventually, Bucky appeared at the entrance of the bar, a little sweaty, clearly ready to call it a night. “We’re heading out,” he called over the soft hum of music and clinking glasses. “You two coming?”

You glanced at Bob and then shook your head with a smile. “We’ll stay a little longer.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow knowingly, gave a short wave, and disappeared with the rest of the group. That “little longer” quickly became several hours. The sky outside deepened into full night, the noise of the bar gradually quieted as the crowd thinned out, and you and Bob were still there, talking and laughing like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Then, suddenly, a voice broke through the moment, gentle but firm. The bartender leaned over and said something in Spanish, “Cerramos.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a soft gasp. “Oh! They're closing.” You jumped off the barstool with a flurry of movement, grabbing your things quickly and tossing an apologetic smile toward the bartender. You replied: “Lo siento!” then turned to Bob.

He was still sitting there, watching you with a puzzled look on his face. Then he glanced at the bartender, and back to you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You speak Spanish?” he asked, a bit of awe in his voice.

You laughed and shook your head. “Nooo,” you admitted, grinning. “But it’s not that hard to guess what he said.”

Bob smiled as the realization hit him. “Right… yeah. That makes sense.” He stood up, stretching a little, and pulled a few bills from his wallet to leave on the counter for the drinks. Together, the two of you stepped out into the warm night.

Outside, the air was rich with the scent of saltwater and distant blossoms. The sky was a canvas of stars, crisp and clear, glittering like tiny diamonds. The moon hung low, casting a soft silver glow over the beach. The waves rolled in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, their gentle crash against the shore creating a peaceful, natural soundtrack that filled the quiet spaces between your laughter.

You walked side by side along the sand, your bare feet leaving prints behind you that the tide would soon claim. Every so often you’d bump shoulders slightly, accidentally-on-purpose, and Bob would smile that sweet, crooked smile of his. Conversation flowed as effortlessly as the breeze around you.

Then, your tone shifted—just a little softer, more curious. “Can I ask you something?”

Bob glanced over at you and gave a small nod, already bracing himself for whatever was coming.

“Why didn’t you take off your shirt?” you asked gently. “Back when we played volleyball?”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, then scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. His fingers tugged slightly at the fabric of his shirt. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and he avoided your gaze.

“I guess I’m just… not that confident. About my body, I mean.”

He let out a soft, nervous snort through his lips, something between a sigh and the sound horses make when they’re annoyed, and looked down at the sand as if it had the answers.

He paused, then looked up at you, his eyes full of something vulnerable, raw, and honest. “But I’ll get there. One day.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just… not yet.”

You nodded slowly, not saying anything at first. You looked down, watching the way your feet pressed into the sand, how your steps left soft imprints that trailed behind. You understood. Completely. And more importantly, you respected it.

Your silence wasn’t judgment, it was empathy. And as the two of you walked on, bathed in moonlight and ocean air, it was clear that even unspoken things had a way of being heard between you.

Bob walked you back to your cabin, the two of you moving a little slower than before, as if neither of you truly wanted the night to end. When you reached the steps, there was that moment, an awkward little giggle shared between you as your eyes both dropped to the ground, trying to avoid the tension hanging in the air. But it was there, unspoken and electric. You felt it in your chest, and judging by the way Bob was fiddling with his fingers and nervously rocking on his heels, he did too.

Maybe it was the rum still lingering in your system, or maybe it was the feeling of confidence bubbling up from the hours of honest conversation and gentle laughter. Either way, you found yourself standing a little taller, just bold enough to speak your mind.

“I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of,” you said, your voice soft but sure, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him. Bob lifted his gaze, eyes wide with something between surprise and fragile hope, like a puppy waiting to be told it’s a good boy.

“I think you have a beautiful body,” you added gently.

The moment the words landed, his eyes locked with yours, and the connection was intense. Warm. Heavy. It hung in the air between you like a string pulled tight.

You could see it in his face that he felt it too. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then his nervousness took over again. He let out a small, breathy laugh, looked to the side, and scratched the back of his head. His cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, and his voice came out unsure and stammered.

“You too… you have a nice body. Not like—in a creepy way or anything! Just, uh… like, you know…”

He was tangling himself in his own compliment, flailing to land it gracefully, and it made your heart melt just a little more. Smiling softly, you lifted both hands in a surrendering gesture, giving a single nod with a calming expression.

“I get it,” you assured him gently. “Thank you.”

Relief washed over his face, and both of you started to laugh again, this time more naturally, more connected. The night felt sweet, even a little magical. You didn’t want to go inside. You didn’t want this to be the part where he left, where things faded into goodnights and what-ifs.

Something in you, maybe the remnants of courage, maybe the warmth still blooming from that last drink, refused to let him go. So, you decided to take a risk. A brave one.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words came out direct, sincere, without apology or hesitation. They hit Bob like a thunderclap. His eyes went wide and fractured with shock. You could see his heart stop and start again just by the way his chest moved. Goosebumps appeared along his arms, his breath caught in his throat, and his entire face flushed deeper than ever before.

“I-I… I mean—I… um,” he stumbled, blinking rapidly, completely overwhelmed.

You didn’t push, but you did move closer, stepping into the space between you, your hands slowly, carefully, rising to his chest. You placed them there gently, barely a touch, more of a whisper than a grip, and you could feel his heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingertips, pounding like a wild drum. The moment you touched him, he froze. His whole body stiffened, eyes locked on you, his lips slightly parted in stunned silence.

You tilted your head up, catching his gaze with a bold, flirtatious glint in your eye. Then you bit your lip, slowly and deliberately, giving him that look—the kind that stripped away all doubt.

“May I?” you whispered again, your voice lower, breathier, your fingertips brushing against his shirt as your palms moved slightly over his chest.

He inhaled sharply, the sound trembling through his lips, and after a second that felt like forever, he nodded—quickly, wordlessly, his entire body trembling with anticipation.

A sly, satisfied smile crept onto your face at his permission. You rose onto your toes as he instinctively leaned down to meet you halfway. And when your lips finally met his, it was as though the world simply fell away.

The background noise, the wind, the waves, the sound of cicadas, melted into silence. There was only warmth, only him.

His lips were soft, tinged with sweetness from the drinks you’d shared, and you felt a wave of heat roll through your body.

At first, he kissed you carefully, cautiously, almost as if he wasn’t sure if this was real. But the moment you leaned in hungrily for another kiss, something shifted in him, he melted into you completely.

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him in closer, anchoring him to you. He responded instinctively, his hands finding your waist with gentle hesitance, holding you like you were delicate and precious, like the wrong touch might break the spell. His fingers traced small circles against your back, sliding slightly higher as he began to kiss you deeper, more surely.

And then you started to sigh—soft, involuntary little sounds escaping your lips, muffled between kisses. That was it. That was all it took to make Bob shudder slightly against you, his grip tightening just a little as he buried himself more completely in the moment.

For a man so shy, so careful with his words, his body was now telling you everything you needed to know. Your lips danced together under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies.

The kiss between you and Bob deepened quickly, the heat building with every brush of lips, every inhale that seemed too sharp, too needy.

Bob began to let out these quiet, helpless little moans—soft, desperate sounds that made your heart stutter and your core clench with hunger. His breath was hot, uneven, as if he couldn’t quite keep up with what he was feeling.

But then, just when things began to slip into something hotter, more dangerous, you pulled away.

Your lips left his with a quiet, breathy pop, and Bob’s eyes fluttered open in confusion, his brows furrowing as you took a small step back. You reached into your bag, rummaging clumsily, fingers searching for your keys. His expression was adorably baffled—eyes wide, lips parted, his chest still rising and falling too fast.

He didn’t even get the chance to ask what you were doing. Before he could speak, you found the keys, turned, and unlocked the door with a soft grunt of effort. The handle resisted for a moment—just long enough to make you curse under your breath. But then it gave way, and without a word, you grabbed a handful of Bob’s shirt and yanked him inside with you.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And then you were on him again.

You pushed him up against the wall before he could even blink, your lips crashing onto his like you’d been starved of him for hours instead of minutes. He let out a muffled gasp, taken completely off guard, but your mouth, your touch, the fire burning through you, it overwhelmed him. It shut off whatever part of his brain had been trying to stay grounded.

He melted into you, hands clinging to your waist like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. But you weren’t slowing down.

You pressed your body hard against his, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, pinning him to the wall with a surprising strength, despite your smaller frame. Your kiss was ravenous, unrelenting. Every time his breath hitched, it only drove you more.

But Bob still had some part of him trying to be responsible.

“Wait—wait, what about the others?” he asked, panting between kisses, his voice shaky, his lips still brushing yours. His hands remained at your hips, uncertain but not resisting.

“They’re asleep,” you breathed without hesitation, already leaning in again.

You kissed him hard, and he let out a startled noise in the back of his throat, half protest, half surrender. But just as your hands started trailing lower down his sides, he gently pulled back again, his eyes wide, his whole body trembling like he was barely holding on.

“I-I mean, I—” he stammered, clearly overwhelmed, caught in the tug-of-war between nerves and need.

But you were on fire. Every pulse in your body throbbed with want, and the heat between your thighs was unmistakable, impossible to ignore. You leaned in closer, placing a hand flat against his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. Your eyes locked on his and your voice dropped into something sultry, something that made his breath hitch.

“Do you want me?” you whispered, your words low, teasing, soaked in longing.

Bob’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He was frozen, wide-eyed, staring at you like you were made of fire and he couldn’t decide whether to run or let himself burn.

So you stepped in closer. Your bodies were touching now, pressed chest to chest, and your mouth hovered barely a breath from his. You tilted your head, eyes fluttering half-shut, your voice dipping into a softer, flirtier murmur.

“Do you want me, Bob?”

This time he nodded. Hard. His breath caught in his throat, and a deep, shaky sound escaped him. His hands clutched tighter at your waist like he was afraid you might vanish.

Then you gave him the final push—the one that made everything else fall away.

“Do you want me… right now?”

His answer wasn’t words. It was a low, desperate sound from deep in his chest and another frantic nod, his eyes burning with need. That was all the answer you needed. All the answer he could give.

And then your lips were on his again, fiercer this time, hungry and hot, and whatever doubts had been in his head melted away with each breathless kiss.

But the kisses between you and Bob grew messier, deeper, more desperate. There was no longer any hesitation, only raw, breathless need. Soft, pleading moans slipped from both your lips between every frantic brush of your mouths, and each sound only made the other crave more.

Bob’s hands fumbled at your waist, your neck, your hips, trying to be everywhere at once but still so careful. His swim trunks were starting to grow tight again, and the heat in your own body was unbearable. Your swimsuit clung to you, soaked through with arousal, even tho all you had done was kiss.

Stumbling into your room was chaotic, clumsy. Bob bumped into the wall, you tripped on your own feet, giggles and gasps filling the space between frantic kisses. But somehow, with limbs tangled and hearts racing, you made it to your room. You barely managed to shut the door behind you before dragging both of you toward the bed.

With one firm but gentle push, you toppled Bob onto the mattress and let yourself fall with him. You landed on his chest with a bounce, both of you breathless and grinning, and then, before he could even process it, you rolled off and stood quickly. You turned back toward the door, locking it with a soft click. Then, you turned around again and froze for a beat.

Bob was sitting at the edge of your bed, completely still, his chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. His hair was messy from your fingers, his lips red and swollen from your kisses and his eyes were glassy with lust, with longing. His pupils were huge. His face was flushed. And lower down, his erection was unmistakably visible.

You had never felt like this about any man before. Not like this.

You let your purse fall to the floor without a second thought, fingers slipping under the hem of your fishnet dress. With a slow, deliberate tug, you pulled it up and over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor.

Now, standing there in only your swimsuit, you began to approach him. Slowly, like a predator circling prey. The hunger in your eyes was impossible to miss.

Bob didn’t move. He couldn’t. He watched you the entire time, mouth slightly open, hands resting on the bed like he needed the mattress to ground himself.

You stopped in front of him and brought your hands up to cup his face, leaning in to kiss him again—but this time it was slower. Gentler. A soft, intimate prelude.

His hands found your cheeks too, fingers stroking your skin, and he tried to pull you back down onto him. But you resisted. You pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Can we… get rid of this?” you asked with a playful smile, tapping a finger against the center of his chest.

His eyes dropped to your finger, then flicked back up to your face. He swallowed hard, clearly nervous.

“We don’t have to,” you whispered, your tone low and teasing. “But how about a deal?”

You licked your lips slowly, letting your gaze drop to his mouth before lifting it back to his eyes.

“If we take this off,” you said, finger still resting on his chest, “then we also take this off…” Your hand drifted up, motioning briefly toward the top of your swimsuit.

That was all it took.

Whatever fear had still lingered in him melted away instantly. His fingers gripped the hem of his shirt and, without a single pause, he pulled it over his head in one swift, fluid movement and tossed it aside. No hesitation. No second-guessing. He wanted this. He wanted you. Badly enough to show you a part of himself he’d just admitted he was ashamed of.

But the moment your eyes dropped to his now bare torso… your jaw practically hit the floor.

He was stunning. Broad chest, strong shoulders, abs like something sculpted by a god, toned arms with just the right amount of muscle, exactly how you liked it. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. Not from someone as shy and self-conscious as him.

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed with a mix of disbelief and awe. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Bob sat there, half-nervous, half-burning, unsure how you’d react—until he saw your expression. And even though your reaction was silent, it told him everything. The look on your face said it all.

You knelt down slowly, your eyes still locked onto his body as if mesmerized, and began showering him with a cascade of kisses. They rained down over his skin, his chest, his stomach, his sides, each kiss playful, some lingering, others accompanied by soft, teasing licks or the occasional gentle bite.

It tickled him a little, making him laugh under his breath, his abs tightening instinctively. He wanted to reach out, to touch your hair, cradle your face, pull you close—but he hesitated. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to break the moment or push too far. So he kept his hands behind him, gripping the mattress like an anchor.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured in between kisses, your lips brushing against his skin with every word. Your hands rested firmly on his thighs, fingers splayed out, grounding yourself as you explored him with both touch and mouth.

“So beautiful,” you repeated, almost breathless with admiration. You couldn’t get enough of him. You kissed every inch of skin you could reach, tasting the warmth of his sun-kissed body, losing yourself in the way he squirmed slightly beneath your lips.

Eventually, the hunger in you built beyond just kisses.

You looked up at Bob, meeting his eyes. He looked dazed, utterly blissed out, but beneath the surface, there was something else. He was waiting. For your part of the deal.

A mischievous smile curled on your lips.

Still on your knees, you slowly straightened up and reached behind your back, fingers deftly untying the knot of your bikini top. With a small motion, you let it slip off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him.

Bob’s jaw literally dropped. His eyes widened and locked on you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hands dug into the mattress, and through his swim trunks, you could see the very visible twitch of his hard-on as it reacted to the sight.

He wanted to touch you so badly. You could see it. The craving in his eyes. But he still held back, being a gentleman, respecting your pace, refusing to make a move without permission.

“Wanna touch?” you asked, tilting your head and giving him a knowing smirk.

His face lit up like you’d just handed him the keys to heaven. He nodded eagerly, licking his lips, his hands already twitching to move. He slowly reached out but paused again, eyes flicking to yours, searching for that last bit of reassurance.

You gave him a small nod.

And then he touched you.

Gently, reverently, like you were something sacred. His hands cupped your breasts with a mixture of awe and need, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. His touch was warm, tender—curious yet careful.

He didn’t grope. He explored. Played. Worshipped. One hand cradled the underside while the other traced slow circles around your nipple, sending delicious shivers down your spine. He was in heaven, and judging by the way his breath caught every time you so much as sighed, he wanted you to feel that same bliss too.

Bob looked up at you, his hands still cradling your breasts as if he were holding something fragile and precious. Then his gaze flicked to your face, a bit hesitant.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, voice low and tender.

You smiled, nodding, and that smile alone seemed to ease something in him. You weren’t just okay—you were glowing. It felt good, the way his fingers explored you with such care, and the look in his eyes made it all the more intense.

And it definitely did something to him. You could tell from the way his chest rose with every breath, how his eyes occasionally fluttered shut like he was overwhelmed. Still, after a moment, he pulled his hands away, clearly not wanting to get too carried away without your lead.

You leaned in again and kissed him.

It was slower, deeper. Your hands roamed his body, savoring the shape of him, the tension in his muscles, the way he melted under your touch. His hands were verywhere. Moving over your back, your hips, your sides, as if trying to memorize every inch of your body.

But you remained on your knees, just slightly lower than him, even as the kiss grew hotter.

Then one of your hands started to travel—leaving his neck, gliding down over his chest, his stomach, until it reached the waistband of his swim trunks. You paused there. Not moving or rushing. You stopped kissing him and looked up at his face.

Bob’s eyes followed your hand, then quickly returned to yours. There was a storm behind those eyes—desire, definitely, but also uncertainty.

You gave him a slow, sultry smile, tilting your head ever so slightly as if to say, It’s okay. I want this too. He exhaled shakily, his lips parting, and after a moment, he nodded.

With the same care he’d shown you earlier, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and began to pull them down. Painfully slow. Your eyes never left his face, watching his expression shift—excitement, nervousness, and that unmistakable tension of anticipation.

As the fabric slid down his thighs and hit the ground, your breath caught audibly. You gasped so loud that even Bob flinched a little, startled. You hadn’t expected… that.

There it was—thick, veined, heavy, and already so hard it twitched in the cool air. The way it stood against his toned stomach, pulsing gently, made your pulse echo right along with it.

You couldn’t help but whisper in disbelief, “And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?”

Bob let out an awkward little laugh, clearly flustered. His cheeks flushed deep red, not just from arousal, but from your stunned compliment. He looked away for a second, bashful, and mumbled something incoherent.

Carefully, you reached out and brushed your fingers against him. The moment your skin made contact, his body jolted, just a little, and he let out the softest whimper, almost a sigh.

You looked up again, eyes wide and a little wicked, and bit your bottom lip.

Slowly, your hand began to move, gentle at first, as though you were still getting to know this part of him. He trembled beneath your touch, trying to stay quiet, but his hips shifted involuntarily, betraying how sensitive he was.

His hand gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles pale. He was trying so hard not to make a sound—to keep still so he wouldn’t wake the girls in the next room—but you weren’t making that easy.

The pressure, the rhythm… it was enough to undo him. But then, before he could fully process what was happening, you leaned forward and kissed the tip. Bob let out a strangled sound and tensed, as if his whole body was about to short-circuit.

You looked up at him, holding eye contact the entire time. At first, you were teasing—pressing soft kisses to the sensitive head, letting your tongue glide around it lazily, deliberately. His thighs trembled. He bit down on his lip so hard it turned white.

Then you got more serious.

You took him in slowly, still holding his gaze. Bob’s lips parted, his eyes fluttering half-shut, and a shaky breath escaped him like it had been trapped in his chest for hours. His entire body tensed as if overwhelmed by the sensation.

He tried to stay quiet, tried to keep his hips still, but sometimes his body moved on its own, bucking up just slightly, and he immediately muttered a breathless apology every time it happened.

You didn’t rush. You let the anticipation burn slowly, letting him feel everything.

“God—” he whispered under his breath, hips twitching slightly, and then—“I’m sorry,” he added instantly, as if ashamed of reacting too strongly. You didn’t mind. In fact, it made your heart race.

The way he melted for you, how his body surrendered so easily, he wasn’t trying to be dominant or in control. He wasn’t trying to hide how much it affected him. And that vulnerability? It was intoxicating.

You could hear how much it meant to him in every breathy sound, every shaky exhale, every stifled moan. He whimpered again, high and desperate, and the sound echoed in your mind like a reward.

His fingers were digging into the mattress, every muscle tight with restraint. He whimpered again, soft and broken, and your innocent gaze stayed locked on his, only intensifying everything he felt.

Then slowly, deliberately, you reached up and took his hand—guiding it to your head. He hesitated at first, breath shaky, eyes wide with uncertainty. But you gave him a sweet calm look that said it’s okay. That you trusted him. That he could touch.

His hand accidentally tangled in your hair, gripping a bit too tight, and when he realized, he gasped and immediately loosened his fingers.

“Shit—I’m sorry—are you okay?” he stammered, guilt flashing in his eyes.

You looked up at him again, lips still wrapped around him, and gave the tiniest nod, reassuring him you were fine. More than fine. You loved seeing him like this. Raw, undone, his tough exterior peeling away one soft moan at a time.

And it hit you, too. That fluttering heat in your chest. That ache between your legs. The feeling of being wanted this much. Of making someone feel this good. His reactions lit a fire inside you. Every twitch of his thighs, every tremor in his voice—it all made you feel powerful and delicate at the same time.

Bob’s hands were restless now. One gripped the sheets, the other hovered near your head again, as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch. You leaned into it, and he gently threaded his fingers through your hair, this time softer, more reverent. But his voice was breaking. Little, helpless gasps.

Whispers of your name.

And once or twice—a shaky, choked-off moan that sounded like he might cry if you kept going. But you didn’t stop. Not yet.

Because the way he trembled under you, the way his stomach clenched and his legs shifted, the way he sounded like he was falling apart, that was everything.

Bob was right on the edge, his whole body was trembling, his hands clenching the sheets like he was holding on for dear life. And when he finally came, gasping your name like a whispered prayer, you didn’t pull away.

You stayed with him. Took everything he gave you.

He let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, overwhelmed beyond words, his hips twitching from overstimulation as you gently helped him through the last waves. You even cleaned the rest of him up with soft, careful kisses, and that alone nearly made him whimper again.

“Jesus…” he breathed out, barely able to speak, a hand running through his tousled hair as he looked down at you with wide, dazed eyes. “I– I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprised. “What for?”

His voice was small. Fragile. “For… everything? For that being too fast? For—” he swallowed, looking embarrassed, “—for not lasting longer. I didn’t mean to be so…”

You climbed up to him and silenced him with a kiss. Not hurried, not demanding, just soft. Tender. Full of comfort.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking his flushed skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling good,” you whispered against his lips. “That was perfect.”

His eyes closed, his breath catching. He looked like he might cry for a whole different reason now.

You gently straddled his waist, not quite there yet, but close enough that the shift in energy was obvious. Your thighs pressing lightly against his sides, his hands flew instinctively to your hips. Not in a needy grip, but gentle, hesitant. Your body was warm and ready, and you were preparing to fully connect, but before you could guide him further, Bob stopped you.

“Wait,” he whispered, voice still hoarse.

You paused, blinking down at him, your brows gently furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes met yours, and something was different. The nervousness that had clouded his gaze earlier was gone. What replaced it was soft but firm, confidence built not from ego, but devotion.

“I want to take care of you now,” he said.

A small smile curved your lips, your heart skipping a beat at how genuine he sounded. “You don’t have to, really—”

But Bob shook his head. “No. I want to. I need to.”

There was something so deeply sincere in his voice it made your chest ache.

You gave him a soft nod, and he smiled, one of those rare, crooked, bashful smiles that melted you inside. Then, with gentle hands, he shifted you. Slowly, carefully, he rolled your body so you lay on your back in the center of the bed, like he was positioning you at the heart of a sacred space. His arms hovered around you, cradling your movement so you never felt dropped, never out of control.

He knelt between your legs, just watching you for a moment. You were laid out beneath him, chest rising and falling, hair fanned out across the pillow. He looked awestruck.

His hand came to your side. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, lips parted, your voice caught somewhere between breath and heartbeat. “Yes.”

His hand slid up along your ribcage, following the natural shape of you with reverence. He wasn’t just touching—he was memorizing. Like every inch of your skin mattered. Like you were art.

He kissed you again, slow, coaxing, warm. And as the kiss deepened, he murmured against your lips: “Can I take these off?”

His fingers were resting lightly at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms.

You nodded. “Please.”

Bob peeled the fabric down slowly, as if every inch was a treasure to be revealed, not a secret to be rushed. His eyes never left your body, and his hands trembled just a little.

Once the swimsuit was off, he let his fingers trace lightly along your inner thighs, but never without looking up at you first.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath brushing over your bare skin.

You nodded again, heart pounding. “Yes.”

And then he lowered his mouth to you.

The moment his lips met your most sensitive spot, your whole body arched. But it wasn’t just the touch—it was the tenderness, the intention. Bob wasn’t careless or clumsy. He listened. He adjusted every motion based on how you sighed, how your breath caught, how your fingers curled in the sheets.

His movements were soft, exploring. He let his tongue move in long, unhurried strokes, drawing out your reactions—your sighs, your tiny gasps, the way your fingers curled into the sheets. You felt your body start to unravel under the attention, your hips shifting instinctively, needing more.

His hands held your thighs, steadying you but never trapping you. He let you move against him. Let you guide him with nothing more than the sound of your breath. His tongue moved slow, experimental, reverent. And as he began to read your body, he grew more confident.

Every flick, every gentle suck, was delivered with the knowledge that he was giving you pleasure, not taking it. He wasn’t doing this to prove something. He was doing it because he wanted to worship you.

“God, Bob…” you whispered, voice cracking as your fingers found his hair.

He hummed at the sound, and the vibration sent another shiver racing through you.

He learned quickly. How you liked it slower, how a certain flick of his tongue made your whole body twitch. How your voice caught every time he sucked softly at just the right spot.

“Yes… yes—so good,” you breathed, your hips moving almost without permission.

The way he reacted to your pleasure, how eager he was to see you fall apart, made everything more intense. He was moaning softly too, like just tasting you made him dizzy with need. He liked knowing you wanted him there. That you trusted him there. He never once looked away from you, not even when he grew bolder, more confident.

He explored every inch of you with his mouth like you were something to be adored, not conquered. And every sound you made, every shiver in your body, only spurred him on.

Your breath started to catch, your thighs tightening around his shoulders as the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter. He felt it. Saw it. Knew it.

And he didn’t let up.

His hands squeezed your hips gently, anchoring you as he focused entirely on giving you what you needed. He stayed right there, lips and tongue working with delicious rhythm, sending shockwaves through you with every stroke.

You were close. So close it scared you.

“Bob,” you gasped, voice breaking. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate. He wanted this for you.

The wave crashed over you so suddenly, so completely, it stole the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you came—shaking, pulsing, everything unraveling under his touch.

Bob held you through it. Never pulling away, never letting you feel alone. Even as you trembled and gasped and whimpered his name, he stayed with you, riding the waves with the same quiet patience he always gave you.

And only when your body finally relaxed, chest heaving and limbs limp, did he slowly lift his head.

His mouth was glistening, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and shining. And when he saw you looking at him, completely undone and breathless, he smiled the softest smile you’d ever seen.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing along your thigh. You nodded, dazed and glowing, trying to catch your breath.

Bob slowly crawled back up your body, leaving a warm trail of kisses across your skin. He moved as if afraid to disturb the peace settling over you, like he was returning to you from a place of worship. When his face hovered above yours, he looked into your eyes for a long, quiet moment.

Then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

His hand came up to your hair, brushing it back with slow fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Your heart squeezed.

You reached up to cup his face and pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss—sweet at first, but quickly deepening. The electricity between you hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger now that there was nothing between you but skin and trust.

Still breathless, you moved, shifting your hips just enough to push him onto his back. He let out a surprised little laugh as you rolled with him, your bodies twisting together until you were on top of him, straddling his hips. The heat between you flared instantly.

He looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes, his hands resting gently on your waist as if asking silently for permission to hold you there.

You leaned down and kissed him again—slow, deep, melting into each other with every heartbeat. Your fingers ran along his chest, down his sides, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his body. You could feel him against you, hard and throbbing, and it sent shivers down your spine.

This was it. The moment you’d both been tiptoeing toward.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Are you ready?” you whispered.

Bob nodded, cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Only if you are.”

“I am,” you said softly, and meant every word.

Your hand found him again, guiding him with care, your breath hitching as the tip pressed against you. You moved slowly, lowering yourself with a careful rhythm, taking him in inch by inch. Both of you gasped—Bob’s hands gripped your hips tightly, trying not to buck up into you.

The stretch made your whole body burn, but it was a sweet, full ache, one that had been building from the first time he looked at you like you were the sun.

Once he was fully inside, you stilled, letting your body adjust, both of you panting softly. Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his jaw clenched, as if overwhelmed by how deep it all felt—emotionally and physically.

“You okay?” he asked, breathless, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your hands braced against his chest, your body trembling slightly. “You feel… amazing.”

A shaky laugh left his throat. “So do you. God, so do you.”

You started to move—slow, steady, your bodies learning each other. Every thrust, every sigh, every soft gasp between kisses told its own story. It wasn’t just sex. It was connection. It was trust. It was two people baring everything, souls and skin, just to be close.

You moved together in perfect rhythm, hips rising and falling in sync, his hands mapping your body like he never wanted to forget a single inch. And with every moan, every whispered name, every breath you shared, love wrapped tighter and tighter around you both.

Your rhythm picked up—slow and deep giving way to something needier, hungrier. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, breaths turning to gasps, gasps to moans. The sounds of skin against skin, the creaking of the mattress beneath you, the soft rustle of sheets, it all blended into a symphony of desire that filled the space around you like firelight.

Bob’s hands roamed your back, your hips, your thighs—desperate to hold you, ground you, memorize you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were glowing. You were everything.

And then he sat up, his arms wrapping around you as you stayed straddled on his lap. Your chest pressed tightly against his, your lips meeting his in a fevered kiss. He held you there, anchored you to him like he was terrified of letting you go.

You clung to him just as tightly.

Your mouths moved together like you were breathing the same air. His tongue tangled with yours, his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you even closer. But then his grip on your waist tightened.

Hard.

You gasped softly at the pressure, your hips pausing. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead still resting against his, trying to catch your breath. And that’s when you saw it.

For a split second, just a flash, his eyes glowed. Golden. Not metaphorically, a actually glowing. And then it was gone. Blink, and you might’ve thought you imagined it. But you didn’t.

Bob froze. His arms loosened immediately, and panic flooded his face. “Shit—did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey,” you said gently, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He was breathing fast, his brows drawn tight, clearly shaken by the moment. “I felt something… I didn’t mean to grip you that hard.”

You nodded slowly. “It's okay.”

He winced. “I- I'm sorry, I don’t want to scare you, or—God—I don’t want to lose control around you.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his again. “You didn’t scare me, Bob. You trusting me with that… it means more than I can say.”

His breath hitched and before he could say anything else, you kissed him again, before guiding his hands back to your waist. This time, his grip was steady. Gentle. Confident.

And then you moved again.

The pleasure hit like a wave crashing into shore, harder than before, deeper. His hands gripped you tighter, not in fear this time, but in raw need, in love, in reverence.

You kissed his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, whispering his name like a prayer.

You rocked against him, and he met every motion, your bodies tangled in something that went beyond skin and muscle, it was soul-deep. The sounds coming from him, breathy moans, quiet whimpers, your name, drove you wild.

And then it happened. You felt your climax building again, hot and fast and unstoppable.

“Bob,” you gasped, nails digging gently into his back.

He was right there with you, sweat beading at his brow, jaw tight, voice strained. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you breathed.

You crashed into release together—messy, overwhelming. You held each other through it, limbs trembling, lips finding each other again and again, clinging to the moment like it was all you’d ever need.

You collapsed against his chest, your limbs heavy and warm, your cheek pressing into the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder. Both of you were still catching your breath, chests rising and falling rapidly in sync. His arms wrapped around you protectively, and you let yourself sink into him, feeling completely safe and full.

There was a moment of perfect silence, just the sound of breathing, soft and human and real.

Then you shifted slightly, curling up beside him and resting your head against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, still racing, but slowly calming beneath your ear.

You smiled lazily. “Okay… serious question.”

Bob tilted his head to look at you, already smiling like a complete goof. “Shoot.”

You looked up at him with narrowed, mock-suspicious eyes. “Where did you learn to do that with your tongue?”

Immediately, Bob’s face flushed. He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked. “I—uh—I watched a couple things.”

You squinted. “What kind of ‘things,’ Bob?”

He swallowed hard. “Just like—like, y’know. Tutorials.”

You pulled back, eyebrows rising. “You watched porn?!”

Bob’s entire face turned bright red. “No! I mean—it was educational! There were diagrams!”

You blinked. “There were diagrams in your porn?”

He let out a strangled sound and covered his face with his hands. “Okay, I regret everything.”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet room. “Bob Reynolds, you little nerd.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, totally mortified but smiling. “I just wanted to be good at it. For you.”

You leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “You were.”

A comfortable silence settled over you again, warm and soft like a blanket. You traced idle shapes on his chest with your fingertips, still smiling, still glowing.

Then Bob’s voice broke the quiet, a little more cautious this time. “Hey… do you… remember the volleyball game? When I kinda bailed and told you not to come?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. “Well… I sorta… had a situation. In my swim trunks.” He exhaled, long and painful.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You got a boner?!”

Bob winced, covering his face again. “I’m sorry! It just—happened! You were in that swimsuit and laughing and I don’t know, my brain just… betrayed me!”

You were quiet for a moment. Not judging. Not laughing. Just watching him squirm. Then you reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Bob.”

He looked at you through his fingers again, completely sheepish.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’s totally normal.”

His eyes widened a little. “It is?”

You nodded. “Yeah…and honestly, kind of sweet.“ You smiled teasingly. He laughed, relieved, and pulled you close again, resting his chin on top of your head. “God, I like you so much.”

You nestled into him, your fingers laced together on his chest. “Good. Because I really, really like you back.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, tangled together, breathing slower now, hearts lighter. The night was quiet, soft, and full of something that felt a lot like the start of forever.

The golden morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, dancing lazily over tangled limbs and a rumpled blanket. You and Bob were still wrapped around each other—bare skin against bare skin, your head on his chest, his arm draped protectively over you. Your legs tangled, breaths slow, hearts steady.

A knock. Sharp. Three times.

“Hey, you coming to breakfast or are you dead?” Yelena’s voice chirped from behind the door.

Your eyes snapped open in panic. You bolted upright under the blanket, your heart immediately in your throat. Bob groaned quietly, still groggy, eyes not fully open yet.

You whispered, “What time is it?!” your voice barely audible and full of dread.

Bob blinked, looked around helplessly, and shrugged. “I—uh… no clue.”

You covered your face with both hands. “We’re dead. We’re actually dead.”

Yelena knocked again, softer this time. “We're going now, just letting you know.”

You scrambled to respond, “Yeah! I’ll be there! In a sec!”

Bob turned to you, now slowly realizing the situation. The blanket slid down his chest, revealing faint marks from your mouth the night before.

You stared at him. “We need to get dressed. Now.”

It was mayhem. You both jumped out of bed, frantically looking for clothes. You grabbed your swimsuit top, which had ended up halfway across the room, and pulled on a hoodie over it. Bob, on the other hand, was still stumbling, holding only his swim trunks in one hand, his shirt nowhere to be found.

“You can’t go out the door!” you hissed. “Someone could see you!”

“Then what do I do?!”

You gestured to the window. “Jump out.”

“Are you serious?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Bob. You’re a superhero. I think you can survive this.”

He groaned dramatically, pulled on his swim trunks and shirt, then paused before the window. You rushed over, stood on your tiptoes, and gave him a rushed, smiling kiss. “Go. Before someone sees you.”

He opened the window, one leg already out, then looked back with a crooked grin. “You’re chaos.”

You grinned. “You love it.”

With that, he slipped out and disappeared into the early morning light.

Later that morning, everyone gathered at a nearby rustic café for breakfast. You sat at a corner table, sipping coffee, trying not to look suspicious. Yelena sat beside you. Bob was diagonally across, seated next to John. The chatter around the table was casual—about the lake, someone’s forgotten towel, who burned marshmallows last night.

You and Bob exchanged occasional, brief glances. Not long. Just enough to pass a message between you. A silent, thrilling electricity. You could still feel the echo of last night under your skin, and judging by the way Bob nervously rubbed the back of his neck, so could he.

“Dude…” John leaned closer to Bob, squinting. “What the hell happened to your neck?”

Bob blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve got like, bruises or something. All over here.” He pointed.

Bob’s brows furrowed and instinctively reached for the spot. “What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head, clearly unaware. Your fork froze mid-air. You looked straight down at your plate. Yelena turned to you. Her eyes widened slowly. Then, lips barely moving, she mouthed with a dramatic grin:

“You. Fucked. Bob.”

You nearly inhaled your scrambled eggs. Your face heated like wildfire. You avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Bob’s. Meanwhile, Bob was trying to deflect. “Maybe I slept weird or—uh—bug bites?”

“Mmhmm,” John muttered, unconvinced.

You dared a glance at Bob. And that was it—your eyes met, and he knew. His brows lifted just slightly. His lips parted. You both quickly looked away.

Yelena leaned into closer to you and whispered, “I knew it. I heard really weird noises last night.” “Yelena, shut up.” She just chuckled into her cup of tea.

As the conversation drifted elsewhere, your face still radiated heat. Across the table, Bob leaned his elbow against the table and rested his cheek on his hand, sneaking one last look at you. You caught it—and gave him the tiniest smile.

This week was going to be… very interesting.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

HAVE A LOVELY DAY,

BYEEE📙🦋

[bluesidez]

Can I request a Miguel O'Hara x Curvy reader where they both get intoxicated from sex pollen ??

[Sticky-Icky]

lab taster: @waterinthefire 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Curvy!Reader

summary: He's a lot less irritating when he puts his mouth to better use.

content warning: a PWP but you guys know me (there's a little plot), this is so 18+ that it's crazy so MDNI, sex pollen (or more like Miguel is playing around and doesn't know wtf he's doing), unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾) manhandling, temperature play if you squint, standing 69, facefucking, creampies, wrong use of webs, biting, breeding, spitting, squirting, cunnilingus, fellatio, fluff if you squint...I think that's it. my god.

word count: 4.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Listening to Sticky by Ravyn Lenae inspired part of this. Also watching several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, and Law & Order: SVU in the bg kept me sane. And one more rewatch of ATSV.

My duty as a fanfic writer is fulfilled as I give you this mandatory trope. 🫡

When you first started working at Spider HQ, you were amazed by the fact that one man was able to create all of this.

It was astounding, beyond what the gray tones of Nueva York could ever present to you.

Now, you think back to your glittering eyes during the first year working here and laugh.

Working for Miguel O’Hara was like squeezing a watermelon through a straw. He was impossible.

Nothing you did was ever satisfactory for him. Something could always be fixed. Sometimes, you wonder why he still kept you employed here.

Currently, he was turning his nose up at a salve you were working on for spiders whose healing time wasn’t nearly as quick as others.

“Run a new test. This batch is no good.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The formula could be better, it’s too thick, and why does it smell like that?”

The scent was similar to one you wore often and a lot of the spider-people that swung by the pharmacy seemed to like it.

“Uh, jade tea.”

The pinch in Miguel’s eyebrows deepened as he sniffed the air.

“Switch it to something else.”

You huffed, already tired of this conversation, “Well, what smell do you suggest?”

“Anything but this.”

“How about lavender, then? Perhaps peppermint.”

“And now, you’re being childish,” Miguel put the tin down before placing his hands on his hips. “You know there’s spider-people who can’t smell too much of that.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

He plopped a giant file on your desk, “Deal with that later. I need you to work on something else. For some reason, villains across dimensions are obtaining access to a substance similar to rapture. Every time there’s a mission, the spider-person of that dimension has been left affected. I need something to subside the effects until we can get them back here.”

“Ok, well do you have the substance with you?”

“No. But I’ll get you something soon. For now, I have a year’s worth of research on rapture. It should be of some use.”

You took the rubber band off of the manilla folder, something so old school for this era of tech.

You saw a line of formulas that started to make your head spin.

“Are there a lot of people affected right now?”

“Only a few. They’ve used the leftover solution I made a long time ago. It’s only going to work for so long,”

“Good. I need to sleep on this.”

Miguel’s head knocked back an inch, “Are you refusing work? The state of the heroes of different universes relies on this research. It’s not some science project-“

“I understand completely, Miguel, but I’m off the clock.”

He stopped and checked his watch, the red six o’clock burning back on him.

“I only work the hours you pay me, Spidey,” you reach to pat his arm and regret it when his stern face doesn’t move.

“Not interested in paid overtime?”

You bit your cheek to stop the laugh from coming out.

“That’s nice and all, but I’ve got plans.”

“Like what?”

“Like resting, sleeping, not touching lab work with a you-sized pole. All of these are things you aren’t familiar with. Plus, I have a date.”

A pause went through the room as you started to gather your things.

“Since when do you date?”

You push your chair under your desk harder than you mean to, “Since when do you care?”

“I,” he follows to the elevator, “care about my employees.”

“Sure, Miguel.”

If it weren’t for your tired state, you would think he looks a little sad at your statement.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

The doors start to close as you nod your head, Miguel’s gaze stuck just above your head.

Weird. Just like his frequent stops to your lab.

The feeling doesn’t leave your gut even as you’re smiling in your date’s face.

One minute, you’re laughing at a story about some amateur skateboarders Downtown, and the next, an electric billboard is being covered in tiny nano-spiders across the street.

“So the guy just takes one step on the board and then he’s flying. A straight line across the park.”

“That’s,” the spiders start to crawl into different lines. Then a logo forms, displaying the spider on Miguel’s suit next to an exclamation point. “So hilarious.”

Your date chuckles then follows your gaze, the silence too long, “Is there something wrong?”

The nano-spiders flipped around, the regular billboard showing like normal. You squint.

“No, I thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination.”

“You did say you were a little tired from work. Should we raincheck? We can always catch a movie another time.”

You wanted to say no, you’d been looking forward to tonight.

The billboard flickered to a little picture of Lyla with “SOS” above her head.

“Yeah, I should probably get going. Sorry about this.”

The way he doesn’t sweat you practically ditching him makes your heart pang. You’re already dreading another night exhausted and alone. Your date seemed promising.

You wave at him from your taxi, the route leading back to Spider HQ feeling like torture. You unclasp your purse and check your gizmo.

40 missed messages.

It’s not until you’re walking into the regular lobby that you turn it on.

“What is so important that you waste Margo’s time to interrupt my time?”

Lyla pops in your peripheral, hands up and wary, “I’m only doing what boss asks! Don’t get mad at me.”

“Lyla, why am I back here right now?”

“Well, Miguel has gotten himself in some particular trouble.”

You punch the elevator button, “Get to the point, please.”

“He went into your lab to try and start the solution he talked about earlier. After his first accident, he’s never had any luck with lab work, so uh. He’s kind of made a mess.”

The elevator moves and you look at Lyla, “What kind of mess?”

The doors open and you can smell it before you see it.

It’s poignant, like perfume soaked roses and patchouli. The scent hits you hard enough to make you grip the metal opening as you come out.

“What exactly did he do?” you breathe out.

Your limbs start to shake, nerves drumming from the inside out. A weight feels like it landed on your core, your stomach twitching as you continued to take in whatever had transpired.

“Something about DNA splicing and plants. I can trace his movements back if you’d like, but I’m also currently trying to figure out how to reverse it.”

“Great.”

You swing open the door to a disheveled Miguel. He’s sweating profusely as he tries to clean up your lab desk.

Before you can even begin to yell he’s fussing, “Lyla, I told you not to call her!”

“But you obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

He bites his lip as he tries not to look at you, fingers trembling as he starts to store materials back into their drawers.

“Thought you had a date.”

“And I thought I told you stay away from my station,” you feel like a baby deer walking over to him.

When you get closer he sucks in his breath like you cut him, stopping in his tracks.

“I don’t think you should be near me,” he grunts. His eyes are dark, lips swollen with the way he’s biting them.

“What are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”

You round the corner of the desk, the image of you two almost comical. Miguel moves to the edge of the desk, chest moving faster, while you chase after him trying to get a hand on his forehead.

He felt extremely cold compared to the numbness of your palm, despite how flushed he looked. His eyes close as your hand slides from his head to his neck, muscles there tensing.

“Please. Don’t,” he whispers.

“Who else is coming here to save you?” you ask, frustrated. “What did you do anyway?”

He doesn’t answer as he peers at you. Your heart is beating faster and you can’t tell if it’s because of the air or because of the way he looks like he’s about to climb you.

Every move you made felt like sharp pricks in your skin, the tight material of your dress digging into your hips. It felt like the ends of burning flames and you wanted it off. Your breaths were picking up and you couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on other than Miguel being your cooling solution.

“Miguel,” you sounded like you ran a marathon when all you did was step into his space.

“It’s the shocking formula that I screwed up. That’s why everything feels-“

“Like I need you,” you interrupt. “Like I want you on top of me.”

The insides of your thighs were fighting against themselves to stay together, the urge to let your legs fall around him strong.

“That’s just the chemicals talking. W-we can get somewhere safe and separated.”

You grab the back of his neck and pull yourself even closer, his hands gripping the table like a lifeline as he groans.

“So you don’t want me?” you press against him, caging a knee around him right next to his hand. “You don’t think about me?”

You can almost feel his heartbeat matching yours as you pull yourself up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t wonder how I feel when you come into my lab snooping around? How I feel when you come in here barking orders?”

Your face is in his neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing as you take a deep breath. He smells like coffee and fabric softener, but there’s an underlying wave of musk. Of something so unbelievably him and you want to keep that scent close forever.

“I imagine you’re annoyed. But a job is a job.”

“But you still come in here asking for things you know someone else can do,” your panties are soaked, and from the way his nose flares, you know he knows. “Why?”

His teeth grit as you start to grind on him, the feeling giving you an inch of relief that only makes you want more.

“I, I don’t- It’s because I,” the counter began to crack under his hands. His muscles were pulled taut. “Dios, ayúdame.”

Maybe you were wrong, and your hazy mind only brought thoughts from the subconscious one.

“Fine. I get that you don’t like me but could you at least give me some type of relief?” you were whining in his ears at this point, a complete 180 of how you left him earlier today. With every grind of your hips, you left noises in his skin, desperate.

The desk made a terrible sound as Miguel finally lets go and grabs around your waist. Your breath is slammed out of you as your back hits the wall, Miguel’s hand holding your head to stop it from crashing into the wall too.

Your throat makes a gargled sound as Miguel licks down your jaw, his talons ripping into your dress. His tongue swipes into your mouth, breaths rapid as he finally gets a taste.

“I do like you. More than I should,” his words were passed right into you. “You and your smart mouth.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it.”

A yank in your hair stops your complaints, Miguel kissing down your side. Every press of his lips left a chilly flutter. Your hips are moving frantically, patience wearing thin. Right as you’re about to say something again, he flips you, the layers of your dress falling as he rips into your panties.

The blood rushes to your head as he takes a bite into your thigh, sucking as your legs fall to his shoulders.

You moan his name, hands gripping at his thighs. His kisses led to your lips, swollen and dripping. From your clit to your entrance, he groaned as he covered you, drinking like you were water in the middle of the night.

You felt like you were going to slip, but Miguel’s arms were looped around your legs, not letting go. His suit was in your way, your mouth salivating as his crotch stared back at you. Your fingers could only dig as far as his suit allows and you have half a mind to call Lyla to disengage it.

“Please,” you sigh as you rub his bulge with your cheek. “I need it so bad.”

“Cállate,” he hums, face delving deeper into you. The sound of him licking up every drop echos off the cool walls and the light of his suit dims away letting you see what you’ve been waiting for.

His length hits your chin, precum spilling down and you’ve never been more excited for a man to go commando. You open your mouth and let your breath hit him as you take a swipe down to his balls.

Miguel’s grunts and shifts his hips back. His tip swerves around your face as he tries to find your mouth without unlatching his jaw from your sex. You help out with the last bit of sanity you have, and once you wrap your lips around him, his hips snap hard onto you.

All you can feel is Miguel entering you from top to bottom, his hands keeping you stationed in your position. There’s no room to do anything as he’s devouring you and taking your breath away at the same time. Two of his fingers sink into you, and you jerk from the difference between his skin and his tongue.

Miguel nibbles at the hood of your clit, urging you to be still. Whenever his fingers leave you, his pelvis fills your senses. Your throat gags around him, spit building to keep up with his thrusts.

“So good,” he hums. His pace picks up and the tears in your eyes fall to the floor. “Made for me. Only me.”

Your fingers wrap around his thighs and squeeze tight, your vision fading as you try to take in pockets of air. The shake in your legs and the broken moans that escaped your lips only ignited him.

“Bebé,” his hips stutter. He’s sloppy as he drools over the entrance, voice loud. “Bebé, you’re so, ngh.”

He cums down your throat, balls twitching against your face. You close your eyes and try to swallow everything, jaw aching. Miguel groans your name as he slides his dick out to the tip, a few spurts still landing on your lips. You cough, position making everything go north.

The taste of him was delicious, but you needed more of him elsewhere. Your mouth was as drenched as your cunt and yet you still felt empty.

When Miguel flips you back upright, you’re ready to pounce on him again. The state of you both is alarming. Your breasts have completely fallen out of your dress, that black thing barely holding on by its zipper. Miguel’s suit is phasing in and out in the most obscene places. There’s slick up to his eyebrows and his cum is all over your cheeks.

He grabs your jaw and runs his tongue over your face, cleaning up his mess. You let him live in his own bubble before that burning in your core came back.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your whispers of “more” come to light. You’re clawing at him like a cat begging him to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away.

“Miguel,” you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Miguel, it hurts. Fix it, Miggy, please.”

You guide his hands down your body and place them on your ass. His touch sates you for only a moment, but your body reacts as if he needs to be deep in your bones. He spreads your ass and groans as the sound of how eager you are for him follows.

“You’re not ready,” are the words that make you even more frustrated. Your hands pushing and pulling at him, ready to try and put him where you want him to go.

He clicks his teeth and flexes his wrists. His webs tie your wrists together, neon red strings leaving a buzz on your skin. He yanks your dress off and you stumble with the motions.

The clinical room doesn’t aid the building heat you feel, but Miguel turning you around and pressing you into the wall as he cuts the rest of your panties off does.

He squats and grabs two hands full of you.

He spits onto your hole, mesmerized as he watches it slide to your entrance. “Qué hermosa,” he whispers.

You bend, whimpering as your folds cover his nose, clenching and grinding.

“God,” you sigh. Something this small was going to bring you to the edge so quickly. “D-don’t stop.”

“Greedy,” Miguel says as if he’s not moving the fat of your ass to nudge his face into you. The arch in your back deepens as he continues and your whines get higher.

He smacks your right cheek, sound echoing off the metal tables, and you shout his name as you coat his tongue.

Tranquility clears your mind for a second, one where the flowery scent in the air is less strong.

The peace leaves just as fast as it came when Miguel gets rid of his suit and stands behind you in all of his glory.

His eyes followed from your dewey face to the curve of your hips to bitten thighs to feet with one heel still on.

“He didn’t deserve to see this,” he says.

“W-what?”

Miguel ignores you and pulls your wrists up straight, a confused noise leaving you. He wraps another web around your ankles and huffs. He sets your arms under your chest, your hands in front of you like a prayer.

When he picks you up by your waist, his dick lines up with your ass.

He groans as he grinds, watching himself disappear and reappear.

You try to move with him, “No, not there. Inside.”

“You’re always so distracting,” he growls. He slides his length between your thick thighs and you nearly scream as his hips hit your ass, his tip just barely passing over your clit. “Can never think straight when I see you.”

He rubbed over the bite he left on your shoulder, “So pretty. My pretty baby.”

His low voice right in your ears only made you wetter. He was holding you like you were his toy, fucking the inside of your thighs with ease.

Miguel could cry watching your ass bounce on his stomach. Your legs were soft and warm and he just couldn’t stop.

“Want you so bad. Need to fuck you again and again and again,” he said as your thighs quivered around him.

“Please, Miguel. Make me yours,” your voice crowded the sound of his grunts as he held you up and pounded away.

Those were the magic words to get him to lean back with a firm grip on you and release all over the wall. It was everywhere, from your legs to the wall to the ceiling.

He set you to the floor with shaky arms, and you started to sob.

All of this and you still wanted more. If this was making you feel this insane, you can only imagine the small relief Miguel was feeling after being exposed for longer.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to the bare floor and cuts the webs. You immediately try to climb him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He was painfully hard for someone who came twice now.

Your cries of “inside” slur together, tears running down your face. Miguel was no better, fangs dripping with venom and the hairs on skin raised.

The two of you tussle as Miguel tries to keep your hips to stay stationary. You kept jerking in order to get some sort of friction but he was baring his teeth to get you to quit.

You dip your nails into his shoulders and arms while he drags a talon down your sternum to snap your bra off.

A clatter of your stiletto sounds off across the room as he pinches your thigh, “Easy, beautiful. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Fucking hurry,” you whine.

He shushes as he plunges inside of you, the noise you both make as loud as a choir.

Your eyes roll back as Miguel presses, bending your body in half.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel leans to whisper onto your lips.

Tight is the first thing that comes to mind and heat is the next.

He moves his hips up and slams back down, your ass shifting from the pressure.

“Miguel!”

“That’s it. Talk to me.” All of that chatter earlier and now you can barely get out a word.

“H-harder,” your hands don’t know where to go. They’re grabbing Miguel, they’re falling next to your head, they’re grabbing at your breasts as Miguel jerks your body.

Miguel goes to open your jaw, lips pulling on your tongue to suck. It’s tender and sensual compared to the way his balls are slapping against you. There’s a ring of white on his shaft getting thicker and thicker as he continues.

“Pretty thing,” he says as he lets your tongue go, a string of saliva falling to your neck. “Watched you on the cameras. Always.”

That stirs something in you, a spark in your chest as you see stars.

“Did you want to do this to me when you watched me?” you manage out.

“Yes.”

“I can put on a show for you next time.”

“Yes.”

“You can come in here. ‘N fuck me over the counter.”

“Sí, sí, baby,” his hands push your knees next to your head and he ruts against you. His thighs were straining as he took and took.

A yell pulls itself from your core, that burning feeling getting a crash of cold water. The dam bursts and you’re running all over Miguel, essence leaving every time he inches out and back in.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes glazed over.

You nod your head, clenching and pulsing around him.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he shudders against you. You suck him in, gaining a deep moan from him, “Así, bebé. Take it.”

It’s like you can finally think as his cum overflows, your heart rate finally slowing.

He stares at you as you both come back to reality. Your body is limp, the weight of Miguel making itself known.

“Holy shit,” you wiggle and he catches the hint. He lifts a bit and pulls out. The swirl of you two falls out of you in waves. “What. The fuck.”

“God,” Miguel mumbles. “No shocking way we just did that.”

“You can’t say that when the evidence is leaking out of me.”

Miguel groans as he watches you, your face pouty and your hole glistening. It was intoxicating.

His dick twitches, coming to life again the longer he watches.

“‘M sorry in advance,” he says as he pulls you into his lap.

“Just take care of it, O’Hara.”

The two of you sat in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Pieces of consciousness were starting to come back.

“You looked stunning tonight,” Miguel said. He looked at your shredded dress on the floor. “I’m glad he won’t see you in that dress anymore.”

The snort that leaves your nose turns into a full-blown laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just took my soul ten times over and you’re worried about a guy I just met less than a week ago. I fear I’m ruined for anyone else.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “Good.”

“You still should take me on a date. You’ve got a lot to explain.”

Flashes of him confessing to his habit of watching you from afar come back, “O-of course.”

“And you owe me a new dress.”

“On it.”

Lyla pops up next to you both, a blindfold over her shades, “Is it safe to talk to you guys now?”

Miguel checks his gizmo, “I think we’re good for about forty minutes. The effects are starting to wear off.”

“Excellent!” She throws the fabric to the side, “Oh my god, this room is a mess.”

You look at the array of substances over the room and grimace. The entire hall will have to be on lockdown.

“Well, I managed to vent out the solution. You two should be ok soon.”

You lean on Miguel’s chest and close your eyes, happy to hear good news.

“Kind of sad that this is what it took for you to confess, Miguel,” she comments.

“Lyla!”

You laugh again, “Some confession.”

“That’s enough,” Miguel scowls.

Your giggles die down as you pull yourself onto Miguel’s thigh, bubbles in your chest molding into moans as you start to grind over his thigh.

“I’m starting to think you guys are just bluffing,” Lyla gags before she disappears. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“I think,” you nuzzle into his neck, “this’ll be the last time. I’m tired.”

“If not, we can take it to my house.”

The world blurs again as you and Miguel connect under the white lights.

Take a shot every time I say breath or breathe 😭. Anywho, as always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ୭୧　　.　　𝓢𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝓜𝐘 𝓦𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒　　ᤢ　　♥︎

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀miguel o'hara⠀𝓍⠀butterfly!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　while capturing a kraven variant, miguel didn’t expect it to be also a rescue mission. nevertheless meet a butterfly hybrid. the most beautiful butterfly those scarlet eyes have ever seen. but miguel refuses to grow attach to someone. how could someone so beautiful fall for a beast like him?

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　angst, captivity, complicated feelings, insecurity, jealousy, hurt/comfort, fluff, 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, wings play (if that’s a thing), praise, pet names, hispanic/latina!reader

miguel has encountered many villain variants. green goblins, doc ocks, sandman, rhinos, kravens. some are tamed and confused when accidentally stumbled in the wrong universe, others are pure psychos. but he has never met probably the most psychotic kraven variant ever. this variant isn’t only obsessed of hunting animals but even keeping some as pets.

disbelief was the perfect word to describe miguel’s reaction the moment he stepped foot into kraven’s secret fucked up lair. while the team collects the chaotic kraven variant, miguel secured the area and conducts a final check for any victims. towards the end of the lab, there is a cell. behind the metal bars is a small figure laying on the floor. miguel doesn’t hesitate to approach quickly.

“hey, hey. you alright? i’m gonna get you out of here.” he crouched in front of the cell.

you perk up and swiftly stand up on your feet. the eyes on miguel’s mask widen drastically in shock. he couldn’t the sight in front of him. a young woman, possibly early to mid twenties. owns the prettiest eyes he has seen, yet filled with pain and frustration that makes his chest ache. but there is something extraordinary that is attached to your back. a pair of wings, resembling almost exactly like a butterfly.

a butterfly hybrid.

speechless is the perfect word for how miguel feels. a butterfly hybrid right in front of his eyes. those crimson eyes has seen so many varieties of spider-people and anomalies, but never a butterfly hybrid.

“where the fuck is kraven? where is he?” you inquired through gritted teeth, senses on high alert for that fucker’s arrival. rage and frustration bubbling in your veins just at the mere thought of him.

underneath his mask, his brows furrowed. “he’s been taken away, he won’t ever come back.” miguel stands up, his towering height startled you a little but you brush it off. “are you alright?”

“taken away? where?” you’re surprised by that revelation, staring up confusingly at the abnormally tall man clad in a weird red and blue suit.

“some place secured and far away until he’s returned to his respective dimension.” miguel leans a bit closer towards the metal bars. “he will never return, i promise you that.” he said sincerely.

strangely enough, the stranger’s words offered some comfort. the anxiety and rage slowly subsided, feeling a bit relieved. for once in what feels like a lifetime, you can finally breathe.

“i’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” miguel said with much sincerity.

it was a moment of silence, staring at one another before you quietly nod. breaking the lock with his hand, miguel opens the cell door and expects you to step out but you remain standing there. he notices your hesitation, he can’t blame you. you’ve been through much. so, he offers a hand.

“it’s okay, you’re safe.” his tone is soft and reassuring, probably the softest he’s ever spoken. normally, miguel isn’t the one to comfort others but you need it. for once, he put his ego behind.

your eyes flicker between his hand and eyes, a surprised expression illustrated on your face. although you just met this mysterious red and blue man for two minutes, you feel safe with him. slowly reaching out with a hand, you grab his. the size difference is alluring. his hand is humongous compared to yours. just his thumb alone completely covers the back of your hand. a spark ignites in miguel’s chest the moment he holds your hand. utterly fascinated by the major size difference but brushes it off and focuses on helping you step out.

the moment you step out of that god awful cell, a breeze of freedom hits you. finally, you feel free. the ugly weight of being stuck in that cell on your shoulders suddenly vanished. everything felt so… light. for the first time, you finally feel happy.

“lyla, scan her vitals.” miguel calls out to his ai assistant, not realizing he’s still holding your hand yet you haven’t let go either.

the little ai magically appears and offers a salute before taking a scan of you. “okay honey, so your vitals are quite low due to exhaustion.” she turns to her boss. “she needs to be taken back to HQ.” the hand holding doesn’t go unnoticed by her but lyla decides to tease him about it later.

“HQ? where’s that?” you inquired, gaze flickering between the tall man and the tiny ai lady.

“a safe place, where i’m from. there is a medical center there that we’ll take you.” with a few taps on his gizmo, a colorful portal appears in front of you. miguel then turns to you. “i know this is a lot and i’ll explain everything soon. do you trust me?”

once again, his sincere words bring you a sense of comfort. perhaps you just met him but he did save you from a never-ending hell. honestly, you would like to be anywhere but this hellhole. escape from this shithole forever. a chance of freedom.

you offer a nod.

soon, you find yourself dressed in a hospital gown and resting in a medical bed. on your left wrist is the same watch miguel and everyone else here has. speaking of miguel, he had to attend some business and said he’ll return soon. although you didn’t mind and understand he had responsibilities, you did feel a bit alone since you didn’t know anyone else here. all you can is rest and wait for his return.

when you arrived at HQ, you were utterly fascinated. everyone was a spiderperson, which miguel informed you about before he had to departure. every person here is half spider and come in various forms. humans, animals, cartoons, a fucking car, and a t-rex. honestly, it was quiet amusing but also fascinating because there were other hybrids. where you come from, everyone is half butterfly. fuck, you didn’t even know other universes existed. apparently, the one you’re currently in is miguel’s. super futuristic, a major contrast to your cottage-like universe. another fascinating phenomenon.

“wait, she’s a butterfly?!”

“a butterfly?! that’s so cool!”

“i bet she’s very pretty!”

“can we meet her?!”

the constant questions and irritating voices of the spider teens were making miguel pinching the bridge of his nose for the millionth time. imagine steam coming out from his ears. if he allow to indulge in those intrusive thoughts, he would throw a trash can at one of them, just like he did with miles that one time. patience was wearing thin badly.

“no, she needs to rest so leave her alone. no visitors until further notice.” miguel orders, walking towards the infirmary, the spider teens following him.

a chorus of ‘aww man’ occurs from behind but the teens ultimately understand you needed rest after such a traumatic experience. they simply wish you a good recovery before parting ways. that breath miguel was holding for so long finally escapes. entering the infirmary, he instructs the staff to forbid visitors until you recover then makes his way to your room. passing through the sliding glass doors, miguel finds you fully awake, approaching slowly.

“hey.” you offer a meek smile.

“how are you feeling?” miguel stands by the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“less shitty.” you chuckle halfheartedly, shrugging.

underneath his mask, the corner of his lips lifts up ever so slightly. your humor seems to be still intact.

“huh.” miguel hums, fascinated. using his webs, he slides over a chair and sits besides the bed. the action fascinates you.

“orange webs. is everyone’s different?”

“yes, everyone here possess their own web type. some organic, some technical.”

“i never thought spider-people existed, let alone other universes.” it was truly a mindfuck.

“it’s called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “i’m sorry, the what now?”

“the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse, or the multiverse in easier terms. some called it the spiderverse, which i think it’s stupid.”

“nah, i think arachno-whatever the fuck polymultiverse is more stupider. literally the nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard of.” you chuckle.

the eyes of his mask fall flat, an unimpressed expression underneath. the sight makes you giggle, a sound that makes his chest warm for some strange reason. “i’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

you shrug. “i mean- who wants to say all that shit? it’s like saying supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

now miguel is one with a deadpan look, however you can’t see it due to his mask but you can tell. “i’m also gonna pretend you didn’t say that either. i assume it’s a word from your universe.”

you’re quite odd, humorous.

“my universe… sounds weird saying that��” you glanced off to the side, thinking.

miguel understands what you mean, especially since this is new information to you.

“i was gonna ask lyla if she could dig info on your universe but i figured asking you would be more sufficient, if you’re up for that?”

“sure.” you adjust your on the bed to be more comfortable. “since you know what i am, you have an idea what my universe is like, i assume?”

“mythical.”

that elicits a soft chuckle from you. “perfect word. mythical, peaceful, very cottage-like. instead of spider-people, everyone is a butterfly.”

from your description, miguel envisions a mythical place with cottages everywhere. butterfly hybrids flying around, going on with their lives.

“being a butterfly sounds peaceful.” he comments.

you huff. “sure but we don’t have cool powers like you guys do. we just have cool wings and fly around and shit, nothing special honestly.”

that makes him frown a little. “everyone is special in their own way.”

“wow, very inspiring words.” you softly chuckle.

miguel rolls his eyes. “you know what i mean.” he didn’t mean to sound like an motivational speaker, just trying to be helpful. the more he thinks about it, the more he cringed at himself.

he explains what the multiverse is and how it works. also explains the gizmo he faces you when you first arrived here, to protect you from glitching since you’re in a different universe other than your own. it was a lot to digest but you managed to follow along. it’s just a mind-blowing revelation. no one back home will believe you. but what truly captured your attention was how invested and passionate miguel was explaining the concept to you. every word that came from his mouth kept sucking you back in. not to mention how much of a fucking nerd he was but you like that about him.

“the kraven who held you captive was from another universe and invaded several other universes which caused a canon divergence. he’s been traveling to other worlds capturing various hybrids, unfortunately including you.” he offers a sympathetic look. “which is why i have to ask how he captured you? i know it’ll be difficult to explain considering what you’ve gone through, just explain how much you can do.”

a shiver went down your spine, an unsettling sensation in your bones. just the mention of that fucker’s name alone pisses you off. it’s a rough memory to go back to but you have to tell him.

“well…” you start with a heavy sigh, leaning back against the pillow. “it was just so random. i was out in the gardens watering some plants. it was so quiet like usual until i heard a twig crack but i didn’t turn around in time when i felt something poking me in my neck, i was injected with something. then, i was knocked out… next thing i knew, i was in that cell and first saw that fucker’s face…”

a remorseful look illustrated on miguel’s face as he listened to your unfortunate story. what a terrible thing to happen, having a peaceful day then suddenly taken away from your home and held captive by a fucking psycho. his heart, that was wrapped in ice, ached for you.

“did he…?” he was afraid to continue the question but you figured what he meant.

you shake your head. “abuse me? no, thankfully. physically, at least. sure, he was a bit rough and sometimes manhandled me but never actually hurt me. still a fucking asshole, though.”

a wave of relief courses through him. if it were the opposite, oh miguel would’ve done unspeakable things to that fucker.

“he did, however, threatened to cut off my wings if i ever fought back.” your voice falters a little, more quiet. “so i gave in, just had to survive.”

damn, he feels utterly terrible for you. an innocent person suffering from dreadful circumstances for a while. turns out you’ve been held captive for four days. the hatred for kraven increased but his sympathy for you outgrows it.

“i’m sorry…”

if only he could’ve found you sooner.

“it’s okay, i just had to do what i had to do. it was so fucking crazy… so crazy to the point that he wanted me to marry him.” now that made miguel’s eyes pop out in disbelief. “the reason why he kidnapped me was because i was the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. he was so obsessed, i hated it.”

forced you to marry him? jesus, this kraven variant is more fucking insane than he originally thought.

“actually, i was supposed to marry him the day you found me. that’s why i was wearing a white dress.”

now it made sense. miguel recalls you wearing a pretty white dress when he found you. now knowing the purpose of it, it sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine. he was so glad he got there in time.

“well, you won’t have to marry him anymore. i’m sorry you went through this.”

“it’s over now, thanks to you.” a small smile of gratitude graces your lips.

there it goes again, that warm sensation in his chest when you smile at him. it feels weird to miguel, an unusual feeling. why does he feel this way?

after enough talking, miguel allows you to rest. after what you’ve gone through, you lost deservingly need it. he spares one final glance at you before exiting the room and heading back to his office. but not before paying a small visit to that kraven variant.

the next day, miguel comes back with an empanada. a confused smile settles on your face as he holds out the small white box in front of you.

“it’s an empanada, thought you’d like one.” miguel pretends to act normal but really feels a bit awkward since he’s never been the type to give things. at least, he hasn’t done it in a long time so he’s forgotten.

“oh, thank you. i love empanadas.” you take the small box from him with a kind smile.

his eyes light up ever so slightly, a rare occurrence. “really?” he takes his seat in the chair.

you nod before opening the box and taking a bite of the pastry. your eyes blow wide in delight. “oh wow, this is really good. better than mine.”

“you make them?” he is intrigued.

“yeah, i make them sometimes. baking is one of my hobbies. but damn- this one is really good.”

miguel’s interest in you grows. one of your hobbies is baking and you enjoy making empanadas, a pastry he likes dearly. not all but certain kinds.

one thing you and him have in common.

eventually, you recovered. since you didn’t have clothes, the nurse offered you new ones that she could find. a pair of light denim jeans, a pretty periwinkle blouse, and a pair of flats. once you were dressed and checked yourself out of infirmary, you decide to take a stroll around HQ. with your wings spread out, lots of attention came your way. you can’t walk for two seconds before someone walks up to you and immediately starts blurting out questions. asking about your wings, what universe you’re from, what kind of butterfly you were. it was annoying but you figured this would happened.

while wandering around, a group of younger looking spiders approach you. three boys and a girl. one boy in a black suit, another with interesting facial piercings, the last boy in red and blue, and the blonde girl in a white suit. they seem to be teens.

“oh, hello.” you offer a kind smile.

“oh wow! you’re real!” the blonde girl exclaims.

“wow, you’re very pretty!”

“well i’ll be damned.” the facial piercings one smirks, arms folded over his chest.

their reactions startle you a little. you really aren’t used to this kind of attention and can’t necessarily say you like it, kinda overwhelming. this is probably what being the popular kid in school was like.

“oh thanks, you guys are sweet.” you smile.

the four teens quickly introduced themselves. there names were miles, gwen, pav, and hobie. they seem like nice kids, friendly and quite funny.

“so you’re a butterfly hybrid?” gwen asks.

“yep, half butterfly just you guys are half spider.”

“do you have cool abilities like us?” miles asks.

you shake your head. “no, sadly. we just have wings, we aren’t cool like you guys.”

“nah, come on! you’re cool too! i mean- you’re a butterfly and they’re pretty insects! right?” the boy looks at his friends and they all agree.

“yeah! just because you don’t have powers doesn’t make you any less cooler.” gwen offers a smile.

“you get to fly! we have to rely on our webs to move around and sometimes they don’t always work.” pav makes a point, the others hum in agreement.

“don’t be harsh on yourself, pretty. no one here got pretty wings like you do.” hobie winks at you, making you smile. perhaps he is right.

“well, thank you. you kids are really nice.”

“so, are you and the bossman close?”

hobie’s question makes your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “he just rescued me, i don’t think that would make us close.” a soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“but he always visited you in the infirmary, yeah?”

oh, you know exactly what they mean and can’t help but laugh. kids being nosy as usual. “well since he rescued me, it’s normal for him to check up on me.”

“yeah but he checks up on you all the time even on missions. always asking lyla how you’re doing. the man can never stop asking about you.”

okay, you weren’t expecting this kind of information. miguel constantly checking up on you, even when he’s on missions? well, he is concerned about you since you came from a troubling situation. the thought makes your heart flutter.

“¡oye!”

the teens, expect hobie who seems to be unfazed, stiffen at the familiar authoritative tone of their leader. turning around, you find miguel quickly approaching the group. the eyes of his mask narrowed, he definitely has a scowl underneath.

“you four have missions to complete. ¡vete!”

the spider teens know best than to argue with miguel so they all skedaddle. hobie, on the other hand, is unfazed by miguel’s intimidating nature. couldn’t care less of what he says. the punk spider winks at you which you makes you smile before swinging away, an action gone unnoticed by miguel. he lets out an grumble under his breath.

“scaring them shitless, huh?” you tease.

“they have missions to complete, they can’t be distracted.”

“yikes, my bad.” you place a hand over your heart with a fake pout, pretending to be hurt.

a quiet sigh leaves his lips, cursing at himself for his poor choice of words. not to mention his heart skipping a beat at the pout, even if it was fake, it affected him. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“nah, i’m just messing with you.”

the giggle you let out has an effect on him as well and miguel isn’t sure why it does. it’s just a sound, how can it affect him that much?

“come with me to my office so we can discuss about getting you back to your universe.”

“damn, i guess my time here is up.”

“you want to stay here longer?” honesty, miguel is a bit surprised, even if you were joking.

“it’s cool here. sure, i miss home but i don’t think i’ll ever get another chance to visit another universe.”

miguel seems a bit surprised yet… relieved that you’re interested in staying here a bit longer. it’s only been a short amount of time of you being here. besides, it’s actually cool to have someone who isn’t a spiderperson here. it’s totally not because he wants you to stay and talk to you more. it’s not because he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

yeah no, totally not. that would be crazy, right?

“well… your watch can allow you to travel to whichever dimension you choose so you can visit here anytime you want.”

his heart leaps when he notices the sparkle in your eyes of enthusiasm. why does it happen every time you do something so little? why does it effect him so much? these questions keep plaguing his mind.

“wow, this is really heavy ass sci-fi shit.” you glance at the watch then up at him. “i like it.”

miguel lures you to his office. soon as possible since he didn’t want anyone else bombarding you with questions. sure it’s cool to see someone new but he doesn’t want you feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention. people need to back off sometimes. pressing a button, his desk begins levitating, which was going at a dreadful slow place.

“well, this is painfully awkward.”

miguel huffed grumpily, already sliding through the yellows screens in front of him. “don’t remind me.”

“why you need to be so high up? can’t just anyone swing up here anytime?” you ask while glancing at the various screens in fascination.

alright, you have a point. a good point since miguel doesn’t possess the iconic spidey sense. he is about to tell you that until the familiar irritating voice of a certain peter variant plops down on the ground.

“heyyy, miguel.”

the infamous peter b. parker, as well the adorable redhead baby mayday in the baby carrier.

“not now, parker.” miguel doesn’t even bother to turn around, still occupied with the screens and internally groaning at the sudden interruption.

“whaaaa i just wanna- whoa! who is this mysterious lady with… fairy wings?” peter’s eyes widen in surprise at your presence, specifically at your wings. “wait… you’re the butterfly lady!”

you snort at that, nodding. “the one and only.”

“wow… this is so cool! look, mayday! she’s a butterfly!” he glances at his daughter, who is utterly fascinated by you. the little girl just stares at you before smiling and starts babbling excitingly.

“hola, preciosa.” you coo at her, slowly approaching.

the baby squeals happily, capping her hands before reaching her tiny arms out for you. the adorable sight makes everyone’s heart melt, including miguel who is now watching the interaction.

“i’m peter and this is my daughter, mayday, who definitely likes you.” the man chuckles before taking her out of the baby carrier and holds her out to you.

“are you sure?”

“of course! she seems to like you a lot!”

peter appears to be right when those little hands excitingly reach out for you. oh your heart can’t resist such intense cuteness. you carefully take mayday and your arms and she immediately squeals happily.

for some odd reason, the sigh of you being so sweet towards the baby does something to miguel. the scene is so… heartwarming. you never mentioned if you’re a mother or anything but you seem so… motherly towards mayday. it’s unclear if you do have motherly instincts or just that caring towards a baby. either way, it effects him in some way.

“you are the cutest thing i’ve ever seen.” you coo and the little girl babbles excitedly. she stares in awe at your wings. “oh you like them?” the redhead baby nods and tries touching them but you softly tell her to be careful since they’re sensitive. “how old is she?” you glance at peter but keeping an eye on her.

“a year and she’s already doing a lot.” peter said proudly, hands on his hips. the fluffy pink robe he’s wearing is quite an amusing sight. “she some gained some of her powers and has been doing great!”

you turn and look at the man with furrowed brows of confusion. “powers?”

“yeah! she got her own webs! just like her old man.” another proud statement.

before you can say anything else, the little girl leaps out of your arms and swings up to the ceiling before swinging around miguel’s office.

“oh my god…” you observe the baby with a fascinated smile, softly chuckling.

“yeah, she’s been getting better with her aiming. doing great, sweetheart!” peter cheers.

the three of you observe the baby swinging around. you and peter smiling while miguel frowning and sighing quietly. not at sweet baby mayday, no absolutely not. just at peter’s irresponsibility for handling his daughter. despite her being a super baby, her father still needs to be careful with her.

“peter, how many times do i have to tell you not to let your daughter play around in my office?” miguel pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, even through his mask he still can.

“oh come on, miguel. she isn’t destroying anything.” peter pats his friend’s shoulder, earning a glare from him even through the mask he can tell. “we all know you have a soft spot for her.”

okay, now if looks could kill, peter would definitely be under more than six feet.

that is proven when mayday finally a stops and lands on miguel’s bulky shoulder. she gently pokes around his face and miguel just stands there accepting his fate. a grumpy expression settled on his features while mayday happily pokes at his face, smiling and babbling. the adorable sight melts your heart. he definitely does have a soft spot for the little girl.

an eye roll and an incoherent grumble leave miguel’s lips, feeling a bit embarrassed by peter basically ratting him out, especially in front of you. miguel can’t even bare to look at you without feeling more embarrassed, a shy schoolboy even, despite the fact he still has his mask on. miguel simply lets mayday use him as her personal playground.

mayday continues playing around with miguel until she hangs off on his shoulder but suddenly loses balance and is about to fall until, by his fatherly instincts, miguel catches her in his large hands. your heart nearly drops and almost gasp in horror but utterly feel relieved when miguel caught her, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart.

the little girl giggles and reaches out towards her father. miguel hands the baby back to her idiot father then resumes looking back at the screens.

“we have important things to discuss so i’m not gonna ask you again, parker, vete.”

“alright, alright. we’re going.” peter raised one hand in surrender. “time to go, sweetheart. say bye to uncle miguel and the pretty butterfly lady!”

“bye, preciosa.” you wave her, smiling.

the father and daughter duo wave goodbye before swinging off, leaving you and miguel alone. a quiet sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“she’s so damn cute. you really do have a soft spot for her, i don’t blame you.”

he isn’t facing you but you can tell he rolled his eyes.

“let’s focus on your universe, alright?”

tapping one of the screens, miguel widens it with his fingers to reveal a clearer image of your universe. beside it is information about your dimension. seeing your home tiggers a tiny teaspoon of homesickness. despite the cool futuristic atmosphere here, you do miss your cottage and beautiful gardens.

“like i mentioned before, using this watch will let you return to your universe and travel to others.”

miguel explains how the watch works and provides a demonstration with his own. with a few taps, a colorful portal appears. now it was your turn. following his instructions, you add information of your dimension and manage to create a portal.

“wow, this is crazy shit.” you softly chuckle, admiring the colorful portal.

miguel would offer a small smile but he just stands there feeling a bit… disappointed. there shouldn’t a reason to be. you needed to return back to your universe and it was time. it’s the right thing to do so why is he feeling so hesitant about it?

was it too soon? no, you’ve been here long enough and you need to head home. probably your family and friends are desperately waiting for your return after your disappearance. miguel doesn’t want them to wait any longer, nevertheless you.

despite that strange achy feeling lingering in his chest, miguel prepares himself to say goodbye.

even if he doesn’t really want to.

“wanna come see?”

miguel snaps out of those strange thoughts at your question, his eyes widening in surprise.

“what?”

“do you wanna come see my universe? since you’ve never knew of it before and i know you’re desperately curious about it, come see it.”

the brunette stands there speechless, astonished by your suggestion. should he visit your universe? it’s true, he is very curious since he never knew of its existence. but he can’t leave HQ. what if he is needed for an important mission? what if a canon disturbance occurs? he can’t leave the multiverse unattended, his number one responsibility.

but his curiosity gets the best of him.

besides, one tiny visit doesn’t hurt.

letting out a heavy sigh, miguel accepts. “alright, fine but just for a few minutes.”

your eyes light up and wings flutter happily. “trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“lyla, place jess under temporary leadership until i return and notify me of any emergencies.”

“aye aye, captain grumpy bug.” the little ai magically appears near his shoulder with a salute, earning a frown from her boss before disappearing.

a few quiet grumbles left his lips before beginning to walk towards the portal.

“ready, captain grumpy bug?” you tease.

his expression falls flat, passing by you. “move it.”

mythical was really the perfect word to describe your universe because wow… everything is just… exactly that word and miguel is utterly astonished. he has seen many universes, all in variations and certainly this one is definitely one of the most beautiful ones to ever exist. architecture decorated with blossoming flowers and rich green vines. by his knowledge, it resembles ancient greek architecture. all of nature glowing beautifully under the vibrant shinning sun. everything is just so ethereal and… peaceful.

you notice his astonished expression, even through the mask because he hasn’t said a word since you arrived and you can’t help but smile.

“that speechless, huh?”

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. “it’s just… really mythical, like i predicted.”

“major difference, huh?”

oh an insane fucking contrast with his universe. incredibly futuristic and solely based on heavily advanced technology. pretty much everything is on a screen. unlike your universe where is purely nature. flowers and vines everywhere. although he’s used to living in his futuristic world, miguel can’t deny how calm he feels being in your universe. like suddenly the worries of the multiverse vanished.

“well, wanna check it out?”

miguel snaps out of thought. “i don’t see why not.”

a tiny smile graces your lips before your wings begin fluttering and you’re raising in the air. “just follow me and maybe wanna try to keep up with me.”

he didn’t have a chance to respond when you suddenly take off and fly away. miguel realizes this is the first time he sees you flying. seeing those pretty wings of yours fluttering and you flying gracefully in the air. the man stands there like an idiot staring in brief awe before he realizes you’re far ahead and soon catches up by swinging after you.

while flying and swinging around, you give miguel a tour of your world. showing him significant buildings, statues, and sites. the spider-man continues to be more mesmerized by your mythical world. it was fun explaining everything to someone new, it feels refreshing and you enjoy it. but what really got you smiling is watching miguel trying to catch up to you, swinging around, shooting his orange webs at the nearest tree or building. another fun thing is flying around with someone who isn’t a butterfly, a different hybrid, nevertheless a spider. just seeing that flash of red and blue, a major contrast to the pastel of your world, is pretty amusing.

after enough show and tell, you lure miguel to your cottage. a cute tiny cottage in a secluded area and a garden completely surrounding it. miguel figured your home would be a cottage of some sort, nevertheless it’s pretty cute.

“beautiful home.”

just like the owner.

wait… did he just?

no, miguel didn’t mean it like that! okay, well- you are a beautiful woman and your home is beautiful. it doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you.

or is he and in complete denial?

he shakes the stupid thoughts away.

“thanks, it’s my favorite place ever. it’s even cuter on the inside.” you flying gracefully towards the front door before landing on your feet, unlocking and opening the door. “just watch your head.”

miguel ducks slightly due to both his abnormal height and how short the door is, assumingely accustomed to you. his eyes widen in astonished by the soft, decorative interior of your home. the natural light of sun making the interior glow ethereally. everything about it seems so cozy.

“this is… the most coziest place i’ve ever been in.” those crimson eyes glance around the interior.

“glad to know.” a soft chuckle slips through your lips. “now, imma go change real quick because i can’t stand these jeans any longer. make yourself feel comfortable, just give me a sec.”

miguel nods as he watches you fly over to where he assumes is your bedroom before continuing to glance around your home. basking in the cozy atmosphere of your little cottage.

not only it feels cozy but feels like… you.

it’s that even a description?

honestly, miguel doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

“do you want anything?”

his head turns in your direction, then suddenly his pupils dilate immensely. you come back wearing a pretty flowy dress that barely passes your thighs, exposing your legs to him. a pair of sparkly laced heels of the same color as the dress, the straps adored around your calfs so gracefully. his heart suddenly beats quickly. a rush of warmth spreads through his face and chest. a small outfit change and it effects him significantly. well, you are a beautiful woman and that dress looks stunning on you. it’s just simple attraction, a man finding a woman beautiful. no other reason why he’s feeling like this, right?

“hellooo…?”

shit, miguel must’ve looked like a goddamn idiot for staring. “uh- sorry. what did you say?” he awkwardly clears his throat, sallowing the embarrassment.

a cheeky smile graces your lips at his bashful but let it slide. “do you want anything? food or a drink? i got water, strawberry lemonade.” you fly over to the tiny kitchen, searching for a drink of your own.

“oh uh… water is fine, gracias.”

while you fetch him a glass, miguel feels something by his feet. looking down, there is a tiny light brown fluff ball. it’s a rabbit. the tiny creature sniffs at his feet. he stares down at it in amusement.

as you hand miguel the glass of water and want a quiet thank you from him, your eyes follow his eyes and notice your bunny.

“seems like you met bella and she already likes you.”

“hmm… glad she approves.”

bringing the glass to his face, the lower half of his mask disintegrates. revealing those very plump lips that make your eyes widen in bewilderment.

“i don’t wanna overstep boundaries but…” you lean over the counter, elbows rested on the surface and chin in your palms. “how come you never shown you face? i’ve seen all the other spiderpeople’s but not yours. but if it’s a privacy thing then i totally get it.”

miguel ponders for a moment, slowly placing down the glass of water on the counter.

why hasn’t shown his face? sure, there are times when he leaves his mask on but mostly he has it off. it mainly depends on his mood. now thinking about it, even peter and jessica asked the same question before. a simple grumble was his usual answer before walking away. but why did he kept it on?

without saying anything, miguel exhales quietly then allows the rest of his mask to disintegrate.

your pupils dilate drastically.

chocolate fluff of hair. the thickest eyebrows and sharpest cheekbones know to man. so sharp that you could get a paper cute if your drag your finger over it. those very plump lips that make your eyes linger a little too long than usual. but what truly captures your attention is those scarlet orbs.

never have you seen red eyes on someone. but miguel’s though… they are utterly mesmerizing. it’s a beautiful shade of red. like a rose in your garden. like a ruby hidden deep in a cave of jewels. like a cherry growing outside. that pretty type of red.

“you have pretty eyes.”

those expect eyes widen in surprise.

pretty? you consider his eyes… pretty? those exact horrific red orbs that terrifies anyone he comes into contact with. screaming in terror at how creepy they look. the eyes he loathe every time he sees them in his reflection. the eyes he gained against his will from an evil bastard. the eyes he is forever stuck with and can never gain back those brown eyes that he was born with, that no one was afraid of.

you think they’re pretty?

miguel is utterly speechless, baffled. standing there with a shocked expression like an idiot. he just can’t believe it. not to mention, you’re the first person to say something positive about his eyes.

it’s new… weird… shocking.

“uh… thanks?…” miguel really doesn’t know the correct response to this… compliment. only stands there like the awkward idiot he is.

“also, nice caterpillars for eyebrows.” you chuckle.

his expression falls flat, a deadpan look. “funny.”

“what? i’m just saying, not a bad thing though. it looks like you take care of them so kudos to you.”

you are… alluring.

sudden warmth rises in his cheeks and spreads throughout his body like a virus. miguel noticed he always experience that sensation every time he’s with you, now even more with your strange kind words. it makes his heart leap.

what are you doing to him?

is it you or him?

miguel just blames his body for behaving strangely, despite the fact it only happens with you.

he grabs the glass of water and gulps it down to cool down the heat. “how long have you been living here?” for his sake, he changes subject.

“four years. after living with my parents for years, i decided to have a place of my own. don’t get me wrong, i love them and grew up happily with them, i just always wanted to have my own home. have my own garden that i can grow and spend most of time in. i like my solitude so… here i am in my little cottage.” you glance around your home with a smile.

miguel stares at you in awe and understanding. solitude is something he values, especially now after what… happened. having his own space is a priority, a place of comfort. his has a penthouse but is never there, always occupied at HQ in his office. spend nearly every night there. alone in his solitary, empty and quiet. however, it does get quite lonely sometimes. but miguel is used to it.

“solitude is nice, especially when you have a place to go to find it.” he takes another sip of the water.

“do you have a place?”

he goes quiet for a moment. “supposedly my office, spend most of my time there than my actual home.”

that makes your brows furrowed a little. “a workaholic, huh? i figured.”

“is that obvious, hm?”

“yes, especially with those bags under your eyes.”

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. it’s the truth though.

“you say that’s your place of solitude but you keep working yourself out.”

that silences him, a bit speechless.

“look, i know i barely know you but it’s clear you overwork yourself since you’re a leader. sure, it’s a pain in the ass managing a shit ton of universes and i can’t imagine the stress, but just take a breather. even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

wow… that is some… inspiring words.

you’ve only met recently yet it seems like you know him well enough, like you understand him. miguel had a firm belief no one could understand him, the troubles he faced. he wasn’t like any other spider-man, different in many ways. with all the shitty things he endured, secretly drugged which gifted him horrific abilities and forever changed, lost several people he cared about, lost his beloved daughter from a different universe that he destroyed.

underneath that suit is a broken man.

a broken man forever drowning himself in guilt. overworking himself to the fucking bone until nothing of himself remains.

a broken man no one could fix.

yet… found someone who sees right through him.

there goes the strange warm feeling again. invading his body, coursing through his veins. it’s driving miguel a bit crazy. constantly asking himself why this happens when the real reason stands in front of him.

miguel is too lost in thought to properly answer, staring at you with a blank expression. those crimson orbs stare into your pretty ones before moving on to your wings, which flutter ever so slowly. glimmering in the soft natural light of your home. the mesmerizing sight leaves him in a trance.

like he described you before… alluring.

you’ve been visiting HQ and spending time with miguel in his office. this time, you bring a container of empanadas meant for the big grumpy bug. since he’s told you of his love for the pastry, you decide to make him some as a thank you for rescuing you. originally you thought of making one solely for him but you figured others would want some too. walking down the hallway passing by various spiderpeople and the cells of anomalies, which never fails to amaze you, you reach miguel’s office. his desk appears to be not high in the air this time. flying over to him, you land on the platform and he turns around.

“surprise.” you greet him with a soft smile which makes his heart flutter strangely enough.

“welcome back.” his eyes land on the container in your hands. “what’s that?” he points at it.

you hold it out to him. “empanadas.”

miguel’s eyes widen in surprise. “really?”

“yep, remember i told you i make them? as a thank you for saving my ass, i made them for you.”

there goes that strange fluttering feeling his chest. “you made them… for me?” miguel is utterly shocked, dumbfounded even. you made something for him? it was usual for him to receive gifts.

“of course.” you softly smile. “although, i wasn’t sure if you wanted one or more so i just made a shit ton. if you don’t want them all, i’ll just offer them to others.”

you are… truly are alluring… and kind to him, of all people. like mentioned before, miguel has never received anything for his duties. sure, he has saved numerous lives and a simple thank you would suffice, or sometimes earn insults due to his grumpy demeanor, then he’d carry on with his day. receiving gifts especially something he loves is strange to him because it’s never happened before. you made him something out of the kindness of your heart.

“i uh… thank you.” he gingerly takes the container from you, still in complete shock and awe.

the man was utterly speechless.

something you mange to do.

another day you visit but miguel is currently on a mission. instead of waiting for him in his office which sounds dreadful, you decide to stroll around the society. meet new spiderpeople and create friends. you bumped into the spider teens, had a little conversation before they had to leave for missions or return to their universes. you continue meeting others until one certain spider-man capture your attention. a cowboy spider-man variant.

web-slinger.

the cowboy is quite charming and a little flirt. although you can’t see much of his face, it’s clear that he is attractive. his voice gives it away. not to mention that western accent. a casual conversation, him sharing stories of his universe, background, villains he fought and captured, occasional flirting here and there. you also learned his name is patrick. everything about him is so intriguing. he even offers you to ride with him on his horse. how can you refuse such a cool offer? although you can fly up to the saddle, you wanted patrick to lift you up. a shy smile graces your lips as he puts on his hands on your waist and lifts you up on the saddle so effortlessly. he hops on and you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist as you begin riding together.

after a long ass mission which almost caused him to rip off a head of a peter parker variant, miguel is on his way back to his office. walking down the hallway, he continues his journey back until he notices a familiar pretty pair of wings from a distance. miguel picks up speed, a bit too excitingly, until he stops and fully realizes the scene in front of him. you horseback riding with web-slinger. smiling and giggling to whatever the cowboy variant was babbling about. an uncomfortable feeling settles in his chest, almost like an ache.

why is miguel feeling like this?

but the longer he stares at you with web-slinger, the achy feeling grows stronger. miguel doesn’t like that. he shouldn’t feel anything from a simple interaction between you and a colleague miguel tolerates. in fact, web-slinger is one of the very few spiderpeople miguel likes and gets along with. but now seeing you with him, that feeling changes.

the sweet contagious sound of your laughter reaches his ears. it appears whatever the cowboy was telling you had you in high spirits. the sight makes miguel frown and clench his jaw. sure, patrick can toss a can joke here and there but he isn’t that humorous. what could he be possibly telling you to make you laugh and smile like that? but the more important question is why does miguel want to know? why does he feel this way? it doesn’t make any sense.

but that achy feeling doesn’t fade away.

maybe is because miguel secretly wishes it was him making you laugh like that? secretly wishes it was him hanging out with you?

is he jealous?

no, that would be crazy. miguel isn’t jealous, that is ridiculous. he is the goddamn leader of the spider society, he can’t feel jealous over a colleague who is being graced by your company and get to be the one making you laugh and smile. no, that’s stupid.

miguel shakes his head and walks away. however, much to his dismay, that achy feeling never faded with each step he took back to his office.

since then, you and miguel became interestingly close. a bond blossomed between you two. with your own watch, you visited HQ several times a week and always end up in his office when miguel is there. when he is on missions, you’d either wait in his office or hang out with other spiderpeople in the meantime. when are together, you’d discuss about your universe, the multiverse, funny stories, and personal experiences. just a simple conversation between friends, even if you don’t have an official title for your relationship. friends seems reasonable, although it feels more than and others agree with that.

stand too close towards one another. the back of yours hands briefly touching each other. looking at each other a little too longer while the other isn’t looking. it was more than the average friends experience, it was way too… intimate.

it was all fine until miguel began to realize how exactly close you are and it frightened him. that warm feeling every time he’s around you, it grows worse. just you merely in his presence, even standing a feet from him makes his skin warm. when your hands briefly touch, feel your breath against him, hear that pretty voice, look into those gorgeous eyes, linger on those very pretty lips a little too long, admire your wings when you aren’t looking.

but what drives him absolutely insane is the soft glint in your eyes every time you look up at him, the way you say his name so angelically, smiling so beautifully. all of it makes his heart beat like fucking crazy. just a touch of your skin against him lights his body on fire. how heavenly you say his name that makes him want to hear it over and over.

it’s driving him crazy.

you are driving him crazy.

not a day does by without you plaguing his every thought. his mind is constantly about you. no matter what, it automatically goes to you. it’s so bad that miguel struggles a bit to concentrate on missions. visions of those beautiful wings, fluttering so gracefully. those pretty lashes fluttering whenever your gorgeous eyes look up into his crimson ones, those eyes he secretly adores dearly. those damn pretty lips, taunting him as if begging for his own. miguel can’t even fucking sleep without thinking about you, constantly dreaming of you.

not only you plague his mind but negative thoughts as well. shitty little voices in his mind telling him that you’re too good for him, he is undeserving of you. you are the most beautiful woman, the human embodiment of beauty. nevertheless a goddamn butterfly, one of the most gorgeous creatures. miguel is this horrible creature, a monster. cursed with terrifying red eyes, talons, and piercing fangs.

it’s impossible to love a beast like him. how could you love those terrifying red eyes, talons, and fangs? how can he look at you in the eye? those scarlet orbs filled with such pain and regret staring into those beautiful ones filled with happiness. how can he ever touch you without those stupid talons piercing your celestial skin? how he can ever kiss you without those fangs cutting your lip and making you bleed?

how can someone so beautiful like you could ever fall for a beast like him?

you’re a butterfly and he’s a spider.

a spider and a butterfly don’t fit together. one is beautiful and the other is horrifying.

this isn’t right, thinking of you like this. miguel shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. he shouldn’t feel anything for you. he shouldn’t feel anything for anyone. the icy walls of his broken heart must remain strong, not allow anyone to melt it down. miguel can’t allow himself to grow close to someone. he can’t develop attachment. after losing too many people he cared about, he can’t allow it to happen again. he can’t allow himself to be vulnerable.

so there is only one solution: to shut down.

it was like flipping a switch. miguel is known for being cold towards some people, but now he is a complete fucking asshole. but most importantly, or unfortunately, an asshole towards you. that calm, chill, friendly demeanor suddenly vanished and replaced with a shitty attitude. whenever you greet him, miguel won’t respond or barely acknowledge you. instead will stare at those stupid screens or walk away silently. ask him a simple question and he will snap at you. scarlet irises glaring down at you before looking away. a few grumbles slip from his lips. when you try reaching out for his hand, he would shove or move away from your attempt.

underneath that coldness, it pains him to hurt you like this. you don’t deserve to be treated so shitty, you never did anything wrong. however, miguel doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t deserve your kindness. he doesn’t deserve happiness. every time he sees those gorgeous eyes filled with hurt, it’s like a stab to the heart. but miguel solely believes that it’s best for you to hate him. no matter how much it hurts him to treat you so terribly.

the sudden change confused you. one minute you’re getting along then he’s snapping at you and giving you the cold shoulder. honestly, it hurts you. you truly believed there was a bond. everything was going so well until it was all suddenly thrown out the window and miguel behaving as if he despises your entire being. at first, you tried to be understanding and thought he was going through something and it’ll eventually past but it never did.

that’s when you finally had enough.

with a pissed off look on your face, you fly up to his desk. his broad back is faced to you, staring at those stupid screens like always. the sight alone pisses you off more because he knew you’re here.

“what the fuck is going with you?”

the tall brunette focuses on the screens, not bothering to turn and face you. mentally cursing at himself, knowing this was coming.

“oye, estoy hablando.” you approach his side and attempt to touch his arm but a strong hand stops you swiftly, making you gasp a little.

“no me toques.” he still refuses to look at you.

you yanked your hand from his tight grip. “what the fuck is up with you? why are you acting such a fucking dick? i thought we were cool.”

miguel scoffs and roll his eyes. “leave.”

his dismissive behavior pisses you off more. “no, answer the damn questions.”

“i’m not obligated to answer to you. now leave before you’ll make me do something i’ll regret.”

“what the fuck, miguel?! what happened?! why are you being such an asshole?!” you cry. “did i do something? i thought we were friends.”

miguel doesn’t miss the little voice crack in your tone, making his heart ache with guilt.

“friends?” the bastard scoffs again, finally turns to look at you with a glare. “i don’t do friends. we were never friends, should never have been friends or whatever you thought this was. it was a mistake.”

that last phrase shatters your heart.

miguel saw it, the hurt in your eyes the moment those vicious words left his lips.

“a mistake?…” you didn’t care about the voice cracks anymore. a thin layer of tears begin prickling in your eyes. “so it was all a lie? all for nothing, huh?”

“yes and it was pointless. i’m dealing with life-threatening problems and i can’t afford distractions.”

distractions? you are a distraction?

another stab to the heart.

“are you fucking serious? if it was pointless, then why the fuck did you let me visit here?”

“to gain information about your universe, nothing more. you were just a pawn.”

it was all a lie.

“you… you used me?… to gain information?!” those tears finally escape. “you fucking asshole! i trusted you! i cared about you! i thought we were—”

“we are NOTHING!” miguel shouts, making you flinch. “there was never anything between us! you are nothing more than a dumb little insect and live in your own fucking fantasy world.”

all of that slipped out of his mouth before miguel could fully comprehend what he just said. that he realized he fucked up so badly.

your heart completely shatters.

tears spill uncontrollably down your cheeks, causing your glossy vision. for the first time in your life, you’ve finally experienced what heartbreak is.

it was all a lie. the bond between you two was nothing but a game to him. miguel only used you to gain meaningless information. all the moments you spend together meant nothing to him. all the memories and secrets you shared with him didn’t mean shit. it was all white noise to him. miguel was the only person who made you feel comfortable with and in the end never cared about you at all. all of it meant everything to you but nothing to him.

it was pure lies.

besides the terrible heartbreak, anger began to boil in your veins. a frown settles on your face, heavily glaring up at the bastard through glossy eyes that makes miguel piss his pants.

those teary eyes of pain makes miguel realize what he has done. went too far and made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

there was nothing else to say to him, just glaring at him with pure hatred. with a few taps on the watch, you open a portal behind you. miguel’s eyes widen in shock and realization at what you’re about to do.

“wait- don’t, please-”

miguel reaches out with a hand but is too late when you quickly turn around and walk through the portal without saying anything. yanking off the watch before the portal vanishes right after you, leaving a heartbroken miguel in the room.

miguel didn’t reach you in time and curses quietly. those scarlet eyes land on the abandoned watch on the floor with a remorseful look before slowly crouching to pick it up. with a frustrated scream, miguel smashes his desk with strong fists, creating large heavy indents almost breaking it. hunched over it and using one hand rubbing his eyes, feeing the tears of guilt and regret fall uncontrollably.

he made the biggest mistake.

he never hated himself more than ever.

he fucked up the one good thing in his life.

what has he done?

it’s been a week since the fiasco with miguel. a week of heartbreak and it fucking sucks. most days and nights of endless tears. the little walls of your cottage concealed all of your sobs. they witness the tears, wails, swearing, all sounds of heartbreak.

you just can’t believe it… you truly believed you and miguel were friends, or close in some sense. there was a spark between you two, you felt it for certain. whenever he was near, your heart never beat so quickly and a rush of warmth spread through your body. a simple touch of his hand made your mind haywire. most days your mind was occupied with thoughts of him. at first, it felt like a friendship but then blossomed into something more. you grew very fond of the handsome grumpy spider. after spending much time with him, you would come home with a loopy smile and rapid beating heart. miguel made you feel something you’ve never felt before. never have you felt this way about someone else. no one has made you feel the way miguel did.

but he made you feel that way just for scheming. miguel never actually cared about you, never felt the same way you did for him. it was all a game to him. played with your heart to gain what he desired. toyed with your emotions and tricked you into believing he cared. a man played you and you hate yourself for that. you truly believed underneath that coldness there was kindness in his heart. but it turns out it was coldness after all. not an ounce of compassion in that cold heart of his, only manipulation.

you hate miguel, with every fiber of your being.

the immense pain he caused you is unforgivable and your opinion of him is forever changed. he is not the caring person you once thought he was. actually, a manipulative fucking asshole.

honestly, you shouldn’t be crying over that asshole. he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your emotions. he doesn’t deserve to be cried over.

fuck him, he can go fuck himself.

after spending much time in the garden, you head back inside to retire for the rest of the day. entering the cottage, a yelp erupts from your throat when you find a large tall man clad in a familiar red and blue suit standing in the middle of the living room. causing you to drop the mug you had on the floor, shattering into little pieces near your feet.

“shit! are you—” miguel panics and rushes over immediately but you quickly back away from him, causing his heart to ache.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you glare at the bastard, eyes filled with hurt and anger.

“i need to talk to you but are you hurt?” he avoids the shattered pieces on the floor as miguel tries reaching out to you with a cautious hand but you continue backing away from him.

“don’t fucking touch me.” you snap and miguel backs off, a remorseful expression on his face.

“perdóname, i-i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“get out.”

his brows furrowed sadly, pleadingly. “please, let me help you clean it up.”

“you’ve already fucked things up enough, it’s what you’re good at.”

that was a low blow but deservingly so.

“por favor—”

“GET OUT!”

miguel goes silent, observing the heaving of your chest and pissed off expression settled on your face. he hasn’t apologized yet and already pissing you off. great, things are already going to shit.

“i don’t care about your help or what you need to say! just get the fuck out of my home!”

you have every right to be angry with him but miguel can’t leave without apologizing. he can’t live with himself without letting you know how much he regrets saying those vile things to you and hurting you. he would never forgive himself.

he whispers your name so gently it pains you. “i know you hate me and have every right to be. i was an asshole and i hate myself for it. just please… i need to tell you how sorry i am.”

“you think you have the fucking audacity to invade my home and try to apologize after what you did to me? un-fucking-believable, fuck you.”

he winces at that, deserving every ounce of your anger. “i know, i’m an idiot but i can’t live without telling you how much i regret those things i said.”

you huff sadly, feeling tears prickle in your eyes for the nth time. “just leave, miguel. you already caused me enough pain, i don’t want anymore.”

what feels like an anvil lands on his chest, crushing his heart. miguel can not only see the pain in your eyes but hear it in your voice too. completely exhausted and wished to be left alone. what has he done? the self-loathing grows stronger.

“i… lo siento mucho, mariposa.” his voice goes quiet, averting his gaze from yours, too ashamed to look at those beautiful eyes. “i’m so sorry for hurting you. i know you won’t forgive me and i don’t expect you to, hell i don’t deserve it. it’s just…”

your brows furrowed, still pissed off but attentive. also the pet name did not go unnoticed which made your heart flutter, despite how much anger it holds.

“the reason why i yelled at you was because i scared.” your frown deepens in confusion but you remain silent, allowing him to continue. “this is gonna sound cheesy but… you made me feel… things i haven’t felt for someone in a long time. cuando estoy contigo, i feel… different, like warm and it drives me insane, it scares me.”

you remain silent, a bit speechless. you make him feel things he’s never felt before and it scares him? is that a good thing or bad thing?

“it scares me because i care about you, more than i should, more than the average… friend.”

now you’re truly speechless.

is he saying…?

“everyone i cared about, i lost them and i couldn’t lose you. i was afraid of losing you. it’s why i can’t allow myself to be vulnerable, can’t grow attach to someone without the fear of losing them.”

you knew of miguel’s troubled past. dysfunctional family, toxic relationships, and the lost of his daughter from a different universe. he was just a broken man with a broken past. lost everything and everyone, suffered from too much pain, scarred him for life. that is why his heart is so heavily guarded. the fear of vulnerability. a shitty ass feeling.

“that’s why i pushed you away, acted like an asshole to you. i thought that making you hate me would protect you from me, that i wouldn’t lose you either but i did anyway…” a look of guilt and shame flashes across his face, shoulders sagged. “i know i can’t take back those horrible words and i forever hate myself for hurting you. please believe me that i never meant any of it. you are not a dumb insect, you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever met and your universe is the most fascinating one i’ve seen.” he finally turns to look at you. “you weren’t a pawn, i didn’t used you for gain information. i valued our conversations, our bond or friendship, every single moment. every story, memory, laugh, smile means everything to me. you mean everything to me.”

shock, overwhelmed, speechless, and flattery were what you were feeling from all of this sudden information. not to mention the skipping of your heart beat at that final phrase.

“not a single day goes by without thinking about you. no matter what i’m fucking doing, my mind directly goes to you.” miguel confesses sincerely, scarlet eyes boring into your pretty ones intensely, making your heart beat fast. “but the more i thought about you, the more i felt undeserving of you.”

your brows furrowed confusingly. “what do you mean ‘undeserving of me’?”

the spider-man sighs frustratingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “how could you, someone so beautiful, love a monster like me?”

your heart shatters at that. how could he think of himself like that? “miguel, you’re not a monster.”

“¡mírame!” he shouts that sounds almost like a cry, fangs and talons out in their full glory. “you’re saying these don’t make me a monster? anyone who looks at me, my eyes, my fangs, my talons, always have a look of horror in their eyes. begging me not to hurt them before running away as fast as possible. i know i’m not like the others, i know i don’t have a bite. the rapture and my reflection remind me everyday.”

your heat aches terribly for this poor man. he has gone through so much. can’t even imagine his suffering, the look of horror he endured from others while trying to save the day. all you want to do is pull him into yours arms and hug him tightly.

“how can anyone fall for this?” he gestures at himself as if he is nothing. “no one will.” his eyes avert from yours, looking away in shame.

it’s silent for a moment until you finally speak.

“you’re wrong, miguel.”

the male looks back at you with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed.

you decide to take a leap of faith, literally, taking a step towards him. “anyone can fall for you. i know everyone sees you as this big scary, grumpy guy and will literally shit their pants the moment they see you but… they don’t know the real man behind it all.”

miguel simply stares at you in awe and begin to feel his heart beating faster by the minute.

“they may see you as this scary guy but i see a man with a broken past.”

that sentence alone shattered him.

“i know you went through so much shit in the past and i will never know what it’s like but i do understand why you are the way you are. you push away people because people have pushed you away. you protect yourself from getting hurt again. from what you’ve been through, it’s understandable. but just know that there are people who care about you. i know i can’t take away your fears but know that it’s okay to be vulnerable. don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to open up to someone, to be comfortable with someone. it’s scary and that’s okay. it takes time, just take small steps but only when you feel ready.”

miguel is utterly speechless, staring at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. heart pumping rapidly with intense emotion, something you never fail to do to him. those doubts and fears slowly vanish by your words of comfort and reassurance. no one has ever spoken to him about his issues and fears. hell, miguel never talked to anyone yet you can see right through him. never thought it would be you yet… glad it is you because miguel wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. he fell first but fell even harder.

“miguel, you are the most interesting person i’ve ever met. anyone could fall for you.” you confess with a heartily chuckle. “sure, you are the most stubborn grumpy person ever,” that earns you a low chuckle and an eye roll from him, making you smile. “but really you are a very caring, passionate person. that could make anyone fall for you.”

he was falling harder by the minute. heart pounding in his chest like a drum. those sweet words were melting down the icy walls concealing his broken heart. he was breaking apart, in a good way.

“honestly, i think your fangs, talons, and red eyes are fucking cool. i mean shit- even i’m jealous of your eyes because i want red eyes or at least have rare colored eyes, that is cool as fuck. your talons and fangs makes you badass. and guess what? no one else has them, only you. you are unique.”

you made him fall in love with you even more.

“té quiero.”

you’re taken aback by his response, visibly dumbfounded. “w-what?”

those gorgeous crimson orbs remain locked on yours as miguel slowly makes his way towards you, being mindful of the shattered mug pieces that he intends on cleaning up later, until he towers over you. broad bodies merely touching, no space left in between. his hot, heavy breath fanning over your forehead. your neck crane all the way up just to meet his intense gaze. the close proximity makes your heart beat crazy with anticipation and lashes flutter.

“everything i said about you is true. besides apologizing, i wanted to tell you my feelings, even if you don’t feel the same. i needed you to know because i can’t live without you not knowing.”

due to your lack of response, miguel begin to panic a little. did he went too far? was it too much? he was about to step back when he’s suddenly yanked down and his lips meets yours. with all the height you had left, you reached for his face and yanked him down for the kiss you’ve been waiting for. his whole body is basically bent over just to reach you due to the height difference but miguel doesn’t really give a fuck about the back pain, too busy feeling those soft pretty lips of yours after waiting for so long.

instinctively, his hands grip onto your hips and give them a few gentle squeezes then slowly roam around your body, mindful of your wings. he has only touched you for a few seconds and you’re already putty in his hold. shivering at the addictive sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin. damn his hands feel so good. so big and rough. giving into his desires, miguel gets a bit more touchy. calloused hands gently groping your curves, eliciting soft little moans which makes his core ache.

the kiss grows more spicier. hands grouping each other’s bodies, soft moans and groans mingled in the hot air. miguel is too lost into the kiss until he feels you moving upward, causing him to stand up straight which confuses him for a second. breaking away from the kiss, miguel finds you lingering in the air. gorgeous wings fluttering in the air.

“the perks of having wings is that i can fly up to your level.” you wrap your arms around his thick neck, finally get the chance to. “save you the back pain.”

that elicits a light chuckle from him. “appreciate the help.” his broad hands capture your waist as miguel leans in for another kiss, which you happily accept.

much to his dismay, you part away from his lips, earning a cute little pout from him. god he is so precious. miguel tries to reach your lips but you keep backing away from him, making him frown cutely.

“mariposa…” he whines softly.

“follow me.” you whisper against his lips, a hint of seductiveness in your tone that makes miguel’s cock twitch in his now slightly tight suit.

you two stare at each other for a moment before you let go of his face and begin flying away, towards the direction of presumingly your bedroom. a shiver of anticipation travels down his spine. the throbbing sensation in his core increases annoyingly. as if you hypothesized him, miguel follows you to the room. his lust-clouded mind carrying his feet.

“joder…”

his jaw slacks at the sight in front of him. you sitting so prettily in the center of your bed with those big beautiful eyes with a seductive glint in them. enthralling wings expanded out. that pretty dress on you hugging your curves, the hem raised up to those mesmerizing thighs due to your posture, leaving your gorgeous legs exposed to his hungry gaze.

like a dessert on displayed to be devoured.

god, you’re gonna be the death of him.

miguel can feel his cock strained in his suit uncomfortably. the man is hard as a fucking rock. only you make him feel this way. those piercing crimson eyes stare you down, like a predator staking his prey. as if you are caught in his web. a pretty butterfly trapped in a spider’s web. the thought makes your thighs squeeze instinctively, clit pulsating terribly. miguel slowly climbs up the bed until he is hovering over your small frame. causing you to lay back on the plush mattress and silk sheets, trapped underneath his mesmerizing muscular frame, settled in between your legs.

miguel takes a moment to admire your pretty form underneath him before leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. instinctively, your fingers dig into his chocolate locks. the addictive sensation elicits a groan from him. just you playing with his hair makes him putty. calloused hands gently grope your curves, earning those cute little moans. his lips leave a trail from your lips, jawline, down into the crook of your neck. one hand dangled in his hair and the other gripping onto his bulky shoulder. the bulging muscles under your fingertips. god, you have been dying to feel them. his hands continue roaming and groping your body as miguel leaves needy kisses on your neck with the intention of marking you.

but miguel then suddenly realizes you’re laying on your wings, which probably feels uncomfortable. “shit- your wings.” quickly moving away from your neck, miguel swiftly sits up to give you space.

“no no no, it’s okay.” you quickly sit up as well and cup his face. “they don’t hurt when i lie down.”

miguel doesn’t protest, still a bit concerned but believes you. his gaze lingers on your wings glimmering in the dark, utterly mesmerized. for a while, you’ve notice his stare at your wings. during a conversation, you notice how his eyes would switch from your eyes to your wings and linger on them a little longer than usual. he always got that look in his eyes, an appetite. it always sent a jolt of excitement through your body. honestly, it’s kinda cute.

“you like them a lot.” you decide to tease him, briefly glancing at your wings then back at him.

“well, they’re very pretty.” his gaze on your wings never falters, utterly enthralled. subconsciously, one of his hands briefly reaches towards one wing but ultimately stops when he realizes what he’s doing.

“you can touch them.”

his eyes snap back at you, a surprise expression illustrated on his face. “are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you.” it’s that last thing he wants to do.

you nod reassuringly, caressing his cheeks. “yeah, just be careful because they’re sensitive.”

that ignited a spark inside him.

sincerely looking at you to make sure you were completely okay with this, miguel gets off the bed and stands at the edge, leaving you confused.

“turn around for me.”

your heart skips a beat at his request and makes your thighs squeeze. obeying his command, you scoot towards the edge of the bed and turn around, sitting on your knees, your wings presented to him. a rush of anticipation flows through your veins, wondering what he has in store for your delicate wings.

a gasp falls from your lips when you feel one of miguel’s hands touching one wing every so gently. his touch so soft and gentle. the sensation sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. his fingers gently trace of the pretty patterns, taking in every little detail as if trying to memorize them all. he’s just simply lost in those pretty patterns and colors. he can admire your wings everyday. soon, miguel starts using both hands and caress your delicate wings. each touch earns him those cute soft noises that make his cock twitch terribly. the way your body slightly twitches when he touches your wings in a certain manner. back slightly arching, body shivering, goosebumps coated over your skin.

“very sensitive, are you, hermosa?” that low seductive tone makes your clit throb terribly.

“they’re the most vulnerable part of me.”

“hmm…” miguel hums lowly, slowly trailing up his hands to the top of your wings then to the bottom. eliciting another gasp from you. “i can see, especially when you arch that pretty back just by running my fingers here.” he traces over the patterns again, earning another soft gasp and back arched.

the sight makes him smirk smugly. god you are so adorable, utterly beautiful. how responsive you are to his touch, even if it’s light like a feather.

“the more i touch, the more pretty sounds you make.” miguel decided to be bold and carefully grab your hindwings before tugging them back every so gently, not enough to hurt you of course.

a moan erupts from your throat, arching your back. holy fuck, that was unexpected but felt so fucking good, like a little stretch. miguel’s ears perk up at the pretty sound, cock twitching excitedly. time to conduct an experiment, like the scientist he is.

“you like that, hermosa?” seduction laced in his tone.

“y-yes, do it again~” you sound so needy, desperate to feel that addictive sensation once more. pussy throbbing with want and desperation. you can feel the pool flooding in your panties.

fuck, that sweet needy tone drives he fucking crazy. honestly, miguel doesn’t know how much longer he can last without busting inside his suit, when he rather much do that inside that pretty cunt of yours that is most definitely wet, all because of him. the nasty thought makes his cock twitch. ever so gently but with a tiny ounce of pressure, those calloused hands play and stroke your delicate pretty wings. each touch earns him more of those heavenly sounds that is pure music to his ears. miguel grows more handsy, continues playing with your wings while his right hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you against his broad chest. the action makes you gasp, arching your back right against him.

“estas tan bontia.” that elicits a soft whine, making him chuckle softly. “the prettiest butterfly i’ve ever seen. the most beautiful set of wings.” he whispers as miguel gently strokes one forewing, making you moan softly. “mi hermosa mariposa.”

your heart flutters at that, mind going haywire.

you’re his beautiful butterfly.

the spider’s butterfly.

“m-miguel~”

he shushes you so gently, caressing your tummy as reassurance with his other hand. “you drive me crazy, ever since i met you. all i could think about was those pretty eyes, lips, wings, thighs…” another gently stroke of your forewing while his hand on your belly slowly trails down your body, dangerously close towards your throbbing core, in your inner thighs.

“f-fuck…” you couldn’t resist a moan.

he really thought about you all this time? sure, there was chemistry that many people noticed. you just weren’t sure miguel was actually into you since he was a closed off person, especially with his troubled past. but now knowing his constant thoughts of you, it’s unbelievable but a relief that he feels the same.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable. you needed this man desperately or else you’re gonna explode. with a groan, you break out of his hold, swiftly turn around to cup his face and yank him down with you on the bed with your lips pressed against his in a desperate kiss. miguel releases a surprised groan but ultimately gives in and hovers over you. he resumes his kissing trails over your body from earlier. leaves a few on your delicate neck before moving down to your covered breasts and makes out with them through the fabric of your dress. big hands kneading and squeezing the squishy fat. your fingers digging in those cute brown locks as moans escape your lips at the addictive sensation. his plump lips leave a trail of kisses down your body, giving your tummy a few pecks before reaching the hem of your dress, directly at your clothed pussy. the sweet scent of your arousal invade his senses, making his mind go haywire.

“that sweet fucking scent, drives me crazy, hermosa.” with a quick nod from you, miguel lifts the hem of your dress revealing your pretty panties to his hungry eyes. pressing his face against your clothed cunt, he inhales your scent a little too eagerly.

“miguel, please~” you moan, your needy fingers gripping on his hair as a sign.

your neediness makes him chuckle. “relájate, baby. lemme take my time with you.”

“miguel, i need you.” you whine.

“i have to taste you first, preciosa.”

as much as you want that, you really need him because the throbbing is killing you. then, an idea pops into your mind. “what if i sit on your face?”

now that makes him look up at you from in between your thighs with a surprised look. “really?” if he was a dog hybrid, his tail would be wagging excitedly.

“lay on the bed, spider boy.” a hint of seductiveness in your tone, sends a shiver down his spine.

miguel doesn’t hesitate to follow your command and lays down on the bed, switching places with you. your thighs on either of his face and hands rested on the headboard. his pupils dilate drastically when your clothed cunt is right above his face, merely inches away. without warning, miguel tears off your panties with his talons due to his inpatient behavior.

“miguel!”

“they were in the way.”

he sounds so desperate. needy to munch on your pussy. such a major turn on.

a groan escapes his lips at the sight of your glistening pussy right above him, cock twitching in his suit. oh he’s gonna devour the fuck out of you. just as he’s about to dive in, you quickly move away from his mouth which miguel notices when his lips feels air instead of your pretty pussy.

“what’s wrong? why are you moving away?” a concern look on his face, brows furrowed.

“i don’t wanna crush you.” you admit embarrassingly, gripping onto the headboard.

that concern look was replaced with a dumbfounded one. “preciosa, i want you to crush me. i want you to suffocate me.”

“but what if—”

“por dios, mujer. i want you to sit on my face completely, no hovering around. ¿entiendes?”

“but miguel- OH!”

miguel lost patience by grabbing your hips, yank you down on his face, and immediately goes to town. licking and sucking your clit feverishly. calloused hands gripping into your thighs. all you could is moan loudly, gripping onto the headboard for dear life as this man eats you out like there’s no tomorrow. miguel lets out a muffled groan at the sweet taste of your dripping cunt, slurping it all up as if he found an oasis in the desert. his tongue flicks your precious sensitive pearl, sending your mind haywire and squirm in his strong hold. a loud moan erupts from your throat as miguel’s tongue begins penetrating you, causing your wings to spasm.

“oh miguel!~” your back aches as you ride his tongue, jolts of pleasure shooting throughout your body.

“y-you taste- ugh- so- fucking- sweet.” he moans in between slurps, becoming completely pussydrunk. the tip of his tongue hits angles that you’ve never felt before or even knew existed.

“OH!- oh my god!~”

suddenly, you feel his tongue wiggling inside in a strange way that triggers your sensitivity.

“you like that, baby?” he whispers against your pussy, the vibrations make you shudder.

you nod with a needy moan. complying to your request, miguel continues drawing those patterns with his tongue. each heavenly moan from you encourages him to do more, boosting his ego. he just can’t help it. you taste so fucking sweet, an addictive nectar he can’t get enough of. loud pitchy moans bounce off the walls of your bedroom as you ride miguel’s face to fucking oblivion. your engorged clit rubs perfectly against his big nose, working up your orgasm. while his tongue fucks you mercilessly, he uses one thumb to apply more pressure to your cute little bundle of nerves. the sudden sensation makes you moan loudly, almost like a scream.

“miguel! oh!- please, don’t stop!”

like hell he will stop. the man is so goddamn pussydrunk, he literally is drowning himself in your sweet pussy. miguel can die a happy man in between your thighs. the best way to go out. the more flicks of his tongue and thumb, that warm feeling in your lower belly increases and your moans grow louder and pitchier. before you even know it, you come over his tongue with probably the loudest moan ever, pretty much like a scream. sound like a goddamn whale. back arched and wings spasms as you gush all over his face. like the greedy little shit he is, miguel devours all of your sweet nectar. obscure noises flooded the room, slurping you up like a fucking ice cream sunday. the man is up on cloud nine. your thighs tremble around his head as you begin to feel overstimulated by the never-ending pleasure he is still providing with that devious tongue of his.

“fuck- miguel, stop- too much~” you whine, feeling overstimulated. you swear the headboard would break by your death grip if you had super strength.

finally once he had his fill, miguel releases your poor sensitive pussy with a pop! with a smug ass grin. oh he really enjoyed his dessert. with both hands on your waist, he carefully lowers you down so you can rest on top of him, your head rested on his chest.

“you okay?” he says sweetly, a major contrast to his filthy ass mouth moments ago. his hands rubbing your back for comfort as you recover from your high.

you hum weakly with a nod, nudging your face more into his chest. “you literally ate my fucking soul.”

miguel huffs at that, smiling like the smug bastard he is. “well, i did say you tasted sweet.” that earns him a slap on the chest, making him chuckle.

“you made that perfectly clear.”

he continues chuckling, caressing your back. “it’s the truth, you enjoyed it too.”

“yeah well now it’s time to shut you up because i’m gonna ride the fuck outta your soul.”

miguel does indeed shut up after that, pupils blown and cock twitching in excitement. without even looking at him you know he’s excited, the edges of your lips curled up into a smile as you lift up your head from resting against his chest.

“strip for me, spider boy.”

“jesús bendito…”

you take off your dress, pulling over your head with miguel’s help, who was a little too eager to take it off. just as you take it off and throw it somewhere across the room, you find miguel completely nude underneath you. your pupils dilate immensely at his exposed muscular form. goddamn he’s built like a fucking god and utterly beautiful. but what really catches your attention is his lack of underwear, meaning you are actually sitting on top of his cock.

holy fuck, he is huge.

without even looking, you can feel how big he is. does this mean he’s naked underneath his suit, all the fucking time? oh this sneaky bastard. walking around butt ass naked underneath those pixels. but that explains why his ass look so damn good in his suit. the man definitely has a dump truck.

once you’re both completely naked, you align yourself with his cock. but instead of sinking yourself onto him, you grind on it which surprised miguel. the veins among his throbbing length rubs perfectly against your clit, providing it perfect friction.

“fuck, hermosa—” miguel groans at the sensation.

“so big, miguelito~ i don’t know if you will even fit.” you lean closer towards his face, a smirk tugging on your lips. “but lets find out.”

yep, you’re the death of him.

gripping onto his chest as support and his hands on your waist, you sink yourself onto his cock. slowly taking inch by inch, feeling the thickness of his length slowly slipping through your tight slick walls, stretching you out. a shared moan lingers in the steamy air as your bodies slowly connect. goddamn this man is huge. you can feel him in your fucking guts. the bulbous tip of his cock resting perfectly against your cervix. it stings but feels so good.

“¿estas bien, chula?” he voice his concerns, taking note of your dazed expression. his thumbs draw soft circles on your hips as comfort.

“y-yeah, you’re just… big… fuck—”

miguel holds back a smug grin, softly chuckling. “when you’re ready, preciosa.”

after giving yourself some time to adjust to his thick length stretching out your walls, your hips begin moving slowly. testing the waters to eventually find a rhythm you like. you move up and down in a slow pace, riding his cock like you desired. fuck, he feels so amazing. each contact of his tip with your cervix sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“oh miguel~” you arch your back, pushing your exposed tits out to his lustful gaze.

he stares in awe of your jiggly tits as you ride him. the way the supple fat jiggle synchronized with your bouncing hips. a feeling of hunger bubbles in miguel’s chest as his hands on your hips to travel up and grope them. squeezing and kneading them, relishing the soft squishy fat in his calloused palms. his fingertips pinch your perky nipped then gently tug them, eliciting a whimper from you.

“asi, bebé, asi.” he praises when your hips pick up pace, finally found a rhythm. his sweet praise did earn him a clench around his cock, making him groan. “fuck- you like that, baby?~”

“uh huh~” you nod dumb, too cockdrunk.

while fondling with your tits, those ruby eyes admire your wings as they flutter and spasm with each bounce. his hands leave your to grab the bottom of your hindwings and give them a tiny tug, causing a moan to escape your lips. oh the little stretch feels good. throwing his head back on the pillow, miguel relishes the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing the life of his cock, making him go insane. his hands travel back to hold your waist as he starts rolling his hips into yours, picking up the pace. obscure noises echo throughout the walls of your little cottage. such a cute, cozy home from the outside but filled with nasty noises inside, such a major contrast.

“ay chingado~” miguel groans as you sinfully circle your hips. god, you’re killing him.

through hooded eyes, you admire his sweaty panting form. the rippling of his muscles with each thrust. those idents and scratches on his chest from your nails. the clenching of his jaw before letting out heavenly groans and moans, a sneak peek of those pearly white fangs. god you can admire him all day, especially underneath you. unfortunately, your legs were giving out due to the burning sensation but luckily miguel’s strong hands on your hips guiding you was a major help. desperate for your lips, miguel sits up to have you right in his lap and wrap his arms around your waist before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. your bodies collided and smushed together, your soft breasts pressed against his broad chest. sallowing each others moans and groans of pleasure as you continue making love.

“miguel~” you throw your head back as his cock hits that sweet spot inside with a deep thrust.

miguel seizes the opportunity to lean in and brush kisses on your exposed neck as he continues pumping not your tight pussy. a gasp falls from your lips as his own takes one of your nipped and suckles on it. instinctively, your chest arches into his greedy mouth to feel more. his tongue flicks the sensitive bud, drawing circles around it then sucks it. he alternatives both breast, sucking one while pinching the other. the sensitive drives you crazy, an infinite amount of moans and whimpers leave your lips as you bounce in his lap. one of his hands reach down in between your bodies, finds your clit and gives it several flicks. the sudden feeling makes you squeal. miguel lets out a groan as you clench around his dick. the attention on your little bundle of nerves and miguel’s cock fucking you so deeply causes your climax to approach quickly. miguel senses his own with each squeeze of your pussy and balls tensing up to prepare a big load for your pretty cunt.

“you’re close, baby. i can feel it. dámelo, bebé.” miguel coos, panting against your pretty face full of ecstasy. god, you look so beautiful.

that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen returns, escalating quickly. with a loud moan of his name and head thrown back, you gush over his cock. miguel groans at the beautiful sight and sensation. his beautiful butterfly reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy. a sight forever ingrained in his mind. with a few more thrusts, you feel his cock twitch before miguel finally comes inside you with a moan of your name. his thick warm seed coating your walls, filling up your womb. you softly whimper at the feeling, so full and filled. you two remain like that, holding onto each other like an embrace, sweaty bodies connected. your synchronized panting echos in the air as you both recover from your highs.

after a few minutes of silent recovery, miguel is the first to speak. “you okay?”

“yeah…” you hum weakly, still fucked out.

it was another few minutes until miguel carefully pulls out and slowly lays back down on the bed taking you with him in his arms. your head rests against his heaving chest, the rapid beating of his heart against your ear. the sound smooths your post-sex mind, making you a bit sleepy. one of his hands rubs your back in a slow gentle manner, providing you some comfort. a peaceful moment enjoying each other’s presence as you recover.

“i meant everything.”

his voice prevents you from falling into slumber.

“huh?”

“my apology, everything i said about you, i meant it.”

lifting your head, you glance up at him with a soft smile. “i know and i meant what i said too.”

miguel mirrors your smile and caresses your cheek with a hand, feeling his heart fluttering.

resting your head back on his chest, you remember to add one thing.

“oh by the way, this doesn’t mean i forgive you. you still a long ass way to go, cabrón.”

a soft chuckles leaves his lips. “i figured.”

but truthfully, miguel will work his ass off to gain your forgiveness. for right now, he just wants to hold you in his arms. perhaps aftercare is the smart thing to do, which he’ll do later, but he just wants to enjoy this peaceful moment with you. holding his beautiful butterfly in his arms and admire her for eternity.

the butterfly caught in the spider’s web.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work