#cw non con touching
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Noncon but the aggressor is super gentle while doing it, wiping away their tears and telling them how good they are doing
#tw noncon#cw noncon#rapekink#rape/noncon#dead dove do not eat#fictional noncon#non consent#non con#non consensual touching#soft noncon#proship
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WHO'S IN THE MOOD FOR ME SPEWING RANDOM HEADCANONS BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE THEM IN AN ACTUAL ASK
if you dont who cares you gettin them anyways 🫵
Nightmare is constantly cold, dream is constantly warm
Nightmare continuesly cuddled up with his human friends because of that, humans have body heat, he doesnt, therefore he will steal yours and you better shut your trap about he's cold because he knows that. Deal with it.
When they were younger nightmare and dream used to cuddle up whenever possibly because they're hot and cold so they balance eachother out
(You know the thing of signanothername where nightmare went 'back' to his previous form? Yeah heres some about that)
In my head it isnt nightmares legs thats fucked up its his back, i mean he got like 4 tendril thingies his back has gotta be fucked up
(Gonna use my mothers back problems as reference for this 😎)
He can walk on his own, on bad days it may look a bit more like a limp but offer him help and he will hiss at you, quite literally
Especially right after the whole going back he was weaker then before, both because yk, he went back to his previous form, and injuries (they were probably battling, so like, yeah) so after internally panicking he decided to start judging dream for everything, and not hesitating to tell him
If he cant hurt you physically he'll hurt your feelings
Nightmare continuesly hisses at anyone who comes 6 feet near him, if they keep getting closer he'll bite
The ghosts are still with him, they kept throwing stuff at people whenever they came close to nightmare
Nightmare hissing is a hilarious image. But of course he’d been an asshole even when he’s injured or otherwise bedridden. Dream forget about his ass ong. /j
But yeah I can definitely see nightmare having fucked up legs and a messed up back. his corruption seemed pretty violent, especially for a 6 year old. (It still kills me how the twins were only 6. like why tf these villagers abusing and using and manipulating these babies. like what the hell guys)
And I love how the twins cuddle because they run different temperatures, and also likely because they can only really trust or give touch with eachother.
if they went to the villagers for anything like that, nightmare would’ve been shunned or hurt, and Dream would’ve only likely been given a hug if he did or gave something to them first; and perhaps the touches and hugs would go on longer than he wants.
{ @brokenramunebottle }
#howlsasks#brokenramunebottle#cw non con#cw noncon#< implied#noncon touch#utmv headcanons#cw child abuse#utmv#sans au#sans aus#undertale au#undertale aus#dream sans#dream!sans#dream!tale#dreamtale#dreamtale twins#apple twins#nightmare sans#nightmare!sans#corrupted nightmare sans#passive nightmare sans#passive nm#dreamtale nightmare#dreamtale dream#dreamtale village#cw abuse#utmv hc#fuck the Dreamtale villagers ong
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Joel searches Jack for weapons
Joel created/designed by Fernikart57
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pairing: robert reynolds x reader cw: smut, bob has sensory issues, afab reader, faint talks and mentions of mental health, very faint non-con aspects, oral (female receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, humping, dry humping.
after consuming the serum, bob became extremely hypersensitive and aware of things—so much so that even the faintest kind of touch could send his whole nervous system reeling.
he didn’t snap, didn’t yell, didn’t push you away in frustration. never. he would just murmur softly—almost apologetically—that he “couldn’t be touched right now.”
there was always a pause before he said it. like he was trying not to disappoint you. like he was ashamed of the way his body betrayed him.
the sensitivity extended to the mundane—fabric on his skin, loud ambient noises, even too many lights in a room. sometimes, in the tower, he’d forgo wearing a shirt entirely, just letting his skin breathe. his golden skin, speckled with sweat and goosebumps, would gleam under the artificial lights, flushed in pinks and reds where the air felt too cold. more often than not, he’d pace barefoot in nothing but drawstring pants, arms crossed over his chest like a barrier, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by in the halls. it earned him glances. side comments.
especially from walker, who never quite understood that bob’s vulnerability wasn’t weakness—it was survival.
you caught one of those glares once—when you’d been walking down the hallway beside bob, your hand ghosting near the small of his back but not quite touching him. john’s voice, muttered low, just enough to catch your ear:
“isn’t he a little delicate for a guy who can tear satellites out the sky?”
which, naturally, meant john wanted you to use his tower card for a little shopping spree. you told yourself it was reparations. he slept like a boulder, so slipping the card from his wallet was easy enough, and by the end of the afternoon, you were $1,500 deep in a blur of textures and fabrics, cotton shirts so soft they felt like clouds under your fingertips, corduroy pants that didn’t snag against his skin, jeans carefully vetted so they didn’t “feel weird,” sweatshirts knit from the kind of threads that wouldn’t spark his nerves alight.
you didn’t tell bob how much you spent. not for lack of him trying. he always asked to see the receipt—voice so careful, so earnestly sweet, like he was hoping it didn’t trouble you too much. but you just kissed his forehead and told him to focus on how good it all felt.
clothing was easy. sex was harder.
because bob was always easy to overstimulate. that part wasn’t the serum. that part was just… bob.
now, sometimes—when his body couldn’t regulate anything, when his chest felt like it was cracking open from the inside out—you could barely blow air across the flushed head of his cock before he was gasping, crying out, arching up into the empty space like the very air was too much. milky-white cum painting his abs, tears streaking down his cheeks as he gasped—“holy—fuck!—shit,” or “please—’m sorry i am—i’m so sorry—!”
and god help him, the one time you’d tried to sink down onto him during one of those episodes, he’d cum in you twice before you’d even managed to bottom out. his face had crumpled, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip bitten raw as he choked out little whimpers. you’d barely been able to move without hurting him, the hypersensitivity turning pleasure into something agonizing.
and when you finally slid off of what little you’d taken, it was messy—cum leaking out of you, dripping down his shaft, and pooling hot between your thighs. his body trembled under yours, head thrown back against the pillow, adam’s apple bobbing with every sharp swallow. he whimpered, voice wrecked, saying he wanted you to keep it inside—like it meant something. like it mattered. he’d made this broken little sound, throat bobbing as he begged you to leave it in, trembling hands trying to push it back inside you with his fingers.
“i need it—i… jus’ wanna keep it there, please—”
you’d figured out workarounds since then. bob was desperate to give you pleasure, to feel useful in that way, to prove to himself he wasn’t a burden. his fingers would tremble as he pushed them inside you, skin prickling with sparks like every nerve ending had a live wire attached. his tongue — too hot, too greedy — left him shaking after, the taste of you almost too much, something primal unspooling inside him until his hands clenched the sheets like he was drowning.
just like now.
he was between your thighs, eyes glassy, lips slick and flushed, the muscles in his jaw tight as his tongue worked in slow, heavy drags. every time he swallowed, you could feel it — the tremor that ran through his body, like the flavor of you was too much, like it short-circuited the careful defenses his body tried to maintain. he was too vocal. he always was. little choked-off whimpers and desperate sounds spilling out between licks.
you’d warned him earlier—told him he didn’t have to. but he wanted to. he always wanted to.
eventually, you had to take him by the roots of his brunette hair and pull him back, gently. not because it hurt—but because it was too much. for him.
he didn’t even gasp for air. didn’t complain. just blinked up at you, pupils blown so wide his eyes looked almost black in the low light, tongue peeking out to taste your arousal off his lips.
“was i… not good?” he asked, voice soft, cracked, like it physically hurt to even suggest he might not have pleased you.
you sighed, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “it’s too much for you. i can’t tell if you’re okay when you look like you’re about to pass out.”
his brows pulled together, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, to tell you it didn’t matter, that he wanted this — needed it. “i wanna make you feel good. it’s fine, i swear—”
he reached for you, to part your thighs again, and you tugged his hair a little harder in warning. he froze.
“lay down, bob. let’s sleep.”
“don’t do this… please,” he whispered, voice breaking in the middle like a little boy told he couldn’t have something shiny in the store window.
you didn’t have to say another word. he sighed, defeated, crawling up the bed, big body moving slow like every muscle ached. you pulled back the comforter and let him slip beneath it, sheets freshly washed, and you could feel his eyes boring into your back like a heat lamp as you turned off the lamp. you knew he was pouting. you could practically hear it in the tight huff of his breath, in the way he curled up closer behind you but didn’t touch.
this could wait until morning.
except it didn’t.
four hours later, sleep a heavy fog in your skull, you felt a hand shaking you. gentle. careful. but persistent. you cracked an eye open to see bob’s face in the moonlight, curls mussed, pupils still wide and dark as he bit his lip.
you shifted, instantly aware of the slick between your thighs, panties pushed halfway down, skin damp and sticky like you’d been worked over while you slept. bob’s fingers glistened faintly in the low light.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice so low it barely stirred the air. “i… i knew you still needed me. you’re wet, look—”
“bob,” you groaned, hand dragging down your face. “it’s too much for you to even finger me, baby. i can take care of myself.”
he made a choked sound, eyes glossy. “i don’t want you to.” it was a whine, petulant and achingly sincere, like the idea of you touching yourself was betrayal.
he moved, laying back flat, curls spilling over the pillow, pink lips slick, and you couldn’t tell if it was from your slick or his own spit. he patted his thighs, coaxing.
you sighed, sliding over to straddle him, body curling down against his chest. it wasn’t new. bob liked the weight of you. said it grounded him. you kicked your panties the rest of the way off as his arms wound around your waist, holding you tight.
it stayed like that a while. long enough you thought he might fall asleep. until his hand ghosted down, fingers dipping to your cunt, finding you still wet, the contact making you jolt.
he looked up at you like he was working out a math problem, then without a word, tugged his own shirt up, exposing the pale pink of his nipples, flushed and damp with sweat. you swallowed, arousal stirring.
he was beautiful like this—golden even in the moonlight, carved like myth, the kind of man gods were modeled after. you told him that once, and he’d given you that shy smile he always did—boyish, bashful, like it embarrassed him to be seen.
and then, all at once, his hands found your hips—gripping them with a strength you forgot he had. big palms wrapping around your flesh, fingers splaying across the softness of your sides like he was trying to memorize the shape of you by feel alone. he lifted you with barely any effort, drawing you up his body until your clit nestled into the firm dip between his abs. a sudden swell of heat flushed through your core as your skin met the slick warmth of his stomach—his skin clammy, trembling, and sticky with a sheen of sweat that caught the light from the half-open window.
the contact made you gasp.
it wasn’t just friction. it was everything.
that perfect, ridged line between his abdominal muscles pressed hot and smooth right where you needed it, and your cunt responded instinctively—throbbing, aching, wetness renewing in a slow, sticky seep that soaked between your folds and onto the tight muscle of his stomach.
bob’s breath hitched beneath you. you felt it.
his whole body went tense again—legs rigid beneath the sheet, shoulders straining against the pillows—but he didn’t stop you. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, almost needy, thumbs stroking up and down like he was soothing himself even as he guided you forward.
“jus’ want you to feel good,” he whispered again, voice half-gone, eyes wide and blue and wet beneath the mess of dark curls.
you rocked your hips gently—just once, just to test how much he could take—and his head thumped back to the pillow like gravity had stolen his spine.
his breath broke out in a ragged whimper.
that little movement had smeared your slick along the soft trail of hair beneath his navel, and the effect it had on him was immediate—his cock twitched where it lay heavy in his boxers, untouched and already leaking from the tip, precum surely pooling messily against the fabric.
“you’re—fuck,” bob stammered, brows scrunching like the world was ending. “you’re dripping on me.”
he said it like he couldn’t believe it. like the heat of your cunt against his stomach was some kind of religious punishment.
you rolled your hips again, slower this time, dragging your clit along the taut groove of muscle running diagonally across his belly. the sensation sent a low, needy ache spiraling down your spine, and bob felt it—he gasped, one hand flying to grip the pillow beside his head while the other stayed anchored to your waist, grounding himself with the warmth of your skin.
“i can’t—i can’t even move or i’ll—” his voice cracked with shame and lust all tangled up in the same breath. “but you can… you can keep going. want you to. need you to.”
“just like this?” you asked softly, dragging yourself over him again—longer this time, letting your clit grind into the top of his abs with a rhythm that was more deliberate, more dangerous.
bob nodded frantically, curls bouncing against the pillow. his lips parted but no real words came out—just these sounds, these desperate little ahh—hhuh noises, like his whole body was unraveling under you.
his thighs twitched. his hands flexed.
you looked down and saw the trail of slick glistening across his stomach—shining in the moonlight like something holy. it smeared across the center of his chest now too, where you’d balanced your hands earlier. his whole body looked like it had been marked by you. like you’d been anointed onto him.
“you’re doing so good,” you whispered, and bob’s breath stuttered out of his lungs like it shattered something in him. “so good for me, baby…”
“don’t stop—don’t stop, please—i can take it,” he said, but it was a lie. a beautiful, reckless lie. his voice cracked on every syllable. his abs trembled beneath your cunt, muscles seizing and jerking in overstimulated flinches with every grind of your hips.
and still, he held you there. still, he kept pulling you forward with the tips of his fingers, even as tears started to well in the corners of his eyes again.
you leaned down—kissed the corner of his mouth, then the flushed apple of his cheek—and his head turned instinctively to follow you, mouth brushing against your jaw with a needy little sound. his cock lay untouched between you, neglected and twitching
the more you moved, the wetter everything became—your arousal slicking his stomach, pooling along the contours of his abs, hot and glistening in the moonlight. his skin beneath you grew slippery, sticky with your need, and every tiny roll of your hips only made it worse—only made it better. every pass of your clit over that shallow dip in his midsection sent jolts ricocheting up your spine, and the more friction you fed yourself, the more you lost the ability to form full thoughts. you could feel it building fast—too fast. not from penetration, not from anything more than pressure and heat and the sound of him.
and bob—god, bob—he was trembling now. the muscles of his arms, his thighs, even his neck—everything was twitching, caught in a crosswire of overstimulation and restraint. he couldn’t even hide it. broken, messy whines kept slipping from his mouth, each one spilling out in the same staggered rhythm as your hips. he was trying so hard to stay still beneath you, to let you ride it out the way your body so clearly needed, but it was killing him.
then there was his cock—helplessly twitching, swollen and soaked. so much precum had spilled out of him, it’d long since leaked through the thin white cotton. you didn’t even have to touch it—you could see the blushing pink of his tip pressing against the wet fabric, throbbing.
“‘m—cumming,” you managed to gasp out—voice cracking, more of a sob than a warning. you were shaking, bracing one hand against his chest, and immediately bob’s hands flew to your hips, grabbing on tight.
he didn’t ease you through it—he pushed. rocked you harder, faster, more desperate than he had any right to be. like it was his orgasm you were having. like he could feel it inside his own body. bob’s hands fly back to your waist like instinct. like his body was made to respond to yours. his fingers press deep into your flesh as he starts rocking you—violently, desperately—dragging your soaked cunt forward and back across the slick plane of his stomach, chasing your orgasm like it’s his own. like if he works hard enough, fast enough, good enough, he can feel it through you. with you.
“come on,” he begged under his breath, head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut. “come on—please—wanna feel it—give it to me—”
his voice broke on the last syllable.
and through the heat and the overwhelming wave crashing through you, you reached down—your fingers shaking—and dragged them through the mess coating his abs. your slick clung to the ridges of his muscles, warm and thick and yours, and you brought it straight up to his chest.
he didn’t even flinch.
you thumbed the arousal over one nipple, then the other, and bob jerked beneath you—hips spasming, mouth falling open in a wet, stuttering moan. his hands tightened at your waist like he didn’t know if he wanted to pull you closer or throw you off—but he didn’t do either. he just endured it. just let himself fall apart under you.
the sounds he made—god. soft, desperate whimpers spilling over into tears, gasping little hitching breaths every time your fingers circled one pink, flushed bud, your wetness smearing across his chest like it belonged there.
“does that feel good?” you whispered, barely able to speak as your own orgasm ran hot through your bloodstream. your body pulsed over him, your thighs trembling, your clit pressed so tightly to his skin you were practically convulsing. “you like it when i rub it into you, baby?”
he nodded, head lolling against the pillow as his breath stuttered out of him. “fuck, yes—yes—i love it, please don’t stop,” he moaned, eyes fluttering open just to find your face. he was glassy-eyed, like he’d cry if you even breathed the wrong way.
your fingers pinched one of his nipples, just lightly, and his entire body shook.
the mess between you was obscene now—your slick streaking across his abs, his chest, the faint trail of his cum still leaking through the fabric of his boxers and sticking to your thighs. you could feel it—hot and slick—when you rolled your hips forward just a little more, just enough to grind back down against that perfect dip in his body that made you twitch.
“feels like i’m gonna—gonna—” he gasped out, voice strangled, hips bucking uselessly beneath you. he was rutting against nothing, no friction, no stimulation to his cock at all except the wet cling of his ruined underwear and your body grinding above him. he looked frantic. like his brain was short-circuiting just from watching you unravel.
you leaned down, pressing your forehead to his, your noses touching. your breath mingled. you could smell yourself on him, taste it in the air, and that only made your stomach clench tighter.
“you wanna cum too?” you asked, low and coaxing, the softest ache curling around your voice.
“i—i c-can’t—” he stammered, his voice breaking so completely you felt it vibrate against your lips. “didn’t even touch me—didn’t touch—and i’m—”
you felt it then—the sudden twitch of his thighs beneath you, the way his body jerked. he came. without ever being touched. just from the scent of you, the warmth of you, the taste still lingering on his lips and your slick soaking into his skin.
the sound he made was unlike anything you’d ever heard—half-sob, half-praise, trembling with so much feeling it made your chest hurt.
you rocked against him once more, gently, as he spilled himself into his underwear, the front of the fabric darkening even more, clinging lewdly to the outline of his cock. your cunt was still throbbing, still pulsing against his belly, but now you felt that soft little aftershock ripple up your spine. it made your fingers tremble where they still rested on his chest, your hand smearing another stripe of wetness over his nipple. he twitched again. whimpered again.
your orgasm crashes over you so hard it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs. you grind harder—shaking, crying out—as your clit pulses against his stomach. you feel your own slick gush again, dripping down over his abs, down his sides, pooling beneath you. and still—still—he’s dragging you through it, milking every second of your orgasm like it’s a shared act of devotion. like it hurts him not to give you more.
you collapse forward, arms trembling as you brace yourself against his chest, mouth falling open, forehead brushing against the hollow of his throat. he’s so warm. and he smells like salt and sweat and the faintest trace of his body wash—the kind you bought for him, the one that doesn’t make his skin itch.
bob’s heart is pounding beneath your cheek. you can feel it slamming into your ear like it’s trying to escape his chest. his breathing is short and erratic, the skin of his abs flexing under your hips with every aftershock he suffers just from the stimulation of you—not even being touched.
his arms fold around you, trembling but firm. protective. possessive.
you shift just slightly, and your slickened pussy brushes the very top of his briefs where his cock is still twitching visibly beneath the soaked fabric.
bob lets out a sound—half moan, half sob. “i’m gonna—fuck, i think i—please don’t move—!” his voice ringing from overstimulaton.
you freeze immediately.
you pressed a soft kiss to his nipple, an breathlessly giggle out a faint apology.
“wanna feel you all the time,” he mumbled, still dazed, his voice sleepier now, like he was crashing from the high. “you make me feel full. even when i’m empty.”
that made your chest squeeze. that sentence. the truth in it.
and for once, the tower was quiet.
no lights. no noise. just the faint moonlight casting long, gentle shadows against the wall. the echo of breathing that slowly began to steady. the heartbeat under your ear.
you stayed there for a long while, sticky and raw and satisfied—your bodies cooling down together, your minds settling into something quiet. bob’s fingers twitched at your back, still reflexively trying to keep you close.
eventually, he whispered again.
“i like when you leave your mess on me.”
you smiled, your lips brushing his skin.
“i know.”
#bob reynolds#bob reynolds x reader#x reader#smut#thunderbolts#thunderbolts*#mcu#bob reynolds fanfic#bob thunderbolts x reader#bob thunderbolts#thunderbolts x reader#sentry#marvel#marvel fanfic#the sentry#the new avengers#robert reynolds x reader#robert reynolds#new avengers#thunderbolts fanfic#the void#the void x reader#the void smut#mutual pining#pining#bob reynolds smut#mcu smut#the void mcu#the void marvel#robert reynolds smut
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let me teach you ♡ rin itoshi
cw: smut mdni, corruption kink, dark con, dub/non-con, bunny!reader, based on this request

“You’ve never done this before?” he asks, voice low, rough — almost taunting.
You shake your head, cheeks burning. You're in his lap, thighs spread over his, his hands planted firmly on your waist, thumbs stroking your hips like he owns them.
Rin doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smirk. He leans in. Presses his forehead to yours.
“Good,” he breathes. “I want to be the only one who ever gets to.”
You whimper — quiet, unsure — and that makes him twitch under you. You’re so soft, so untouched. Every little reaction is real, and it's driving him fucking insane.
“Don’t worry,” he says, dragging his hands up your spine, lips ghosting over your cheek. “I’ll show you everything. I’ll teach you what you like. What makes you shake. What makes you cry.”
He bites your earlobe gently.
“You’ll learn to take it for me. You’ll beg for things you don’t even understand yet.”
His hips grind up — slow, hard. You gasp.
"You feel that?" he whispers darkly. "That's what you do to me. And soon, I’ll make sure you feel it. Every inch."
He takes his time. Makes you say the words. Tells you where to touch. when his fingers slip past your lacy pink panties, rough pads grazing your damp folds that have you whimpering his name. Tells you how good you're doing when your voice shakes and your body arches just right. he doesn't rush, he makes you ride his fingers, slowly, controlling your every move, his fingers alone are so thick, the stretch is nearly unbearable for your untouched cunt.
And when you finally fall apart under his hands, ruined and panting and dizzy?
He kisses your temple and murmurs:
“See? So easy to ruin you… and I haven’t even started yet.”
TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau @ravenbc @greekyoghurtwithberries
A/n: woof
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
[Masterlist]
#rin itoshi#rin itoshi smut#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi x you#rin smut#blue lock x you#blue lock#blue lock rin#itoshi rin#anglbunny🐇♡#requests₊⊹#drabbles✿#bllk works₊˚���♡#bllk#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk smut#blue lock smut#blue lock manga#blue lock x reader#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin smut#rinbin#rin x you#rin itoshi x y/n#itoshi rin x y/n#itoshi rin x you#bllk rin
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part 2 of this down bad and disgusting Ghost, but this time more obsessive so cw: stalking, breaking in, coercion, non-con physical touch, sexual themes
Yandere!Ghost is fucking shameless. Watches you, lingers close, takes any chance to have a piece of you.
Laundry day?
The first thing Ghost does when he gets back and sees you’re not home is seek out things you’ve touched, things that still smell like you. And your laundry? It’s right there, practically waiting for him. He picks up your worn clothes, presses them to his nose and inhales deep. If you catch him, he won’t stop, he’ll simply turn his head and mutter “Been a long trip, luv. Let me have this.”
But you’ve never seen this man before in your life.
He pockets your underwear, even takes two pairs. One to keep for himself, the other to return to you, marked with the evidence of his spent obsession. His love letter to you.
Done with gym for today?
You don’t even notice at first, too busy cooling down, wiping the sweat from your brow. Suddenly he’s there—closer than usual. You’ve caught him staring before, and that’s because he wanted you to.
Ghost comes up behind you, solid hands gripping your hips as he leans in, burying his face in your neck. “Mhm…smell so fuckin’ good like this,” he whispers, hot breath against your skin sending a tingling sensation down your spine.
Your heart beats out of your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. Something twisted inside you doesn’t want to.
You feel his tongue flick out, tasting the salt on your shoulder; your back. He groans, deep in his chest, like it’s the best thing he’s had in weeks.
Oh, and when he’s finally got you?
You’re in trouble. This man lives to train—won’t reward you unless you listen to his every command. Coaxes you into it swallowing all of it, otherwise you don’t get to finish. No matter how needy you get, how much you beg and grind against him—he doesn’t budge. He needs to make sure you’re properly trained, that you depend on him. That you never leave.
And when you listen, when you do exactly as he says? He worships the ground you walk on, praises you like there’s no tomorrow. “Tha’s more like it, pet. Always knew you could. Go on, tell me what y’ want. Anythin’.”
You’re finally his, and nothing else in the world matters more than that.
here's even more obsessive Ghost where you're just as obsessed as he is ♡
#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#crim’s whispers
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Divine Encounter
Bottom!FTM Sunday x Top!Masc!God Reader
🪽 Word Count: 1,198 🪽
AFAB Language Used | [Series]
CW: Non/Dub-Con, Daddy Kink, Virginity Loss, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Squirting, Womb Fucking, Creampie
After all his years of being a devoted priest, Sunday is finally experiencing what he believes to be a test from the only love in his life. His god. You.
He stares at the mirror, staring intensely at the elegant tattoo that suddenly appeared on his lower body. “What…” His slender fingers move to touch the new addition to his skin. He lets out a quiet whine. It feels…good? He pulls away. “Is this a test?” Sunday gulps.
Robin knocks on the door. “You're going to be late if you don't leave now.” She calls out.
“You- you can go without me.” He replies. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” She leaves.
“I will resist the temptation.” Sunday mutters before turning away.
After the morning service, Sunday hurries to his private prayer room. He kneels in front of the marble statue of You. He whispers Your name, then connects his hands to pray.
He unknowingly starts to slip away from reality with each line of the prayer. He doesn't realize until he feels a hand below his chin. He looks up and gasps. It's You. You’ve never visited him before. Not even in his dreams.
“Fh- Father-” He watches, frozen in awe as Your thumb rests on his lower lip. He can understand that You want him to keep his mouth open. Why? It doesn't matter to him.
“Keep praying.” Your commanding voice makes him shudder. He can understand that You want him to pray in his head, rather than verbally. Sunday closes his eyes and continues his prayer. Something warm enters his mouth but he doesn't stop. He trusts You completely.
Even as You grab his hair and roughly force him to take the thick, pulsing object in his mouth, he doesn't falter. Not even when his pussy begins to throb.
“You're doing well, Sunday…” You groan. His heart flutters. “My most beloved follower.”
Sunday opens his eyes, his cheeks bright red. The way You're looking at him is making him forget his task. He can feel his slick creating a puddle in his boxers. Focusing on praying caused him to not realize that the object inside his mouth is Your cock. It's…it's not a sin. He devoted himself to You and swore off relationships. Technically, You could be considered his husband.
“That's right, you belong solely to me.” You stop and come inside his mouth. “My husband.”
He blinks repeatedly as he suddenly finds himself back in reality. He can still taste You. He presses his fingers to his lips, then trails down to his cunt.
“Don't touch yourself.” Your voice suddenly appears in his head.
He immediately pulls away in embarrassment. He decides to recite the prayer again to calm down.
Sunday gasps as You appear before him once again. In his bedroom this time. “[Name]…” He looks at You longingly. He drops the book in his hand and moves it aside. He hasn't seen or heard from You in a week. He's just barely been able to resist the urge to masturbate.
“You’ve done well, as I expected.” You walk towards him. His clothes suddenly disappear, his body now fully exposed for You. You crawl onto the bed. Sunday leans against the bed frame and closes his eyes, allowing You to kiss him. He dares not touch You. Your hand slides down to the tattoo on his pelvis, his body trembles as Your fingers trace the markings. You pull away from the kiss. Sunday looks down, watching as the simple touches cause him to squirm and moan. “Mine.” You whisper. He throws his head back as he comes for the first time in his life, spurts of slick stain his bedsheets.
You spread his legs, gently dragging his body down so he can lay on his back, and reveal Your length. Your thickness rests on his wet cunt. Despite the size and the impending loss of virginity, he doesn't feel any fear or hesitation. Just adoration and joy. He never thought anything like this would happen to him. Sunday watches as You penetrate him painlessly. Not a single part of his body is trying to reject You. He always heard that losing your virginity is painful, maybe it's because no one ever lost it to their god.
“You…you're so big..” He says breathlessly, watching the bulge grow in his stomach. The outer parts of the tattoo have a soft yellow glow. As soon as he feels Your lips graze his neck, he mewls adorably. You gently kiss and suck on his skin.
You eventually reach his cervix. He instantly squirts just from the contact. “[Name]..” He bites down on his lip.
“It's Daddy.” You move backwards by about an inch before hitting his cervix again, entering his womb.
“Daddy~!” Sunday moans as you start fucking him. He grips the sheets tightly as You overwhelm him with pleasure. His lashes flutter elegantly as each thrust sends him closer and closer to a sexual heaven. If it weren't for Your possessiveness over him and Your decision to soundproof the room, everyone would be able to hear him from outside. He's too far gone to think about it.
Tears run beautifully down his cheeks. Never in a million years would he have imagined being claimed by the God he worships. Especially not in this way. Completely enveloping You in Your entirety is something that would make him cry blasphemy if anyone told him this would happen.
Of course he, along with all Your believers, consume You via wine and edible offerings, but that's all metaphorical.
“Gonna come inside you-” You moan. Sunday whines happily.
“Yes– fill me with Your seed~” His pussy squeezes you as if it's trying to milk You. Its efforts are quickly proved successful by his womb filling up with Your cum. His tattoo lights up halfway, a representation of how full he really is.
You briefly pull out, turning him over and adjusting him to lay face down with his ass raised. He grins dumbly as You slide back inside of him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he once again experiences the divine stretch of his pussy welcoming you inside it. He's already addicted.
You roughly thrust into his cunt, shamelessly indulging in Your own desire for him. He drools onto his pillow, his vision blurring. He's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness but You're keeping him awake. “Daddy~” He cries out as he has another orgasm. His wetness and Your thrusts are creating the kind of lewd noises that used to embarrass him on the unfortunate occasions where he’d pass by a storage closet inhabited by two sinners. Now, it's just making him hornier.
Before all this, he figured he'd only have sex to procreate. You’ve completely changed his mind on that.
“So good!” He cries.
You notice the abstinence ring on his finger and slide it off, replacing it with a wedding ring. Sunday mewls happily, once again squirting.
For his sake, you finish inside him and fully fill his womb to the brim. His tattoo fully glows, representing the connection you two have. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
#wicks🕯works#top male reader#male reader#ftm character#dom male reader#wicks🕯series#sunday x reader#sunday x male reader#sunday honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x male reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail smut#tw daddy kink
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𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔
Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader
The Kid at the Back is an 18+ game and this post will contain 18+ content MINORS DNI
cw: somnophilia, non-con(?), unwanted touching, established relationship // not proofread
a little bit out of my zone, but a friend asked for this, so if i forget/incorrectly tag something please let me know!!

This... should be fine, right? You said it yourself, that he could use your thighs to get himself off while you did your homework. But you never said anything about being awake.
Sol tightens his grip on your sleeping form. Earlier, you drank his infamous orange juice and barely managed to make it to your bed before passing out.
Burying his nose into your hair, Sol takes a deep sniff, nearly moaning at your scent invading his nostrils. Fuck, you always did smell so good. Maybe he should buy the same products you use, and he could smell like you 24/7.
As much as Sol wants to stay the night, he knows he should be wrapping things up. Eying the clock with his orange eyes, Sol makes quick work of tugging your pajama pants to your mid-thighs and pulling his hard cock from its prison, all with one hand.
Luckily, you were laying on your side in front of him, so Sol didn't have to move you too much.
Positioning his cock to insert itself between your warm thighs, Sol nearly whimpers, before slipping inside. Oh shit... He groans at the warmth enveloping his hard, weeping cock. He's barely clinging to any self-restraint he has left.
Pulling his hips back, Sol watches the head of his cock leak pearly white beads and stain your panties
Oh, yeah, he's done for.
Like the filthy dog he was, Sol humps his cock in and out, in and out, in and out of your thighs. His long slender fingers were underneath your shirt, groping and squeezing at your breasts.
Sol tries to hide his moans by kissing and sucking at the back of your neck, but the little 'ah! ah! ah!'s always manage to escape his lips. Your bed creaks at every thrust, the springs groaning at the motion and weight.
With a few more thrusts and a cry of your name, Sol comes hard, hips stuttering as his cock paints your thighs and sheets white.
Well shit, he pants, eyeing the mess, that was intense.
Sol separates himself from your sleeping figure, although a bit reluctant, and cleans himself up before putting his cock back into his prison. After fixing your appearance and covering you with a blanket, Sol kisses your forehead and heads toward the window.
Slipping a foot out, Sol turns back to your sleeping form with a lovesick grin, "Goodnight, pumpkin," He whispered, "sweet dreams."
And disappears into the night.
-‘๑’-
When your alarm went off, you were embarrassed upon noticing your sticky, wet panties. "What a dream that was," You murmured before getting up to get ready for school.
Want more of this? Buy me a ko-fi! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere boyfriend#yandere male#the kid at the back vn#the kid at the back sol#solivan brugmansia#tkatb x reader#sol x reader#the kid at the back#-ˏˋ Visual Novelsˊˎ
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#dead dove do not eat#cw incest#incestuous#proship#fictional incest#proshippers please interact#shipcest#f/f incest#tw inc*st#siscon#twince$t#parent/child incest#ao3#ao3 fanfic#f/f#incest ship#incest shipper#dubious consent#cw noncon#non consensual touching#non consent#non con#rapekink#fictional noncon#brocest#siscest
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hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!
MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}
a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.
{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}
warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno
{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}
SFW HC
sfw relationship/meeting him hcs
when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.
if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.
he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.
he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.
as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.
he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.
in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.
he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.
he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}
if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.
no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.
he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.
he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.
he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care
he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.
any cost.
NSFW HC
what its like to have sex with him.
starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.
he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.
one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.
he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.
anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.
he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks
he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.
he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.
you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}
for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.
he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.
his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.
cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!
if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.
his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.
afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.
on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.
he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.
dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.
will probably brand you with something
if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.
thats all bye bye!!! :3
{ made by @whokilledsamara }
#smut#afab reader#amab reader#mr. scarletella x you#mr. scarletella x y/n#mr. scarletella#cnc somno#mr. scarletella x reader#homicipher#homicipher x reader#dead dove do not eat
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Literally obsessed with poly 141 x reader. Part 2
141 are called to the hospital after you’re picked up by paramedics after a drunken work party.
Heed the warnings.
CW: dead dove don't eat, alleged assault, alleged sexual assault, alleged non-con drugging, hurt/comfort, medial stuff, description of injuries.
---
John is your emergency contact. He’s the captain, the leader, he can take charge and make sure everyone does their job. You were still confused, heaving into a bag as the paramedic was asking about who to call.
It was a work party, you only had a few drinks. You’re not sure what happened, you were talking with a coworker. The next thing you know there are strangers around, you’re outside down an alley, the cold London air making you shiver.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” The female paramedic asks. Your head is swimming, your body is sore. You have no idea where you are or what happened. Panic rises in your chest, you look up at her. She has kind eyes.
“I don’t know.” You slur. Your body feels heavy. The adrenaline that was pumping through your system is wearing off.
You don’t remember what happens next, all you hear is the screeching noise of sirens.
—-----------------
John’s heart is racing in his chest. Johnny and Kyle are sitting in silence in the back seats of the car they all rushed into after the call. John looks over at Simon, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel.
“Park up, we’ll meet you inside.” John says as Simon pulls into the parking garage. He stops the car and everyone but Simon gets out heading into the hospital’s A&E entrance. Price makes a b-line for the front desk. Johnny and Kyle follow as he asks for you and what room you’re in.
The nurse has barely finished telling him when he’s nodding and making his way through the doors to the main ward. It doesn’t take him long to find your bay. He pulls the curtain back looking at you curled up in the bed.
Your face is raw, your left eye is red and swollen, your neck bruised. The stunning red dress you left the house in torn, exposing your skin littered with marks. His stomach turns, he can see in your eyes you’re out of it. Reaching out for Johnny as he comes over to you.
You hardly register them coming in, your head still swimming as you turn to look at them. Familiar hands touch your skin. Johnny’s fingers coming to your face, brushing hair behind your ears.
“Hi.” You say smiling up at him.
“Hey lass, what’ve you been up to then?” He asks as Kyle comes over to the other side of the bed lacing his fingers with yours.
Silent glances are shared around the room. John’s presence is unavoidable, he stands at the end of the bed, his arms crossed as Johnny and Kyle fuss over you.
A nurse comes into the room. John turns to talk to her, she explains what they’ve done so far. Your injuries are consistent with sexual assault, date rape. The police will be here soon.
The words from the nurse's mouth seem to change the energy in the room. It’s like a rehearsed dance they’ve been practicing for. Maybe it’s the fact they're military and used to working under pressure, or maybe it’s just the fact it’s you, laid in a hospital bed.
John immediately takes up the role of leader-captain-in an instant. Johnny stays by your side holding your hand caressing your face, telling you not to worry. His kind eyes and warm smile distracts you from the commotion going on in your room.
John’s voice is low as he gives out orders. Kyle is incharge of intel gathering coming over to talk to you, rubbing your arm letting Johnny comfort you as he asks you simple questions. You don’t remember much but you enjoy his touch.
When Simon comes in the mood shifts.
You watch as he comes over to you. Johnny steps back letting him cup your cheek, his eyes scan your face, pulling your chin up to look at him. His eyes are hard, his lips pressed together. He kisses your forehead before moving back to the end of the bed.
Johnny is back with his smile and soft touches as he brushes your face careful to avoid the sensitive areas. You’re sleepy, your eyes drooping as you relax into bed.
“Tired?” Johnny asks, pulling the sheets over you. You nod before turning your head to look over the end of the bed. Simon's eyes are still on you as John talks. You’re not listening to what they’re saying. Kyle moves over, his attention turns to John.
“What are they doing?” You ask, your words still slurred.
“Don’t worry ‘bout them love. They’ve got work to do.” You watch as Simon pulls a mask up over his nose before he and Kyle leave the room.
You look over at Johnny smiling. John walks over resting his hand on your leg.
“You’re okay lass, we’re here now.” He says his thumb brushing your cheek as your eyes fall closed.
----
Someone stop me...
Part 2
#call of duty#fanfic#cod#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#john price#kyle gaz garrick#ghost cod#taskforce 141#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#tf 141 x reader#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon x reader#simon ghost x reader#captain john price#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz x you
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Draw The Line
Sylus x Reader
This was meant to be jealous Sylus, it turned into touch her and 💀
And i’m not even sorry for it
CW/TW: harassment, non-con physical restraint
✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°⭑ ✮ ⋆ ˚。𓅨⋆。°✩⭑
“You know that Blake has a crush on you right?” Tara said, bumping her shoulder against yours to get your attention. You were wrapping up for the day, finishing your filing before clocking out.
“The new kid?” You ask, making a face. You thought he’d been hovering more than necessary, but you’d just chalked it up to being invested in his training.
“Kid? That’s harsh,” Tara laughed. “He’s our age, you know.”
“I refuse to believe that.” You scrunched up your nose, thinking about the ignorance Blake was prone to exhibit. You knew it was unfair to judge him so harshly, but training him had been anything but easy in comparison to others. You were almost certain that he weaponized his incompetence.
And sure enough, as you and Tara walked out the doors of the association together, you could hear him calling out your name. You pretended not to hear him, but could no longer ignore him the moment his hand fell on your shoulder. The cringe that tried to work its way up was pushed back in favour of a heavy sigh. You made sure to have a smile plastered on your face when you turned to face him.
“Blake. Hi. What’s up?” You couldn’t help the tightness that seeped into your voice, but Blake didn’t seem to notice it.
“Hey! I was..uh…wondering if you’d like to go get a drink? With me? Tonight?” The hand that had rested on your shoulder now went to the back of his head to awkwardly rub his hair. He also kept his gaze downcast, and you could see a blush spread across his face. It just made you feel all the worse for the lie that was about to spill from your mouth.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend and…I’m going out with him tonight,” you say, trying your best to fake an apologetic smile. Well, okay. So it was partially a lie, partially the truth. You weren’t entirely sure what to call the relationship you had with Sylus, but you had planned to have dinner with him. Whispers erupted around you as colleagues processed what you said, and you knew work was about to become an annoyance with these gossipmongers.
Blake’s head whipped up and his eyes narrowed on you. “But you don’t have a boyfriend, I already asked around to make sure.”
Unease sunk into you, noting the way his eyes turned calculating. You were notoriously horrible at reading people, but that sudden shift had you analyzing every interaction with him. Nothing you could think of would hint that the man standing in front of you posed any kind of threat.
“I’m sorry,” you say again in an attempt to ease the tension. “I keep my private life separate from my work life, so not a lot of people know. He’s on his way to pick me up, so I uh…gotta go.”
Blake called your bluff, by grabbing you by the wrist when you turn to walk away from him. Your heart stuttered, anxiety spiked, but even more you felt your temper flare. You turned back to glare at his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, traveling up his arm before it settled on his face. The awkward blush from earlier was now an angry flush on his face. Fine, you could trade ire with him no problem.
“I’m giving you three seconds to let go, before I knock you on your ass and flatten you,” you say, voice low with the thinly veiled threat. He opened his mouth to respond, but his words were swallowed by the sound of a motorcycle revving loudly at the sidewalk. You, Blake, and everyone that stopped to see how the altercation would end turned towards the disruption.
And, like some miracle, there he was. You’d recognize that monster of a motorcycle anywhere, and the massive leather-clad frame of the helmeted rider sitting astride it. The tinted visor concealed his face, but you could feel Sylus’s gaze on you when he turned his head in your direction. Once he knew he had the attention of everyone in the vicinity, he killed the engine and kicked the stand out. His dismount was graceful and smooth, and everyone gawked as their gaze traveled up, up, and up to take in his full imposing height. You cast one final glare to Blake, before wrenching your arm from his slackened grip and hurrying away.
Sylus removed his helmet as you approached, brushing his fingers through his hair to fix it. His gaze remained on Blake until you were by his side, and then his eyes assessed you for damage. Your wrist was red from where Blake grabbed you, but it wouldn’t bruise. All the same, Sylus’s gaze narrowed on it and his jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth.
“I’ll kill him,” he growled, a threat you knew he was fully capable of following through on. Wisps of Sylus’s evol drifted from his fingers as he held your hand up to inspect more closely.
“No,” you said firmly, grasping his hand to turn his attention to you. “What you’ll do is explain to me why you’d risk coming to the association building. Especially at the end of shift when everyone is around.”
His response was nothing more than a dark chuckle, as if your concern was just a silly thing compared to the insult that reddened your wrist. He turned his attention back to Blake, and you could see his smile harden. Peeking over your shoulder confirmed that he was still standing on the sidewalk, seething.
“The risk is worth it just to piss him off, and make him learn his place,” Sylus said. He crooked a finger under your chin and tugged your face back to his. He slanted his mouth over yours in a kiss that was both hard and possessive. You knew he was staking his claim, right there in front of all of your coworkers, and you felt like you should be embarrassed by the display. Instead, you swayed into him, lost to the sensation of him devouring you. Anyone who remained invested in the situation whistled and laughed at Sylus’s audacity, and then continued on their way while whispering excitedly to each other.
When Sylus finally let you up for air, the crowd had dispersed and Blake was nowhere to be seen. But for good measure, Sylus kissed you again, a quick peck of assertive possession before he handed you the ridiculous cat-eared helmet he’d bought for you months ago.
Whispers followed you for weeks. Coworkers you never knew existed stopped you to ask about Sylus and how you managed to snag someone like him. They gushed about how attractive he was, about how romantic it was that he protected you against another man crossing the line. A few even asked you what kind of motorcycle Sylus rode. All of it was tiring.
Blake eventually transferred departments, and you never heard from him again.
#lads sylus#sylus fic#sylus x you#possessive sylus#touch her and die trope#lads fic#sylus qin#l&ds sylus#sylus x reader#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#l&ds fic
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Pervy roommate!Soap’s camera he’s been hiding in your room for months, but you found it few days before deployment.
cw: 18+ mdni, dark content (kinda), dubcon, soap being invasive and a lying slut but for you, masturbating, naive!reader feeding into his shenanigans, non con recording.
Truly, the smallest mistake for the ages can make everything his the fan, can’t it.
And Johnny’s not new to new concept, he’s a demolition expert for a reason. He just didn’t think he’d slip up this bad, right before he got deployed.
He was putting the camera back where it belonged, safely behind a couple of things on your dresser. Why was the camera there to begin with? He was looking out for you in a way. Making sure he saw every little thing you did, from changing out of yoru work clothes, the tips of your breasts to your plump ass, to the fucking hairs that were growing on your sexy pussy— to watching that movie you’ve been dying to watch, to the nights you cried yourself to sleep and then quickly walked the the other side of the flat to his room to cuddle.
Johnny has seen it all, it’s all on a top secret flash drive that’s between him and Satan. He was backing up he file to get every last glimpse of you— who else was he gonna rub one out to?
The idiot didn’t think it would lead to you finding the little piece of equipment , a pout on your lips, arms folded over your chest.
“Is this yours?”
There was a pause, not enough to get you really questioning, but enough for Soap to come up with an adequate list of lies to fill in the blank.
“I’d never lass. Wouldn’t hurt you like tha baby. Care about ye too much.”
The lie falls from his lips ever so beautifully, he could win an Emmy from this performance alone.
You let out a sigh of relief, but tears fall nonetheless, quickly running into his arms where he sat on the couch. He holds you tight in you in his arms, rocks you as your cry, “Why would someone do this?” and “Does someone have it out for me?”
Absolutely not, Johnny worships the floor you walk on. He recorded for safe keeping, right?
He coos, kissing your forehead, “Don’t worry Bon’, gonna find ou’ who did this t’ya and beat ‘em t’a pulp. It’s so many daft men in the world.”
He’d put the blame on that idiot you’d brought over one too many times. He got too close to his pretty dove anyway.
Let’s say a month passed with him gone and god, did the Scottish man miss you to pieces. He couldn’t get you off his mind, even more so because he stupidly forgot the flash drive at home. He almost cried about it, Ghost gave him a disgusted look, John ignored him and Gaz acting like he didn’t see him moping around and talked about other things.
The new camera, which was smaller, was properly on and installed. Your hadn’t noticed again but for some reason, you’d gone celibate.
You didn’t use your toys like you do sometimes, didn’t hump that pillow you had, didn’t even bring anyone over.
And then like a miracle from god, he hears the chime of his phone that’s changed specifically for when you text him.
“Bloody hell!” He curses at the sight, a video you’ve sent.
“You alright mate?” Gaz raises his eyebrow from the couch. Soap’s blue eyes are already erratic, snapping towards the man.
He gulps, “A-aye. Just got some things t’take care ‘f for ma roommate.” And with that he’s out of the common room and almost sprinting to his dorm. Quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.
Immediately playing the video you’d sent, the thumbnail that made his heart leap being you face down with you juicy ass up, hand on your sloppy cunt and rubbing your clit.
He clicks the video and groans just from seeing you run your hand through the mess you’ve created between your folds. Your fingers are already wet and sticky.
Your breath hitches when you touch your harden clit,
And then like a 5 part symphony, you breathlessly moan, “Johnny.”
He groans at the sound of you, all too tempting— this is exactly what men used to go to war for. Astonishingly beautiful people like you, rubbing there pretty little clits with both of their holes facing the camera and clenching like a little fucking slut.
You don’t know why you send that video to Johnny.
Maybe because you stupidly missed his mouth on your pussy till you were sore, climbing up the bed for mercy. Or when he left hickies all over you and finger fucked you till you passed out.
That Scottish fucker had trained your body to want him watching, breathing every inch of you in— it made you even more wet just thinking about it, you keened his name, circling your little bud faster, humping the air, shimming your ass back and forth.
“Wanna- anngh- Johnnyy.” You whimpered.
And Johnny his had as a brick right now, painfully so, mumbling curses of exactly what to do to you, how he’d help you cum. Because he knows even by the way you squeeze your eyes shut, the way you keep looking back with those big brown eyes, curls covering your face— it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
“Come on Bonnie, easy now.” He mumbles to yourself and it’s almost like you’re listening to him through the screen, slowing down, chest heaving, you turn around, shyly looking past the camera, heat rising under your cheeks— cute fucking girl— and then down at the mess you’ve made.
You lay down on the bed again, rubbing yourself, gentler now, tweaking at your hardened nipples, bucking your hips with ever circular motion of you fingers. “Tha’s it lass, doin so good.” Johnny says breathlessly, staring in awe of you. You bite your lips, trying to hide your moans and whimpers but they peak through. Bouncing off the wall of your pretty bedroom.
Your moans get higher pitched by the second, babbling your words and then it hits you— and Johnnys got thee most perfect view of your little hole clenching and unclenching, more juices flowing down your fingers.
The man lets out a sharp exhale, wallowing in your own euphoric state.
Soap doesn’t even realize hes cum himself, in his own pants.
Untouched.
His phone chimes again.
It’s you, another text.
‘please come home soon & safe Johnny („• ᴗ •„)🥺💓💓’
He’d swim across the fucking ocean if he could.
But he’s settling for now, texting back, ‘thanks dove, you’re the best in the whole world!!!! (ノ´ з `)ノ Be home soon!!!😘😘🕺🏻🕺🏻 (*˘︶˘*).。.:*♡’
Cumming once is never enough though. The man will have to rub another maybe two out.
But definitely using both angles he’s obtained. Can’t let them go to waste, can he?
a/n: naive!reader can not help but unintentionally egg pervyroomate!soap on. They’re so cute and demure and Johnny is just a slut.
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#teddy drabbles#naive!reader#tojisteddy presents#call of duty#tf 141 x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap smut#soap x reader#soap call of duty#johnny mactavish x y/n#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny mactavish#johnny x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny x you#tf 141 smut#tf 141 x you#cod modern warfare#soap cod#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod x y/n#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader
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Little brothers first time
CW; fauxcest, implied non con.
Big bro calls over to you from the room across the hall; "Hey stupid! Wanna play Halo?"
You sigh, he always calls you stupid. You're starting to get really sick of it.
"Uh, yeah, sure," you squeak back. You sneak over to his room in your pajamas and jump onto his bed next to him. He's sitting cris cross with his controller gently resting on his bulge. You grab the spare controller next to him and pick your character. You start shooting him, and he smiles and pauses the game.
"Here, Lil bro," he chuckles. "You have to put your controller here." He lowers the controller until it rests on you tiny T-dick.
"Oh, okay!"
You start playing again, and every time he shoots your character, the controller vibrates. It starts to feel really good on your sensitive little boycunt. You look over at your big bro and see the very tip of his cock peeking out from the front hole in his sweatpants. You're so hard and focused on his cock, you don't notice him beginning to make eye contact with you.
"Lil bro?"
His words shock you. "Oh fuck," You think, "he definitely sees me staring it his dick."
"Uh... yeah?"
"I want to rub my dick up against your slit."
Your breath hitches. Your mind goes blank. You feel your T-dick throbbing. You feel frozen in place.
"You should pull your pants down and lay on your tummy, baby bro," he says softly.
You, being in shock and not wanting to upset him, comply. Your pants and soaking wet boxers come off, and you roll onto your stomach.
Your big bro grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed, close to his hard shaft. You get nervous butterflies just thinking about it touching you. He starts to rub on your T-dick a little. You raise your hips in response.
"Good job." He coos.
Your heart starts to race as you see him grab his cock and lean in close.
"Shhhh, it's okay, Lil bro, just a small bit of rubbing is all."
He begins to press into you, you feel his cock glide along your slit, and start rubbing between your T-dick and mattress. He groans in pleasure and he stops for a second.
"You're doing such a good job, baby boy"
He continues with his thrusting as you begin to feel your slick dripping all over his cock. His breath is hot. He's panting. His chest begins to press on your back. You feel his dick slide out from underneath your T-dick. You whine just a little. It felt really good, and you feel so hard down there.
"Bro?" He says.
"Yeah?" You reply
"I'm so sorry"
"What?"
"I can't help myself anymore"
"Big bro, what do mea-"
You feel a sudden and electrifying pain. "Holy shit." You think. "My big bro just shoved his cock into me! He took my virginity!" The pain subsides slightly as his cock rests deep inside of you. It burns, like you NEED more of him. You let out a small moan, which is his que to start pumping inside of you ever so slowly.
"Fuck, Lil bro your boy pussy feels so fucking good" he pants.
His hips start moving slightly faster. You can feel the tip of his cock start gently tapping your cervix. You press back into him. You want to feel as much of this cock as possible. He grabs your hips and starts pounding, hard and fast. You squeeze around his cock, it feels so fucking euphoric. His breath hitches, and his legs shudder. He slams his cock deep inside of you until is tip is pressed right up against your womb.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm Oooh-"
You feel it. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, squirts of a warm and sticky liquid inside of you. He shudders, and his hips involuntarily twitch. You feel two more squirts, almost like warm maple syrup. Your big brother pulls out, and you turn to see a look of horror on his face.
"I, uh, have to go to the bathroom," your big bro stammers.
He leaves you on the bed, a confused and sticky mess.
#brocest#brocon#big brother/little brother#big brother x little brother#big bro/little bro#big brother#little brother#big bro x lil bro#inc3$t#inc35st#inc35t#!cky k!ddo#!cky thoughts#!cky k!dd0#bambimoss#dumb puppy#nsft puppy#ftm puppy#ftm mlm#ftm brocon#ftm nsft#ftm brocest#mlm ns/fw#trans mlm
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hii do u write for cheating? i was thinking something like reader having a bf that bob doesnt like and he gets possessive over u clouding ur head with things yk? & ofc it gotta be smut 😝
(cw: reader is manipulated, cheating, mentions of past non-con touches)
i think bob is very unintentionally manipulative, or maybe he does know and that the worst part. somewhere under all that shaky, soft-spoken shit he wears like armor is a man who knows exactly how to get what he wants from you. maybe it started out innocent. a stupid coincidence. you, reaching for the same half-wilted potted plant at some corner market in the late afternoon, your fingers brushing his, and he gave you that dumb little half-smile, eyes soft, like it mattered. like you mattered.
and maybe it could’ve been nothing. but maybe it would’ve been everything if it weren’t for him. your boyfriend.
you don’t get nice, easy things. not the way you were raised, not the kind of men you keep falling for. it doesn’t help that your boyfriend’s the kind of asshole that disappears for days at a time, coming home smelling like booze. it doesn’t help that he calls you things, cruel little jabs that hang around in your stomach long after the apology’s worn off. he’ll yell, slam doors, and then sit on the couch like nothing happened.
and bob, well… bob never liked him.
he never said it, not really. but it was in the way he’d frown when you mentioned his name, in the tight little twitch of his jaw when you showed him a text you thought was funny. in the way he’d gently, gently��cloud your head, planting things you didn’t even realize were seeds until they started to bloom. “y’know you deserve better, right?” “if you were mine, i wouldn’t leave you waiting like that.” “can’t believe he’d say somethin’ like that to you.”
you thought it was sweet. harmless. and then you cried, cried at bob's soft words, cried about how true they were. and he was there to comfort you, asking him why things couldn't be that way, why your boyfriend couldn't be more like him.
perfect, now the emotional aspect is out the way.
because bob’s possessive in this ugly, simmering way that sneaks up on you. the kind that doesn't scream or throw punches. no — it festers. it’s in the way his hand lingers on your wrist a second too long when he passes you something. in the way his gaze settles, heavy and burning, when your phone lights up with your boyfriend’s name. in the soft, almost embarrassed way he mutters, “wish you’d just stay over.”
and you do.
you do because it feels easy. it feels safe. and maybe you hate yourself for it later, but god — the way he touches you? like you’re something breakable. like you’re already his.
you don’t even remember how you ended up in his bed. not really. one minute you were sitting on that ratty old couch of his, the one with a threadbare blanket always thrown over the back, some mindless movie flickering in the background. the next, it was late — too late to head home, and bob had given you that look. the one that made your stomach knot up and your heart stutter, equal parts pity and something much darker.
“you should just stay,” he’d mumbled, like it wasn’t the hundredth time he’d said it, voice low and thick with something you didn’t wanna name. like he was embarrassed to ask but physically incapable of letting you leave.
and so you did. you always did.
he made you feel wanted in this quiet, careful way your boyfriend never had. not with slammed doors and liquor-soaked apologies. bob called you pretty. sweetheart. looked at you like you hung the stars.
and maybe you were eak for it. maybe you liked it too much.
which is how you end up like this — curled up in his bed under soft sheets that still smelled like his skin, his long fingers splayed over your stomach, dragging idle circles over your shirt. a movie’s still playing but neither of you are paying attention. it’s too quiet, thick with the kind of tension that makes your breath catch. bob’s staring at the ceiling like he’s working something out in his head, and you know that look. you’ve seen it before — when he wants something but won’t ask. when it’s eating him alive.
and then his hand dips lower.
just barely, fingers brushing over the waistband of your sleep shorts, and your whole body tenses because you know better. you know better. you shouldn’t let him.
but it’s him. it’s bob.
so when those same fingers press against your cunt through the thin fabric, palm cupping you gently like he’s testing the weight of it in his hand, you don’t pull away. not at first. you make this tiny, broken little sound, a soft whimper that makes his breath hitch and his eyes snap to yours. he looks guilty — but not enough to stop.
your voice breaks when you manage a, “n-no, i… i don’t cheat.”
and he sits up, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and you can see the panic there for a second, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “he’s cheated on you,” bob says, voice barely above a whisper, and it sounds desperate now, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “i know he has. don’t lie to me, you told me. you cried on my fuckin’ couch about it.”
your chin wobbles. your stomach hurts.
“two wrongs don’t make a right,” you breathe, the words feeling too thin in your mouth, brittle and weightless because you already know it doesn’t matter. not with the way bob’s looking at you — like you’re the last good thing in his rotten little world and he’ll be damned if he lets someone else ruin it.
“he doesn’t even make you feel good,” bob says, softer now, coaxing, like this is something inevitable and you just haven’t accepted it yet. his hand’s on your back now, rubbing slow circles, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than reassuring. “last week you told me he didn’t even make you cum. made you fake it and he didn’t fuckin’ notice.”
you wince. you hate that he remembers. you hate that you said it at all.
“just… just imagine it’s him, yeah?” he says quietly, eyes so soft you could drown in them. “it don’t mean nothin’. ‘s just touch, please. s’not like we haven’t been doin’ this already. in that case you've already cheated, what's one more time?” then he stops, he looks like hes about to fucking cry "'m so hard, please?"
and you want to tell him no, that this isn’t right, that you can’t — but he’s already got your hand in his, thumb stroking over your knuckles like a promise, his lips brushing your temple, and it feels too good. too safe.
so you don’t stop him.
not when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and drags them down slow, like he’s afraid you’ll stop him but too greedy not to try. not when his palm slides back between your thighs and finds you already wet, slick and warm against his fingers, and he lets out this small, wrecked little sound like he’s in pain over it.
“wanted you for 's long, been so good for you,” he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and ragged, one thick finger sliding through your folds, gathering it up and spreading it around with these lazy, unhurried strokes. “you're gonna let me have it right?”
you choke out a little whimper and your hips jerk when the pad of his finger catches your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles that make your thighs tremble. it’s nothing like how your boyfriend touches you, how the fuck are you supposed to think about him. no rough, half-done, get-it-over-with fumbling. bob touches you like you’re breakable. like it matters. like he’s trying to memorize every sound you make.
and then he’s easing a finger inside you, thick and curling just right, his other hand gripping your thigh and pulling it over his lap to spread you open for him. you’re already clenching around him, the stretch making your head spin, and bob groans, rocking his hips against the bed like he can’t help it.
“keep going,” you breathe, voice wrecked and needy. in return bob gives a boyish little proud smirk and a nod, all too submissive for someone who's pounding their fingers in you.
you can’t even tease him about it, too busy grinding against his hand like some desperate thing, your cunt squeezing around his finger as he adds another, fucking them into you nice and slow. it’s filthy — the wet slick sound of it filling the room, your breathy little moans getting sharper every time he brushes that spot inside you.
“been thinkin’ about this every night,” he murmurs, thumb circling your clit in time with the steady thrust of his fingers. he bites his lip, like he nervous before speaking “once— when you were over i fingered you in your sleep, just to see. but you're not mad right—promise me you arent.”
you gasp and before you can even fucking answer with a strangled little cry, hips jerking your cumming on his fingers, thighs shaking around his wrist, bob groaning low as he fucks you through it, keeps his fingers working you until you’re whimpering and trying to squirm away from the overstimulation.
he doesn’t stop. not right away.
leans in and kisses your temple, your cheek, your lips — soft, desperate things like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go.
“mine,” he whispers against your mouth, so soft you almost miss it. “always been mine.”
(I AM A WHOREEEE HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG)
#.ᐟ.ᐟ#marvel#thunderbolts#robert reynolds#robert reynolds x reader#bob reynolds fanfic#bob reynolds x reader#bob reynolds smut#bob thunderbolts#robert reynolds smut#⤷ robert reynolds#bob reynolds#x reader#smut#fluff#thunderbolts*#mcu#bob thunderbolts x reader#thunderbolts x reader#sentry#marvel fanfic#the sentry#the new avengers#new avengers#thunderbolts fanfic#the void#the void x reader#the void smut#mutual pining#pining
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Compromised
Bottom!FTM Peter Parker x Top!Villain CEO!Masc Reader
🕸️ Word Count: 1,226 🕸️
AFAB Language Used | this *might* become a multi-chapter fic but this part won't be canon, i changed my mind after i started the second chapter and this wouldn't fit 😭 so just treat it as a oneshot
CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Drugging, Blood, Virginity Loss, Cunnilingus, Creampie
Peter looks up at you with blurry vision, his body bruised and bloody. He can barely move.
You rip off his mask. “Aren't you the one who works for Jameson? I always knew your pictures were too good.” You chuckle. “You are cute though.”
He's fading in and out of consciousness, he can barely comprehend your words.
“I’ll be taking you home with me.”
Peter slowly opens his eyes, still feeling dizzy and weak. He looks down and fear instantly hits him. He's completely naked and tied up. He looks around the room for anything to help him while trying to break his restraints with brute force.
The noise draws you inside.
“Yo- you-” He recognizes you. The CEO of a company that rivals Stark Industries and Oscorp.
“I have a plan for you, Parker.” You walk over to him. “I’ll let you live and I won't tell a soul about your identity. In return, you'll help me take down Stark Industries.”
“Kidnapping someone isn't really a great way to propose a partnership, you know.” He manages to keep up his persona, trying to calculate how he can get out of this.
“Well, appealing to you isn't a part of my plan. How you feel about this doesn't matter to me. You won't have a choice once my subordinate gets his hands on you.”
“Wh- what are you gonna do to me?”
You slowly untie him. “Just a little memory altering. I’d love to train you but there's not enough time…it’s too bad.” You brush his hair to the side. He tries to hit you but it's too difficult, he only grazes your cheek. You laugh at his attempt and grab his wrists. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you after today. You’ll be spoiled rotten. My special little spider.”
“No– no! Don't touch me!” He squirms around in your hold.
“I should've known a single dose wouldn't be effective enough.” You let go of him and turn to the supply cart next to him. He tries to shoot a web to stop you from whatever you’re trying to do, but only a weak spurt leaves his wrist. He then attempts to get on the ground and crawl. You ignore him and prepare his next injection. He feels humiliated as he continues to crawl towards the door. The fact that you're not even looking at him tells him that he doesn't have a chance. But he tries anyway.
He only ends up a couple inches away from where he started when you ‘catch’ him and turn him around. You use one hand to pin his arms above his head and use the other to inject a serum meant to sedate and arouse him. “Don't worry, Peter, you won't remember any of this. If that makes you feel better. I just wanna have some fun with you first.” You toss the empty syringe.
“Get- get away from me–” He tries everything he can to hurt you but his remaining strength is starting to dwindle as the serum runs through his body. You pry his legs apart and stick your head in between. You drag your tongue up his folds then lovingly suck on his dick. You bring your hands to his chest and circle his sensitive nipples. He subconsciously raises his hips and whimpers.
“No- no- no-” He shakes his head, crying. He doesn't want to lose his virginity like this, not here, not to you. “Uhn~” His toes curl. His spidey senses are going off, making it even harder to think. The drug is making the spider parts of him go haywire, it's not working properly. It's aggressively ringing all the alarm bells inside him. His webs weakly shoot out of his wrists like a deflating balloon. His head is pounding. His brain is yelling at him.
Defend yourself. Hurt them. Kill them. Call for help. Run. Give in. Give in.
Give in.
It feels so good. It feels so good.
I wanna come. I wanna come.
His hands stick to the ground, his legs spread further apart, his mouth hangs open to sing noisy, wordless praises to compliment your skill.
“Stop!” He cries out.
Don't stop. Don't stop!
Yes!
Peter gasps, his hips jerking upwards as he squirts on your face. His head presses against the floor. His body trembles. Then he calms down.
He raises his head and looks at you as you pull away from him. His eyes follow your hands as they unzip your pants. As they free your hard dick. As they direct it onto his wet pussy. Then he focuses on your cock. Your length. Your girth.
I want it.
“No-” His voice trembles. “Don't- don't put that- inside me!”
Shove it inside me. I need it. Fill me. Mold my body to fit you. Ruin me.
The head of your cock slowly breaches him. Peter’s webs shoot out like a can of silly string on its last legs. Weak little spurts continue to leave him. Both from his wrist and from his cunt. He feels weaker every time.
It hurts. It’s too big. It hurts.
“It's interesting to see how your body reacts to the drug.” You wipe the tears from his eyes. “It's too bad I won't be using it again…Although I am interested in what’ll happen once my subordinate alters your memories…maybe I’ll tell them to make you an obedient slut for me.”
Own me.
“Ple- please-” He gasps. He's not entirely sure what he's begging for. His brain is sending conflicting messages.
You lean into his ear. “Admit it, Spidey, you love how big I am and how well I fill your tight fucking pussy.”
I love it.
“I hate– ugh-” He hisses.
I'm so full.
“I’ll kill you..” He clenches his fists.
“Oh, but I thought Spider-Man didn't kill?”
“..ma- make an exception-” He loses his ability to grip, his fists come undone as you bottom out.
“Really? I’m honored, sweetheart.” You slowly pull out, stopping before you fully leave him. “You're bleeding. Guess I was too rough.” You lick your lips at the red coating on your cock.
“You're disg—uh~!” You suddenly thrust inside him and knock the wind out of him, a longer string of web leaving his body. His whimpering and gasping quickly turns into whines and moans as you fuck him. His eyes roll to the back of his head. The bandage and wound on his cheek loosens and opens up, causing blood to run down his face. His brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs.
“Doesn't it feel good, baby?”
He responds with a jumbled mess of words that are impossible to decipher. You already took a bunch of pictures of him earlier but you find yourself wishing you still had that camera with you. In this state, he's more beautiful than any of the artwork in the Metropolitan. You grab his sides, triggering the pain in his sore, bruised body. He makes a loud and erotic noise in response.
He writhes around, sobbing and trying to squirm out of your hold. He manages to say “Please–!”.
“Since you asked so nicely.” Your thrusts stop as you come inside him. You let go of him and brush the hair out of his face, then wipe his blood.
His body twitches, like a spider that's been stepped on.
#wicks🕯works#top male reader#male reader#ftm character#dom male reader#tw noncon#sub peter parker#peter parker x male reader#peter parker smut#marvel smut#marvel x male reader#marvel x reader#male reader smut#bottom male character#dom reader#sub character#dark content
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