runa-falls

[runa-falls]

send this to all your favourite people and grow a garden! KEEP THE GARDEN GROWING!🌼💚🌱💚🌻 🌳🪻🌼

ily ily ily ily ily ily <3

[runa-falls]

Hi em! Could you please recommend some Miguel O'Hara fics?🤤 (I've been watching the spiderman movie for the third time and omg each time I find him hotter than before

OF COURSE BABES!!!

one shots:

impatient - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

summary: miguel needs to see you in his office, immediately

thaw - @campingwiththecharmings

summary: being a leader isn't easy, and sometimes even spider-man needs someone else to take the lead

touch-a, touch-a, touch me - @dimepdf

summary: no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

sex pollen - @xbellaxcarolinax

request (by my baby mona): okay but imagine sex pollen with miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

honey-sweet - @fettuccin-e

summary: you're far too sweet for him. he's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. but one night can change everything, apparently, when miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

size kink - yours truly

ANGST + SMUT: if you liked my (high key upsetting) angsty smut, check out this fic that has a similar vibe w/ divorced!miguel by @cherryberry-sugarandspice

series:

always yours, never mine [DARK] - @melodygatesauthor

summary: in every universe there's a version of you that exists. in some of those universes, you're in love with me; in others, you don't even know my name. none of it matters though, because when i find you, i will have you, i'll make you love me, and i will never lose you again.

halo pt 1 + 2 - @missdictatorme

summary: you are an AI designed by miguel. he gave you a unique voice, one he knew he would like listening to. he didn't really gave much thought to how you looked like when he made you a hologram form, he just choose a random picture of a woman from the internet. what happens when you ask for permission to design your own look?

[runa-falls]

I hate doing this, but I don't know what else to do. Please share if you can. 💔

[runa-falls]

^^ pls support this amazing artist! they draw MK fanart and its AMAZING :D they're on tumblr and twt!

I ADDED THIS PICTURE TO YOU'll NOTICE ME my account on tumblr was blocked without reason, support comand dont answer me, SO IF YOU WANNA FIND ME AND MY ARTS - MY TWITTER: @ FitzArts

https://x.com/FitzArts?t=VSYxnm85v9Vyi9d58DASVA&s=09

YOU CAN TEXT ME IN TWITTER if you wanna get evidence

i hope my followers find me. I only remember your username because that's the last time we corresponded, so forgive me, but I need help @loud-mouth-loser

[runa-falls]

I saw the fanart and revived the fire in my soul dedicated to that fic, and made me scream again when I remembered the last thing that happened there (lovingly)

honestly it reminded me too lol 😆 i haven't touched my draft in a sec so i totally forgot where i left off!

it definitely makes me wanna rewatch mk and get back into the fandom FULLY. i've been lacking and writing/reading more kpop and anime things, but i miss my OG fandom so much and the community i would interact with 🫠

[runa-falls]

Hey! I came to tell you how much I absolutely ADORE the not him fanfic you did!! Literally just amazing oh my gosh i love you sm never stop wriitng!😭 I found the fic from a fanart someone did on Twitter, i wonder it youve also seen it? https://twitter.com/thatgalC_/status/1920527500301775285?t=EU9Awbt-gunb1y_DNa4EMQ&s=19

STOPPP I M SCREAMING!!! FANART?? FOR ME??? ITS BEAUTIFUL!

thank you so much for sending this to me! !

i don't use twt so i would've never seen it :0 i'm glad ppl are still reading the fic bc i've been so slow at writing it 😭 i hope that since i'm graduating i'll have more time and motivation to finish it :)

[runa-falls]

the baby-making protocol - 1

summary: kenneth marshall says that the ship has a duty to populate the new planet...you get chosen as the first womb for the job!

pairing: mickey barnes (17) x afab!reader

cw: mentions of human experimentation, plot-heavy, mickey being cute, shy, + confused, horrible inhumane people (though are we really surprised?), not very accurate as i've only seen the movie once, not beta-read!

wc: ~1.6k

note: you knew it was coming...

---

After 4 and a half years of travel, the ship has finally landed on a (hopefully) habitable planet.

Of course, no one really knows how human-friendly it is, but the research sector has assured everyone that even if it isn't, they'll find a way to change that. Everyone knows that the only way they can do that is with Mickey.

Mickey Barnes. The sole 'Expendable' on the voyage. The man that makes this whole expedition possible. And the most disrespected and ignored person on the ship.

For 4 and a half years, you've been infatuated with the soft-spoken man. Sure, you've barely held a handful of conversations with him, but you want him nonetheless.

You have a pretty low-key job on the ship. You started in the janitorial crew, but as time has gone by you somehow ended up as a security agent. Apparently, people have been dying for unexplainable reasons a few years into the journey so they needed someone to fill the role.

You aren't necessarily qualified to be an agent, nor should you be handling a gun, but the 'promotion' came with more rations and a better dwelling room, so how could you refuse?

You don't have much of a job since you can't fight for shit, so you spend most of your time outside the laboratory "guarding it" -- though the things inside the lab seem to be more dangerous than the people outside of it.

The first time you caught a sight of Mickey was during orientation. He was introduced and celebrated as the 'Expendable' for the trip, shaking hands with Kenneth Marshall on the stage with a slightly confused look on his face. He was dressed nicely but his posture was timid, making him look smaller than he is.

Marshall, the narcissist he is, barely looked at the man, choosing to face the cameras instead, shifting every so often to get the best angles of himself. Mickey didn't seem to mind, if anything, it looked like he wanted to get down from the stage as soon as possible.

As cameras flashed and hands clapped, he cracked a small crooked smile at the crowd, just happy to please those around him -- even if he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Already, you thought Mickey was cute. And afterwards, you couldn't get him off your mind.

---

Life on a ship gets old. Fast.

And starting out as a janitor, a position at lowest rung on the ladder, didn't help either. Everyone saw you as the trash you threw away.

Everyone except him.

You were placed in the residential floors, picking up trash from dwellings and transporting them to the incinerator. You'd think with advanced technology like human-printing, they'd at least have a trash chute for each occupant, but no, they want you to get your hands dirty.

Mickey was placed on the bottom floor so he would be one of the first people you'd see during your shift (if he was alive at that time, of course). He'd always have his wastebasket sitting near the door, so it would be easy for you to pick up.

Each bag would be neatly tied together in a cute bow, never overfilled so they don't spontaneously combust like some other bags you've dealt with before. Even when you could do the job yourself, if he was in, he'd always help, placing each bag in your cart with a gentle touch.

He'd greet you with a smile but his eyes would always be shifting around, unable to make eye contact for longer than a few seconds. Sometimes there'd be a cut, bruise, or abrasion on him, but his smile was always the same.

He'd adorably attempt to start a conversation, asking how your day is -- even though it had just started -- and rambling about his own before apologizing for taking up your time as you have a job to do. You'd always lag behind, wanting to continue the interaction, but you never could.

The company tablet would start to beep once you've spent more than 3 minutes at a door, scolding you for being behind, and you'd have to move on.

Your free-hours were during his work-hours and lunch was a chaotic period of goopy-food and crowded tables. You'd look over to see Mickey sitting with his friends, while you sat across the room, shifting your goop from one side of the plate to the other. You never had the guts to approach him...and he never looked back at you.

---

You somehow started to interact with him less as a security agent than you did as a garbage trolley. Well, scratch that, technically you did see him more often, but your interactions were cut short to passing greetings when he'd go in and out of the lab.

There was no time to say anything, he was constantly being transported from one place to another.

The worst part of your job was hearing the horrible sounds from the lab. Not just the screaming, groaning, and whimpering, but the small voice struggling to describe what he was feeling in the moment -- human suffering reduced to data. The things they'd do to him for "the greater good of humanity" is insane.

All you wanted to do was rush in there and protect him, take him away from the pain and remind him of the good things in life. You'd probably both be shot dead immediately if you tried that though.

Well, you'd die and he'd be recycled again.

So you kept your mouth shut and endured it with him, waiting to build up enough courage to finally seek him out, not as a soldier but as a girl.

---

Your mouth gapes as you look up at the projected screen, your name flashing right next to Kenneth Marshall's stupid veneered face.

"Congratulations to our lucky winner!"

Everyone in the crowd claps and hoots enthusiastically as your future is announced to the world.

"Your fabulous genetics mixed with our loyal 'Expendable' will make for a Marshall-approved child. A child of God."

"C-child?" You whisper to yourself, "With Mickey?"

When you heard about this Baby Making Protocol (the actual name Marshall came up with) you thought people were sending in applicants to be part of the Fertility Squad (also coined by Marshall) to populate the planet. You had no idea he was just picking names from a hat!

You're barely able to process what just happened before you're pulled out of your thoughts. Your tablet makes a noise on your bed, alerting you of new unread messages.

You have been summoned to meet Mr. and Mrs. Marshall in their quarters for dinner. You have 5 minutes. Please be punctual.

5 minutes?! Their living quarters are across the ship!

You quickly collect yourself before rushing out the door, hoping to god this was a joke.

---

It's not a joke.

You sit stiffly in a dining chair next to a very confused Mickey and across from the two terrors that run the spaceship. Food sits untouched in front of you as you listen to the complete idiocy that flows from their lips.

"You see, there comes a time when a man and woman must... fraternize for their people." Ylfa, in all her blonde glory, strokes his arm and nods as he speaks, occasionally cutting in with other fluffy and borderline disgusting verbiage to sell the mission to you.

"I don't understand..." You finally speak up, "Why were we chosen out of all the eligible candidates on the ship?"

"Well..." The couple looks at each other before turning back at us, "We first want to see what would happen if a child were to be born on a planet like this one. Just to make sure it's safe. You know how it is." The last part is directed at Mickey, who shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

Another experiment. Of course.

"Why? Is there an issue?" He asks, eyes friendly yet stern, "Mickey?"

The timid man has been silent all dinner, barely lifting his gaze from the fake meat on his plate. His body tenses when he hears his name and he lifts his head to look at everyone nervously.

His voice is soft as he responds to the failed senator, "U-um...well we barely know each other--"

"And that's why from now on, you'll live together!" Ylfa interrupts, "I convinced Kenneth that the baby needs parents, not just a couple of co-workers!"

"This seems like a big change -- how will we be able to keep up with our duties if we have a child?"

"Oh, that's easy, we'll just make another Mickey." Kenneth chuckles, "If you want, we could make two more so you can have a babysitter."

Another Mickey?

"B-but that would imply having multiples on board..." You murmur.

"And?" He looks at you critically, "I made the imperative decision to allow for multiples in a dire situation such as this one. We can't have this protocol slowing down our research sector now, can we?"

Does he not hear how insane he's sounding?

You resign from the conversation, "I suppose not."

"Good, then you understand." He seems satisfied by the answer, "Then you and Mickey...18 was it?"

"S-seventeen, sir."

"Right, 17 will start right away in your new room. Your iPad thing will have all the information."

You look over at Mickey who looks as confused and terrified as you feel.

An impatient voice severs the brief interaction between the two of you, "You are dismissed." 

[runa-falls]

new favorite meme format

[runa-falls]

the baby-making protocol - 2

pairing: mickey barnes (17) x afab!reader

cw: mentions of human experimentation (ofc), short mention of vomit + sickness, suggestive thoughts, a spark of emotional connection, mickey being cute again :), not beta-read

wc: ~1.6k

note: slow updates btw (lol)

---

Mickey didn’t make it to the new room with you. 

Halfway through your journey, he collapsed in the hallway and puked up the small pieces of artificial meat he had at dinner along with the usual slop he had earlier in the day.

At first, he tried to downplay it:

“O-oh…” Mickey looks down at the mess he made, face flushed, “Um, my bad. I must’ve gotten too worked up after eating or something.” His eyes are bleary, his hands are shaking, and his jaw is tense like he’s fighting back pain. You can already tell that this is more than just food poisoning. 

“...Mickey, what did they feed you?” 

You attempt to approach him, but he quickly stops you.

 “No, I’m okay,” He struggles to prop himself up, “y-you don’t have to come any closer.” 

“Let me help.”

“I-it’s–” 

He starts convulsing.

And as any sane person would – You start freaking the fuck out. 

In the end, someone from the lab was alerted about his reaction and came to collect him. Apparently, it was a test to see how safe a new type of imitation meat was. 

And you watched defeatedly as he was dragged away like a piece of livestock.

—

The room they assigned to you both is only slightly larger than the single room you had before. Instead of a double bed, a queen-sized mattress is awkwardly wedged into the corner, resting on a metal frame that also serves as storage – you suspect they included it because there's still barely enough room for one person's belongings.

The room sticks to the same monotonous blue-grey palette that you’re used to – accented by metal piping carelessly painted over, jutting from the walls in a way that seems almost hazardous. It really leans into that “landlord special” aesthetic that nobody asked for. 

The usual exposed wiring that hangs over every dwelling is visible here too, snaking across the ceiling from all sides. Now that you think about it, you’ve never figured out exactly what the wires are connected to…for all you know, they could just be there for decoration. It’s truly remarkable how far Marshall goes to offer his crew nothing more than the bare minimum.

On the multi-purpose table sat a sheet of instructions, a vase of plastic flowers, and a fake candle boldly emblazoned with the words, “Happy Baby-Making!” – If this was their idea of setting a romantic mood, you have serious doubts about the success of this mission. 

You scoff at the vibrant petals of the fake roses, running a finger over the fraying polyester threads that stick out from them. These are going straight into the incinerator after tonight. 

You turn your attention to the sheet of paper, curious why they bothered to print out the instructions when a digital memo had already been sent. 

The instructions were fairly straightforward: 

Get to know your partner: Ask simple questions like “What’s your favorite color?” or “How old are you?” to build a connection. 

Practice proper baby-making etiquette: No protection allowed—make sure to fulfill your duty at least once a day. 

Stick to your assigned partner: This isn’t a free-for-all; we’re building a sacred community, not a random collection of individuals. 

Attend all scheduled appointments: No skipping! 

Most importantly, have fun!

At the bottom of the instructions are some suggested sex positions – some of which you’ve never seen before and, frankly, don’t believe are anatomically possible. You can’t help but laugh at the exaggerated stick-figure genitalia that distinguishes the man and the woman as they fuck ‘for the sake of humanity.’ 

There's one called “Straddle the Laptop” (essentially just cowgirl — but since it takes place on a desk, they’ve thrown in some tech-inspired terminology for flair), that sparks your interest. Not only does it require the man to be at the bottom, helpless to the ministrations of the person on top, but also forces the couple to look into each other's eyes. 

You could just imagine the way Mickey would fall apart for you, staring at you in awe with those pretty blue eyes as he whines for more. How his hands would clumsily grope against the contours of your body as he braces against pleasures he’s never known before. 

You clutch the page of instructions enough to crumple the edge as the scene plays in your mind. 

You mustn’t get ahead of yourself. 

It’ll probably be a while before you get to that point in your relationship with Mickey anyway.

You set the piece of paper down and look around at the empty room. So this is your life now. 

—

He didn’t come back until the following night. 

You assumed the delay was due to the printing process, which takes about a day, so you braced yourself to meet Mickey 18. After all, each new Mickey is an exact copy of the last—yet subtle differences always emerge. 

For all you know, the next Mickey could be a freak… but you’re sure that no matter how he turns out, you’ll probably fall for him too. 

It’s still Mickey, after all.

But as it turned out, you didn’t have to worry about that. The Mickey returning to you was still 17.

After he was taken away, he was given an experimental medication that successfully counteracted the effects of the lab-made meat. Of course, after barely ten minutes to recover, he was immediately sent to the back storage room of the ship to fix a collapsing corridor—because why not?

Which is why, despite coming back as the same Mickey 17, he still bore bruises, scratch marks, and a slight limp.

Trust the science sector to throw Mickey into a mission the second he recovered from food poisoning!

You expected to return to an empty room – one cluttered with unpacked boxes, your few belongings, and an unmade bed. But instead, Mickey was sitting on the bed, printed-out instructions in one hand and the flimsy bundle of gaudy roses in the other.

There’s a palm-sized bruise on his neck – probably from the indelicate syringe that the scientists like to poke him with – and a few scratches on his forehead and arms. 

He looks up from the paper as you enter, wearing the same confused expression he had at dinner the night before.

“So the fake meat didn’t make me hallucinate this…” He mumbles in disbelief, eyes bouncing between the paper, the roses, and you. 

“Mickey, you’re…” Still alive? Still 17? Still – “...here.” 

“Yeah – I-I’m sorry you had to see that yesterday.” He’s suddenly sheepish as he recalls the last time he saw you. “The experiments are usually more isolated, but I guess they just wanted my authentic reaction to the food or something.” 

You walk over and sit next to him on the bed. He subtly scoots over to give you more space, eyes widening at the sudden loss of distance between you. You wish he wouldn’t, but you don’t say anything.

“No, don’t apologize. I’m just… happy to see you.” You offer him a small smile. “The same you.”

“You noticed?” He looks surprised, like no one has ever really paid attention to him before. 

“I always notice you, Mickey.” Your voice is soft, yet the words carry so much weight.

Again, those pretty blue eyes widen, silently asking about every layer of meaning in your admission—so close to you. Then, he breaks eye contact, preferring to look at the floor as he turns your words in his mind. You notice subtle blotches of pink coloring the base of his neck and the tops of his cheeks.

Oh no. Maybe he’s uncomfortable…

“I-I mean…I saw that you still have that one healed cut from the other day…” Amid your rambling, you miss the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. “...not that I’m watching you or anything, I just guard the lab most of the time and see you–”

“Thanks.” He interrupts you with a soft voice – quiet enough that you would have missed it if you weren’t so intent on noticing his every move.

“...Thanks?”

“For looking out for me. You’re the only one who treats me like a human being and not some…lab rat.” He looks down at the paper in his hand, “I’m actually…kinda glad we were paired together for this protocol.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words.

He’s glad? To be with you?

“Really?”  

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for a while…and you’re a lot nicer than anyone else on this ship…” His eyes flick up to meet yours, “I’m sorry you got roped into this though…”

“It’s okay, it was bound to happen at some point.” You shrug, still riding the high that he likes you enough to endure this twisted experiment by your side, “It’s what we all expected when going on this voyage.” 

He rubs against the blotchy bruise on his neck thoughtfully, “But we’re the first ones to…you know…”

“Procreate?” 

He blushes when you say it. “Yeah.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we can start slow.” 

“But don’t we have a schedule to keep up with?”

"Okay then, we can start slower." You take the paper from his hand and glance over the list. "The daily check-ins don’t start for a few days, so… how about a date?"

“A date?”

“Unless you want to jump right into it.” You tease.

“N-no,” he stammers, “I didn’t mean–”

You rest a hand on his thigh, and he instantly falls silent, eyes fixed on where you're touching him. “Tomorrow let’s do something, just the two of us.”

“O-okay.” He immediately agrees. 

[runa-falls]

*raise hand violently* PLEASE CAN I ASK ABOUT sub!miguel headcanons?!?!?!?!?!

What makes him whine, how pretty does his whimpers sound like?!?!?!

How gorgeous does he look when his eyes get all shiny and wet with tears because you won't let him come yet.

sub!miguel headcanons

basic summary: miguel is the whiniest, most pushy malewife and you are his protector, comforter, and safe space :3

a/n: OK BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT? (im so sorry lmfaooo) also does it count as headcanons if i have random scenes in between them?? wtvr *shoves fic in ur arms and sprints away*

content: suggestive + fluffy

masterlist

---

bed habits (I'M TALKING AB SLEEPING YOU DIRTY BASTARD!) -- miguel is a sleepy, cuddly boy

he never has trouble falling asleep when you're around (except for when he - adorably - forces himself to stay awake so he can spend time with you)

this man is 6'7" but he still tries to curl up on your lap when you're lounging on the couch just so you can play with his hair as he dozes off

miguel owns a king sized bed, big enough to fit five people comfortably, yet he's adamant to take up all your space

it gets hot (i mean, he's hot -- literally, like his internal temp is higher than the average human) but even when you try to shove him away, he only pulls you closer to him

if you do, somehow, get away from him, he wakes up immediately with a sleepy groan, blindly reaching across the mattress for you:

you try to dodge his hands, laying precariously at the edge of the bed, hoping he would give up and go back to sleep. unfortunately, it only makes him whine like a spoiled child, "baby, closer. need you...come here" god -- he has such a cute sleepy voice...

but you don't let it sway you. you're already laying on top of the comforter, desperately trying to cool off and get back to sleep.

"it's too hot, miguel"

"but...i can't sleep without you" you can hear the pout in his voice

"just hold a pillow and pretend its me"

he sighs -- actually sighs like the dramatic man he is, "but it's not the same!"

you don't respond, refusing to continue this 3 am argument that you'll never win, and pretend to fall back asleep. maybe he will practice self-soothing or something and sleep by himself? maybe he'll be an adult about this?

silence settles in the air for a few minutes and you're nearly lulled back to unconsciousness. and then you hear the sheets rustle as he sits up next to you, suddenly fully awake and stubbornly staring down at you.

"please?"

"mig, no amount of 'pleases' will convince me to sleep against your volcanic body"

"...how about just until I fall asleep?"

"but when I move away you'll wake up again."

you hear a quiet 'hmph' before you're promptly tugged back against his body. his face presses against your hair as he situates himself to engulf you in his warmth. "exactly, so don't leave me."

it's a common misconception that sub!mig likes to be the little spoon but actually he likes to cling onto you like you're a living teddy bear -- face nuzzled against your neck, legs intertwined with yours, and one large hand on your tit

you often wake up in a tangled mess, your neck stiff from the contorted positions he maneuvers your body into during the night

but you don't mind it anymore, especially on those rare morning swhen you wake up before him and you get to see those worry lines on his forehead soften as he sleeps soundly next to you

miguel is a soft and eager man:

it's his life mission to provide for you, to hear soft words of praise whisper from your lips

as soon as you're alone in a room, he drops the tough guy act and immediately searches for your warmth

miguel sticks to you like velcro when he isn't fighting crime in the city

and when he isn't with you, he's absolutely thinking about you

(of course he makes sure that you're thinking about him too with all the texts he sends you throughout the day -- adorned with cheesy emojis...)

this dude is so needy and desperate for your love, praise and approval that he's the one asking "would you still love me if i were a spider-mutant worm and i looked at you like this: 🐛 to say 'i love you'?"

would he call you 'mami'? debatable.

but he loves it when you call him honey, sweetheart, baby, bubby/bubs, hubby (he wants to marry you so bad), and puppy (WHEN HE'S KINKY BC HE'S A HORNY SOB)

you swear he whimpers a little when you tell him what a good man he is -- when you confess that he's your hero, even when he's not swinging around the city and lifting up buildings with his bare hands

his warm brown eyes search your face, a desperate quest for truth in every gentle word you speak. he's never been spoken to so softly in his life -- this tenderness, it's new...too good to be true

as time passes and your love deepens, he begins to realize that it's all true, that everthing about you is genuine, that he is loveable after all

miguel worships you:

he is definitely a worshipper when you let him be

on slower, more sensual nights, he makes sure to paint your body in kisses, from your ankles to your forehead it's almost tortuous

(maybe even bites if it's been a while since he's seen you)

he likes to kneel for you, make himself smaller so he can look up at you and appreciate everything you've provided for him

he's really whiny and pathetic though...

he wants to be told what to do, when to do it, and how. it helps him let go of this thoughts, anything that's weighing on him

it could be his heightened senses or just his desperation, but he needs to touch you all the time -- even just the light feeling of his hand against your thigh gives him a euphoric feeling.

so you deny him because you know how much he loves the delayed gratification and humiliation when you tease him for it.

"baby, you're acting so needy right now~" you decided to withdraw from the heated interaction to keep him at the edge. his eyes are dark, blazing with heat, as you speak to him with a syrupy sweet voice.

he pouts from the spot where he's kneeling for you, already achingly hard from the thorough petting session you just gave him.

"i'm not trying to be...just really need it." he's whining with a mixture of shame, frustration, and exasperation in his voice.

"It?" you tilt your head, a small smile gracing your lips.

"..." he doesn't elaborate. you can see a hint of pinkness creep up his neck as his eyes avoid yours.

he can get so shy sometimes. it's endearing. it makes you want to destroy him then put him back together again.

"honey, i can't give you what you need unless you tell me." you know what he wants, but you want to hear him say it.

"please"

[runa-falls]

steven core

[runa-falls]

ya i lied

sorry for all the people waiting for part two of the mickey fic, i've been really busy with school + life! i never write chapters in batches, so whenever i post something it's literally minutes after i finish it T-T i am still working on ch. 2 bc i cannot do plot ._.

im hoping to have it out tonight or tmrw -- thanks for being patient

[runa-falls]

sorry for all the people waiting for part two of the mickey fic, i've been really busy with school + life! i never write chapters in batches, so whenever i post something it's literally minutes after i finish it T-T i am still working on ch. 2 bc i cannot do plot ._.

im hoping to have it out tonight or tmrw -- thanks for being patient

[runa-falls]

ok so doppelganger (by the amazing @brandyllyn) isn't really virgin!nathan, but it shows him getting humbled by the reader for his poor sex (and people) skills.

its one of my all time fav nathan fics 😭 i love whenever the reader humbles nathan :) plus the robot ver. of nathan is HOT

!! PLEASE READ WARNINGS IF YOU READ IT !!

What if Nathan is still a virgin cause he only ever had sex with androids.

I mean technically he had sex so he is not a virgin, but he didn't do it with a human so...

I just wanna see his smug ass after he had sex with a woman for the first time after androids and the chick is like "😐 it was okayish 😐"

[runa-falls]

the things id do to get this poe....

another amazing fic 😭 you're single handedly saving me from this semester

Hush (3)

PART 2

AN: Two years later and I'm finally finishing this. Hopefully someone out there still cares lmao 😆 (if not, that's totally cool, no worries, y'all).

(Un-beta’d)

PWP in which you and Poe see who can be quiet the longest.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,018 Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, kissing, a little consensual roughness, overstimulation (please let me know if i missed anything) AO3

——————

His jaw is clenched, plump lip trapped between his teeth as he breathes heavily through his nose. He’s sweating, skin flushed and warm as he fights to keep quiet. Softly, you exhale, your body rising and falling over his, hips rolling slowly, hands braced on his broad shoulders for leverage. 

“First one to make noise loses,” he’d challenged, though, at the moment, you’re not exactly sure either of you is losing.

His fingers dig into your hips as you ride him, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. Your body shakes a little, eyes fluttering closed as the pleasure jolts through your body, the sensations bordering on too much. You’ve been at this for what feels like hours, your thighs burning, mouth dry, skin damp—it almost feels like you’re running a marathon.

The feel of Poe’s thumb circling your clit brings you back to the task at hand. He must be close to breaking if he’s trying to sabotage you like this, knows this is the quickest way to break you. You swallow the moan rises in your throat, willing it to stay buried, at least for now. Your vision is hazy when you open your eyes again, taking in the absolutely wrecked state of the man beneath you. He’s barely hanging on, every inch of him tense as he fights against his baser instincts. He’s doing pretty well, considering, and there’s a part of you that almost feels a little bad for putting him through this. 

Not bad enough to let him win, though. 

You clench around his cock, watching with delight as his eyes roll back slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallows whatever delicious sounds are undoubtedly trying to claw their way to the surface. You do it again, smirking as he exhales sharply through his nose. He meets your gaze, a flicker of a warning in them. 

Eyes locked, you slowly drag one of your hands down his chest, your smirk widening as your thumb brushes one of his nipples. His hips stutter at your touch, the unexpected movement causing you to sink somehow even further down onto him, catching you off guard. You whimper as the tip of him bumps against your cervix, electricity still zinging through your body as the realization somewhat belatedly hits you—

“I win,” Poe pants roughly, an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. 

Your stomach flips as a smile stretches across his lips, his dark eyes full of even darker promises. Oh Maker, you are in for it now.

Without much warning, he moves, quickly maneuvering you so you’re laid beneath him with your back against the bed. His cock slips from your heat in his haste, and you hate how empty you feel, even if it’s only for a moment. He groans when he sinks back into you, muttering about how you feel like heaven as he pulls his hips back and quickly thrusts back in, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

His eyes meet yours again, silently asking if this is oaky, if you’re okay. Panting, you nod, your fingers reaching up to push his damp curls from his eyes. He leans into your touch for a moment, then resumes his movement, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips and thrusting back inside you. He quickly falls into a steady pace, each push of his hips absolutely devastating. He watches you for a moment, his eyes dragging greedily down your body to where you’re joined. 

“So beautiful,” he slurs, moving his hand up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple.

You arch and writhe beneath him, completely at his mercy as he maintains his punishing pace. You’re not sure how much more you can take, your body practically shaking now as Poe handles your body as deftly as he does his ship. He can tell you’re close, groaning as you clench and flutter around his length. He leans forward, caging you beneath him with his arms as he fucks you into the bed, his lips claiming yours in a hot, messy kiss. You feel like you're drowning, completely surrounded and unable to catch your breath. Poe breaks the kiss, moaning as you gasp for air, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on his back as he slightly adjusts the angle of his thrusts, grinding his hips against yours as he searches for that spot he knows will finally send you over the edge.

You both know the moment he finds it, that slight brush of his cock setting off a chain reaction of pleasure inside you. Unable to stop them, broken moans escape from between your lips as your body sings, the euphoria of your release rolling through you in waves. Poe follows you into the abyss a moment later, groaning loudly as he spills his warmth into you, his eyes rolling back in his pretty little head; if you weren’t so far gone, you’d probably appreciate the sight.

Your chest is still heaving when he pulls himself off and collapses beside you on the bed, already mourning the loss of him. His hand finds yours as you both lay sprawled atop the bed sheets.

“Okay?” he asks softly, lacing your fingers with his, his thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of your hand as he turns to look at you.

You meet his gaze, your eyes still a little unfocused, and smile, body still tingling from your orgasm. “Better than okay. You?”

He smiles, eyes drooping a little as exhaustion begins to settle over him. He brings your clasped hands to his lips and brushes a kiss against your knuckles.

“Victorious,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. “You won the battle, Flyboy, not the war.”

He chuckles, arching an eyebrow as he slowly drags his dark eyes down the length of you. “Well then, I look forward to the next skirmish, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, heat prickling beneath the surface of your skin. “As so I Commander, as do I.”

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