improperly-tagged-posts

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this post is improperly tagged, lacks a readmore, and lacks any previous warnings or even hint at having been nsfw! this is not an attack but an attempt at some friendly tips.

when i started reading, i had no idea it was gonna be as nsfw as it is. nothing wrong with the content, but i could've been a minor or another person uncomfortable with this kind of content- opening you up for harassment or being reported etc, and them up for discomfort or being triggered etc.

i'd recommend that in the future, you at the very least title your work/offer text warnings so nobody reads something they'd rather not engage with - of course it's their responsibility to choose to stop reading, but that doesn't undo that maybe somebody had been triggered by reading far enough to get to the sexual component. i'd also rec proper tagging and maybe using a readmore in the future, which adds a very small sort of 'roadblock' that requires somebody to consciously click in and engage in the rest of the content

"Fuck– Hermosa, por favor." Miguel's large hands gripped the kitchen counter, threatening to snap the very edge off of it as you stood behind him with your face against the rippling muscles of his back and your hands wrapped around his narrow waist with your right hand shoved in his boxers, wrapped firmly around the girth of his cock while the other played with his heavy balls.

His back arched a bit, a shudder running down his spine as you thumbed at the leaky tip of his uncut cock, pulling back his foreskin and playing with the sensitive head of his length.

He had been cooking you breakfast before, standing there in his underwear, damn near hunched over the stove to make that omelette you've been harassing him over for the past hour. With his messy curls over his golden brown face, brushing against the lashes of his tired eyes. He looked so handsome in the mornings and that dick of his, soft yet still so visible through the fabric of his boxers.

You had come over and wrapped your arms around his waist you adored so much, kissing the smooth muscle of his back while rubbing his stomach, earning something of a purr from him as he flipped your breakfast in the pan.

Then your hand slid down, tracing over his happy trail before slipping past the elastic band of his underwear to start stroking his cock.

"You're being bad, cariño." Miguel hummed softly but made no attempt to stop you. You smiled against his back so he could feel it, letting out in a muffled murmur, "you like me bad".

That's how you two got here, Miguel just on the brink of an orgasm. His hips bucked into your hand uncontrollably and you let him do as you pleased, fondling his balls while he fucked your hand like an animal in a rut. "Dios mío, shit…" you liked how vocal he got when he was close, groaning and moaning and whimpering at your touch.

"Go ahead and cum for me." You stroke your hand against the rhythm of his hips, the wet, sticky sound of your hand beating his wet cock slick with precum. "Give it to me."

Every muscle in his body rippled and spasmed as his orgasm washed over him. Miguel let out something of a broken moan as he came all over himself and your hand, wetting his boxers and cumming on your hand that stroked him through it, milking him for everything he was worth. You felt his balls squeeze in your hand as they emptied themselves all over you.

"Gooood boy." You whispered at a panting Miguel, pulling your hand from his boxers to show him the mess he made of you, the way he defiled you. Hair curled against his forehead and the nape of his neck, his face once tensed in concentration now relaxed.

"Now, go ahead and make me another omelette." Because the other one was on the cusp of starting a fire in the pan beside you.

[improperly-tagged-posts]

not improperly tagged but PLEASE use a readmore omg... i admire your motivation and power to write so much but it's so difficult to scroll past especially on mobile. there's a button w a squiggly that you can press to insert one, or you can type :readmore: alone on a line and hit enter to generate one

↱ you’re it for me 2 ↰

➘ summary : this is a continuation from the first post right here, again this is a headcanon on Hobie brown aka spider punk, it’s a length one which had been made from this post

➘ a/n : here goes part 1 of this headcanon

His Love Language is Physical Touch But It’s So Much More Than That :

In the cozy confines of Hobie's apartment, a gentle warmth enveloped the room as he and (y/n) found themselves in each other's company. Their connection had deepened over time, and Hobie's love language had become increasingly evident to (y/n) – physical touch.

As they settled on the couch, their fingers intertwined, Hobie's arm found its way around (y/n)'s shoulders. His touch was reassuring, a silent affirmation of his affection.

Hobie's love language manifested in various ways. There were moments when he would wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug that made (y/n) feel safe and cherished. Other times, he would reach for her hand, his fingers entwining with hers as they walked down the street or simply sat together.

Cuddling was another favorite activity for Hobie. On lazy evenings, they would nestle against each other, (y/n)'s head resting against his chest as his arms encircled her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat served as a comforting backdrop to their whispered conversations and shared laughter.

One day, they found themselves in Hobie's kitchen, cooking dinner together. (y/n) was focused on chopping vegetables when she felt Hobie's arms wrap around her waist from behind. His lips pressed against her temple in a soft kiss.

"I love that we can do simple things like cooking together," he murmured against her skin.

She smiled, leaning back against him. "Me too. It's the little moments that mean the most."

Hobie's touch spoke volumes about his feelings – a touch that communicated love, affection, and the deep bond they shared. Whether he was tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers against her arm, or simply holding her close, his actions resonated with tenderness and devotion.

As the evening sun cast a warm glow into the room, (y/n) turned to face Hobie. She reached up to cup his cheek, her touch gentle and filled with emotion. "You know, I've come to understand your love language. And I love how you express your feelings through touch."

Hobie's eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm. "I'm glad you appreciate it. It's my way of showing you how much you mean to me."

Her heart swelled, her gaze meeting his with unspoken understanding. In that moment, they didn't need grand gestures or elaborate displays of affection – their love was felt in the simplest of touches, the shared glances, and the way their souls intertwined.

As the evening unfolded, Hobie and (y/n) continued to share their love in the language of touch. Each embrace, each handhold, and each affectionate gesture served as a testament to the depth of their connection, a connection that was built not just on words, but on the beautiful language of the heart.

Hobie and (y/n) had developed a beautiful rhythm in their relationship – a harmony of companionship and support that extended to their everyday tasks. It was in these seemingly mundane moments that their bond shone the brightest.

One day, as (y/n) was sitting at her desk, working on her laptop, Hobie entered the room with a smile. "Hey, need any help with anything?"

She looked up from her screen, her expression grateful. "Actually, I could use some help organizing these files. They're getting a bit messy."

Hobie pulled up a chair next to her, his fingers deftly sorting through the documents. His touch was gentle, his movements precise as he organized the files into neat folders.

As they worked side by side, (y/n) couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It wasn't just about the task at hand; it was about the shared effort, the way Hobie seamlessly integrated himself into her world.

Later that evening, as they prepared dinner together, Hobie took charge of chopping vegetables while (y/n) worked on marinating the chicken. Their synchronized movements and easy conversation made the kitchen feel like a haven of togetherness.

"Hobie, could you pass me the salt, please?" (y/n) asked with a smile.

Hobie obliged, handing her the salt shaker with a playful grin. "Anything for you, chef."

Their laughter filled the air as they continued to cook, a shared joy in the simplest of tasks.

The support went both ways. On another day, (y/n) noticed Hobie engrossed in assembling a piece of furniture. She approached him with a determined expression. "Need a hand?"

Hobie's eyes lit up with appreciation, and he handed her a few screws. "You're a lifesaver. This thing is more complicated than I thought."

They worked together, following the instructions and sharing small victories as the furniture started to take shape. In that moment, the task was secondary; what truly mattered was the teamwork and connection they shared.

Whether it was helping (y/n) with household chores, offering a hand when she needed assistance, or simply being there to lend an ear after a long day, Hobie's presence was a constant source of comfort and support.

As they sat on the couch later that evening, wrapped up in each other's arms, (y/n) looked at Hobie with a soft smile. "You know, you make everything feel easier, just by being here."

Hobie pressed a kiss to her forehead, his touch a gentle caress. "That's what partners do, right? We make each other's lives better."

Their connection was built on the foundation of shared moments, small gestures, and unwavering support. In the tapestry of their relationship, the threads of companionship and love were woven into the fabric of their everyday tasks, creating a beautiful masterpiece that told the story of their journey together.

He Teaches You How to Play The Guitar and Shows You Something He’s Learnt Too :

One sunny afternoon, Hobie and (y/n) found themselves in Hobie's cozy living room, the soft melody of a guitar playing in the background. Hobie had an idea – to teach (y/n) how to play the guitar, a skill that had been close to his heart for years.

Hobie handed (y/n) the guitar, his eyes warm with anticipation. "Okay, first things first, let's learn the basic chords. This is an E major chord."

He demonstrated the finger placement on the fretboard, guiding her fingers with his own. As their hands interlocked, a current of connection passed between them, the shared moment creating an unspoken bond.

(y/n) focused on the strings, her fingers slightly trembling as she strummed the chord. The sound that emanated from the guitar was a bit shaky, but a proud smile spread across her face.

"I did it!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement.

Hobie's grin matched hers, his voice encouraging. "You're doing great. Now, let's try a few more."

With patience and guidance, Hobie walked (y/n) through the basic chords, explaining each step along the way. The room was filled with music and laughter as they practiced together, their fingers working in harmony to create melodies.

As they progressed, (y/n)'s confidence grew, her fingers finding the frets with increasing ease. The feeling of the strings beneath her fingertips was both exhilarating and soothing, a testament to the beauty of learning something new.

Hobie's heart swelled with pride as he watched (y/n) immerse herself in the process. Her determination and eagerness to learn mirrored the passion he felt for music.

"See? You've got the hang of it," he said, his gaze filled with admiration.

She strummed a few chords, her fingers moving more confidently now. "It's a lot of fun, actually. I never thought I'd be able to play even a little."

Hobie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "You're a natural. Just remember, learning takes time, but the journey is what matters."

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow into the room, (y/n) looked at Hobie with a grateful smile. "Thank you for teaching me this. It means a lot."

Hobie's fingers brushed against her cheek, his touch gentle. "Anytime, (y/n). Sharing this with you feels amazing."

With the guitar still in her hands, (y/n) leaned over and placed it carefully on the stand. She turned back to Hobie, her expression full of appreciation. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I've fallen in love with playing the guitar."

Hobie's laughter was rich and full of joy. "Well, then I'm honored to be your guitar teacher."

As the evening wrapped them in its embrace, the music of their laughter and shared moments lingered in the air. Their connection, deepened by the chords they had strummed together, was a melody that resonated in their hearts, a reminder of the beautiful journey they were on – one filled with love, laughter, and the harmonious rhythm of each other's company.

In the days that followed, Hobie's determination grew as he embarked on a mission to learn something special for (y/n). He had noticed the sparkle in her eyes whenever her favorite song played, and he wanted to surprise her by playing it on his guitar.

With unwavering dedication, Hobie spent hours practicing, his fingers moving over the strings with precision and focus. He watched tutorials, followed chord progressions, and even recorded himself to track his progress. It was a challenge, but the thought of bringing a smile to (y/n)'s face fueled his determination.

As the days turned into weeks, (y/n) noticed Hobie's increased dedication to his guitar practice. She watched with curiosity as he strummed and played, a look of concentration on his face.

One evening, as they were sitting on the couch, Hobie set his guitar aside and turned to (y/n) with a sheepish grin. "So, I've been working on something for you."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really? What is it?"

Hobie took a deep breath, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. "I've been learning to play your favorite song on the guitar."

A mixture of surprise and delight washed over (y/n). She placed a hand over her heart, her eyes sparkling. "You did that for me?"

Hobie nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yeah. I wanted to surprise you with something special."

Curiosity piqued, (y/n) leaned in closer. "Well, don't keep me waiting. Let's hear it."

Hobie cleared his throat and carefully positioned the guitar on his lap. He began to play, the melody filling the room with its familiar notes. As the song progressed, (y/n) realized that he was playing her favorite song, his fingers moving over the strings with a tenderness that spoke of his dedication.

The song reached its crescendo, and Hobie looked up at (y/n), his eyes filled with hope. "So, what do you think?"

Tears gathered in (y/n)'s eyes as she listened to the melody that held so much meaning for her. She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, her heart overflowing with emotion.

"That was amazing, Hobie," she managed to say, her voice filled with awe.

Hobie's grin was one of pure satisfaction. "I'm glad you liked it."

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for putting in the effort to learn my favorite song."

Hobie's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Anything for you, (y/n). I wanted to learn something that would make you happy."

As they held each other, the melody of the song lingered in the air, a reminder of the love and dedication that Hobie had poured into his guitar practice. In that moment, their connection felt even stronger, a bond woven through music, shared moments, and the deep affection they held for each other.

He’s Intimidating To Everyone But He’s A Big Softie For You :

Hobie's reputation as a skilled and confident individual often preceded him. With his confident stride, chiseled physique, and unwavering demeanor, he projected an air of strength that others found intimidating. However, beneath that exterior was a heart full of warmth and compassion.

One day, Hobie and (y/n) found themselves at a social gathering. As they entered the room, (y/n) noticed the subtle glances and hushed conversations that followed Hobie's path. His presence seemed to draw attention, but it wasn't the kind that made people feel at ease.

As they mingled with the crowd, (y/n) could sense that some of the attendees were hesitant to approach Hobie. His imposing stature and the way he carried himself had created a barrier that made him seem unapproachable.

"Hey, Hobie," (y/n) said, leaning in to speak softly to him. "I think some people find you a bit intimidating."

Hobie's lips curved into a rueful smile. "Yeah, I've heard that before."

As the evening progressed, Hobie made an effort to engage in conversations, his tone warm and welcoming. However, the lingering aura of intimidation seemed hard to dispel.

It wasn't until (y/n) stepped away briefly that she witnessed a different side of the situation. A group of people were discussing Hobie, their words tinged with admiration but also apprehension.

"He's so talented and confident, but I'm not sure if I could ever approach him," one person commented.

Another nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he just seems so intense."

Overhearing the conversation, (y/n) couldn't help but smile. She knew that Hobie's exterior was a shield, protecting the gentle and caring soul underneath.

Later that evening, (y/n) approached Hobie with a playful glint in her eyes. "You know, people find you intimidating."

Hobie chuckled, his expression a mix of amusement and self-awareness. "I guess I have that effect."

"But they don't see the side of you that I do," she said, her tone affectionate. "The Hobie who spends hours learning my favorite song, who helps me with everyday tasks, and who holds me close when I need comfort."

Hobie's gaze softened as he looked at her, his heart warmed by her words. "You see the real me."

As the night drew to a close, (y/n) and Hobie shared a dance, their movements fluid and synchronized. The music filled the air, but it was the connection between them that resonated the strongest.

In the midst of the dance, (y/n) leaned in and whispered in Hobie's ear, "You may be intimidating to others, but you'll always be my gentle giant."

Hobie's arms tightened around her, his touch a silent affirmation. As they swayed to the rhythm of the music, the barriers of intimidation melted away, revealing the depth of their love and the understanding that went beyond appearances.

In the eyes of the world, Hobie might have been seen as intimidating, but to (y/n), he was a constant source of comfort, support, and love. And that was all that truly mattered.

In the realm of their private moments, a different side of Hobie emerged – one that was known only to (y/n). Behind the confident and imposing exterior, he was a big softie when it came to her, revealing a vulnerability and tenderness that he kept hidden from the world.

One evening, as they lounged on Hobie's couch, (y/n) leaned her head against his shoulder. She traced patterns on his hand with her fingers, her touch light and affectionate. "You know, it's funny how different you are when it's just us."

Hobie's lips curved into a warm smile as he looked down at her. "Yeah? What do you mean?"

She met his gaze, her eyes full of understanding. "You're a big softie, Hobie. When it's just you and me, you let your guard down, and I get to see this side of you that no one else does."

Hobie's expression softened, his fingers gently threading through her hair. "I guess you bring out the best in me."

As they continued to talk and share quiet moments, (y/n) began to notice the little things that revealed Hobie's soft side. The way he would spontaneously wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace as if he couldn't bear to let her go. The moments when he would glance at her with a look of adoration, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

In the privacy of their shared space, Hobie's vulnerability was on display – the way his voice softened when he spoke about his hopes and dreams, the way he would open up about his fears and insecurities. (y/n) cherished these moments, knowing that they were a glimpse into the real Hobie – the one who trusted her with his heart.

One day, as they took a leisurely stroll through a park, (y/n) felt a sudden raindrop hit her nose. She looked up at the sky, and before she knew it, the heavens opened up, sending a downpour upon them.

Hobie's protective instincts kicked in immediately. He pulled (y/n) close, shielding her from the rain with his own body. As they huddled together under the umbrella, (y/n) couldn't help but chuckle at the situation.

"Looks like we're caught in the rain," she said with a grin.

Hobie's expression was a mix of concern and amusement. "I've got you covered."

As the rain poured around them, (y/n) leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Hobie's lips. It was a spontaneous, tender moment that felt like an affirmation of their connection.

"You know," she said, her voice gentle, "I love that I get to see this side of you – the big softie who cares so deeply."

Hobie's arms tightened around her, his touch reassuring. "You make me want to be a better person, (y/n). With you, I can be myself without any pretense."

As they stood there, wrapped up in each other's arms and shielded from the rain, the world around them seemed to fade away. In the midst of the downpour, they found solace in each other's company, and the vulnerability that Hobie shared with (y/n) was a testament to the depth of their love.

He Can’t Sleep Without You :

The apartment felt unusually empty and quiet as Hobie walked through its familiar rooms. (y/n) was out of town, visiting family, and though he was happy for her, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that settled in his chest.

He glanced around, his gaze falling on the couch where they would often cuddle and share stories. Without her presence, the space felt incomplete, like a missing puzzle piece.

As the evening stretched on, Hobie tried to distract himself with various activities – reading a book, watching a movie, even strumming his guitar. But no matter what he did, his thoughts kept drifting back to (y/n).

The bed, once a sanctuary where they would fall asleep wrapped up in each other's arms, now felt too big and empty. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind filled with memories of their shared moments.

Hobie reached for his phone, scrolling through pictures of (y/n) on his camera roll. Each image held a snapshot of their happiness, a testament to the love they shared. He couldn't help but smile as he looked at her, even though the ache of missing her was palpable.

He found himself dialing her number, his heart racing with anticipation. After a few rings, (y/n) picked up, her voice a soothing balm to his restlessness.

"Hey, Hobie," she said warmly. "How's everything over there?"

Hobie's voice was laced with affection as he replied, "It's quiet without you. I miss having you around."

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "I miss you too. But I'll be back before you know it."

As they talked, Hobie felt the heaviness in his chest begin to lift. (y/n)'s voice was a lifeline, connecting him to the one person who could fill the void he felt.

Before they ended the call, (y/n) said, "You know, I'll be thinking of you, even when I'm away. And we can catch up on all the cuddles when I'm back."

Hobie's lips curved into a smile, the warmth of (y/n)'s words wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. "I'm holding you to that, (y/n). Can't wait to have you back here."

After hanging up, Hobie closed his eyes, imagining (y/n)'s presence beside him. He could almost feel her fingers intertwining with his, her laughter filling the room, and the sense of completeness that only came when she was by his side.

As he drifted off to sleep, the emptiness slowly ebbed away. The distance between them was temporary, and knowing that they would be together again brought a sense of comfort that allowed him to find solace in their love, even when they were miles apart.

In the stillness of the night, the apartment was shrouded in darkness. Hobie's eyes fluttered open, his sleep interrupted by the lingering emptiness he felt without (y/n) by his side. He sighed softly, his thoughts turning to her.

As he lay there in the dim moonlight, he couldn't shake the yearning to hold her close. With a determined yet gentle movement, he pushed back the covers and got out of bed. His steps were quiet as he made his way to (y/n)'s side of the bed.

He picked up her pillow, the scent of her shampoo and warmth still lingering. Hobie held it close, his fingers curling around the fabric as if he could capture her essence within it.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as an idea formed in his mind. He opened one of her drawers and pulled out a shirt that still carried her faint scent. Holding it to his chest, he placed it over the pillow, dressing it in the familiar fabric.

With the makeshift "replacement" pillow now resembling her, Hobie settled back into bed, adjusting the pillow in his arms. He closed his eyes and imagined (y/n) beside him, her warmth and presence filling the space.

As he held the pillow close, he could almost hear her soft laughter and feel her fingers running through his hair. In the quiet of the night, the lines between reality and imagination blurred, allowing him to find a sense of comfort in the illusion he had created.

Hobie's fingers traced patterns on the fabric, his touch gentle and loving. The pillow became a tangible connection to (y/n), a way to bridge the gap between their physical distance.

Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing began to steady, his thoughts drifting into a peaceful reverie. He felt (y/n)'s presence surround him, her essence intertwined with his own.

As he finally drifted back to sleep, he held onto the sensation of her being with him, even in the quiet darkness of the night. The pillow, dressed in her shirt, became a symbol of their unbreakable bond – a bond that transcended time and space, allowing Hobie to find solace and rest in the embrace of his imagination and love.

Where He Gives Up Trying To Sleep Without You :

The restlessness had become too much for Hobie to bear. The emptiness of his apartment without (y/n) had reached its breaking point, and he knew what he needed to do. In the middle of the night, driven by the powerful urge to see her, he swung his way to the town where (y/n) was visiting her family.

The moon cast a soft glow over the streets as Hobie landed with silent grace near (y/n)'s temporary residence. He approached the house with a mix of determination and anticipation, his heart pounding with excitement.

Careful not to disturb anyone, Hobie climbed the vines leading to (y/n)'s window. With practiced ease, he pushed it open and slipped inside her room. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and as he looked around, he saw her sleeping peacefully in the moonlight.

Hobie's heart swelled at the sight of her, her face relaxed in slumber. He moved closer, his gaze fixated on her delicate features. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead, his touch gentle as if she might wake at any moment.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and her eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, their eyes met – her sleepy surprise mirrored by his affectionate gaze. "Hobie?" she whispered, her voice a mixture of astonishment and delight.

Hobie's lips curved into a warm smile. "Hey, it's me. I couldn't sleep without you."

(y/n)'s expression shifted from surprise to happiness. She sat up in bed, her eyes shining as she looked at him. "You came all the way here?"

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I couldn't stand being apart from you. I needed to see you."

With a mixture of awe and affection, (y/n) reached out and cupped his cheek, her touch confirming that he was really there. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Hobie chuckled softly, his fingers finding hers and intertwining with them. "I just knew I needed to be with you."

As they sat there, bathed in the moon's gentle light, the world outside seemed to disappear. The physical distance that had separated them earlier had been bridged, and their connection felt stronger than ever.

"(y/n), I love you," Hobie whispered, his words sincere and heartfelt.

Tears of happiness glistened in her eyes. "And I love you, Hobie."

With a sense of ease and contentment, Hobie lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. They held each other as if the universe itself had conspired to bring them back together.

In the stillness of the night, their heartbeats synchronized, and the distance that had once felt insurmountable faded into insignificance. The moments they shared were a testament to the power of love – a love that knew no bounds and could traverse any distance, no matter how great.

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this is improperly tagged and may easily fall onto the dashes of minors and other nsfw-uncomfortable individuals. i'm not here to blame or attack you, but to instead inform!

if you'd like, please refer to my tagged post for tips to avoid this in the future, as i don't quite have the spoons to re-explain everything here.

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel’s name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

Keep reading

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this is improperly tagged and may very easily fall onto the dashes of minors and other nsfw-uncomfortable people - i don't mean to attack or scold you, and it definitely is NOT your fault if a minor chooses of their own volition to continue!

that being said, i do intend to instead offer some tips on how to avoid this in the future! please refer to my pinned post for these tips on proper tagging, as i don't quite have the energy to re-explain every time.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: When you confide in your boyfriend about your difficulty getting wet, his reaction is not what you'd expected.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), reader takes antidepressants

A/N: To all the afab folks who, for whatever reasons, can't get wet--this is for you.

Collaboration with the queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 😘

--

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie growls in your ear, his fingers digging into the skin above the waistband of your panties. His other hand cups your breast, still concealed by your bra, though you venture it won’t be long before it’s uncovered. 

You continue grinding on his bare thigh, his boxers pushed up high. The outline of his cock shows through the cotton, and you can’t help but grab it. He inhales sharply at the sudden contact, making you giggle.

“Love seeing you all turned on, Eds,” you murmur, sucking a bruise into his neck that has his eyes rolling back in his head. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, pressing slow circles to the sensitive bud over the lace. A moan slips past your lips, quickly turning into a whimper of his name. “F-Fuck, Eddie. Right there.”

Despite your words and the drag of your cunt on his leg, Eddie can’t help but question whether or not you’re faking it. “How ya feelin’ baby?” he whispers, tiptoeing around the more direct question in a means of cushioning his ego. 

“So good.”

Okay. Good. You feel so good. Everything’s…good. Right?

Eddie pulls back, ducking behind his hair and missing your confused expression. “We can stop if you’re not into it,” he mutters. He’s not angry at you; he’s angry at himself, because he’s clearly doing something wrong if you’re not…

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I be into it?” Your eyebrows pinch together. You’d been together a few months and hadn’t slept together yet, but you’d thought tonight could be the night.

“Because you’re not really…” Eddie struggles to find the right words. “Like, you sound into it, but I don’t feel you getting turned on.”

Embarrassment heats up your body. You slide off of him and onto his carpeted floor, repositioning yourself so you’re facing away from him. You can still see him out of your peripheral vision, but you hope he doesn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes. “M sorry, baby.” Your voice is small, and despite your best efforts, it catches in your throat when you speak.

He rests his hand on your upper arm, gently caressing it with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, trying to hide his disappointment at the unreciprocated longing. “We gave it a shot. You can’t help if this doesn’t get you going.” He gives a little shimmy, shoulders swaying back and forth clumsily.

You turn back around towards him,  “You think…no, Eds. You’re so sexy, even when you do your weird little dances.”

“I’ll have you know,” Eddie starts, giving you a playful look, “that my weird little dances have gotten me not one, but…yeah, okay, just the one hot girl’s phone number.”

“And it was mine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He reaches for your hand and holds it tentatively. “But if I’m making you feel good, how come you don’t get…y’know…?”

Instinct has you wanting to turn away from him in shame, but his grip on your hand is enough to keep you where you are. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but once you do and that big doe stare tugs at your heart, you let out a sigh.

“You’re making me feel amazing, Eddie. It’s just…I don’t really get…I mean, I can’t get too…” The right words don’t seem to find you and frustration balls up inside of you. You slap your free hand over your eyes, partially out of frustration, but also to hide the tears that are beginning to well up. 

“Hey…” Eddie lightly chides as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “You can talk to me. You know that.”

The hand falls from your face and you take a deep breath. Words jumble through your brain, trying to figure out how to come from another direction. “Y-You know how I have depression and anxiety.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, swallowing before continuing, “the meds they give me for them…they, uh…well, they kind of keep me from being able to get…”

“Wet?” Eddie offers.

You nod, a few tears breaking free despite your attempts to keep them in. 

“I can…a little…just not a whole lot. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because,” you say, huffing a humorless laugh, “you’re so cute and sweet and I’m worried that when we actually have sex, it won’t feel good for you.”

He pauses for a moment, tongue poking out from his lips in the way that makes you melt as he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube. He holds the small pink tube up between the two of you.

“Think this’ll work?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The bottle is the last thing you expected Eddie to pull out of that unorganized mess he calls a nightstand. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

“Well, uh,” Eddie starts, cheeks tingeing pink. You notice he continues to look at the lube instead of you. “I use it every night when I think of you.”

The words take you by surprise, even though he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like you hadn’t gotten off thinking about him long before the two of you even started dating. 

“You…you think of me?”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie shrugs with a grin. “My girl is ridiculously beautiful, you think I’m not going to get off thinking about her every night before I go to bed? And most mornings before school?” He ducks his head and his bashfulness makes him look especially boyish. “Plus, there was all that time before we started dating when we were just friends…”

“So that’s why it’s more than half empty,” you say, a small smile breaking through on your lips. 

“I prefer to think of it as half full.” Eddie’s roguish smile has you breaking out into a full blown grin. You let out a chuckle as you pluck the bottle from your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“I didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of guy, Munson.”

Eddie looks down with a shy expression on his face. Every time you make him flustered you take it as a personal victory.

“It’s, uh, it’s ‘cause it smells like your chapstick.” He leans up and presses a kiss to your nose. When he sees the effect that has on you, mischievousness creeps back onto his face. “What do you say…wanna give it a try?”

You exhale, still frustrated. The anxiety at the back of your brain is still saying that Eddie is just being nice about this. That he really thinks it’s weird and doesn’t want to have sex with you now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With being with someone who needs to use lube?” you double check.

Eddie looks at you with an incredulous expression. “Baby, I’d use WD40 if it meant being inside you.”

A snort of laughter escapes you and you lightly slap his chest.

“Eddie, I’m serious!”

“I am, too! Shit, I’ll go grab some Crisco from the cabinet right now—”

“Eddie!” You sigh. “I know you’re going to wanna have, like, spontaneous sex. That might not be something I can do if we don’t have lube.”

Eddie shrugs without missing a beat. “I’ll carry it around with me. Like pocket lube or something.”

“Pocket lube?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He laughs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “We can keep this one here, and I’ll buy another one for the van. How does that sound?”

The offer has your heart melting and you lean into his body. “Sounds like you’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he smirks, tugging gently at the waistband of your panties. “May I lube up the fair maiden?”

“As long as you promise never to say that again,” you say, already climbing onto his bed. 

“Noted,” he agrees with a laugh before turning his attention to the panties that block his view of your beautiful pussy. He drags the lacy fabric down your legs and tosses it aside as you unclasp your bra. A goofy grin spreads across his face as he takes one breast in each hand. “Sorry,” he says, though his tone has no ounce of apology, “but you can’t just show off your tits and expect me to focus on anything else.”

You roll your eyes and giggle, a fluttering feeling in your stomach that goes beyond the moment’s lust. The way he can make you laugh in your most vulnerable moments is special, and you want to capture this joy and keep it forever.  

“Lay back and open these pretty legs for me, Sweetheart.” Eddie squeezes out some lube onto the tips of his forefinger and middle finger, gently pumping them in and out of you, going a bit deeper each time “‘S good?”

“Mhm. So, so fucking good, fuck.” Your walls clench around his fingers in a silent plea for him to be buried deep inside you. 

“Tell me if you need more, okay baby doll?”

You nod, really only able to fixate on the way his fingers feel inside you. The addition of the lubricant removes any unwanted friction, and you moan louder than you intend to. 

“Your noises…holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie muses, palming himself over his boxers. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “‘M sorry.”

He pauses his movements, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Don’t ever apologize for making such beautiful sounds. It’s crazy hot, baby.”

“Really?”

He uses his free hand to grab your wrist, bringing your palm to his tented boxers. The fabric strains against his raging erection. 

“Really.”

With that, you let yourself fully indulge in the feeling of his fingers. You barely recognize the noises you’re making; you’ve never felt this good in your whole life. 

The way Eddie’s tongue pokes from his mouth gives you another idea, and you press your thighs together to stop his ministrations. 

He looks up at you, brows knitted together in confusion. “What is it, baby? More?” He starts to reach for the bottle until he sees you shake your head. 

“Do you, uh, w-wanna taste the lube?” It’s as straightforward as you can manage, still overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your body. 

Eddie’s cock twitches, his face contorted in amused disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me if I want to eat you out?” he asks. “Was it not obvious that that would be a yes?” 

He throws your legs over his shoulders so quickly that it has you laughing in surprise, but that laughter stops as soon as his mouth is on you. His tongue immediately finds your clit, flicking over it until your toes curl. He wraps his lips around it and sucks gently until he has you on the brink of orgasm. His fingers return to your needy hole, filling you expertly until you cum with a wanton moan. 

“So fucking good f’me,” Eddie says, still between your legs. His mouth and chin are covered in a slick sheen. “You wanna taste now, baby? Wanna know just how delicious you are?”

You open your mouth and eagerly accept his fingers. They taste of your arousal and a hint of strawberry; it does bear a striking similarity to your Chapstick. Once Eddie lets his fingers drop from your mouth, you’re whining and writhing below him. 

“Need you, Eds.” It sounds more like a whimper than a plea. But your beautiful boyfriend isn’t about to deny you a thing—let alone something that he also wants very badly. 

“Fuck, need you too, baby doll.” He launches his boxers across the room and smears some lube on his cock, bucking his hips slightly into his closed palm. He doesn’t break eye contact as he enters you, searching for any inkling of discomfort. The stretch is delicious, and you arch your back once he bottoms out. 

“Look at you, taking all of me. My good girl,” Eddie growls, watching his cock disappear into your cunt. “Holy shit; I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this perfect pussy from me.”

You shiver at the praise, blinking away the prickling tears on your lash line. 

Eddie gradually picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you. His pubic hair grazes yours and he lets out a groan of his own. 

“Could stay like this forever,” he mumbles in your ear, forearms braced on either side of your head. 

So could you. Except…

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

You swallow your timidness. I can trust him. “I think, um…could you use some more lube?” You’re embarrassed and annoyed at yourself for having to interrupt the moment, but Eddie’s unfazed. 

“Sure. Can I just put it inside you? Cuz, uh, if I put it on my dick, I’m gonna bust in my hand.” He gives a small laugh, though you both know he’s not joking. 

Eddie gingerly fingers you, all-too aware of how oversensitive and overstimulated your pussy is. At some point, he’ll have fun teasing you with his touch, but tonight is about your comfort. 

He slides his cock back inside you. “Better?”

“Much,” you manage, re-acclimating your body to him being inside you. “Thank you, baby.”

“‘Course. Let me know if you need more again, ‘kay?”

You nod, relishing in the way he fills you. His cock presses against your walls; you can feel every last inch of him.

Eddie doesn’t stop showering you with praise as he pistons his hips. “Love when my girl tells me what she needs,” he says with a small smirk. “I’d do fuckin’ anything for you, sweet thing.” A few strands of hair cover his eye, and you swipe it away. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You manage a smile of your own before he catches you off guard, positioning you so he can rub your clit while fucking you. Your jaw drops in surprise; it’s exactly the reaction he wanted. “Just like that, Eds. Holy shit, right there!”

“That’s what you like? Hmm? Like when I’m deep inside your perfect pussy, making you feel good?” The hand not making small figure-eights on your swollen bud grabs your ass, squeezing it possessively. “Like when I claim you? Let me show you who you belong to.”

The combination of Eddie deep within you and being claimed by him pushes you over the edge. The coil snaps and you choke out a sob of relief as pleasure invades your body. You finish on his cock, chanting his name like a prayer. 

“Fuck, c-can’t hold out anym-more,” he grunts, and with a cry of your name, he fills you with his own release. He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath; when he finally pulls out, you can feel his cum dripping down your bare thigh. He hurries to grab the faded blue towel hanging from the back of his door, wiping you off before plopping next to you. He draws tiny circles on your forearm while pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

“Was that good? It didn’t hurt or anything, right? Because I kinda lost my mind at the end—” 

You silence him with a kiss that only ends because you both start smiling. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. No one’s ever made me cum before,” you admit. 

Eddie scoots back slightly. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. You’re the first. So, um, thank you?”

He puffs out his chest, slick with perspiration. “No need to thank us, baby. We’d do anything for you.”

“‘We?’” You cock your eyebrow. 

“Yeah, me and the lube,” he states plainly, as if this is an obvious fact. “We make a pretty good team, dontcha think?”

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“I dunno, I thought my ‘pocket lube’ idea was pretty damn brilliant.”

--

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this is improperly tagged and lacks a readmore, making it very accessible to minors + other nsfw-uncomfortable people. i don't intend to blame or attack you, but just to inform you to prevent this in the future!

there are some tips on my pinned post on how to properly tag and help make your posts not only less accessible to minors, but also more accessible to the intended audience!

perhapsss hobie asking reader for nudes-? maybe just bc he ‘misses’ reader for whatever reason,

( I’m inlove with hobie?!?) also love you soso much 🙁

me too, me too😔

hobie would be such a gentleman about asking for nudes. he usually would hate doing it because it feels very pervy to him, but what can the poor man do when he wakes up in the middle of the night, dick hard as stone and thinking of your tight hole?

so he sends you a text, knowing damn well you weren’t asleep “babe, i have something to ask of you” the text reads. you turn over with a sigh, a smile forming on your lips as you type back “what is it?”. hobie bites his lip in frustration and he takes a minute to think.

however, it’s kind of hard to make out any coherent thought when his dick is throbbing so hard it might shoot out from his pants. so he types the text anyway. your eyes widen at his response, that reads “can i please get a nude from you? i miss you so fucking much”.

images of hobie, hot and bothered, sprawled down on his bed, unable to relieve his pent up frustration enter your mind. you subconsciously squeeze your thighs as you open your camera — if your man was going to make you feel good everytime he came over, you figured you might as well help him out when he was away.

hobie was chewing at his lip. his breathing was loud. his heart rate boomed into his ears. and the blood would just not stop pumping to his crotch. he hastened to write a text, just to make sure you didn’t get upset — it was the last thing he wanted. he almost hit send before he saw three pictures load in.

his eyes widened as he scrolled through each of them: the first, a picture of you, gently sucking on your fingers. he quickly untied his pijama pants, letting his aching cock slap his abdomen, smudging it with a little precum.

he scrolled down to the second, a picture showing your shirt pulled all the way up, one hand (the one that was previously in your mouth) slightly grazing one of your breasts. he breathed out shakily as he started to rub himself, choked moans coming out of him. he looked down at himself “fuck.. what am i doing?” he groaned, blush evident on his cheeks as he pumped himself faster, palm coated with pre.

he finally gets to the last photo, one that’s a little bit darker than the others but only because it was taken from under the covers, with the flash on. however, his mouth waters at the sight of it: your pretty little cunt, held open by your fingers as your thighs spread against the sheets. hobie was officially gone, muttering curses under his breath as he fucked himself dumb.

he needed you, he wanted you so badly. he closed his eyes, tipping his head back lightly as he imagined it was your mouth on his cock, rather than his own fist. “shit” he groaned as he let the phone fall from his hand, gripping at the sheets under him, body coated with sweat. his nipple piercing glistened with sweat as he, with one eye opened, looked down at himself.

he glanced back at the photo, imagining your soft moans against his eardrum. and with that, he sloppily came all over himself, his hand, his sheets. hobie falls back on the bed, exhausted and panting as he waits for his body to cool down. he reaches for the towel he always keeps in his bottom drawer — it’s way more convenient that way — wipes himself clean and then throws it off to god knows where — that’s a problem for tomorrow.

he hazily grabs his phone as he pulls the covers on himself, lowering the brightness so it doesn’t hurt his pretty eyes. you watch your phone’s screen light up as you read the text he sent you “i fucking love you, babe. need to see ya tomorrow so you can see what you missed” you chuckle at his text, replying with a short “cant wait”.

hobie laughs into his pillow, texting you a sweet ‘good night’ before closing his eyes and dozing off to have one of the best sleeps of his life (not better than the sleep he had after fucking you and holding you into his arms, but still, pretty darn good).

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this post is not only improperly tagged, but also lacks a readmore - making it very visible and easy to fall onto the dash of any minors or other nsfw-uncomfortable people. i don't mean to scold, attack, or blame you, but to inform you!

please check my pinned post for advice on how to avoid this in the future

doing it on miguels desk and getting caught - hobie brown x afab!reader

authors note: first piece for hobie and first time writing smut! i think it's a good start, and ive got no idea how to write hobie's accent so please correct anything you see wrong! same thing for miguel's one line of spanish :)

summary: you and hobie fuck on miguels desk to mess with him and get caught!

contains ⚠️: porn with slight plot, smut, afab anatomy, reader wears a bra and panties, unprotected piv and getting caught, ass slapping (1), suggestive ending, lemme know if i missed anything

please reblog or like my work if u enjoyed it <3

“You two, cut it out.” Miguel snaps, glaring at you and Hobie who is not so subtly sucking on the delicate skin of your neck. As Miguel continues to blab on about some anomaly on Earth something, Peter B., Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr look away awkwardly from the two of you. Hobie chuckles lowly before resuming, Miguel noticing almost immediately.

“Hobie, I-I cannot deal with the two of you right now. Stop.”

“Hey, I’m not even doing anything wrong! It’s all Hobie,” you say, trying to defend yourself. Hobie reluctantly stopped, slinging a lanky arm around your shoulder and leaning into you. Miguel ignored your take on the situation and dismissed everyone to suit up for the mission.

Everyone had left Miguel’s office, including Miguel, who went to go confirm something about the Go Home Machine with Margo. Hobie nudged your shoulder, ducking his head low to murmur in your ear,

“Wanna screw with this lemon?” His hands were now placed loosely on your waist, smoothing up and down. You giggle at his words.

“Hobes. What are you talking about?” you know exactly what he’s hinting at.

“Oh I think you know, love.” he smirks against the side of your neck, his hold on you tightening. “You and me. Going at it on ol’ Miguel’s desk.”. You gasp at how blunt he is.

“First, why would you say it like that? And second, he’ll be back soon…” you gape at him. Hobie snickers at that,

“That’s the point, sweets,”

“So what’d’ya say, hm?” he muses, pressing hot kisses to the gentle bruises he had left on your neck earlier. You can’t deny that the thought of you and Hobie fucking with the risk of getting caught was kinda hot. Smiling, you nod, letting him guide you over to Miguel’s desk, using his arm to swipe anything and everything in his way off as he sits you on top of it. You shimmy your suit and panties down, Hobie following, leaving him naked and you in your bra.

You grab at Hobie’s shoulders and he stands between your thighs, one hand on your waist and the other reaching for your cunt. He rubs a single finger up and down your core, collecting your wetness before sliding it in, pumping at a steady pace. You give a small whimper, clutching his shoulders even tighter.

“Jus’ gotta make sure ya’ ready,” he tells you before adding another finger. Moaning, you arch your back thighs squeezing around Hobie’s slim figure. You toss your head back as all thoughts go hazy with pleasure as Hobie continues to finger fuck you, repeatedlyhitting your g-spot. As you near your high, Hobie brings the hand that was on your waist close to your mouth, telling you to “spit,”, and through your daze, you do. You refocus when you hear the wet shlick of Hobie pumping his half-hard cock. Mouth watering at the sound, you move your hands from Hobie’s shoulders to the sides of his gorgeous face, pulling him to you. He instinctively tilts his head to the side as he kisses you - all tongue and teeth -, before abruptly pulling his long fingers out of you. You whine at the sudden stop, which turns into a yelp as he flips you over - breaking the kiss -, legs hanging off the edge of the desk made to accomodate Miguel’s stature. You lean onto your elbows, Hobie sliding into you and gradually pushing his full length in, groaning.

As he does so, his spindly hands now settle at your hips. He slowly rocks in and out, leaving you gasping and aching for more. You whine, trying to let Hobie know that you need more,

“Soo needy, hm, love?” he croons, his rocking turning into thrusts. Your back arches as Hobie uses his hands to slam your hips against his, a breathy moan leaving his luscious lips.

“F..Fuck, Hobie,” you groan, resting your forehead on the glass of the desk, “feels s’good..”. Hobie chuckles, thrusting deeper - hitting your cervix. A loud moan graces your lips, leaving Hobie smirking in satisfaction. You desperately need to reach your high now, with how good it all feels. That haziness returns, leaving you cockdrunk and needy. Arching your back further, Hobie places a heavy slap against your right ass cheek, sighing at the sight of his handprint swelling in colour. God he’s taking forever to come back… Hobie thinks to himself, not entirely bummed out by the thought. Head thrown back, he fastens his pace, yanking your hips to meet his halfway. Tears cloud your vision, mouth resembling an ‘o’.

Hobie reaches a hand to your clit, rubbing slow circles, making you moan. It’s all too much for you now,

“Hobie, Hobie I’m g-gonna come,” you tell him through gasping breaths. It only takes Hobie deepening his thrusts slightly to push you off the edge. Waves of ecstasy wrack through your body with a pornographic moan, shaking and thighs clenching.

“¡por Dios! What the shock is going on here?!" A voice yells, clearing your head of your post-orgasmic bliss. You had completely forgotten about Miguel, who is now storming out of his office once more, angrily shouting about “social conduct”, hands waving dramatically in the air.

“Well shit,” you laugh, Hobie releasing you from his hold. He smirks, and nuzzles his forehead against yours,

“Love ya’, swee’eart.”

“Love you too, Hobes,” you smile sweetly, hopping off the desk and tugging your suit back on.

“I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m g’nna miss out on this mission,” Hobie declared, shamelessly expressing through his tone how pleased he was by Miguel walking in on you two. He hadn’t bothered to put his suit on properly, leaving the torso and arms of it hanging around his waist, vest around his shoulders, not on properly as well. Giggling, you agree with him, clinging onto his arm as he opens an orange hexagonal portal.

"Good, 'cus we still gotta take care of this," he grins lazily, looking down at his still hard cock. You swat at his arm before laughing and walking through the portal.

taglist: @lavnderluv

add yourself to a taglist/s -> here

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this post is improperly tagged and may easily cross the dash of minors and any people who are otherwise uncomfortable with nsfw content - it also lacks a readmore and any warnings beforehand, meaning people may read something only to be swept into nsfw they weren't prepared for(as i did!)

this is not an attack or scolding, genuinely a friendly message! please check my pinned post for advice on how to prevent this on the future.

“you know..” hobie says as he takes a long drag from his cigarette “i think i want another piercing”. you stared at your best friend, pulling away your attention from your phone to him “what are you thinking about?” he stays quiet for a little while.

“whas’ your opinion on a nipple piercing?” smoke escapes his lips “a nipple piercing? just one?” you ask as you put your phone away, chin resting on your knees. “yeah” he says plainly “i think it’d be more interestin’ that way”

“well.. i could do it for you, if you wanted…” you say as you stared down at your feet, waiting for a response. hobie smirked in your direction “if you want me to take m’shirt off just ask” he’d tease as you roll your eyes.

“stay still” you grit your teeth at hobie as he kept shifting in his position. “i am” “no, you’re not. i can’t get the needle in if you keep moving like this” you looked at him in annoyance as you held the disinfected needle.

“are you sure it’s gon’ come out straight?” he said as he turned his head to you. you groaned in annoyance as you moved from the side of the bed and placed yourself on his lap. the corners of his lips rose into a smile. it wasn’t what he intended, but he was definitely not complaining.

“don’t flatter yourself” you say as you try to position the needle on his nipple, marker between your lips. he let out a low chuckle as he placed his large hands on your hips. you snapped out of your working focus, eyes looking down at his hands “jus’ tryin’ to keep you steady” hobie grinned at you “sure you do” you said as you put the needle on the napkin on the coffee table.

“you got a hair tie? it’s getting in the way” you pouted as you pointed to your hair. he held his hand out to you as you dragged the hair tie off his wrist and put it in your mouth as your hands twisted your hair into a bun. hobie bit his bottom lip subtly as he watched you. fuck, you were stunning.

“so” you started to disinfect the needle again as hobie’s hands found your hips once more “you scared or what?” “me? scared? you’re talkin’ to the hobie brown, luv” he said cockily as you shot him and doubtful glare. “then why do you keep stalling? if you wanna stop, i’ll stop.”

he looked up at you, eyes analysing your figure “nah, go for it” he said as his hands caressed the sides of your hips. you smiled as you leaned in, needle poking at his skin “it’s gonna pinch a bit” and before he managed to get a word out, you pushed the needle in.

hobie threw his head back with a throaty groan, the veins on his neck pulsating in pain. he opened his mouth as shallow breaths escaped his lips, painted black nails digging into your thighs. “that bad?” you mused at the sight of him, cunt slowly throbbing on his crotch. maybe his expression turned you on. maybe. “fuck… no.. jus’ put the damn piercing in” his head returned to its normal position.

you chuckled as you slid the cold metal bar into his newly pierced hole, and screwed the spiky end pieces to it as hobie winced in pain. “so?” he looked up at you “how’s it look?” you gave him a reassuring smile as your hand unconsciously grazed his chest.

“hot” he smirked at your words “well, if you say so it mus’ be like that” he admired your expression as his fingers grazed the skin of your waist, slowly dragging at your pants. you let out a little gasp you hoped he wouldn't notice “yeah, even though you were whining like a bitch” you grinned playfully, trying to redirect his attention from your pulsing skin to your teasing.

“shut the fuck up. it actually hurts” hobie rolled his eyes in annoyance as you laughed “can’t hurt that bad” you said as you looked down at it and noticed a little trail of blood break free from under the piercing. you brought your finger to it, gently brushing it away “fuck!” hobie threw his head back in pain as you looked amazed back at him.

his hands pressed into your hips as he pushed them further down. you blushed as you felt something poke at your entrance, a wicked smile on your lips. “that hurt like a bitch” hobie gritted his teeth as you chuckled. his gaze matched yours, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

“did it?” you said as you gently grazed it again. hobie shut his eyes, nails digging into you once more. he was a mess. it was funny seeing him like this, considering the amount of piercings that he had on his body. you bit your lip as you looked down at him. he looked so fucking good.

“will you stop salivating while looking at my nips, please? that’s my job” he smirked as his eyes went directly to your shirt. “shut up” you said as you leaned in, dragging your tongue against his nipple. “holy fuck” he groaned as he pushed his hips up, his erection meeting your parted legs. “you want me to stop?”

“no fuckin’ way” he groaned as you tongue continued to swirl on his aching skin, his new piercing full of your spit. with a swift turn of his body, you found yourself under hobie, hands grasping your hip bones tightly. you put your hands around you neck, pulling him on top of you as your lips crashed on his. his tongue swirled into your mouth as his clothed cock throbbed onto your thigh, desperately.

pulling away, he tugged at your bottom lip, teeth biting it, marking it. you moaned in response as you furrowed your brows, blood trickling from your skin “what was that for?!” you asked as he stood hovering above you, lips curled into a devilish grin. “payback” he purred as you opened your mouth to protest “you didn’t want me to stop!” “yeah. still hurt though”

as you tried to say something again, his lips met your as he tangled his hand into your bun, tugging at your hair and messing it up. “stop talkin’” you looked at him in annoyance “you were literally getting off from me inflicting pain on you, weirdo”

he smirked as he stared at your lips “well, it was a bit erotic” he laughed as his teeth started to bite at the skin of your neck, marking you up. his hands pushed at your top as you pulled at his wicks.

nothing weird about it though. just friends being friends.. right?

[improperly-tagged-posts]

this post is improperly tagged, and easily accessible to minors/otherwise uncomfortable people! you are not responsible for those who read your work nor am i attacking you for this, but this is just a friendly reminder.

please read my pinned post for tips about preventing this in the future!

‘i miss you’ sex + miguel…brain frying, heart going crazy daisy. i feel like that kinda sex with him would be more so making love than fucking. like he’s just kissing you, telling you how much he loves you with every thrust—and yes, of course you’re going to need a new bed frame when he’s done (and a possible can to help you walk afterwards because that man was penttttttt up!) but gosh it would be so worth it. like ion know, when that man makes love he gets passionate.

LAWD HAVE MERCY (reading this at the airport while i wait to go back home 😵‍💫) but yeah he’s VERY passionate hahaha…..

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“i love you so fucking much.” miguel would whisper as his lips brushed against your earlobe. he’d nibble on your earlobe so lovingly while he was balls deep inside of your aching pussy. your pussy invites him in with each thrust as his cock spreads you open and your spongey walls envelope his fat cock. he’s so pussy-drunk and god does he love the way your pussy feels on his cock. he whispers sweet praises in your ear with each thrust.

it’s the kind of sex that’s so slow and the connection runs deeper than love itself. your bodies are connected as one as both souls are intertwined with each passionate stroke of his. you love the way his muscular body is pressed against your breasts and how your arms are wrapped around his back. the way your nails dig deep into his skin which elicits moans and more praises to fall out of his lips. he’s passionate in the way he’s fucking you but he takes sex very seriously every time you both make love. he never takes it lightly so his utmost priority is to please you and make your orgasms as many times as you want. he never fails to make you cum and you love that about him.

“m-miguel…mmmm, you feel so good,” you’re tightly embraced by him as he thrusts in you a little faster and a bit more deeper. he loves the way you sound in his ear as you moan out his name as he picks up his pace. his strokes are more aggressive and deeper but which each of his strokes it proves just how much he loves you. “i know muñeca…” he says with a low breathy moan, “you always take me so well…you feel so amazing,” he continues to praise you in between his moans and grunts, “but this pussy was for sure made for me.” he kisses your forehead lovingly as his grip tightens feeling the way your pussy flutters and squeezes his dick like a warm embrace. the bed now creaks louder as he moves in you in a more primal manner…he wants you to cum one more time for him and he’s gonna make you cum much more harder.

the bed frame hits the wall aggressively as your body trembles and you cream all over his cock. he could feel the way you’re getting even wetter if it was even possible and now he slips in and out of you so easily. he moans feeling the way your wetness is coating his balls and thighs. you’ve now got your legs wrapped around his waist as you feel just how deep he is and the way he’s now hitting you a-spot. the whole time he’s been hitting your sweet spots and making you cry out in pleasure. “i know cariño. just let go for me, and i’ll make you cum again. okay mi amor?”

all you could do was nod and do as he said as you felt him pull another mind-blowing orgasm from you. you gushed all over his cock, coating his balls, thighs, and even the bedsheets underneath the both of you. miguel relishes in the warm feeling of your juices going all over his lower half. a couple more deep fast strokes and miguel’s cumming inside of you—balls emptied. he lets out a guttural moan as he collapses on top of you and you pant as you both get over the high of your climaxes. as you both come down and relax, miguel slowly pulls out of you and fingers the cum that threatened to leave your pussy. miguel was always good at what he did so he always left you feeling sore and pretty sensitive. miguel picked you up in his arms as he lead you into the bathroom, placing you on your feet as he prepared a nice warm bath for you. he glances back at you admiring how perfect and pretty your flushed body looks.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” he walked over to you as he cupped your face, kissing your lips so lovingly and tenderly. he gently stroked your cheek and pushed back a few of your hairs that sticked to your sweaty but pretty face. “thank you, miguel. i love you so much too.” he closed his eyes as he felt the way your soft nimble hands felt so warm on his face. he leaned into your touch as he let out a sigh of contentment and thanked you. “thank you for being the love of my life and for giving me a chance to love you.”

———

a/n: i am on my knees for this man, and yes i wrote this at the airport 😵🤍

[improperly-tagged-posts]

this post is improperly tagged and lacks a readmore, making it very accessible to minors + otherwise uncomfortable people. this isn't me attacking or scolding you, but making a friendly reminder - it isn't your responsibility of who views your content.

that being said, please read my pinned post for tips about future posts!

i wanna request! angry sex hobie :)

reader and hobie got a pretty big fight and well yeah... angry sex. with a shit load of dirty talking during fucking

i loved the idea but I feel dirty.. SO i hope you like it, anon!

SH!TSHOW!

🔞 NO MINORS PLS. NSFW. 🔞 don't read this pls

Hobie brown x reader

Headcanons. Smut & angst.

a/n: holy water pls. Look I know this is NOT OUR HOBIE, OK?, I KNOW THAT. But I couldn't help writing this. I'm sorry. Tumblr, 'm so cynic but pls don't flag this.

You can find more here “ Hobie's masterlist”

You're a shit show

And I'm in the front row

You think Hobie has broken another of his promises and forgot about today's plans.

Honestly, You're tired 'cause Hobie keeps canceling plans and it feels so normal it hurt, but you're also upset, who does he think he is? treating you like you're one of his bitches that always seems to want to please him after a show.

All those thoughts consume you and without a second thought you are flirting with a handsome stranger, you don't care what he says, you just want to forget your “stupid boyfriend” for one night.

What you don't expect is for your stupid boyfriend to come to the club and almost kill the man who has his hands on your body.

And that's the cherry on the cake. As soon as Hobie takes you to your flat all hell breaks loose, he looks at you like you've lost your mind and you finally complain about his abandonment. " it's your fault! If you had arrived on time this would not have happened Hobart” “You always cancel our plans!” "You don't even call me on the phone when you disappear." "I pretend to believe all your lies, but I'm not going to waste my time with a half man."

Hobie knows he should apologize,tell you how ashamed he is to leave you alone most of the time but he has to do it, he loves you, but he's upset, upset 'cause he can't tell you the truth and he's not thinking, clearly he's not thinking when he says; “none of that is an excuse to act like a slut Y/n” You're not going to give him the pleasure of seeing you cry, no, instead of that you push him trying to hit his stupid pretty face 'cause you've had enough, but Hobie holds you in his arms.

Your back hits the wall hard and now you're pinned down by him as you try to wriggle out of his grip. But Hobie does something that paralyzes you, he's kissing you, his tongue tries to slip into your mouth, and you know you should push him away, have some dignity, but instead you bite his lip making him gasp, looking at you in surprise and then you press your lips against his. It's not a normal kiss, it's a wild kiss ; Hobie finally slides his tongue onto your tongue and your tongue tastes the blood on his lip making him moan.

Hobie is hard, as hard as ever before, so in the middle of the kiss he thrusts his hips hard into yours, his bulge hitting your clothed pussy making you moan. And even though you two have stopped yelling at each other, you and Hobie still upset, so there's no foreplay, no whispers saying "i love you", it's just you and hobie having angry sex against the wall.

Hobie rips your panties making you gasp, his strength has always surprised you, his mouth is biting into your neck, marking you, but you can see him unbuttoning his pants, removing his pants and boxers before making you wrap your legs around his waist. You moan loudly when you feel his hard length, his fat tip is on your swollen clit and you don't even have to ask to be fucked because Hobie is already guiding his thick cock against your entrance.

You let out a pornographic moan as Hobie slides his hard dick into your pussy and he hisses as your walls almost swallow him. When he is finally inside you, Hobie looks at you and without wasting time he's thrusting into you, hard and fast. Your head hits the wall every time Hobie hits deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. “H—hobie!” you finally give him the pleasure of hearing you moan his name.

“That's Y/N, say my name” “let all your fucking neighbors know you're a fucking slut for my cock” “fuck, you're taking me so well” “know you couldn't live without this cock, Y/N” “ you're so fucking tight” “that man can never have this pussy” “I'm the only one who can fuck you like this, fucking slut” Your eyes roll back, every time he whispers to you, you dig your nails into his shoulder making him gasp. You don't even care how humiliatingly you moan every time he talks dirty to you or rotates his hips to touch that soft spot inside you.

Yet despite all the pleasure Hobie is giving you, you still want to piss him off by making him pay for all, even for having you impaled to his dick against the wall. 'cause you deserve the bed. “ I''m not your slut, Hobart” “You're an asshole” “ a fucking dick” “I hate you” “ I f-fucking hate you” However, all your insults stop when Hobie reaches for your swollen clit and rubs it hard and fast making you moan his name like a prayer.

"Aren't ya my slut? So why are you so aroused from cumming on my cock? ““ 'm gonna fill you up Y/N” “That's right, milk my cock so well” “''m gonna leave you dripping” “ I know how much ya love it” “ wanna my cum?” It's all too much that soon you're cumming and he's filling you up, painting your walls like he promised. And as soon as you two get down from your high, Hobie finally looks at you and when he calls you "luv", your tears are already falling on your pretty face.

And Hobie tries to calm you down, still inside you, you hide your face into the crook of his abused neck as he carries you to bed and finally whispers his apologies and how much he loves you as he cares for your abused body.

“ 'm sorry luv, you're right” “ i'll be a better boyfriend” “ we can fix this” “ don't cry my sweetheart” “ I love ya” But you're not crying because of how he treated you, you can handle that, in fact, you're crying because you know it's over. you can't do this anymore.

I'm leaving your shit show

No longer sitting front row

I bet now you're wishing

You treated me different

[improperly-tagged-posts]

not improperly tagged, and not upset at all! just please use a readmore in the future for wordier posts like these, they can be a pain to scroll thru esp on mobile - (you can find instructions in my pinned post, and better instructions elsewhere by just looking it up!)

THAT BEING SAID omg. i loved this. good words. had me kicking my feet. teehee

Atsv characters reaction to you calling them baby girl

A/n: Just silly little headcannons because this prompt has been living in my head rent free, also I’m adding Atsv to my writing list so feel to request headcannons. Pairing: Pavtri, Gwen, Hobie, and Miguel and Gn reader (Separately, Platonic or Romantic, just random bullshit I don’t know, headcannons )

Gwen: You’d just returned from an incredibly draining mission, your body ached with each tense step you took

But as soon as you saw Gwen leaned over one counter tops in dining hall you couldn’t help but feel a childish joy bubble up from in your chest

Wrapping your arms around her waist as you embraced her with a smile you whispered 

“How’s my baby girl doing today?”

And she fucking freezes, your what?

You had never called her anything like that before, she can’t help but feel a smile of confusion creep it’s way onto her face

“What, what did you just call me?” 

She asks with a smile 

She’s not mad at all, just confused as to what brought this on, but after you repeat it she shakes her head with a breathy laugh as she turns to hug you

She doesn’t really mind the nickname, I mean it’s not like she’s in love with it, but she finds your strange nature oddly endearing

Whenever you use it In front of others though, lord have mercy, she’ll do that thing where she freezes up and her eyes go wide as she tries to cover up what you were saying to her

Hobie and Pav tease the shit out of her

One time just to test the waters you used the name In front of Miguel, when I tell you she froze, I mean like a deer in headlights as she turned to you with the biggest glare she could offer

Miguel only scowls at the two of you as he rubbed his temple with a frustrated sigh

“Y/n, Gwen, at least try to keep this professional.”

She wouldn’t talk to you for two weeks after that

But once her anger had subsided she found herself getting used it too it

Pavtri:

You were in the kitchen, bent cookie recipe with furrowed brows as your eyes scanned the paragraph of instructions your eyes fell upon one particular ingredient 

Sugar

How could you have forgotten to buy some? With a groan you shifted your body to face Pavtri who had been laid out on the couch watching you work for the past hour of so, he looked over to you confused as to way you seemed so distressed 

“Hey, Baby girl?” 

You called out to him in only the sweetest tone, he couldn’t fight the smile that managed it’s way onto his now brightly grinning face

“Yes? My prissy pissy poo poo bear?”

At his ridiculous nickname, you couldn’t help but to burst out with a loud fit of laughter, as you clutched your stomach you turned back to Pav

“What, did you just call me?”

“What did you call me?” 

He shot back with a lopsided smile 

From then on anytime you used the nickname he only racked his brain for something ten times as ridiculous as what you had called him

You’ve compiled a list of all the weird shit he’s said

Anytime he does this you let out a soft snort and a quiet fit of giggles following this, and this only encourages Pav to keep going, he’s addicted to the sound of your laughter

But honestly he loves the nickname, the idea of him being yours and yours only, makes his heart flutter 

Hobie:

The idea had come to you a long time ago, you had to admit, that you found the idea of calling Hobie baby girl, was at least a little funny to you if not incredibly tempting 

With a shit eating grin crawling up onto your face, you’d found Hobie in his room, tweaking his electric guitar as he sat on his bed

His head shot up at he noticed your frimillar  figure slinking through his door, he offered you a lazy smirk as he placed his guitar to his right as he opened his arms for you

“How ya been doin’ love?”

He drew out, you felt your smile only widened as you returned his embrace 

“Not too well without my baby girl.”

You teased as you placed yourself onto his lap, kissing his cheek with a hum

“Damn Right.”

Just accepts it, baby, he’s whatever you want him to be 

Malewife, babygirl, you name it he’s yours 

He just loves you call him yours, and if you want he’ll call you the same 

Miguel:

It was a dare, it was a dare, fucking Peter B Parker would be the death of you

Miguel was right there, this was all you had to do before you could leave, this was it, it was only for a moment and then you were gone

Miguel sat alone in his office, his head propped up in one arm as his eyes tiredly drifted through the monitor screens, with signature pout plastered to his face 

With a deep breath, you turned and shot Peter one last glare as he smiled to you offering you a encouraging thumbs up as you stepped into

Miguel’s office, Miguel slowly turned his office chair as he looked to you with a bored look on his face

“Do you want something, Y/n.” 

He spat, he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but as he saw you wince slightly at his tone he couldn’t help but sigh, as he ran his hand through his messy hair

“What is it?”

He asked slightly softer than before, you drew in a deep breath as you approached him cupping his face with one hand as you kissed his other cheek

“Nothing much, just wanted to see my baby girl.”

You muttered against his skin

Miguel tensed up as soon as those words left your lips

“What the fuck did you just call me.”

At first you froze, you didn’t know if he was going to blow up, but much to your surprise

Miguel pushed you away as he quickly turned away letting out a string of irritated groans and growls as he held his face in his hands

He was so fucking glad you couldn’t see what an effect your words had on him, his face had glown bright red 

There was no way, he actually fucking liked that, this only caused him to growl louder which had you flinching 

“Get out!” 

He barked which had you scampering out of his office as fast as possible, he needed to cool of now, but he was definitely going to make it up to you later <33

————————————————————

Requests are open teehee

[improperly-tagged-posts]

this post is improperly tagged and may naturally fall onto the dashes of minors and other folks who want to avoid nsfw content! i am not angry nor blaming you, but instead seek to inform.

please check my pinned post for tips on how to avoid this in the future!

begging for you to make miguel and peter fuck the living shit out of a crybaby reader🙏🙏

i’m really sorry it’s taking me a while to get to people’s requests 😭

this is also a short, baby blurb

fem!reader

~

“i-it’s-i can’t take anymore-please.” heaving breaths in between each word, tears and makeup stain your face as peter sits in between your thighs eating you out while you sit on miguel’s lap.

you feel a hand snake up your throat and grip your jaw, tilting it upwards so his mouth is by your ear, “you’re fine. stop whining or i’ll give you something to cry about.” miguel growls.

“‘m sorry, sir.” you sniffle, leaning your head back so it rests on his shoulder, trying to relax so you don’t piss him off. miguel begins to lick and bite at your neck in an attempt to distract you from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

you feel the coil in your tummy begin to tighten, you don’t think you can physically cum again. you’ve already came 4 times tonight.

peter speds up the curling of his fingers as he sucks on your clit, you can barely focus on anything, eyes blurry with tears as you grind onto his mouth once more until you’re sobbing and cumming all over his face.

it was way more intense than any orgasm you’ve ever experienced before, it takes you a few seconds to regain your senses. vision going black and ears ringing. you’re brought back to reality as you hear chuckling and feel a sloppy kiss on your thigh.

“she just fuckin’ squirted for me, what a good girl.” peter praises,

“how many more times do you think you can do that for us cariño?”

oh you’re not getting a break anytime soon.

~

i hear something purring.

[improperly-tagged-posts]

this post is improperly tagged, and can easily fall onto the dashes of minors and any other people who try to avoid nsfw content! i am not angry and place no blame/responsibility-for-others-actions on you, but would rather inform you a bit on how to avoid this in the future.

please refer to my pinned post, as i don't have the energy to rewrite all my tips here. thank you!

Can you please write one shot with miguel who has his first time with reader and reader is a virgin??

Btw I really like your writing style!! <33

i’ve got butterflies. 18+ smut virgin!reader; virgin!miguel; soft dom!miguel; pussy licking; kinda unedited

your lips are molded to miguel’s. his hand slipped around your neck, drawing you closer, as his other drags down to the hem of your shirt, but that’s when you pull away, breathing hard as you look to the side, almost self consciously.

miguel’s brows furrow, grabbing your chin and bringing your head back to face him. “something wrong?” his tone is breathy from the amount of kisses you’ve given him. so now he’s wondering on your hesitation at his hand.

a hand that has begun to brush back and forth along your shirt, as you caught his gaze, looking bashful. his lips move close again, along with his body, tightening his hold on your shirt as he places open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “y/n?” he tries again against your skin.

“i just…” you drift off biting your lip. “i haven’t…”

miguel’s kisses have stopped and you’re scared you blew it. maybe he wouldn’t like you as a virgin? you meet his gaze as he draws back, eyeing you, opening and closing his mouth. “…haven’t?” he slowly asks.

you lick your lips. “at all.”

miguel breathed heavier and you don’t seem to catch the desperation in his eyes at the revelation, until his body is pushing you back, you being forced to lay on the bed, as miguel caged you in. “nothing at all?” he asks, a small grin forming. because he was ecstatic to hear no one else has gotten this chance.

how stupid people can be to not snatch you up. and now you were his. all his. now he was grinning as he captured your lips almost feverishly. “that’s so sweet…querida.” because now you’d be each others firsts.

“sweet?” your brows furrow, only making miguel smile against your lips.

“i’ll be your first….you’ll be mine…it’s sweet of you…not letting someone else have it.” his tongue is exploring your mouth as he presses his body atop of yours, your eyes fluttering closed. “yeah…so sweet of you…” his hand has moved between you two, unbuttoning your jeans with easy fingers, making your breathing hitch. his ears picked up on the sounds, showing him your tells.

“it’s alright, mi amor…I’ll be gentle…” he’s still breathless, from a mix of the excitement, as he places kisses down your body until he reached between your legs, widening them for him. you feel dazed as you stare at miguel, who’s now biting the edge of your pants, bringing the zipper down with his teeth as he holds your thighs.

“miguel—“

“shh…just stay like that…doing so good letting me touch you down here…” his hand lightly grazes over your jean-clad pussy. he raises your hips, removing your pants and panties rather quickly, his breath now right up close to your dripping pussy.

“look how pretty she is f’me…and it’s all f’me…” his tongue darts out in a long lick, tasting your arousal. your hips twitch at the foreign feeling, your head resting back.

but miguel’s hand slides up your body to pull your chin back as he continues to lap at your cunt. “you gotta see if i’m doing well…does it feel good, querida?…” then his finger is teasing your hole, as he hums, before sinking it in making you choke a small whimper.

“that’s it…doing so good f’me…my good girl…” his gaze is caught up in your clenching pussy as he slowly inserts a second finger. “i-it hurts.” you gulp out.

miguel looks at you, keeping his fingers inside you. “it’s okay…” then his eyes slightly glaze over. “means you’re gonna be so tight…hug my cock so well.”

“s-shit, miguel.” he had begun thrusting his fingers inside you, finding that pleasurable spot that made you squirm. then you felt him spit directly dribble down pussy. “just gotta make sure you’re ready…cause if my fingers hurt, cariño…” he drifts off, flicking your clit with his thumb experimentally.

and he wasn’t wrong to assume, because when he brought out his cock your eyes widened. and when he drew the head through your wetness you stuttered out “i-it won’t fit.”

“yeah it will, y/n, don’t worry…it’ll fit…” he groans as he brushes over your entrance. then he was pushing in, making you nearly cry out. “miguel…no…it…it’s too much.”

“i’m not even halfway in, querida…you can do it…you’re being so good f’me..” he pushes further in. and when he finally began to fuck you, your entire body was buzzing with a mix of pain and pleasure, slowly the pleasure rode out as you began to bounce down onto his cock, mewls and moans leaving your lips.

“fuck—that’s it…uh huh…that’s it…so good, so good—dios…” his thrusts picked up and as his hands glided up your shirt, feeling every part of you, he pushed your legs wider apart, completely ruining your pussy as he muttered praises to you. “my sweet girl…thanks for the gift, y/n…such a pretty present you are…” and that’s when miguel realised just how much he liked controlling your bodies sounds and movements.

[improperly-tagged-posts]

not improperly tagged, but please do add a readmore on future long posts like this! they are a pain to scroll thru, especially on mobile.

you can add one by typing ":readmore:" alone on a line then pressing enter. i think there's also a button available on mobile and web, to insert a readmore more easily

Once upon a time there was a gloomy midnight, cursed, plunged in the deepest purples and reds, while I was looking, on my bed with a sheet printed with basketballs, weak and tired, many photo albums, full of memories, while my eyes had not slept for a long time and my dark circles had become painful...

As I was nodding off, almost taking a nap, something I had sworn I would never do again, suddenly there was a tapping sound, as of someone knocking softly, banging on my front door.

"At this hour?", I muttered, "No, it can't be, there can't be anyone at this hour, it must be just the wind...just that and nothing more".

I distinctly remember it was in the bleak December; and every dying ember left its ghost on the ground.

I anxiously looked forward to the next day, and the day after that, until the end of my days. From my albums came the relief of grief, grief for my rare and radiant friend, named Sunny, once a whole person, full of life, strange but overwhelmingly happy...now, in the ground, under a coffin, now nameless here and forever more.

And the silky, sad, uncertain whisper of each orange patterned curtain of those stupid basketballs...I shivered, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; so now, to calm my heartbeat, I kept repeating....

"'It's Hero, my parents, they want to come in the house. Yes, that must be it. It's that and nothing more."

Suddenly my soul grew stronger; then I hesitated no longer, and carefully made my way down my darkened house, avoiding bumping into the stair railing, and grabbed the knob of my front door, and peeked out part of my face, feeling the cold night air crashing against my features.

"Hero?" I said, "It's 3 o'clock in the morning, Hero, why are you coming home at this hour?" here I opened the door wide... darkness and nothing more.

Deep in that darkness, looking out into the empty street, hearing the little creaks of the flow of electricity powering every house in this cursed town, I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, imagining things no mortal dared to dream before, a ghost, a creature, anything inexplicable to the human; But nothing was happening, but the silence was unwavering, and the stillness gave no sign, and the only word I managed to utter from my mouth was the whispered word, "Sunshine?" This I whispered, and a cursed echo, a resonant, haunted echo from the darkness of the night, beyond the trees, murmured the word, "Sunshine!"... only this and nothing more.

I went back to my room, slamming my door shut, running, with beads of cold sweat running down my forehead, my soul on fire, feeling my body tensing and my breath quickening, and my eyes bloodshot as I locked my room, when, soon I heard again a knocking somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," I said, "surely it must be some drunk wanting to play a prank, surely it's some person, Kim, someone, wanting to punish me for not saving Sunny, probably it's nothing, yes, it must be that, just that and nothing more."

Here, I walked down towards the living room, my hands shaking, and flung open the door expecting some infamous, Mephistophile creature, when, with much flapping and effort, in came a majestic raven from the holy days of yore. A plumage black as night, and pupils as black as Sunny's. Not for a minute did he bow, not for a minute did he pause, but, with arrogance and elegance, interrupted in my home, ascending to my room, and finding himself in my room dimly lit by the night lamp I own, he perched on an old photograph with my group of friends, right next to my bed... he perched, sat down and did nothing more.

Then this ebony bird seduced my sad fancy to smile, by the grave and severe decorum of the countenance he wore, I could see him, I could see him.

"S-Sunny," I said, plunged into the deepest madness and delirium, "It's you! I-I knew you couldn't have died, I knew you would come back to me" I said in tears, almost sobbing at the sight of the raven's black eyes, as I tried to erase from my memory his crushed body and non-existent head on the hospital parking lot floor "Sunny! Say something, please, please, please say something, I need you, I don't know what to do, Basil was murdered and Aubrey hasn't left her house. Please, what can I do, say something." Forgetting that crows couldn't talk, I don't know what I expected, even if this crow was Sunny, he obviously couldn't answer me, when, unexpectedly, the crow uttered: "Nevermore".

I was amazed to hear the voice of this raven, it was identical to the voice of my beloved Sunny, and not only that, this ungainly bird spoke so clearly, the mere fact that it spoke was wonderful, however, its response held little meaning, little relevance in my eyes, for we cannot help but agree that no human being alive has ever been blessed to see a bird with the countenance of his beloved, in his own room, and have it answer him with a word such as "Nevermore".

And the raven, sitting placidly and solitary in the picture frame, said only that one word, as if his soul in that one word was poured out. Nothing more did he utter, not a feather did he flutter, nor did his beak gesticulate, nor did his eyes move....

Until I barely murmured "Sunny, you don't know how happy I am...thank you, thank you for coming back, promise me you'll never leave again, that you won't fly away again like my hopes." Then the bird declared, "Nevermore."

Startled by the answer so aptly delivered, I smiled, trying to make sense of the answer "Sunny" I said, "You are so sweet, so beautiful, in spite of all that happened you came back, but please, say something else" then I pondered. He jumped off the roof, wanting to end his life, and whatever was tormenting him would stop him at that moment, and so he can only exclaim the word "Nevermore".

But the raven kept seducing my sad fantasy to smile, to smile at its soothing presence, so similar to that of my beloved, and so, I stood on the edge of my bed, moving my head to one side like a curious labrador dog, looking at the beautiful bird and the open door to the darkness.

Then, letting myself sink into the soft mattress stamped by those damn basketballs, I started thinking.

I was thinking, thinking fiercely, thinking about what this ominous bird of yesteryear, possessed by my departed beloved, my gangly, ghastly, emaciated, ominous bird of yesteryear with the voice of my extinct sunbeam wanted to say as it squawked "Nevermore."

But the bird did not utter another word, the raven did not utter another sentence, and stood there, watching me, dimly illuminated by the orange lamp, a bird with the countenance of my beloved represented in that photograph on which I was sitting, ready to return to school after a hard summer, now unable to see a summer again, a bird whose dead eyes now slaughtered my heart. With this doubt, I stared at the bird, as I felt my head burn with a thousand doubts, observing the shadow the bird cast on the wooden floor of my home, a black that reminded me of a hole, a hole into which my beloved fell, and from which he may come out nevermore.

Then, it seemed to me, the air became thicker, perfumed with the pretty scent of tulips that my beloved was expelling as he walked, with a tired but beautiful face, and then, in desperation, I grabbed the face of the raven from its banks.

"Sunny", I cried, "Say something else, I will do anything, I will play with you, I will give you everything you ever wanted, we will go on adventures, everything will go back to normal, we will return to happiness, but please, say something else" And then the raven said a prayer word I feared: "Nevermore".

"Sunny!" said I, "I'll be good, but please tell me something! Where did you come from, where did you appear from, why did you do it, in heaven there is happiness and cherubs and angels?" And then the raven said: "Nevermore".

"Sunny!" said I, "Death was...immediate? Death is not so bad? Death made you happy? What's after death? Were you happy when you died?" and then the raven said words that devastated me: "Nevermore".

"Sunny" said I, plunged into the deepest despair, looking for some other question, something else that could answer me, when defeated, and knowing what I would probably answer again... "Will we ever be happy again? Will there be no more deaths? Is Aubrey going to live? Will Hero live? Will I live? Will we ever get over you leaving? ...Are you happy?" And then the raven answered, with what seemed more forcefulness, more mercilessness, but at the same time, analyzing his face, he looked sad, he looked resigned, he looked defeated, while he said his phrase: "Nevermore".

I fell resignedly to the floor, as my eyes, briefly glittering, plunged back into the deepest darkness, watching my shadow cast by the orange light of my room, mingled by the shadow of the raven, and the shadow of my beloved trapped in the bird, seemed to pierce my heart. And from the blended shadows, I looked deep into the darkness of that compound shadow, injecting my eyes into the darkness, until I seemed to see a hole in the center of reality, in the center of my soul, and any hope I had was swallowed up by that hole, as I said to myself, Aubrey will die. Hero will die. You will die. You will all die. And the light was in my soul, nevermore.

And the raven with the spirit of my beloved, who never flutters, still sits in the frame of the old photograph, looking at me every night until the end of my days, without eating, without drinking water, impassive, unbeatable. And his eyes look like those of an angel dreaming, and the light of the lamp above him casts his shadow on the floor, with my soul trapped in that shadow, while I understand. They will all die. I loved him so much. Oh, I loved him so much.

And my life will be held in the shadows.

And my body will be swallowed by the underworld.

And my soul swallowed by that shadow of that raven with the soul of my beloved, will be raised.... nevermore!

Adaptation of The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe

Original art by @madnopost in Twitter and Instagram, as well as Your Time AU, in which this story is based. written by me

[improperly-tagged-posts]

not meant to be hostile, but fun fact, telling minors to fuck off does not prevent them from pressing readmore nor checking your blog. (granted, you def aren't responsible for their choices)

please take more care to properly tag your posts and prevent unwanted audiences from looking at your stuff! check my pinned for info, i don't have the spoons to rewrite over again

My Confession (18+)

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

warning: christian hypocrisy, religious rebellion, semi-public sex, semi-exhibition, crying, choking, toys, ropes, overstimulation, mommy kink, fingering, spanking, biting/marking, spitting, strap-on, slapping, rough sex, pee, and vibrator.

ⓘ slow burn

summary: — wherein before you take your vows to officially become a nun, you need to confess all your sins to the priest. but what happens if all your sins were unforgivable?

word count: 6.3k

a/n: it might be a bit bad tbh. overall this was the 1st smut that i wrote, and send me some smut requests.

oh btw, men and minors get the fuck out of my blog. ty

Jenna's POV

It was around 11 pm when I finally arrived at my destination, a small village with only at least 2 thousand population max. I got off my motorcycle and tied up my hair, rolled up my sleeves, and wore the crucifix necklace I had.

I grabbed my suitcase and began walking to a certain house, though this area was foreign to me, I was called multiple times because of a demon possessing a boy.

I was the 1st female exorcist in the church, since the Vatican was obviously misogynistic. They argued whether or not to make me an exorcist or just a demonologist with psychic abilities, in the end, the ministers couldn't deny that my abilities were way beyond what they already had.

Making me an exorcist was the best decision they could make. Hence they didn't regret how I successfully exorcized nearly 167 demons in a span of 5 years.

But that doesn't mean I get to get away with everything I'll be doing, even though I was heavily favored by the church herself.

"That's a beautiful pig." I said to a guy I paid to bring it. He chuckled and drank a bottle of beer, "Only the best, Father." he groggily said.

I was a female yes, but the ministers ordered me to be addressed as Father Ortega, to... continue the culture.

I opened the door to a small house, only one light was on and the rest of the light I saw was from the lit candles. The room felt uneasy and quiet.

"This way, Father." A fellow priest said, leading me to the dining room where a small girl, her mom, and her dad were sitting and looking at me. I placed my suitcase on the table nearby and the priest filled me in on what happened to the possessed boy.

"The boy is showing all the classical signs of possession, Father Ortega," the priest said, panicking and beads of sweat dripping down his face. "Has the family consulted a doctor?" I asked, looking at the people at the dining table.

"Many, many doctors." The priest sounded persistent that this was much more serious than we expected. "What are the signs of possession?" I said as I grabbed his shoulder and looked at him. "He converses in English, Father." He was shaking and before I could answer, a noise was heard on the door near the dining room.

I looked at the door, "Has he spoken English before?" I asked, not breaking my gaze on the door. "Never. Not even before." he said. "Do they own a television?" I asked. "Y-yes, I believe so." He stuttered as he looked around.

I breathed out and patted his shoulder, "Okay, thank you." He nodded at me and I went over to the girl sitting on the chair, and drawing something on the table. "Hey there, do you mind telling me what are you drawing?" I looked over at her shoulder trying to look at the picture.

"A bird," The kid said, I hummed and sat next to her. "Really? That's good, kid." I grabbed the match laying on the table, and lit it. "I have a very important job for you," I lit up the candle in front of her.

She looked at me and nodded slowly, "Do you know 'Our Father' ?" I asked. "Yes Father," She replied. "Good." As I blow out the burning match. "You can help your brother, and repeat 'Our Father, over and over. Don't get distracted. Relentless. Understood?" I said as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She smiled faintly, "Yes, Father."

"Good." Then we proceed to recite it together.

After we were done, I told the priest to come over. "Bring me the pig." I told him. He nodded fastly and left the house, then screaming from the door followed.

—

I opened the door, and was greeted by a young man tied up to his bed, grunting, screaming, and growling all at once. His eyes were red and so was the flesh near them.

He was filled with sweat and was moving around, trying to break free from the ropes. I made the sign of the cross, then placed my suitcase on the desk. I was opening it when he suddenly spoke.

"I am Legion,"

And clicking sounds were heard from his mouth. I looked at him weirdly.

"What is this? The Last of Us?" I thought to myself.

"I am Satan," He said again as his eyes rolled back to his head.

"I am foul-mouthed Behemoth."

I smirked at this phase and sat on the chair near him, I wiped the Totem of the Vatican symbol using my shirt and faced him.

"It's difficult to believe." I said blatantly. His head stood up in an instant and looked at me, looking mad.

"You doubt me?"

"If you are Satan, what is my name?" I asked the demon. He sat up and tried to get near my face, but the ropes were keeping him in place.

He growled at me, "I won't say shit to a dickless whore." He laughed while looking into my eyes. "I know what you are Sister, you and me, we're the same."

Tugging his hands from time to time, he never stopped looking at me. "Foul-mouthed indeed." I raised both of my brows at him. "Describe hell," I challenged him.

He laughed maniacally, throwing his head up, and continued laughing. He stopped abruptly, snapped his head back looked at me, and said, "You will find out soon eno-"

"Are you avoiding my question?" I stopped him, he lunged at me, or at least tried to.

"YOU MOCK ME!?"

His voice was disoriented and rough. Before he could say anything more, I showed him my Totem.

He went back for a bit and his face scrunched in fear. He stared at it intensely as I moved the Totem side by side, and his eyes followed it.

"Answer me, Satan." I ordered him. "Why possess this boy? Why not someone more influential?" I stared at him. He tilted his neck at a 90-degree angle, making a snapping noise.

He kept moving his head and said slowly,

"I can possess anyone I choose." Desperate for me to believe him, he was acting like a kid who was telling his mom that he had superpowers.

I lowered the Totem down and hummed then nodded sarcastically.

Just then I heard an oink behind me, "Could you possess Father Gianni?" I asked him in a questionable tone. I felt the priest nervously looking at me, scared that he'll get possessed if the demon wanted to, and me egging the demon on was making him shit his pants.

"ANYONE! ANYTHING!"

He screamed, and his spit was flying on the bed sheets. I shook my head while chuckling, "That is not the case, I do not believe you could even possess this pig."

I mocked him while looking at the pig, he started shaking his head then his whole body followed afterward. He snapped his neck to look at the pig and faced it, he kneeled on the bed and started convulsing while staring at the animal.

"Can you do it? You have the power!"

The boy growled and started screaming at the poor pig, "Could you possess the pig?" I asked him once more. His lips twitched to a smirk, "Yes, I can."

His pride was eating him, and it was eating him up good.

"Come on, Satan." I calmly said, giving him the idea that I did not believe him any second.

"WATCH ME!"

Father Gianni was looking at the boy with panic in his eyes, muttering Latin prayers quietly.

"Possess the pig. Show me you are the Prince of Darkness!"

His eyes turned white completely and kept screaming while pulling the ropes. He was almost standing and his chest was out, more growls and screams were heard as he screamed one last time.

"Have you done it, Satan? Have you possessed the pig?" I screamed at him.

"SHOW ME!"

The boy suddenly dropped back onto his bed, and I gave the signal to the man holding the pig.

A gunshot was suddenly heard and pig blood scattered all over the place. It splashed on Father Gianni's face and mine too.

"AHHHH!" The priest screamed, wiping the blood off his face. I held the boy's face and he was whimpering. "Be calm, God blesses you." I told him softly.

Father Gianni's face was in shock, looking around at what the fuck just happened.

"You can sleep now, my son. The demon has gone." His eyes were slowly forming tears, he cried in my hands as I caress his face.

"Dios está contigo"

Then he finally blacked out.

—

"How is it that I am suddenly worthy of the time and attention of all you powerful men?" I was sitting in a chair, crossing my legs and my arms looking at the 5 ministers in front of me.

"On the night of June 4th in the town of Tropea, you performed an exorcism, without the approval of the Reggio Calabria Bishop." One of the ministers said, Father Gabe, with venom and anger in his voice.

"What are you pointing at, Father?" I asked him, licking my dry lips in the process. "From Father Gianni's description, what occurred in Reggio Calabria sounded exactly like an exorcism, complete with animal sacrifice, no less."

I guess that bitch of a priest is throwing me under the bus now, knowing it was his friend's son who got possessed and asked me to perform an exorcism without the church's approval.

But I guess I was too dumb enough to agree with him.

"Yes, I performed the exorcism. So what's your point here, Father?" I was starting to get impatient, I already confessed to my 'wrongdoing, can he just tell me what he wants now?

"You addressed the subject as Satan, called him to display his power. Do you deny this?" The other ministers just listened to what Father Gabe said.

Is he fucking for real right now?

"Father Gabe, since when have I denied your statements?" I asked him, he looked furious and stood up.

"Respect your superiors, Father Ortega!" He pointed his finger at me and screamed, I scoffed at him.

"This is the work of a devil, of course I would exorcize the boy. Now tell me, what is your point?" I furrowed my brows at him and he sat back down and exhaled.

"The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith has recommended this panel, that the position of the Chief Exorcist be formally vacated." He smirks at me, locking his hands together.

"So, what you are saying is that evil does not exist?" I asked him calmly.

"The church is under constant pressure to sharpen her relevance. It's time we move past these outdated beliefs."

"Explain to me please, Your Eminence..." He sighs in annoyance as he looks over to the other ministers. "If evil does not exist, what is the role of the church?" The other ministers look at Father Gabe, telling him to revoke his command of vacating my position.

He looks at them with a small frown on his face. He had enough and stood up again.

"I WARN YOU. I WARN YOU, FATHER ORTEGA. TO SHOW SOME RESPECT TO YOUR SUPERIORS."

I stood up, fed up with his voice and useless proposals.

"I DO! I AM THE CHIEF EXORCIST OF THE VATICAN, MY POSITION WAS APPOINTED BY MY BISHOP. MY DIOCESE IS ROME, AND MY LOCAL BISHOP IS THE POPE."

Father Gabe looked shocked by how I screamed at him, he sat back down and threw his papers on the table.

"If you have a problem with me, you talk to my boss. Okay?" I drank the coffee that they gave me in one big gulp and walked out.

—

Your POV

It was a peaceful afternoon and I was taking my daily after prayers as someone busted through my door.

"OMG Y/N! Did you hear? Father Ortega has returned!" Emma, she was my co-novitiate. I was not done with my prayer yet and continued muttering the words.

"defende nos in proelio..."

"Oh," I felt her kneeling beside me and doing the sign of the cross, joining me in my prayer. I held out my hand to her and she held it.

"contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.,"

"Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur."

"tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, in virtute Dei, in infernum detrude satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo,"

"Amen."

We both ended the prayer of protection by Saint Michael the Archangel with the sign of the cross. We both stood up and sat on my bed, I looked at her.

"What was it again Emma?" I asked her, she had a huge smile on her face and started fanning herself. "Father Ortega is here! She's here right now in the Monastery Office!"

She told me with excitement in her voice. I giggled from what she said, "Emma, I know those thoughts are impure." I told her. Emma pouts at me and crosses her arms, "Aw c'mon, cut me some slack. I won't be able to satisfy my human desires once we take our vows tomorrow."

She laid down on my bed and sighs, "Your faith was decided the second you agreed into becoming a novitiate, so why complain?" I looked at her waiting for her answer. She frowned at me, "Aw y/n/n you're no funnnn."

I laughed at her response, "Sister Alciana is waiting for us in the garden, let's go." she groaned in annoyance and stood up. "Alright, let's go."

—

"You both will be taking your vows tomorrow, correct?" Sister Alciana was in front of us in the walk through garden, we were walking together side by side, me on her right and Emma on her left.

"Yes, Sister. Tomorrow is finally our day." Emma replied to her, she held Emma's hands and kissed them. "God will always be with you."

She lets go of her hands and holds mine next, Sister Alciana smiles at me. "Y/n, you will be a great nun that will serve the Lord Himself. Your pure soul will help the helpless, and your holiness will help and guide the unholy."

My eyes lit up by what Sister Alciana said, I felt her hands tighten on my hands and then she kissed them.

"Sister Alciana! It's been a while!" A voice was heard behind us and I saw two figures heading our way.

A man shook Sister Alciana's hands and smiled at her. "Father Oano, it truly has been a while." But I was too busy to listen in on their conversation as I spotted an all too familiar figure behind him, it was her, Father Ortega.

I looked at her and she was already looking at me with a small grin, hands in her pockets. She shamelessly took her time to check me out. I bit my lip and gave her a head nod, and she returned it back with a smile.

Sister Alciana smiled and turned to look at both of us. "Girls, this is Father Oano, a long friend of mine and the priest who will be taking your vows."

"Nice to meet you Father Oano." I stuck my arm out at him and he gave me a firm handshake, Emma did the same and we both bowed at him. "So these are the two future nuns who you told me about? It's a pleasure to meet them." He said to Sister Alciana.

"Yes, these are my two lovely girls who will soon serve the Lord." Sister Alciana smiles at him. Father Oano took something from his pocket and gave me and Emma a small box.

"This is my early present for the both of you, for sacrificing so much just to serve Him." I opened the small box and it was a rosary inside.

Wait, isn't this the Vatican's symbolic Rosary?

I heard Emma gasp, she took the Rosary off the case and held it out to the sun, the golden beads shone brightly under the light. "The Vatican's symbolic Rosary." She said, looking in disbelief.

"Thank you so much, Father Oano. This means so much to us." I told him, he looked down flustered by our thanks and shook his head. "It's no biggie girls."

"Oh my, isn't this... Father Ortega?" Sister Alciana suddenly spoke, looking behind Father Oano. Emma snapped her head at the figure behind the priest.

"Ah yes, she was once my student in my Demonology class, and now she's officially an Exorcist." Father Oano threw his arm around Father Ortega's shoulder, she laughed and nodded.

"The one and only, Sister." She gave Sister Alciana a hand shake. "Not just an Exorcist, but the Chief Exorcist of the Vatican!" Emma said she was so happy to see her, a huge smile was visible on her face.

"You all fluster me," She giggled and looked shyly on the floor. "I've heard so much about you Father Ortega." Sister Alciana locks her hands together and smiles at her.

"Good things I hope, Sister." Father Ortega scratches the back of her neck and awkwardly smiles. "It was more than good actually," Sister Alciana replied and laughed.

"You girls should be going, I have a private matter to discuss with Father Oano." Father Oano looked at Sister Alciana and nodded, they both looked a bit serious so it must be talked between the both of them.

I looked at Jenna and she looked at me, "We should go." Emma said behind me, I nodded at her, "We'll take our leave Father Oano, and Sister Alciana. We'll see you when we see you." We all took a look at each other and waved, after that, the 3 of us walked out the walk through garden.

—

"Sister Y/n, I need to talk to you about a new case I'm going to be doing next week." Jenna broke the silence between us when we were already inside the Monastery, I signaled Emma to leave both of us alone and she quietly left.

"Your office?" I asked Jenna, a blush was present in her cheeks and nodded.

—

Jenna opened the door to her office and we both entered the room. Once she closed the door, she walked over to me and pulled my waist to kiss me.

3rd person POV

You weren't surprised at what Jenna did, instead you held her face and kissed her back. Her arms were wrapped around your torso and kissing you passionately.

You break off the kiss and look at her, she looks absolutely stunning with her hair in a ponytail. She had a huge smile on her lips and looked at you lovingly.

She moved her face closer to you and placed her forehead against yours, you smiled widely and your eyes met her lips once more.

"I miss you so much Jenna," you whispered, she could smell your minty breath and she licked her lips. "I miss you too Y/n, It's been 3 months since I've held you this close."

You hummed and closed your eyes, enjoying your girlfriend's presence. "Your taking your vows tomorrow?" She said as she kissed my forehead and I rested my head on her neck. "Sadly, yes." I sighed and looked up at those hazel eyes.

"Don't be sad about it darling, I do need a personal nun for my exorcist." She looks down at me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while smiling at me.

"But I can't marry you then." I wrapped my arms around her neck and played with her hair. She kissed me again and mutters,

"I don't need a paper to tell me my love for you is real."

I ran out of breath kissing her and exhaled, before I could even inhale back, she kissed me again but more deeper this time.

Her hands roaming around my lower waist and she pulls me closer to her, she bites my lip and I give out a small moan against her lips and allow her to insert her tongue inside of my mouth.

—

3rd person POV

It was the next day, you woke up completely bare and in the arms of Jenna, you slightly cough because of the dryness of your throat. "Baby?" You heard her calling you, you looked up at her while your eyes were still squinting, adjusting to the brightness of the room.

You hummed at her and further borrowed your face into her breasts, you smiled at the warmth they gave your face. You hear Jenna chuckling at you, "Time to get up, you're taking your vows today remember?"

You whined and shook your head, but it didn't take long for you to shoot up her bed and stare at her naked and hair down form, "Oh shit it's today!" She had a funny smirk on her face and sat up on the headboard, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to look at you.

"You're gonna work for me and only me darling." Jenna smirks at you, only for you to roll your eyes at her. You crawled over to her and pecked her lips.

"Oh yeah? What if we'll get a case where the profound demon knows all our secrets? It won't be so fun now, would it, Father Ortega?" She looks at your lips and grabs your neck, pulling you closer to her face.

"Then let the demon know you're all mine, Querida." Jenna was about ready to have sex with you again but you pushed her back on the headboard, "Your breath stinks Jenna, disgusting." You laughed at her and got out of bed, going into the shower.

She shook her head in disbelief and giggled. Jenna won't be able to marry you, but that doesn't mean she won't put a ring on your finger.

—

Your POV

"Before I take your vows, you must confess all your sins to me first. Then after the confession, God will accept you as his bride." Father Oano told me, he gave me a white veil to put over my head.

He nodded at me and went inside the confession room, "Gather your thoughts first, and confess everything that you have sinned against the heavens, and God himself. Take your time, soon to be Sister Y/n." I felt him softly smiling at me and I breathed in and out slowly, I gave my final exhale then went inside.

It was a cold room, with dim red lights in them. I kneeled down at the pew, holding my Rosary tightly, as goosebumps were forming on my skin.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." I did the sign of the cross and calmed my nerves down.

Beads of sweats were rolling down my face, and I gripped my Rosary.

"Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last confession."

"Forgive me mommy, for I have been a naughty girl."

My heartbeat was beating loudly, to the point that I could hear them in my ears.

"These are my sins."

Jenna presses herself into you, her tongue deep inside your lips as you try to suppress your groans. Chest to chest, she pushed her legs in between your thighs, electing a moan from you. You break off the kiss trying to catch your breath, but she slams her lips back to where they were before.

You tilt your head to meet her kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck, she caresses your waist under your clothes using her right hand and slowly goes up to your tits.

Your soft moans were looming around in her bedroom, she trails her kisses down to your neck and collarbones, leaving small red spots along the way while playing with your boobs.

You started grinding slowly on her lap, trying to relieve some heat between your legs, Jenna undid the buttons on your clothes, not disconnecting her lips on your now wet flesh.

She unzips your long skirt, leaving you in your bra and undies. "Jump." Jenna's voice was domineering and controlling, you jump and wrap your legs around her waist as she puts you in her bed, cradling on top of you.

You tugged on her hair as she hit a particular spot on your neck, you bucked your hips along with a throaty moan as she kept assaulting that spot.

She stops and straddles you, she removes her black colored suit along with her white t-shirt and pants, leaving both of you half naked on the bed.

Jenna smirks at you below her, your half lidded eyes, you catching your breath, hair scattered along her bedsheets and the visible red marks on your neck down to your collarbones.

"My art looks beautiful," Jenna whispers, touching the marks on you. She removes your bra and sucks on your right nipple like a hungry child ready to suck her mommy dry.

Her right hand is playing with the other jugular, and you throw your head back at the pleasure. Your chest is rising up and down as you feel her right hand trailing your stomach, slowly going down to your cunt.

She bites your nipple and you slightly flinch at her teeth making contact with it. She rubs your wet cloth slit, up and down and smirks looking at you, "Look how wet you are for me sweetheart." Jenna removes your panties and settles herself between your legs.

You bit your lip and looked at her lustful eyes as she prised your legs open, revealing your drenched pussy. You wanted to keep your dignity and unconsciously tried to cover the wetness with your hands, and close your legs.

Jenna slaps your face, "Sluts like you need to know your place." She roughly pinned both of your hands above your head and opened your legs again using her other hand. You whimper at the burning feeling of her slap. But God forbid, it made you feel hotter.

"I wonder what Sister Alciana will think about you, knowing her favored novitiate is going to be fucked senseless by me." Jenna's fingers run your wet folds, her palm touching your clit from time to time. You were too focused on her fingers when you didn't notice your wrist being tied up to the headboard.

She lets go of your hands and touches your inner thighs, "So wet and hot for me baby..." Jenna mutters, she inserted two fingers inside of you, feeling the wet, tight and warm walls. You moan at her fingers and she begins moving them at a pace.

"Your cunt misses me too, how cute," Your wetness is starting to run down your ass as you breathe heavily and close your eyes, her pace wasn't enough for you and you were desperate for Jenna to ruin you. Your hips start to meet her thrust, and Jenna stops.

"Ah-ah. Only good girls get to do that, are you a good girl for me Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look at her, Jenna saw your blushing mess of a face, and you nodded.

"Y-yes Jenna, I-I've been a good girl. Please.." You begged for it, for her to corrupt your innocent soul. Jenna smirks and starts pumping her fingers inside of you fast. You were taken back but the pleasure was all you could think about.

"J-Jenna! Fuck yes!" She went down and sucked your nipples, and wet slapping noises were heard in every motion that she did. "Not my name, princess." Her palms hit your clit and you moaned further, she bit your nipple harder and you threw your head back in pleasure.

"Mommy.." Jenna looks up at you and kisses your lips, "Yes, just like that Y/n. Moan for me and only for your mommy, got it?" Jenna hit the right spot in you and you nodded your head and moaned louder. "Yes! Right t-there!" Jenna opened your legs wide, she went down and licked your clit.

Her fingers hitting the right spot over and over again, and her mouth taking good care of your clit. You bite your lip hard trying not to scream in pleasure as Jenna pounds her fingers into you.

Jenna feels you tighten around her fingers and look up at you, mouth open, eyes close and hair sticking to your face.

Was this the same person in front of Sister Alciana, Father Oano and Emma a while ago? The same person who is going to take her vows tomorrow?

Her fingers went deeper inside you as your orgasm was building up, she bit your clit and added another finger. "Cum for me, Y/n."

You moan her name one last time as your back arches and your pussy convulsing, your arousal seeping out of you as Jenna removed her fingers, and her tongue dug in your walls, lapping up all your juices impatiently.

Jenna sits up with your cum juices glistening under the light on her chin and lips, she bites her lips looking at you, your legs spread wide open and a full view of your wet cunt. She removes the clothes left behind on herself, and despite your blurry vision, you see her getting something from her drawer.

You tried to open your eyes to see what she was doing, but her fucking you after a long time of being away, you couldn't. "On your stomach." Jenna says, you tried rolling over on your stomach but you felt your lower region aching, shooting a pain to your pussy directly. You mellled on the pain and Jenna was becoming impatient.

She forced you onto your stomach and you cried in pain, "So fucking slow." She scowls, she pushed herself onto you latched her teeth on your skin, in every surface of your back, she bites and marks you everywhere. Your back is tainted with purple bruises and marks, you choke out a sob at the pain not only on your area but now also on your back.

"Devine... Now ass up, baby." You were about to put your ass up for her, but again she forcefully brought your ass up herself and you feel something hard hitting your ass checks.

You moan in pain and pleasure. With a belt on Jenna's hands she touches the red spot on your ass, lust in her eyes she brings up the belt high and spanks you with force.

You flinch hard at the impact and let out a cry. It hurts so much but feels so good, you feel yourself getting wetter, your juices running down your thighs at this point.

Jenna laughs at this sight, and a wide smirk plastered on her face. You feel a cold and hard material rubbing against your cunt as you hummed at the feeling.

Jenna aligns the tip of her strap on your entrance, coating the plastic dick with your slick. She grabs the base of the toy and thrusts her cock inside of you. Both of you moan at the feeling.

The sound of skin slapping and moans leaving your throat was overwhelming, she hisses as she sets the pace. Jenna death grips your waist, pushing your body in her dick. Your walls throb with anticipation as you feel another slap to your ass.

Tears fall in your eyes, your lips are bleeding from you biting them. You gasp as Jenna bites your nape, the pleasure doubling from her bite, as she fucks you against her mattress. "You're doing so well, Y/n..." Pushing her hips further in you, your arms give out and your face hits her pillows.

"Taking mommy in so well, princess..." Jenna reaches for your nape and pushes her hands, choking you from behind. Your eyes widen from the lack of oxygen, making you feel high, and dizzy. She pounds into you, fast and unsympathetic of her actions. Hitting all the right spots inside of you, you moan loud and good, showing off your incredible vocal cords.

You feel yourself tightening against her cock, your and walls clit convulsing at her cock touching your cervix. Jenna notices this and, "You wanna cum, baby?" Her tone was playful and filled with excitement, she fucks you deeper and faster as if it wasn't enough already.

She slams again and again, smiling at your state, head to the side struggling to breathe, your whines and throaty moans, but all though you were on the verge of passing out and overstimulating, you slam yourself against her cock desperate for your own release.

She holds your waist tighter and with a final slam, your body shakes violently as you feel an abnormal amount of liquid gushing out of you, squirting onto her mattress, Jenna looks down with pride.

She made you squirt, and she was more than fucking happy with it.

"Y/n?" You snapped back to reality as you heard Father Oano's voice, you randomly bucked your hips forward, making a sound.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" You hear Father Oano's voice again, you breathe heavily and nodded, as if he could see you.

"Y-yes! Yes, Father. I-I'm just getting a bit emotional..." You faked sniffing. You heard Father Oano hum, "Do not be ashamed of your sins, Y/n, for the Lord is merciful and he will show mercy to those who deserve it."

It has been hours, and you still found yourself getting fucked by Jenna, with multiple orgasms you've had, you were going in and out of consciousness as you felt her biting your neck.

"J-Jenna... Please, no more..." You whimper at her touch. Jenna didn't listen, instead, she slammed her lips onto yours, earning a moan from your mouth. The overstimulation was getting into you and you started crying in pain, you scratched Jenna's back, too lost in her pounding inside of you like there's no tomorrow.

Your pelvic sore from the prologue of your legs over her shoulders and she slams deeper. "I'm not done with you, Mon cher" With each thrust you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, Jenna stops kissing you and goes down to your tits, sucking, biting and squishing your nipples.

"You don't know how many times I've touched myself without you, baby. Those 3 months were too long for me not being able to touch you..." Jenna looks at you, her hair sticking to her skin, as she pants.

"Now that you're here with me..." She takes her dick out, "I can fuck you whenever I want to..." She slams it inside of you again. You throw your head back with an uncomfortable look on your face, tears rolling down your face, and you can't help but moan.

"Open your mouth, Y/n. I have a present for you, for being so good to our Lord and Savior...." You look at Jenna and all you could see was lust in them, you opened your mouth and Jenna gathered her saliva, and spit inside of your lips.

Her spit made direct contact with the back of your throat, making you choke, but as you were about to cough it out, Jenna grabs your neck and presses down.

You tried stopping her choking you, but your hands were bound. Jenna grabs both of your legs and throws them over her shoulders again as they are slowly falling down the mattress. She rolls her hips at a certain angle, and your eyes roll over your head.

Mouth agape, Jenna spits inside again. Your stomach turns as your orgasm comes crashing down, you felt yourself cumming but a warm liquid coming out of your clit was too embarrassing to not notice.

Jenna slowly removes her strap and kisses your forehead, "You're alright, Y/n." She lays both of your legs down on the bed, and you whimper from the pain. Jenna caresses your face and wipes your tears away.

"Close your eyes and sleep, I'll take care of you, princess." You slowly open your eyes and see Jenna softly smile at you and you smile back. "Jenna..." You whisper, she hums and kisses your temple. "Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

And you black out from exhaustion, Jenna smiles widely and looks at you lovingly.

"I love you too, Y/n."

"Forgive me Father, for I was fucked by Father Ortega last night," You mumbled to yourself. "I can't quite catch you, Y/n." Father Oano said, "Forgive me Father, for I squirted so hard for her.." You mumbled again.

"I'm gonna need you to speak up a bit louder for our Lord to hear them." Father Oano's voice was calm and understanding.

You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, your panties drenched with wetness. You held out a moan, and started panting faintly. Your head was spinning and your legs started shaking, you felt yourself almost at your high as you finally said.

"Forgive me Father, for I have a vibrator up my cunt right now that Father Ortega placed this morning."

"What?"

[improperly-tagged-posts]

hi! this post is improperly tagged and is very easily visible to minors(or others who may specifically try to avoid sexual content). this is not meant to be unfriendly or a callout, but just a pointer. i don't have the spoons to write all the info out, please check my pinned post for pointers

Stripper!Bakugou HCs ♡

wc: 710+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, stripper!bakugou, begging, prostitution, teasing, lap sitting, mention of a strap/dick, hair pulling, suggestive, dry grinding

note: also there's a drabble cause why not

3rd repost...

stripper!bakugou who catches your eye as you walk in the club and continues to peek over where you're sitting throughout the night

stripper!bakugou who steps up his routine, purposefully showing more skin than usual, hoping to catch your eye, unbeknownst to him that you already had your eye on him the moment you walked in

stripper!bakugou who looks over to you only to see you already looking at him so he lifts his skin tight shirt up, exposing his small waist and abs to everyone, eyes on you the entire time

stripper!bakugou who gulps when he sees you glance down at his body, eyes narrowing as your grip on your drink tightens. You know he's teasing you.

stripper!bakugou who ignores all the other onlookers near his stage and instead chooses to pay attention to you and you only

stripper!bakugou whose heart is beating so hard when you walk over to a worker a little latter, your eyes on him the entire time as you talk to the worker and point to him on the stage

stripper!bakugou who tells himself to calm down when the same worker walks up to him and whispers for him to go to a specific room, telling him that someone paid for the special package

stripper!bakugou who, when he walks in the room and sees you on the couch all spread out, knows he knew he's in for a long night.

"do something please"

He's begging already and you haven't even touched him at all yet. From the moment Bakugou walked into the private room, he saw you sipping on a glass of wine and he felt himself getting hard. God are you hot.

So when you had put down the glass and told him to sit on your lap, he didn't hesitate. Usually he would but with your good looks and seemingly stoic demeanor, a voice in his head told him to not deny the offer of a good night. At least he's getting paid right?

He's kidding himself. He knows that he's a whore and would do the same exact thing for free if it's with you.

"are you usually like this for all your clients? A dumb slut?"

He shakes his head at you. Though it's true, it doesn't seem like it considering his job and where you two are currently. With a leg on both sides of your body, he feels something poking through your pants and to his ass. He has to force himself to not whine out loud.

"n-no... just for y-you"

It's for the money, he keeps telling himself. That that's why he's acting so bold. But he knows he's lying. Shit, he probably drank too much earlier. Yeah, that's why he's acting this way.

It's not like he's already addicted to you and your touches or anything.

He feels you put your hands on his bare thighs, giving them a squeeze before they travel to his ass (giving that a squeeze too) until they reach the part of his waist where his shirt had rode up previously, making him shiver from your rather cold hands. Or maybe it's just because his body is hot all over.

Doesn't matter. He loves it either way.

"then why are you already hard? Kinda hard to miss back there when you were up on stage." Bakugou flushes even more but decides to stay silent, his eyes darting down to your lips every couple seconds.

Its until one of your hands sneakily makes it way up to his neck and push his head down towards yours that he lets out a whimper, eyes closing shut. His lips are almost touching yours and he hopes you don't hear his loud heartbeat. The way you're pulling on the strands of hair on his neck doesn't help either. He has to hold back whines each time.

He can't help but grind down against your lap, slowly to test the waters. He holds back from letting out a whimper. But as he's about to do it for the second time, he feels your other hand that's still on his waist squeeze his side, making him halt him movements.

"well, how about you put on a show for me first and i'll decide what happens afterwards."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[improperly-tagged-posts]

Hey folks! Just a heads up, that tumblr update that lets people tag their posts for sensitive content has already rolled out. because mature content is set to hidden by default you may be missing out on some stuff you want to see because you haven't adjusted your settings yet SO THIS IS YOUR REMINDER TO UPDATE THOSE SETTINGS!!!

To do this, go to the account settings section of your blog's settings menu

Hit "content you see"

Scroll down to "Community Labels". Tap on "Hide" under the "Mature" section

Select "Show" and hit back to save.

Repeat for the other community labels as you see fit and enjoy the content :)

[improperly-tagged-posts]

i get that this isn't explicit sex but it's still improperly tagged - i have tags like "mdni" "nsfw" "nsft" and "18+" filtered and yet this came onto my dash without the usual warning. even your little 'mdni' at the top isn't preventing this post from getting on minors' dashes, in the first place - and guess what, irresponsible minors are going to open if it becomes available. that definitely isn't your responsibility and i will never expect you to try to make the internet safe for somebody else's kid, but keep in mind that there are people triggered by explicit content, too. if any person has taken the precautions of filtering tags, they should not be seeing content along these lines.

posts like this should not cross the dashes of minors or otherwise uncomfortable people unless they're actively seeking content like it.

i'm not, like, upset. i just don't have the spoons to be friendly or very educational, sorry. but it would not kill you to properly tag your posts. the list of tags, summary, and mdni note is at least a step in the right direction.

if you're afraid of tumblr clocking you as an explicit writer then settle for tags like "mdni" and "18+". neither of those tags are inherently explicit and they do the job of keeping content off the dashes of unintended audiences.

(the readmore is really good though, i've seen more inconsiderate smutty walls of text than i can count. it's just. i wish people did more.)

check my pinned if you're actually concerned about finding better ways to tag/otherwise help filter your posts. i'm tired and i don't want to come off as mean or hostile, i'm sorry if i do. if i see your posts again i'm going to start reporting

spiced desire mdni

pairing - bakugou x reader

tags - pro hero modelling au, possessive bkg, sexy and sensual but no smut, deku + kiri + kami cameos

summary - Accepting the Bakugou family's olive branch of a modeling gig led you right into the jaws of Dynamight himself. But you'll soon find out just how tempting it is to be bitten.

this is a collab with @fictionalinfinity!! check out her drool-worthy art here

—

It had already been an exhausting day before your manager brought you the news that you would be the second model for Dynamight’s fragrance line photoshoot. You’d been stopped on the street by some ultra-creepy fans, had a delay on some routine car maintenance at the shop, and now this?

“Fuck you, Yui,” you spit, planting your sandal-clad feet in front of the tall woman. “You know how he is. I won’t be involved with any of his shit products.”

She raises a sharp brow. “I’ve heard his products are quite desirable, really.”

“Still, I won’t do it.” A stray hair tickles your nose.

Yui sighs, readjusting the folders in her wiry hands. “There is something you may want to be aware of before you decline.”

“What?” you deadpan, fully aware of your attitude.

“The Bakugou family requested you specifically, as an ‘apology,’ or something of the sort,” Yui pronounces, sucking her teeth as she finishes.

Well, that certainly changes things. It was a grave transgression to turn down an opportunity of this sort, especially when the company (or family) offered it as an apology. It would have been almost like declaring war upon the modeling industry. Scary stuff.

If you turn them down, it means TMZ at your door and no gigs for at least a couple months. If you accept… Dynamight wouldn’t really be there, right? Last time was just a fluke. He wasn’t even supposed to show up, much less shove his hulking body into his own designs and stand there looking seriously pissed for an hour. He wasn’t supposed to stare you down like a bull about to charge and bark orders like he was behind the camera. That dickhead!

You shake your head, eyes clenched shut at the memory. What is more important: your career or your dignity?

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you resolve, having chosen lush body products and expensive groceries over a grudge. “But if he says one nasty thing to me, I’m out. …And I’m telling the girls not to work with him, too.”

Maybe it was petty, but he deserves it. He deserved to never again be able to hire the most sought after female models within a fifty mile radius. He was bossy, infuriating, and yet, he was still stupidly attractive.

Yui’s smug smile told you all you needed to know about what she thought. Sometimes you wondered if she might be a sadist, from the way she loved to torture others like this, but you figured that was for her wife to know and for you to suffer. She just turned on her heel, all sharp edges and intimidating presence. The only kind of presence that worked with you.

You were always clear to your Tinder dates about what you expected from a man. None of them could measure up, even if they thought so. You wanted someone powerful. Maybe a little controlling, you know? A man that isn’t afraid to pursue you; he knows what he wants, and what he wants is you. Your personality is overbearing, too. You easily steamroll anyone who can’t get up to speed, so Yui is the perfect manager. She’s just as much of a bitch as you are, but a little less erratic. A little more grounded.

You’ve been told you’re a bit of a brat. Men love brats, right? Then why can’t you find someone willing and capable enough to mellow your flame?

—

Dynamight is known for being flashy. That’s his whole thing: his insanely powerful quirk, dark and dangerous personality, and body athletic enough to require about four hours of workouts and four-thousand calories. The first time you ever saw him, you were almost terrified at what might be the state of his fridge. Probably a hundred pounds of unseasoned chicken and meal-prepped rice. He likely doses himself with enough pre-workout to kill a horse. He goes hard, always. In the spotlight, he flares brighter.

So why is his usually impeccably designed set bare? Minimal lighting, as expected, but none of the usual leather trim and masculine, natural decor. Most of the room is covered in wires, cameras, and staff. Hair and makeup bustle around in the background, chattering between themselves. The spill of relaxed laughter reverberates off the metal and plastic from the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of production tech. It almost reminds you of your university’s photography tech room. Almost. But that was a long time ago, the memory of operating cameras just like this fading into the recesses of your mind. It was before they shoved you in front of the camera, bound to be arm-candy for the rest of your existence. Hey, it paid well.

The only empty area of the set is lying in wait before the cameras. Still and quiet, brimming with energy. A snake about to strike. Your heart pulses. The burgundy loveseat in front of an inky, shadowed tapestry is unornamented of the king it’s so clearly meant to hail. It exudes power; effortless and ruling. Truly fit for someone like Dynamight.

Your eyes, trained on the set, slide over to an innocuous, stout woman biting her nails, staring ahead just as you did. She mumbles something about the decor choice—or lack thereof—and spins back around.

You startle, looking away quickly. Fuck, where was Yui when you needed her? You flounder as the woman locks onto you and begins marching quickly in your direction.

“You! Where have you been? We need to get you into hair and makeup right this second!” she spits, bony fingers digging into your elbow. She kind of reminds you a bit of your grandmother. “All the Pros are already in there. Don’t bother them, or you’re off the shoot.”

Jeez. High pressure, much? It’s unclear how much of yourself you’ll have to be to bother them, but you have half a mind not to test it. This is for the Bakugou family.

After dragging you across the main room—and nearly sending you flying into expensive cameras multiple times—the woman gently presses down on the handle to the green room, the click of the hinge the only thing you hear before a rounding yell spills from the crack.

“SHUT UP!” the booming voice nearly smacks you in the face.

The response isn’t pained, terrified silence, but raucous laughter.

A deep, rough voice rises above the noise—”But I thought you were excited, bro! You’ve been after her for so long—”

The same grating yell explodes again. “FUCK! OFF!”

You must have a particularly ugly look on your face, terrified and frozen, because the short woman huffs when she glances back to make sure you’re still there, even though her fingers are squeezed insistently on your pressure points. You feel your hand start to go numb.

“Don’t look so daft, girl. It’s not every day you meet Pros,” she grits out, her piercing eyes slashing through your confidence. So much for the rock in your corner—Yui. “Try to make a good impression. You’re not the star of the show here. You’ll need them to like you.”

Well, obviously you’re not the star. You are a casual model, after all. These were Pro-Heroes. You pull every ounce of strength from your body not to roll your eyes at her.

The door squeals, pulled open by a broad, scarred hand. “Arisu! What are you doing out– oh? Who’s this?” The hand is attached to a very large man. Not a model, obviously, but someone just a bit more important. And scary. Red Riot himself, in the flesh.

You know who he is. A little too well. At the sight of his bright, curious face, pearly white—and sharp—teeth, you can’t help but relive every single time you’ve thirsted after him on your Twitter page. Ab-shot after bicep-shot; that one time he’d run that same scarred hand through a mane of burgundy hair he’d let grow since his high school days. Lord have mercy. He’s sweet too, all too familiar with the neighborhood children and elderly women. You can just picture them asking this tree of a man to change their light bulbs (even if they weren’t out, yet). He’d happily do it, knowing they didn’t need changing.

Red Riot’s smile doesn’t falter at your open mouth. Somewhere behind him, you hear a scoff.

“Who– me?” you guess, blinking.

He hums an affirmation.

“Oh… oh. I’m Y/N. One of the… um… sorry, models for the shoot,” you stutter, dumbly sticking your palm out. You’re relieved when Red Riot takes it, gently shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Kirishima!” he says brightly. Then he opens the door even more, exposing a group of Pros looking excited and anxious. The man of the evening—an angry-looking blond—coughs when he averts his eyes by shifting his entire body away from the door, looking supremely guilty and caught. “This is Bakugou, Kaminari, and Midoriya. Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you would recognize us!”

Holy shit. Is that the Symbol of Peace? Waving at you?

The next thing that comes out of your mouth is: “Oh my god. That’s Deku.”

The angry one almost looks like steam is coming out of his ears.

Red Riot chuckles. “Yeah, that’s Deku.” He glances over to you briefly, then stalls. “Are you okay?”

You feel as if your organs just fell through the bottom of your ass. You’ve spent so many hours watching Deku flip and fly through the air, demolishing villains with the most appalling set of skills. He’d send out a whip, careening through the cityscape, somehow not destroying a thing in the process. A little foray into his Wikipedia page one lonely night left you with a burning heart and overwhelming admiration for him. 

The hair stylist messing with his curly green hair sucks her teeth at his movement, and his focus breaks from greeting you to sheepishly spill apologies to her. His cheeks flush under her attention, and you can’t help but notice the dusting of freckles across them. By the look on the stylist’s face, she noticed too.

Oh.

“Oi,” the blond danger perched across the room calls. His arms are crossed over a broad chest, clad in a sleeveless black shirt. You have the fleeting thought that if you were closer, you’d probably be able to see the lines of his pecs. Is it because of the tightness of the fabric, or is he just that muscular? Damn.

Your attention flies to him. By the look on his face, he’s read the room. You balk under his heavy stare, a deer in headlights. “Hello, Bakugou,” you manage.

He jerks his head in a tense nod. It must be some kind of fuckboy greeting. Not cute. But a stray blond hair is knocked out of place by the movement, and his hairstylist’s face sours. You choke back a laugh.

Chargebolt, who had looked up from his phone when you walked in, gasps, “Ooh, Blasty! Is this the model–” He’s cut off by Dynamight’s hand, which comes flying at his face with tiny but threatening explosions. His hair stylist just sighs.

“I’m a model,” you interrupt, throwing Dynamight a dirty look. “I was invited by Dynamight’s parents. I’m probably not the model you’re looking for, though.”

Chargebolt recovers from the attack, having ducked out of the way and jogged over to you. His smile grows. “You can call me Kaminari. You’re supposed to be Blasty’s partner for the shoot, right?”

Your eye twitches. “I– I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. You’ll be with me,” Blasty himself interjects. “The old hag said so.”

He must mean Bakugou Mitsuki. It makes sense that she was the one to both extend the invitation and allow you a seat in the spotlight. By the way Dynamight talks about her, it sounds like she rules with a heavy hand.

Kaminari laughs beside you, a chaotic sound, and throws an arm on your shoulders. Your knees nearly buckle beneath him as you yelp.

Dynamight snarls behind gritted teeth, “Sparky, get the fuck out.”

The arm lifts off your shoulders like it’s been burned. Kaminari murmurs an “alright, alright” and a “see ya” to you before escaping through the open door.

“You,” he starts, pointer finger outstretched towards you. Wasn’t he ever taught not to point at people? “You better not ruin this shit.”

You cock your head. “I’ll do my best, Dynamight.”

He regards you from under a thick set of lashes, and then raises his chin. “Bakugou.”

Your eyebrows jump in surprise.

Red Riot—Kirishima—startles at the sound of his pocket ringing. With Bakugou’s intensity, you almost forgot about him. He curses, and then fishes around in it for his phone. 

“Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta take this,” he huffs after checking the name. He quickly stands, making his way to the door. As he accepts the call and grabs the doorknob to give himself a bit of privacy, you hear him whisper, “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

The ensuing silence is deafening. Stylists meander around the room, bottles clicking on the counters.

You stand there awkwardly, waiting for one of them to tell you what to do. Bakugou’s gone back to his brooding, laid back in his chair and staring resolutely at the wall, and Deku’s distracted, glancing at his stylist’s back and pretending like he’s not. Kirishima and Kaminari are definitely the most socially adept of the four of them. Well, maybe not Kaminari, but at least he doesn’t completely forget–or ignore–your presence.

You eye the seat next to Bakugou, and your other option beside Deku. You’d rather chance an inattentive seatmate than risk your head, so you shrug and plop down next to Deku.

He snaps out of his trance, the almost inaudible muttering stopping abruptly. “Oh! I’m sorry! Do you need anything, Y/N?”

Your smile is taut. “Just waiting for my turn in hair and makeup, really. But thank you for asking,” you reply, leaning in to whisper, “someone here didn’t really seem up for company.”

Deku cringes. His freckles stretch across a grimace. You notice tiny ones splattered like paint on his nose, and bite back a grin. Twitter will love this. “He’s like this with strangers.” He shrugs and flushes. “Oh, not that you’re weird or anything! Or a stranger– I just–!”

You laugh, tossing your head back. Bakugou twitches from his seat on the other side of your friend. “It’s okay, really. He’s weird and strange to me, too.”

Bakugou grunts. Deku sighs.

The conversation lulls as you study the Symbol of Peace. “So, how did you find the time to model for this guy?”

“I promised Kacchan a long time ago that I’d always be around, and I guess this is what he took that as,” Deku explains, his reply more sweet than you expected. Instead of complaining or worrying about all the saving he does as a hero and how this was just taking more time with civilians away from him, he chose to support his best friend.

You can’t manage to keep your thoughts inside, uttering, “That’s so thoughtful, Freckles.”

Bakugou chokes on a sip of water. The hairstylist bristles. She claps her hands together and announces, “Looks like we’re done, sir. I’ll be here during the shoot, in one of the break rooms. Your assistant will let me know if you need a touch up.”

Freckles blinks, turning his body towards her. “Oh, thank you! I’ll see you, um, later then!”

Her smile is demure as she bows and leaves the room, unquestionably aware of his eyes following her.

“Kacchan, why don’t you give Y/N the outfit she’s wearing so she can change?” he says, switching the room’s attention off him and onto you.

Bakugou’s jaw works as he reaches behind him to the rack of bagged clothing. He rips a hanger off and tosses it to you.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Be nice, Kacchan!” Freckles chastises.

“Whatever. Find me when you’re done sucking face,” he spits. “Fucking idiots.”

What?

You stare at the side of his face, chiseled and stony, as he stands up and snatches a black and orange sleek motorcycle helmet from the ground next to his chair.

“Kacchan–” Freckles starts.

Bakugou just makes a low sound in his throat, cutting him off. His jaw tenses when he looks back at the two of you, his eyes darkening when they land on you. If he has such a problem with you, why did he let his parents invite you to the gig?

You scoff when he stalks out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Freckles sighs. “I’m sorry, Y/N. He has a hard time expressing his emotions, and since you’re here–” he explains, stopping himself with a shocked expression.

“Since I’m…?” you try to prompt him, but he just clamps his open mouth shut and shakes his head like he’s trying to knock something right out of it.

“Never– nevermind,” he answers. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and fix your gaze on the door.

Obviously perturbed by the awkward silence, he asks, “Do you want to smell the cologne?”

You bustle, having relaxed without the thought of Dyna– Bakugou. But now his overbearing presence is back in the room, even if he isn’t. Strange.

“It’s good, I promise!” he continues, waving his hands around like he was worried you thought he was trying to get you to smell dirty socks. “The chemists did a really good job at capturing what he actually smells like, but this is more like when he hasn’t used his quirk in a while. He usually smells more sweet– but that’s due to the nitroglycerin in his palms! You know, he actually hates that it makes him smell like caramel. He says it rots his teeth!”

Blinking, you suddenly become acutely aware of your open mouth. Freckles sure likes to talk a lot, huh?

“Oh, I’m sorry. Everyone tells me I need to zip it around new people,” he chuckles, lifting a thick arm up to shyly scratch at the back of his undercut. “Here, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You tentatively reach out to take the bottle from him. A beat passes, and you snort. “A grenade, really?”

Freckles smiles, white teeth and all. “Ironic, isn’t it? Very him, though.”

“Yeah, definitely,” you grin. Popping the lid off, you go to spray some on your neck out of instinct. On second thought, Bakugou probably would get pissed that you wasted it on your “worthless” skin. You can even hear him complaining. Maybe that’s even more reason why you go ahead and apply it to yourself.

Or maybe it’s because it actually smells amazing.

Notes of black spice, deliciously Bakugou’s energy. And something else a little too him, as well. Sage, incense, an obsessive scent. Masculine and dark. Dangerous. You were simply fucked. If he really smells like this up close, you are going to go insane.

“Oh… oh God.”

Freckles’ face spreads in a devilish grin.

—

When Bakugou left in his fit of misplaced frustration, his stylist decided to focus his attention onto you. You were forced to change into the outfit, a skimpy burnt orange lace set with a flowing miniskirt, and sit in your chair wrapped in a modesty robe while you got your hair and makeup done. Your stylist seemed miles more pleased and content with you than he did with Bakugou. You think you can understand the feeling.

You’re making your way back to the main set room when a pair of arms snatch you from the hallway into a dark alcove. A massive hand wraps around your mouth, silencing the cry crawling up your throat.

This is it, you think. I’ll die here, killed by some salty set-hand with a weird vendetta against pretty women. There really is too much of an incel problem in the city.

You are ignoring your loud heartbeat and futile attempts at struggling to make peace with your grudges when your captor spoke.

“Stop fuckin’ wiggling around. I’m not gonna hurt you, idiot.”

You croak like a frog.

“I’m serious. Quit it.”

You still in his grip, chest heaving against his thick arms.

“As much as I’d love to keep you shut up, I’ll take my hand off if you promise not to scream,” he growls, and suddenly you recognize the voice. Fuck! He really did hate you! But would a Pro really kill you? “Will you promise me, princess?”

Okay, well, that’s a new one. You figure he likes to be nice to his victims before he rips their throat out. You concede regardless, watery eyes clenched shut while you nod furiously.

He slides his hand from your mouth down to your neck. You swallow. “What– what do you want, Bakugou?”

“What’s going on with you and him?”

You shake your head slightly, the veil of confusion clouding your eyes. He murmurs something frustrated-sounding. Your lips just barely form “who?” when he growls.

“That fuckin’ nerd,” he hisses, and you feel his chest against your back, rising and falling with a vengeance. “What’d he say to you?”

Suddenly this all makes sense. You were just some unfortunate byproduct of the Dynamight-Deku rivalry, and you were going to get hurt because of Dynamight’s anger issues.

“It’s not your fucking business,” you scoff. But his grip on your neck tightens for a moment, then releases its pressure.

“It is,” he starts, voice deep, “it is if it’s about you.”

You try to turn to look at his face, but you can’t move. “We just talked about your cologne. That’s it. I have some on me, if– if that’s why you’re angry. I won’t put it on again, I promise.”

He tenses. Then you feel shifting against you until a hair tickles your temple. Is he…? His lips ghost over your pulse, and it jumps. You feel a little sick with yourself for enjoying this.

“I’m not pissed,” he unintentionally murmurs into your ear, “you smell good.”

You lean into his grip. “Thanks. I’ve heard it smells like you.”

He smirks against your skin, the hand trapping you against him moving down to massage your hip. He’s almost a stranger, and yet… he rubs a thumb against the swell of your curves, feeling the silk robe slide and roll under it.

“The old hag didn’t care if you said yes. I did,” he admits. You get a little whiplash from the lust he was dragging you into, to this conversation.

“You wanted me to come?” you ask. “I guess you chose this stupid outfit, too? I’m cold, you know.”

He growls and moves his hand from your neck to your ribs. “I wanted you to come, yeah. But I didn’t choose the lingerie. I don’t know who did, but I might fuckin’ kill them for making you wear it.” He pauses. “You can change. They’ll answer to me if they have a problem with it.”

Your mouth quirks up, feeling the rising heat of his palms. “I think I’ll let you live with it for a little longer.”

He bares his teeth in a savage show of dark energy. He begins to grunt, “Like hell you will—”

But you’ve already slipped out of his hands and glided down the hallway.

—

The photographer had to be a pervert. You think that everyone must be somewhat of a pervert about Bakugou, but this was just excessive. They had him laying out, thighs spread across the loveseat. A king on his throne. Suddenly, the set choice made a whole lot more sense. He glares around the room with narrowed eyes, working his jaw. Something pissed him off, you can tell, and he’s about one wrong comment from blowing up the place. He shifts in place, hips lifting slightly. You avert your eyes from his figure.

He is sex personified, you decide. The hairstylists mussed his hair just right, accentuating his already sensual bad-boy look. Anyone who got to see that in the morning, his sleeping face framed by cozy morning sunlight and body bare to the world, is too lucky to be alive.

“Alright, you two! Let’s get this show on the road,” the photographer, a nondescript, slight man, shouts to the set. Apparently, they’d already taken the photos featuring the other Pros, and now it’s your turn. 

If you shift a little to the left from your seat next to the camera, you can spot Freckles and the hairstylist bashful and hovering over a table of catered tea sandwiches. To the right, Kaminari throwing playful punches at Kirishima, even though he only comes up to his friend’s shoulder. And in front, the man who can’t seem to follow directions. It’s like he’s tuned out the photographers in exchange for full, vicious attention on you.

His intensity scares you, and also makes you wildly attracted to him.

“Y/N, do you mind standing in front of Mr. Dynamight?” the photographer asks.

You reply by sliding off your seat and settling yourself in front of Bakugou, face to face. Looking down at him like this, his red eyes trained on your chest, your face, your eyes, your everything, should feel dominant. And yet, you feel more hunted than ever. The side of his mouth rises, exposing a sharp canine.

“We’ll start off by taking some photos like this. Undress whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, chest stuttering. You feel intimidated. You’re having trouble holding Bakugou’s eye contact, not with him sitting like that. His expression is almost like a kid in a candy shop.

“Stop staring,” you hiss.

He hums, fingers tugging at the strings of your robe. “You won’t let me see, princess?”

“And stop calling me that.”

The bow unties and your robe falls open. He breathes in so quickly you think he might have gasped had his jaw not been clenched shut.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be on camera like this.” His hand pulls back a flap of the robe.

Heat crawls up your neck and you swat at him. “This is normal, you asshole. I’m a model!”

He nods stiffly like he’s still not happy with it, and slides his hand inside the fabric to remove it from you.

“You’re gorgeous.”

The photographer interjects as the robe hits the floor and an assistant runs in to pick it up, “Alright! Y/N, could you please look back at the camera?”

You throw a smolder over your shoulder like you’ve been taught, ignoring Bakugou’s comment. The chattering behind the cameras hushes, and the photographer pumps his fist.

Lights flash.

The other standing poses are a blur, your focus stolen by the feeling of your partner’s strong, wide, heated hand running over your bare skin. On your waist, then your hips then your ass. You know you have to be professional, but you can’t help mentally thanking whoever chose this outfit for the extra bottom-half coverage.

You snap back to reality when the photographer instructs you to drop to your knees. Something about both power dynamics and photo composition flutters through the staff. But you do as told, sinking to your knees in front of the blond. You balance yourself on his knees, and they spread under your hands.

“God—” he grunts. His gaze darkens. The position is submissive, and he seems to be enjoying it. You think you might, too.

His fingers twitch from their place on his thighs, itching to push your hair back from your face so he can see you more clearly.

“Last photos, then lunch! Be natural, you two,” the photographer directs. “Like you’re seducing each other. Like a young, hot couple!”

You lay your head on his lap, face away from the camera. You understand your place in this photo; you’re the seductress, nothing more than decor.

“You’re not just a piece of furniture, princess,” Bakugou says roughly.

You raise your gaze up to him, smirking, and then turn your head sideways to the camera. He’s right. Dynamight may be an explosion, but you’re the smoke and rubble. Mysterious, destructive, and powerful. You slide a delicate palm up his thighs, expression venomous and viper-like.

His stomach tenses at your touch when you reach it, the faint smell of caramel beginning to permeate the air. You’re reminded that the thin shirt they put him in left nothing—really, nothing—to the imagination. You mentally swear at the feeling of his muscle (is that an eight-pack? can someone even have that many abs?) against your fingertips. This position is too much for magazines. Too much for an advertisement. Too much for any sort of public viewing. Too much for you.

His chest rises with a deep breath. “Fuck.”

You can’t agree more. You really are fucked.