#oscar issac imagine

[st4rymoon]

Guilty Pleasure

Pairing 〉 Steven Grant x Fem Reader

Genre 〉 Smut and Fluff

Warnings 〉Somnophilia, dubcon!, teasing, unprotected sex, pet names (doll, love), P n V, slightly Pervy Steven, dry humping, steven slightly fighting his urges, creampie

Summary 〉Anxious about Stevens's distance, you confront him about a situation that happened while reading one of his books. Little did you know the reason for his distance was to keep temptation away.

You tried to hide the concern on your face as you notice Steven's eyes avoiding yours ever since you walked in.

You had no clue what you did for him to be doing this. Suddenly your mind flashed back to 2 days ago, you were reading one of his many books about Egyptian mythology. While putting it back on his shelf, a few books fell and one happened to land flat open causing one of the pages to slightly rip.

Steven reassured you it was ok, but you started convincing yourself it did bother him, he was just being his usual sweet self to avoid conflict with you.

“Steven?”

You can see his body tense as his name rolls off your tongue “y- yeah?” he shakily replies as you sit beside him.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t looked at me or even spoken to me since I got here. Do you want me to leave? Give you some space?”

Steven almost falls off the bed in protest “NO! No no”. “It’s about the book isn’t it? I already ordered you another, it’ll be here soon” you nodded. You can see the confusion on his face “Book? What book love?”

“The book that fell off your shelf when I was putting one away remember? The page ripped a little?” You mutter while feeling the guilt of ruining one of his beloved books fill you.

Stevens's face softens as he finally connects the dots, you thought he was mad at you? for a book?

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself seeing how worried you were “Doll trust must me I’m not mad, and definitely not for that little accident” he smiles reassuringly.

You feel yourself finally relax as he connects his soft doe eyes to yours. Steven felt a little guilty knowing you were beating yourself up for this whole book fiasco.

When you walked into his apartment with his favorite skirt and a silk blouses on, he knew if he looked at you once he’d be fighting himself not to pin you onto the bed and fuck you senseless.

Steven wasn’t one to show that side of himself, he kept all his dirty thoughts and urges to himself. “Come” Steven smiles, extending his arms out signaling for you to bury yourself in his arms.

Burying your face in his neck, your legs completely straddle him for a more comfortable position. His body jerks slightly as you rub up against his crotch, your soft sways as you hug him tightly making him anxious at the thought of you feeling him grow hard.

“Love you” you mutter softly as you press a soft kiss on his warm flesh, his arms wrapped around your waist, slightly lifting you in hopes to hide his growing bulge.

“Love you too doll” he hums as he places you onto his lap softly, his mind under control or rather distracting himself with counting the objects in his room to avoid his thoughts.

Both of you stay in this position, his eyes on the television as you stay cuddled onto his body. You were semi-drained from work and the stress of worrying about Steven being mad at you. You couldn’t help but fall asleep as soon as you fell into his arms.

Steven smiled at your shallow breaths, your chest rising slightly with each breath as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Always so pretty” he hums, his index finger softly running down your cheek as he places a kiss on your head.

Just as he was about to reach for the control, he heard a soft noise come from between his arms. Low whines escaped you as you squirmed in his lap.

Steven almost choked as you pressed yourself onto him, hips swaying softly as you rode out the sex dream you were having. His head falls back at the feeling, he felt like this was both the best and worst kind of torture.

It got worse once he heard his name come from your mouth, the low ‘stevens’ and muffled whines making him whine quietly.

He was having a debate in his mind. He wanted to move your pretty white panties to the side and fuck you awake, but the other protested. You’ve both only slept with each other once and neither of you never talked about fucking each other awake.

Although you’d never admit it, a part of you wore the outfit in hopes of him fucking you. The first time you both had sex, you could tell he was holding back.

His eyes were blown out, breaths unsteady as he looked down at you, your eyes closed and shirt slightly riding down just enough to let him see your plump tits spilling out of your bra.

He told himself one button wouldn’t hurt. His fingers impressively unbuttoned one of your buttons, then another, and another. By the time he finished, your shirt was fully open, the silk fabric gliding on your skin as you swayed onto him.

His self-control went out the window once he heard you beg, the soft whine in your voice as you cried his name. He needed to hear your pretty whines for himself.

His arms lift you slightly, his free hand sliding his sweats down as far as he could before moving your panties to the side.

He was burning up, his breathing louder than it was before as he ran two fingers through your puffy folds. Your cunt coating his two fingers as he took in your gummy walls.

His cock was leaking with pre cum as he took his fingers out of you and stroked himself with your slick. A loud sigh leaves him as he feels himself twitch.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he couldn’t help it, your soft flesh and pretty cunt rubbing against him as you slept.

He adjusts himself below you, a loud whine leaving him as he rubs his tip through your folds. He’d never felt like this before, his body was tingling, and eyes blown out as he watches you closely.

You lowered yourself onto him softly, his body trembling as you clench around him. Low gasps from your sleeping form as he gave you time to adjust. His fingers dug into your hips, his head on your shoulder as he kept himself calm.

His hands lift you softly, his hips softly thrusting up as he groaned at the feeling. His soft persona left as soon as he picked the pace up. His hips slammed into you harshly, your eyes fluttering open as you felt him stretching you.

“St- Steven?” You mutter as he fucks deeper into you. “I know baby, I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it” he says in almost a embarrassed voice. “It’s oka- o- it’s-” you try reassuring him but can’t manage a word out as he takes your blouse off completely.

Your body was burning, the feeling of his warm hands piercing your skin make you clench. “Love you, lo- love you so much” he seethes through his teeth.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to hold yourself up, his pretty brown curls sticking to his forehead as the sweat dripped down his face.

Heavy pants and moans fill the room as he picks up the pace.

“St-eve-“

Steven swore he could’ve came right there. Hearing the sound of your voice shakily cry out his name made him twitch.

He was lost in bliss, his eyes watching the way he slid in and out of you perfectly made him bite his lip. The white ring of slick forming at the base of his cock makes him hiss.

“Always so pretty” he hums, his hand holding your face up to his as he watches your watery eyes roll back as he pulls you into a kiss.

Both of you moan into each other, the sweet taste of ice cream from his snacking before lingering on his tongue as you sloppily kissed.

You could feel the knot forming in your stomach. Steven could see it, the way your stomach clenched and high-pitched whines escaped you.

“I’ve got you love” his raspy voice purred as you clenched around him. Your nails dig into his arms, a loud moan leaving you as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

A low chuckle leaves him as he watches you shake. His lap was a complete mess. Your slick covering his lap, slightly wetting his sweats as he sloppily fucks into you.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you doll, this pretty look on your face is driving me crazy” he huffs.

You nod at his words, the thought of him cumming in you making you clench as his breaths grow heavier.

Steven couldn’t believe this was happening, he swore it could’ve been a dream. The only way he knew he wasn’t dreaming was the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, he loved when you bruised him up.

“Go- on- fuckk” Steven cries out as he sloppily fucks his cum into you. Both of your moans synced as he fucked you full. The feeling of his warm seed filling you was addicting. You knew you’d start birth control as soon as you felt him leaking out of you.

“Love you so much, so much” he pants as you fall onto his chest. Your sweaty bodies connected as he moved the hair out of your face.

“I’m sorr-“

You knew what he was going to apologize for. You could care less that he fucked you awake for the first time, you loved it more than you expected. “Shhh” you hummed as you shook your head “Don’t apologize”.

He let out a sigh as you hugged him tightly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”

[angelickks]

Cara Mia

husband! miguel x wife! reader

summary: “I would kill for her, I would die for her. Either way, what bliss”

warnings: suggestive content, mdni, is heavily based on gomez and morticia addams.

notes: extremely self indulgent, i am beyond obsessed with the addams family. can be read in the same universe as miguel x spider-wife, but is fine as a stand alone. double posting so muah!

You feel the way he caresses you in the morning, you’re still half-asleep but your body responds to his every touch. “You’re going to be the death of me…” He whispered into your neck, leaving sweet teasing bites in his path. He sounded absolutely wrecked, only having run his hands up and down your sides lovingly, your ears perk up at this. “My beautiful..strong, amazing wife…it’s an honor to lay next to you like this, mi amor.” You sigh, melting at his words. Miguel’s praises were an endless fountain, his love and pure adoration spilled into every word he uttered to you. “Is my love awake? I know your body responds when you’re sleeping so peacefully, but you only get like that when you’re awake.” You hear the smirk in his voice and you smile at how well he knows you.

“So observant handsome.” You mutter sleepily, cuddling into his arm. He’s smiling now, “There she is.” Voice is dripping in adoration, hand moving to rub your back in the way he knows you like. The action making you relax even further, almost lulling you back to sleep, almost. Now that he’s got you awake, he wants to hear your voice and bask in the love you give him continuously. Cheeky as ever, he reaches to squeeze the back of your thigh, involuntarily letting out a groan.

“So soft, mami…”

You let out a giggle at his antics, before placing your own kisses on the column of his throat. He instantly grants you further access, tilting his head back so sweetly. You start your way from the bottom till you get the middle, gently sinking your teeth there. He groans again, the sensation spurring him on, hands beginning to knead your ass.

“Makin’ such pretty noises my sweet man. You like when I do that don’t you?” He nods weakly, head still tilted up, not wanting your ministrations to stop. “So good for me, yeah honey?” He gulps at your words, “Yes, always, my wife.”

You place one last wet kiss before pulling away slightly, one hand finding it’s way to the back of his head and weaving your fingers into his locks. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, you tug at the roots gently, causing him to close them momentarily enjoying the feeling.

You use your other hand to cup his cheek softly, thumb resting on his lips. Eager, he kisses your thumb affectionately, nipping at it once playfully. Overjoyed when the action earns him a smile from you, he hums quietly at the sight.

“I would die for you, would kill for you. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for that smile. I would tear down worlds to be with you another day. Let me take care of you, please”

[vktrsnclr]

TEACHER'S PET (R18+)

MINORS GTFO

pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: you're a college freshman in biochemistry and miguel is your professor in biochemical engineering, a major subject that you're about to fail.

warning: I'm a feminist and I'm concerned.

word count: 1.9k+

contents: humiliation, degradation, age gap, height difference, fingering, oral sex, p in v, hair pulling, public groping.

MASTERLIST

It's your first year in college studying biochemistry, the exam results for the first semester's finals are supposed to be distributed today.

Your professor in biochemical engineering, Mr. O'hara discusses the grading system for the second semester but you're losing out of focus. You're staring at his thick voluptuous thighs, thick veiny hands and imagined how he would choke you with it.

You took a gulp at the thought of it. He then started the distribution of the report cards. Your stare followed him as he sat on the table, individually calling out your names and distributing the cards.

"Parker, good job. Reyes, do better next time. Stacy, impressive. Stark..... dios mio." His voice was hoarse. The way he says your last name followed by a spanish term you don't understand sounded like a moan but truly, a term of disappointment.

"Ms. Stark... Are you seriously daydreaming right now?" He asks with a stern voice.

"Oh um, no sir. W-What is it?" Your classmates tried to hold their laugh, you can hear them giggling.

"Get your ass over here." He orders. You stood and walked up to him, hands behind your back, signing 'fuck you' to all of your classmates.

"What are we gonna do with this?" He points at your grade in bio-engineering which is his subject and a major too. You looked at it by bending your torso down, slightly bowing cause you have an eyesight of a dying man. Your cleavage flashes in front of him unintentionally. He tries to look away and focus your report card.

"2.0 (C/73-76%). This is bad." Everyone in your school knows that you're a daughter of a billionaire genius and this is what you got.

Deep inside, you know that the reason you failed is because you've been partying too hard. Just like your father, you're a party animal.

"What can I do?" You asked worriedly.

"Meet me at my office at 6. Class dismissed." He stood up, towering over you at 6'9 ft. He walked out of the room with your classmates.

Your friend, Gwen Stacy clinged on your arm on the way to the cafeteria. You sat with her and his boyfriend, Peter Parker. You can't really understand what they're saying cause your mind is split between your daddy getting disappointed and your disappointed professor being such a daddy.

Four hours later, it's time to go home but you still have to go to Mr. O'Hara regarding your first semester results. You walked into an empty faculty, the other teachers already went home. You walked by Miguel's office window and saw him looking at his watch with what seems to be an irritated brow. You proceeded to walk inside his office, it's smells good and is neatly organized.

"Good evening Mr. Ohara."

"Miss Stark. You're 10 minutes late. Seems like you're not being very committed to your studies." He clenched his jaw and his pair of brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I was j-"

"Was just expecting 'daddy' to fix it with his money?" He stood up and mocks, pertaining to your father offering a grant to your school.

"No... sir, I just ran into my friends." You opposed, looking down at the floor.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Sit down." He sighs.

In a heartbeat, you sat down in a reclining chair right next to the table. He walks up to you, taking his crotch inches away from your face.

"Good girl." He takes your chin to look up at him. The view made your heart race and your cunt twitch.

"You think I'm not aware of your lustful eyes, hermosa?" He looks directly into your eyes with his hands still on your chin. Your eyes gawks and your face slowly turns red, not knowing what to say.

"Mr- Sir, I uh, I'm here for extra credits." You stuttered.

"Uh huh, what else?" He leans down, not breaking an eye contact.

"Uhhh... um m-my dad can pay you!" You blurted out of nowhere. You didn't know what to say since your mind is occupated by dirty thoughts but now you just seemed like a brat.

"Daddy's money hmm?"

"I'm your daddy here." He whispered roughly onto your ear, his hands shifted from your chin into your neck, gently gripping under your jaws.

"Daddy?" You spoke weakly.

"That's right, bitch." He replied with smirk.

You kind of expected this as a cliché porn category but you had no idea that you're gonna experience this in real life.

"You want credits? You little slut?" He cups the side of your cheeks and leans back to watch your face near his pants again.

"Yes! Yes, I want it." You nodded in agreement.

"Then earn it." He grabs a fistful of your hair and rubs it softly in his black pants with a huge bulge on it. You can smell his essence leaking from the fabric. This is all you ever dreamed of since the first day of school, you didn't think it would happen but it DID. All of your fantasies, clothed in black, sliding across your face.

You unbuttoned his pants in a hurry, dropping his undergarments down then finally busting his dick in front of you.

"Good girl." He slapped your face and you loved it. You proceeded to wet your lips to seduce him. He gripped on your hair tighter as you lick the tip of his 8-inch fat cock.

"Fuck." He groans, his voice deep and hoarse. You licked his length, wetting it together with his pre-cum leaking from the tip then swirled your tongue in its head while jerking him off.

"Holy shit you're good." The corner of his lip curling upwards.

He started throat fucking you, his head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. His cock reached your throat but you continued to take it until your eyes water. Miguel likes the way you look, internally choked by his massive cock.

He drags you up and makes you open your mouth as you spread your tongue that still has his pre-cum.

"Swallow." He ordered and you followed. You showed him an empty tongue to prove it.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you." He places his hand on your chin to squeeze your face and starts kissing you roughly, like you've taken something from him. This is exactly how you want it. It's wet, sloppy and aggressive.

His kisses trailed down on your neck, you let him take off your clothes, even tear it up. He threw your designer clothes in the air like it was nothing. You would let this man do anything to you.

He began to roam his hands all over your body, from pumping your breasts down to your vagina, already dripping. He circles his middle finger on your clit sensually.

"You want this?" Miguel asks between the kisses.

"Uh huh." Your mouth can't form a proper word but a moan. He slaps you again, wanting you to say it clearly.

"You want this, you whore?!" He dips his hand on your hole, teasing you.

"Yes daddy, do it!" A high pitch pornographic whine came out of your mouth.

He then crooks his head onto your neck, leaving marks as he rams his finger up in your hole, sounds of wet squelching, moans and ass slaps filled the corners of his office. He reaches for the back of your clit inside your tight cunt and it drove you crazy. Your eyes roll at the back of your head. Unlike your other sexual partners, Miguel knows all about human anatomy.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He takes your hands from his cock to your back, pulls his belt out of his pants and then ties your wrists.

"Yes please, I've been dreaming of this." You replied while he bends you over on the desk.

"Oh I bet you do you fucking slut." Miguel teases the tip of his cock on your clit, both wet from foreplay.

"Please fuck... fuck me."

Without any reply, Miguel rams his long and fat dick inside you, filling your walls with euphoria.

You groaned in pain after he put his full length in.

"Daddy it hurts."

"Nah, you can take it cariño." He reassures then pins your head on the desk while thrusting deep on your leaking hole.

"You... You've been spending a lot of time with that Parker boy huh? You like him?" He asks curiously, grabbing your hair.

"No, please he's with Gwen." You explained.

"You guys fuckin? Huh?" He ignores your answer while pounding at your pussy, making you scream in pain and pleasure.

"No daddy, Pleaaase.... I only want you. I want youuu." He grabs your tits from the back, holding it for support as his pace goes slower, making it comfortable for you.

"That's my girl. Now I'm gonna make you mine." His last words before sucking the skin off of your neck, leaving love marks that is visible to everyone.

"Ironman's daughter, pumping on my dick with her drenched punani. What's he gonna do? Save you?" He laughs devilishly. At this point you didn't care about your reputation. Your body wants him, even your cunt pulses everytime you peak behind your back to see him using you.

"You're my daddy, please fuckin destroy me." You surrendered. Miguel removes his belt on your wrists and puts it back as he pins it over your head in missionary position. Now, he can see your face while he fucks you, your lips smeared in red lipstick, smiling psychotically. Becoming undone by the stroke of his dick, his hands playing with your nipples and the other holding your wrists.

Your smile made him excited. His thrusts go faster and faster as you scream his name. "Mr. O'hara I'm cumming." You whined. It made him chuckle, you using honorifics despite your pussy currently being destroyed. He bit his lips, carried you by the hips, using you as his fucktoy. He pumps his dick in your tight little hole in a doggy position. Your feet doesn't even touch the floor because of your height difference. You simply just hang in the air with your pussy continously getting pounded.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming." He whimpers.

"Cum inside daddy." It's the first time you had sex without protection and now you want him to cum inside you.

"That's right, princesa."

He continued plunging his sword into your uterus ramming even harder, seconds later, he busts his load. Your pussy's leaking with his thick cum all the way to your thighs. He lets go of your hips and places you on the table, back arched, pussy flowing.

He puts your panties back without cleaning your pussy, only the sides and the extra cum dripped on your legs and thighs.

"You did great, mija" He kisses your forehead.

"I did?"

"Yes you did." He smiles softly, saying it like he's a proud mentor.

After that encounter, he kept you as his pet, your friends noticed the hickeys on your neck every now and then and your alibi is always getting burnt by the hair curler. Flash Thompson even joked that the hair curler you're talking about is Mr. O'Hara.

Even if you denied it and threatened him with a lawsuit, It's obvious. Your lustful stares in the classroom, the special treatment you get in class above all the other students.

At times when the corridor is empty, he would grope your ass, spank it and squeeze it until you reach the classroom, walking in together at the same time. Your friends would always ignore the same smell coming out of you and Mr. O'hara. Fucking in every empty room, any chance that you get. You've certainly become the teacher's pet.

[spctrsgf]

mi luz

based off of this comment i wrote on tiktok: “he looks like he could use a hug and a shoulder to cry on.”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nonspidey!reader, language, hurt to comfort fic (miguel needs a break. like a sabbatical or something)

a/n: ngl, i'm not too happy with how this turned out, probably because i wrote it all on a plane and it's not beta read, but i need more soft miguel fics in my life!!!

He’s tired.

He’s tired and he’s missing you. The boring, monotonous walls of his office harshly remind him of his place, the jubilant orange glow of his monitors tell him of just how much more work he’s got left before he can finally retire to your world.

Lyla, lounging atop one of his screens, watches him and his glossed over eyes, knowing exactly what the lazy flick of his fingers meant. She sighs, glitching over to bring one of his screens forward. “Miguel!” She yells, scaring the poor man out of his thoughts and momentarily extending his claws. “Lyla, what the fu- what the hell?” He growls, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“No kids are here, you don’t have to keep it PG.”

“Whatever.”

“Look, you got work to do, and if you don’t finish it soon, it'll be too late to get in some quality time with this lovely human,” she shoves the digitized photo of you up and into his face. “Before your next mission.”

He sighs, knowing she was right.

“Daydreaming about it isn’t gonna get you there any quicker,” she flickers to be right in front of his face, slapping a hand onto his nose as if she could actually touch him. “GET YOUR SHIT DONE.”

“Fine, fine! Get out of my face.” He grumbles the second sentence, swatting her away and strolling back up to his screens. His eyes catch on your photo, and he reaches to enlarge it in front of him, but—

“No,” Lyla dissipates the photo before he can even get to it, face twisted in disappointment. “No. Not until you finish working.”

“Hey! Who’s the boss here?” 

“Me. Now work.” Lyla glitches out of view with a triumphant huff.

He huffs dramatically, pouting as he pulls himself together. He lets his emotions drop from his face and slides into his stoic mask, resuming the work on his screen. It’s hypnotizing as soon as he gets into it; Lyla must’ve done something to keep him focused, he supposes. She always does have a trick up her sleeve.

In what feels like no time at all, he’s done with his work. With a final, defiant tap to close down his screens, he spins on his heel, ready to leave and go home. Ready to hop in through your window— as much as you hate when he does that— and rest his head atop yours, caging you into where you’re surely stirring something on the stove.

But as he turns, he’s face to face with none other than Hobart Brown. A look to the left reveals his partners in crime; and Miguel knows he’s in for a ride. At least a ten minute detour, as it always is with the four of them. 

“What?” His hands come to rest on his hips naturally, trying to become bigger to them as if it would make the next words out of their mouth more blunt and less angering. “We have a slight problem—” Gwen starts, before Pav butts in.

“It's not slight. It’s a pretty big deal!”

“Mate,” Hobie huffs. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m trying my best!”

"Yeah, and that's going great-"

“Okay, stop it, all of you,” Miguel interrupts before they can go down the rabbit hole, trying to keep his already strung thin patience steady. “What’s going on?”

“There’s another fight going on.” Hobie gives the answer blunt, to Miguel’s satisfaction.

“Cafeteria?”

“Main hall. Sector D.”

The huff that erupts from his lips draws a colorful picture of his current emotions as he hops off of his elevated platform. “I’ll fix it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Miles brings himself to stand in front of the man. “We’re not gonna hurt anyone, right?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He brushes past the kid, dismissing him with a shake of the head. 

“Miguel. Don’t take your anger out on them–” Gwen tries, but all it gets is his recoil and daunting stalk towards her.

“I will do whatever the–” the swear word is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “I will do whatever is needed, but violence is not my first course of action.”

“Please be nice to everyone,” Pav says, peeking over Gwen’s shoulder. “It’s been a long week for all of us too.”

Miguel sighs and brushes past them, saying nothing. He brushes off their words in silent agreement. He didn’t really want to hurt anyone either. 

By the time he reaches where he'd been informed the fight was, there was a mosh pit encircling the brawl, a mass of blue and red and spidermen. He approaches from behind, the tide parting for him as each person registers his presence.

When he meets the pearl in the oyster, the hotheaded spiderman hasn’t noticed him quite yet. He’s got the other spidey— one of the many spiderwomen— beneath him, gnarly fist raised to land another punch. Miguel sighs, grabs the back of the man’s elbow, and dragssss him off.

“Everyone get away now.” His tone squeezes the air out of the room and leaves no room for discussion, not that anyone would dare to object. The spidermen flee the scene before he can even finish his sentence, and by the time he’s turned back to the perpetrators of it all, they’re gone too.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, murmuring a low cálmate under his breath as he moves to regain his bearings. “Lyla,” he waves the said woman near.  “Find those spidermen and remind me to get to them when I come back.” She sputters to focus in front of him, dipping her head in an obliged nod before sputtering off again to wherever she found herself needed. 

Miguel shakes and unclenches the fist he’s made with his free hand and stalks back to his office, rubbing the palm of his hand where his claws had taken purchase amidst anger. 

Sometimes, he regrets putting himself in charge of all of this… shit.

But… he’s the only one who can do it. No one had the vigor, the dedication, the understanding of why and what had to be done to keep the multiverses in line and make sure what happened to him never happened again. 

It’s tiring. It takes his nights and his days and chips at his brain until he’s sure there’s nothing left in the expanse of his head. For someone who appears naturally angry, he’s quite good at keeping all the real anger in.

The downside of this: he bottles it all up. But the bottle isn’t big enough, doesn’t last forever, cracks at the seams, and then shatters in a explosion of tears. It enjoys crumpling him into the floor, loves the way his hands shiver in the cold breeze, shakes him to the core and, for all his confidence, makes him doubt.

Lyla’s only seen him like this once, when he couldn’t get away and instead had to sequester himself into his office, not quite getting to hardwiring her nosy personnel to do something else. 

No, he doesn’t rely on her, as he normally would with other problems. He doesn’t trust her, he doesn’t even trust himself with post breakdown Miguel, no. 

He goes to you.

You. The lovely, kind person he’s had the great privilege of calling his. His love, his support, his everything, or better yet; mi luz. My light. The light at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the world, when he feels like the walls are caving in and there’s really nowhere else to go and nothing more to lose.

You calm him, like you always do. Effortlessly caring, eternally so. Never afraid to give, to let him take and take until he’s stuffed whole. You know little things about him, take the time to learn them. Like where to get his favorite empanadas— much better than the ones in the spidey cafeteria— and that he loves when you press your fingers into his shoulder blades. He loves your massages.

He loves you.

Tapping insistently at the shitty gadget on his wrist, he mindlessly pulls up the coordinates for your dimension. Second nature. He’s walked himself into some obscure corner of the building, but he isn’t processing such mundane things at the moment. He can feel himself slipping, the mask fracturing. He can’t be left alone right now.

You.

The portal is up now, flashing and glitching in an assortment of colors, beckoning him in with its delectable light, like a halo. Miguel wastes no time giving in, diving into the portal and tucking himself tight like a torpedo.

Multiverses zoom by as he glides through hexagons and hexagons, thousands of people in each. Worlds that he keeps steady, safe, perfect. Normally, he’d stop to smell the flowers, observe and appreciate the sereneness of every special home in front of him. Pride himself in the fact that there was a special home for someone to come home to. 

But not this time. No, this time he keeps his eyes screwed shut, he wouldn’t, couldn’t get distracted by the novelty. The bottle is cracking now, cracking into long and sharp spikes aching to slice across his chest. He’s so close, all he could get himself to do was focus on his breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out—

The abrupt warning of your multiverse approaching pinches his wrist, reminding him that this whole mess was very much real. He stumbles into your living room with a not so quiet thud, startling you. You drop the spoon you were stirring something with— smells like some sort of sauce, yum— and whip your head towards him.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you before you can even process that it's him, burying himself in your neck and inhaling the calm scent of you, a mix of your perfume and your detergent, so very you. 

“Miguel.” You sigh into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist as the initial shock of his intrusion wears off. 

He slumps into you, only trusting himself to let out a low grumble of your name. 

“What’s going— oh,” your brain puts two and two together. “Oh, Miguel, shh. It’s okay, I got you.”

And he breaks. Because he knows you mean it. He knows you have him. You always do.

The tears are bubbling over the rims of his eyes and splashing down his cheeks, his hands are twisted up in your loose shirt. He’s sure his claws have made an entrance too. One of your hands reaches to turn off the stove, the other rubbing incandescent patterns into his back. 

You were always so careful. Never leave the stove on, Miggy. Don’t wanna burn the food. He loves that about you.

“Hey,” your voice wisps in through the fog of his mental breakdown, of the end of the world. “Hey. It’s me. Just me. Your absolute favorite person on this planet.”

“Multiverse.” He manages through sob induced hiccups. 

“Multiverse,” You smile, breathing out a soft laugh as you toil him in closer. “Breathe, my love. I have you. Nobody is here but me, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

He nods, lets himself weigh more onto you.

“That’s it, I got you,” you coax. “Get it out of your system.”

He gives all the tears he has to give. He’s sandwiching you between the counter and his stature, but you don’t seem to mind. Your spilling words, mindlessly, talking until he’s done and ready to attach himself to them, the soft baritone of your voice.

And it takes time, but he gets there. He’s in the tunnel, the walls are caving in, he’s believing he's given all he has to give, but you’re there, and you’re telling him no, no you have not. You don’t get to lose, because you have SO much more life to live.

His light.

The tunnel lets up, opens up the walls, lets him bathe in you, in the way your arms are still hooked tight around his waist and you’re going on about how there was a new episode of your favorite show that he had to watch. 

And of course he would watch it.

He’d do anything for you, anything you asked whenever you wanted. And he knows, in turn, that there wasn’t a damn thing in this god forsaken reality that would stop you from doing the same for him.

You tell him as much. To his face, into his hair, with the dance of your fingers on his back, in the way you guide him to the couch, when you place down some food and a cup of water— you just cried out your backup supply— and again when you place yourself down next to him.

“I’m so beyond lucky to have you.” He murmurs to you, some fifteen minutes into the episode of your show, something about this dude with a metal helmet and a green baby? He can’t recall the name.

You turn, a smile gracing your features. “You deserve me. You deserve everything the multiverse has to offer and more. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have one less person bothering you.”

“Ah, yes,” you laugh, swatting his cheek. “Like you’re such a nuisance.”

He laughs, actually laughs. It’s nice.

You tilt your head onto the girth of his shoulder, snuggling in tight as your attention is again sucked into the screen.

He smiles dazedly at you, finally feeling at peace.

Mi luz. My light.

is anyone else still obsessed with him or is that just me

[multi-fandom31]

Oscar Isaac was right!!!

Oscar is so cute❤

[mochimoqa]

The Climax Problem

Literally thought that this was so funny and I wanted to make it a small story lol

Also, this was basically from this post by @faretheeoscar

This is the link to the original post! ^^

Gender neutral Y/n x Steven Grant

Warning: 18+ Mentioning of climaxing (aka: c*mming), some inappropriate jabs here and there

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

We all know of how innocent Steven is and crazy for you. But him releasing during a make out session? That's crazier.

You cupped his face as you kissed him passionately. Your tongue fighting with his and moaning into each other's mouths. You gently pulled his curls as he moaned from the action.

The passion needed to die down as you needed to go to work.

"I gotta go, baby." You pecked his lips and he responded with a small whines.

"A- Alright, love! I'll be waiting for you!" He waved goodbye to you as you waved back and closed the door.

Steven sighed as he looked at his pants. The noticeable bulge in his pants as he unzipped them and revealed a patch of his seed in his boxers.

"Bloody hell..." Steven mumbled to himself.

He got up and took off his pants and boxers to the dirty laundry. He walked to the restroom and looked at the mirror.

"Why do I even do that..." He massaged his temples.

"Looks like someone has a hard time to stop cumming." Marc looked at Steven in the mirror with his little smirk.

"Look, I just can't help it...! Y/n makes me feel so good! I- I- I just can't help it!"

Steven turned around facing at another mirror staring at his reflection.

"You gotta ask some advice for that problem of yours, hermano." Jake crossed his arms and cocked a eyebrow.

"You don't think I know that, Jake?"

He sighed as he cleaned himself with a wet towel.

"Have you ever tried to masterbate before? That could help you, Steven." Marc chuckled.

"What!? Marc! You know I could never do that! And I'm gonna wait til I marry Y/n...! How could you even think of that!?

"Steven, you poor sad little virgin." Marc sighed.

"What about you go on reddit and go to r/Advice?" Jake smirked.

"Reddit...? No, I shouldn't..."

"It's the only thing to help you." Jake chuckled lightly.

"D'oh... alright..." Steven sighed as he grabbed some new boxers and put them on.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"Steven, I'm home!!" You placed your bag on the floor as you took off your shoes. You walked into your shared bedroom and see him laying down.

You laid down next to him and peppered his face with small kisses.

"Hi." You smiled lightly and played with his curls.

"Hey..." He smiled lightly but then faltered to a small frown.

"Aww... what's wrong...?" You cupped his face.

"It's uhm..." He sighed. "Love, uhm... during out make out sessions... I uh... I cum."

You frozed when you heard that.

"Like, pre-cum or...?"

"No, like full-on climax... and it's embarrassing... just instantly releasing during a make out session...! And I went to Reddit for advise... I- I just know that you're gonna judge me..."

"Steven, that's not embarrassing at all... to be honest, I find that really flattering."

"Really...?"

"Yes, it makes me feel good. It let's me know of how good I can make you really feel..." You leaned into him and gently kissed him softly.

He pulled away and smiled.

"Thank you, love..."

This got me cracking up 💀

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this :]

[countlessimagines]

Romantic Homicide [PART ONE][ Miguel O’Hara x Reader ]

Summary: You slowly slip from Miguel’s hands, and it’s too late for him to realize.

A/N: Wanted to desperately make something angsty for Miguel and this song was the perfect choice!

Warnings: None that I can think of.

PART TWO HERE

SONG BASED FIC: ROMANTIC HOMICIDE BY D4VD

-

I'm scared

Miguel O’Hara was not the man you knew anymore. When he first arrived to your dimension, he found love with you, but he never would have admitted it if asked about it. He found a sense of peace and clarity just being with you and having you to hold. You were one of the first recruits that he brought on.

You were the shining star to Miguel’s dark world. He had never intended to get close to someone, after seeing how many spider men lost their true loves. He didn’t want to experience that pain, he felt foolish and naive for falling for you. He loved the way you both would swing next to each other, almost like a choreographed dance.

He was a very passionate person, but there was also the side of him that was cold and distant. At first, that side never came to light. It was amazing recruiting others and taking on the fight together.

Everything had been good… until it was not. Miguel had been messing with another dimension without you knowing, and it was one where he found out that you and him had a child that was orphaned. He thought he could manage being with you and going to the dimension to be with your daughter.

He had been so happy spending time with your daughter who was oblivious to losing both her parents. And he wanted to introduce you to your daughter, but feared you might see it as insane and wrong.

So he kept it a secret for the time being. But Miguel could not handle both dimensions - both lives, and eventually it caught up with him.

He lost your daughter and never told you anything about the double life he led behind your back.

It feels like you don't care

You had felt the change in Miguel. Instead of the open minded, excited-to-save-the-multiverse Miguel, you got the cold and distant lover.

He never intended to hurt you, but he never considered your emotions and what the toll of having to fight so many villains falling out of their dimensions can take on you. You were his accomplice, the person he could count on for everything and would drop anything to help out.

You were strong, but seeing the person who would kiss you so deeply it would make you feel as if nothing else mattered… seeing him slowly become irritable as if the weight of the multiverse was not on both of your shoulders.

Enlighten me, my dear

Why am I still here?

You began to grow frustrated when Miguel refused to join you for a simple meal and got angry at you for trying to make him leave his computers. He stopped showing signs of love and genuine affection to you. The days of sleeping in and messing with Miguel’s bed head, making out upside down on the ceiling, saving universes together were long gone.

At a certain point, you would only stay at the spider complex, helping out new recruits while Miguel would opt to take Jessica instead of you on missions.

You would bite your tongue and resume your duties as to not poke the bear.

I don't mean to be complacent with the decisions you made

But why?

Peter B. Parker was your favorite spider-man simply because he would always bring your favorite food made by Mary Jane and let you hold Mayday. He was your best friend, and the only person who would probably understand the pain Miguel was putting you through.

You had confessed to him the feelings you had bottled up, and he was confused as to where it all came from as Miguel never wanted your intimate relationship known to everyone else in fear of you being hurt.

It pained you to know Miguel wanted to keep you a secret, like you were some villainous person that could easily be taken back to their dimension in an instant. Like you were replaceable… and the thought nagged at you… had Miguel found another you?

Peter expressed that Miguel never even mentioned having a loved one, that he wanted no form of attachment after watching his daughter die in his hands.

You had not even known about his daughter, so the mere thought of him purposefully keeping this a secret made you feel worse. A daughter? Why did he never trust me to know about his daughter? Why did he never feel comfortable telling me?

You began to even question why you still stayed, if it was worth the stress and mental drain to be near Miguel - knowing he was keeping not only you a secret, but possibly more.

Mm. In the back of my mind, You died

And I didn't even cry. No, not a single tear

You watched as the man you loved slowly descended into madness, an obsession to be precise and catch anything and everything that was wrong. It began to feel like he never even slept anymore. He was a shell of a person, day in and day out. Staring at monitors, asking Lyla for help, and then leaving for some type of mission.

It was a horrible cycle that repeated in front of you.

Every time you tried to talk to him about how he was doing or what you could do to help, he brushed you aside and barely even looked at you.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, but you would always turn away, tears ready to fall. You were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he kept you a secret for a reason… maybe, just maybe there was some type of reason he was acting this way with you.

But eventually you had cried enough over the man who no longer seemed to be the one who would call you his love, and the tears stopped.

And I'm sick of waiting patiently for someone that won't even arrive

You held our hope one last time, you invited Miguel to a dinner in your dimension. You set up your dining room with candles, delicious food, drinks, and a present containing the one single photo you had of the two of you.

But he never showed up. Lyla had sent a message to you telling you he got wrapped up in a mission and couldn’t make it. She seemed apologetic as she delivered the news, and she could tell you wanted to be alone.

You only said “okay” to her before ending the call, standing up, and dumping the present in the trash bin. You left your dining room and collapsed on your cold, unmade bed from when you had last left to be with Miguel.

In the back of my mind

I killed you

The next day, you heard absolutely nothing from everyone. Radio silence. You wondered if Miguel even knew if you were gone.

You stared at your watch that could take you to other universes, take you to Miguel. It was taunting you… a watch to see him but at a certain point, what cost did it come with?

You spent so much time going back and forth for him to not care at all. He was keeping your love hidden away in a room, for no one else to see. And at a certain point, he had forgotten about the room.

Finally, you had enough and no longer wished to have any type of temptation to go running back to him. There was no reason to go back.

You grabbed your hammer and began to repeatedly smash the watch into a million little pieces. Watching it crumble and break in front of you, made all the built up tears come back like a dam breaking open.

You screamed as tears poured, your heart breaking even more and feeling as if it could no longer take the hits.

And I didn't even even regret it

I can't believe I said it

You felt relieved to see the watch gone, to see the life with Miguel start to slip away, in the past.

But a part of you broke with the watch. The time spent with him felt wasted. You neglected your dimension for him and your duties as a spider-woman.

You felt angry that Miguel came into your life in the first place. That he was able to steal your heart and time and everything that made you happy was because of him.

You hated that he made you feel the way he did.

But it's true

I hate you

Months went on, no one dared to contact you in fear of Miguel finding out. He had been angry when he found out you had left, but he knew deep inside of himself that he was the reason why.

He forbid anyone to speak to you, though, because he feared you would make light of your relationship and how he let you slip away. He feared everyone would look at him as a weak, lonely, harsh leader. When he needed to remain steadfast.

You had returned to your normal way of life, learning to love yourself and help out those in need. While it was tame compared to multidimensional travel, it felt better for your soul.

However, one day after having such a long night trying to take down men who put targets on your back, you were wiping dirt and blood off your mask. In the corner of your eye, you could see a portal start to form in your living room. You were quick to put on your mask, readying yourself for it to be anyone.

But to your surprise, the most surprising person stepped through the large portal.

Hobie Brown.

-

Read part two here.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Barely Breathing

Summary: When Steven asks why you're wearing long sleeves on a hot day, Marc quickly fronts because he knows exactly what you are trying to hide on your wrists.

Pairings: Steven Grant x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger Warning: Self-harm, blood, cuts (no actual description of doing it, just the aftermath), past suicide attempt (no details, just mentioned briefly)

The cuts beneath your sleeve stung as you stepped out the bathroom. The fabric of your hoodie sticking to the fresh blood underneath, but you welcomed the pain.

"Hey, love." Steven’s voice called out causing you to freeze not realising he was in your apartment.

Shit.

The two of you had plans to catch a movie today. How could you forget?

"Hey, Steven." You greeted, putting on a bright smile that you knew didn't quite reach your eyes.

Steven had always been able to tell when you were lying and when his brows began to furrow slightly, you knew he noticed. He took a hesitant step towards you. Those beautiful brown eyes filled with sudden concern.

"You alright?"

You nodded, still smiling. "Of course. Let me just grab my bag and we can go."

"Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's bloody scorching out there in the sun.”

"I know, but it always gets so cold in the cinemas." You lied, trying to keep up your usual bright bubbly tone.

You turned away and grabbed your bag off the kitchen bench making sure you had your phone and keys before heading towards the front door. The cinema was only a 10-minute walk from your apartment. You could survive wearing long sleeves for that time in the hot weather.

"Show me."

Stevens sweet British accent was gone, now replaced with a stern American one.

Marc.

"Show you what?"

You turned to face him, but when you were met with a hard yet heartbroken eyes you knew what he was referring to. Your stomach dropped, hands already shaking by your sides because he wasn't meant to know. He wasn't meant to find out.

"Y/N, show me." He ordered, his voice coming out a little rougher than usual, like he was fighting back emotion. "Please."

"There's nothing to show." You shrugged off, hoping he would drop the topic.

"Y/N-"

"I need to go to the bathroom. When I finish can Steven come back? We're meant to be going to the movies." You said, not waiting for him to answer before making your way across the apartment towards the bathroom, but Marc stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

You gave him a levelled look before stepping around him, when he suddenly shot his hand out and grabbed your wrist.

Sharp pain flared across your wrist, his fingers digging into the cuts beneath your sleeve. He hadn't grabbed you hard though, Marc was never violent, at least not with you. If anything, he was overly gentle, always afraid that he might hurt you by accident, despite you constantly reassuring him that you weren't some fragile piece of glass.

Although, right now, that is exactly what you felt like.

A fragile piece of glass. Glass that was already cracked and damaged, and on the verge of shattering at the slightest touch.

You yanked your arm out his grasp with a pained wince and Marc’s eyes widened, realising that his suspicion was correct, but you quickly turned on your heels and rushed off not wanting to see the look on his face. Would he be sad? Angry? Disappointed? You weren't sure, but you didn't want to find out.

Marc shouted your name, but you ignored him and locked the bathroom door behind yourself with shaky hands.

"No, no, baby, please. Open the door." Marc begged, knocking on the wooden frame within a few seconds.

"Go away, Marc." You responded, fighting back tears.

You leant your hands on the edge of the sink and lifted your head meeting your own gaze through the bathroom mirror. You reached down and pulled up the sleeve of your hoodie, grimacing as the blood stuck to the fabric before you looked down at the fresh cuts that were still sluggishly bleeding.

"I am not leaving. Not after this. Open the door."

Your vision began to blur with tears as you thought back to the last time Marc was banging on your bathroom door like this. The two of you were just teenagers then.

Marc had tried to help you. He tried to be there for you, but there was nothing he could do. You had wanted out. You wanted out permanently. You wanted it all to end, so that is what you tried to do with an old switch blade, but Marc broke down the bathroom door and saved you.

The thick scar still ran from your wrist down towards your inner elbow. It was a constant reminder of that day. A reminder of your lowest moment in life. You had tried to kill yourself, there was no sugar coating it and Marc knew it too.

But you didn't want that anymore… okay, that was a lie, but you weren't going to do it. You couldn't, because every time you so much as thought about it, you'd see Marc’s petrified, tear streaked face and you couldn't do it. You couldn't put him through that, not again. But you could get rid of the pain, even if it was only for a short while, which is what you had just done.

A few cuts were all it took. The pain grounded you.

It was fucked up, you knew it was, but you couldn't stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with everything.

You needed it.

You needed the physical pain to drown out everything else, because for those few seconds with a blade against your skin, your mind was at ease. You weren't thinking about anything else. You weren't feeling anything else, and you liked it.

That's how you knew you were really fucked up, because you liked it. You actually liked the pain.

"Y/N, open the door!" Marc shouted from outside the room.

"Leave me alone." You said, hating how fragile your voice sounded.

You hadn't even realised you were crying until you felt the tears fall from your face and land on your hands against the sink.

"And leave you here to cut yourself?" He questioned bluntly.

Yes, you thought.

But you didn't say that out loud. And Marc didn't leave.

"If you don't open the door, I will break it down. We both know I can."

He definitely could, and he would do it again, you knew that.

Damn it.

Taking in a deep shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your face before reaching over and flicking the lock. The second the door was unlocked Marc rushed inside in panic.

You glanced over at him, preparing yourself for a lecture, but he wasn't looking at you. His wide eyes were glued to your wrist that you forgot to cover with your sleeve.

The cuts along your inner arm were on full view. Some were healed and scarred, others bright red and fresh.

"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been doing this to yourself? Days? Weeks?"

"More."

You didn't look at him as you spoke, not wanting to see the disappointment and pity in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ." He whispered to himself.

He didn't say anything after that for the longest moment. You pulled your sleeve back down and folded your arms across your chest as if hiding the evidence would make this any better.

"I can't believe this." Marc eventually said, shaking his head.

You remained silent, knowing he had more to say, but he just clenched his jaw shut as if he was trying to stop himself from saying something. It didn't last long though because his eyes suddenly met yours, pain and sadness washing over him. There was a flash of anger amongst the sadness inside him and the anger won.

"You fucking promised." He hissed.

Your heart shattered at those three words.

You had promised him. That night after he found you, you had promised that you wouldn't do anything like that again. You promised and now that promise was broken.

"How could you do this to me?" He asked, his voice breaking. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

You flinched at his sudden raised voice, and he opened his mouth to keep speaking but quickly closed it and turned his head towards the mirror, glaring at his own reflection. You knew Steven must be talking to him, but whatever he was saying, Marc didn't like.

"Don't you tell me what to do. Not with this!" He snapped harshly, still staring at his own reflection talking to Steven. "Shut up! You weren't there last time."

"Marc. Don't." You warned, eyeing him cautiously.

You didn't want him to tell Steven about what happened last time. You didn't want Steven to know. He didn't need to know, and you didn't want him to look at you or treat you differently because if he knew, then he would.

"Steven, I swear to God-" Marc started to threaten before he paused and he shook his head at his mirrored reflection, angry tears glistening in his eyes. "You weren't the one who found her bleeding out on the bathroom floor when we were kids!"

A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly covered your mouth with shaky hands, unable to stop the fresh tears from rising in your eyes.

Memories of that day washed over you, but you shoved them back because if you started to think about it, you would lose yourself and you couldn't afford that right now.

Marc turned back towards you with guilty eyes, like he only just realised what he had just said.

"I'm sorry-"

"Get out." You whispered, cutting him off.

"Baby-"

"I said, get out!" You repeated, your voice no longer soft and fragile as you shouted angrily.

Marc stood there for a moment, contemplating whether to listen to you or not before you marched forward and shoved him in the chest causing him to stumble backwards, not expecting the sudden contact.

"Get out!" You screamed, pushing his chest, but this time he was ready for it and barely budged.

You tried again, but he didn't move. You began to hit his chest, screaming at him to get out, but your shouts slowly faded into sobs and before you knew it, Marc wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

That was all it took before you broke down.

Marc held you tightly while you cried in his arms. He whispered soothing words and rubbed small circles between your shoulder blades trying to calm you. His big arms were warm and comforting around you, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed your true emotions to show as you cried against him.

“It’s okay. I got you, baby. I got you.” Marc whispered while he held you.

The next few minutes went by in a blur, but when you finally started to calm down you very quickly realised that it was no longer Marc holding you. You had been with Marc and Steven for long enough to know the difference between the two of them, and this was definitely not Marc.

"Steven?" You asked, your voice coming out a mere whisper.

"Hey, yeah, it's me." He answered softly, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly in a gesture of comfort. "Marc, uh, he needed a minute."

You nodded in understanding against him before Steven slowly pulled away, keeping his hands on your shoulders, but you kept your head lowered, not wanting to see the look on his face.

"Love, look at me.”

You expected to hear him sound mad, to sound angry or pissed off after finding out about all of this, but he didn't. He just sounded sad.

"Please. Y/N, please look at me." He practically begged.

Reluctantly, you lifted your head, wiping the tears from your eyes before you met his gaze and had to do a double take when you saw that his own eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Seeing Steven on the verge of crying was all it took before the flood gates opened, tears rising in your eyes once again. A violent sob escaped your lips when you cried and Steven's expression broke.

"I-I'm sorry. Please... please don't hate me."

Steven was instantly pulling you back into his chest as he hugged you which just made you cry even more.

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He insisted, holding you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I-I... I'm so sorry." You whimpered, burying your face against his chest.

"No, no, it's alright. Shh. It's okay. It's okay." He soothed, kissing the top of your head. "I wish you would have told me."

"I'm sorry"

"No, I don't want you to apologise, love. I just... I want you to know that you can talk to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't realise how much you were hurting."

"I didn't want you to know." You admitted softly, pulling away from him.

Steven sighed, “yeah, I know. But I'm here for you. No matter what, yeah? I'm always here for you."

You nodded, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying again.

Steven suddenly looked over at the mirror, Marc no doubt talking to him.

"Is he still angry at me?" You asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Steven quickly looked back at you, his expression softening as he shook his head.

"No, no, of course not. He was never angry with you. He was just scared." He replied, before glancing back at the mirror. "Yes, you were. Nah, I don't wanna hear it. You were scared, I felt it. Don't try and deny it, you were scared."

Steven didn't say anything for a moment while he listened to whatever Marc was telling him.

"I know, mate. I know. I'll tell her."

"Tell me what?" You asked, watching Steven glance back at the mirror before turning to you.

"Is it alright if Marc takes over for a bit? He wants to tell you something himself."

You nodded and Steven gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to the mirror and you watch as Marc fronted a few seconds later. Stevens smile now gone and replaced with Marc’s sad eyes.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to shout. I shouldn't have raised my voice, but I was never angry at you. I need you to know that. I was never angry at you. I was angry at myself." Marc admitted, averting his eyes in shame.

"Why?" You asked in confusion.

"Because I should have been there for you. I should have noticed something was wrong. I should have seen the signs, but I didn’t, and you had to go through all this pain alone."

Tears began to burn in the back of your eyes, but you forced them back because Marc looked on the verge of crying himself and you knew if you cried then he would too.

"None of that was your fault." You insisted, but he shook his head.

"I still should have noticed, but I didn't and when you locked yourself in here like last time, I thought... I thought..." He couldn't finish his sentence and you quickly stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him.

You didn't say anything. You weren’t sure if you could speak right now even if you wanted to. So, you buried your face in the crook of his neck as Marc’s arms snaked around your back, hugging you tightly.

"If you ever feel like doing this to yourself again, I need you to come to me, okay? Or Steven. If you don't feel comfortable coming to me, then go to him, okay? Promise me that you will come to us."

"I promise. I'm sorry." You sniffed.

"Hey, no, none of that. I just want you to be okay." He whispered, his hand cupping the back of your head as he held you. "I love you, baby. I love you so much."

-

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries.

A/N- Sorry I have been a bit MIA lately. Real life kinda sucks at the moment, but I wrote this short fic a few months ago during a bad time and decided to finally post it.

Thank you for reading, stay safe and stay strong guys. ily ❤️

[saminadorazahi]

Luna De Xelajú

[thestoriesfold]

Question:

Is the Moon Knight fandom still alive? I've got a potential series sitting in my lap atm. I just wanna know if I'm gonna indulge in this alone? It is what it is.

Edit: here y’all go

[st4rymoon]

☾ 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 ☾

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏: 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: overstimulation, fingering, pet names, mean dom jake, teasing, dumbification, choking, manhandling

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Jake had you sprawled on his bed, legs wide open for him. Your pussy was in full view for him to see “What a welcome” he hummed as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

Today, Jake didn’t want to focus on himself, he wanted to focused on you. Today was your day and he’d make sure you knew it.

He’d been gone for a few weeks now, busy doing his job without complaint. Now he was between your thighs as his fingers played with your sticky folds.

“Have you been playing yourself while I was gone?” Jake questioned. You hid your face into the pillow in shame, you did even when he told you not to.

Jake sighed as you nodded your head “you never do listen huh?”

Jake wouldn’t say he was surprised, he knew a needy little thing like you couldn’t keep from fucking themselves while he was gone.

Two of his gloved fingers dipped into your wet folds, spreading and scissoring your messy cunt. Jake kept his gloves on knowing the cold leather made you squirm.

The rough material rubbed your swollen clit, your body tensed as he teasingly dipped one more finger inside you. You whined as he removed his fingers but before you could complain he was manhandling you onto his lap.

He let out a groan as he pushed you back onto his leg and pinned your arm down “you couldn’t wait a few weeks sweetheart? Pussy was so damn needy you couldn’t wait for me?” He hummed.

His gloved hand squeezed your jaw, trailing his fingers into your mouth and pushing them in softly. You gagged a bit as he watched you with a smile on his face, both of your eyes glued to each others as he noticed your eyes start to water.

Bite he mouthed as he aligned the tip of his gloves to your mouth, allowing you to bite down and let him slip his hand out of the black leather. “Good girl” he praised as his ungloved finger trailed down your thigh.

Your hips bucked at the feeling of his fingers messily rubbing your slick all over your pussy “what’s the use of me giving you rules if you won’t follow them huh?” He sighed.

You shyly hid your face into his arm, jake scoffed at your audacity. You broke his rules that you agreed to and you act like it’s not your fault. “Look at me” he hissed, a loud sack landing onto your inner thigh.

“Jake please” you whined, your eyes gazing up at him in need “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. I was thinking of you, the way you feel. I missed you” cried.

“I know you did honey but if I can do it, you can too.” He cooed. His fingers lazily played with your soaked cunt, his fingers barley pushing into you before he pulled them back out.

You were squirming in his lap as he had you pinned onto him, his eyes watched your every move as he dipped into your little tight cunt. You let out a breathy gasp as he pushed his fingers in.

He slowly pumped in and out of you with a sly smile on his face “this what you missed? Missed me playing with this sweet little pussy? I sure did” he hummed.

You let out a deprived moan as he knuckled your pussy. You could feel his thick calloused fingers rubbing and hitting the perfect spot with such little effort.

You could hear the lewd sound of your wetness. Jake let out an accomplished moan as you stared up at him dumbly with your mouth agar.

He watched as your eyes rolled back into your head as he slammed his fingers into your messy cunt. Your legs instinctively tried to shut as your body began to spasm, causing Jake to pin you down with his other hand.

“Don’t squirm, don’t fight it honey. After all, you wanted this didn’t you?”

“J- jake o- oh my-“ you cried out, pussy gushing all over his fingers as he worked your body like a toy. He knew every inch of you, he knew exactly what could make you scream and cry for him to stop.

Your orgasm hit you hard as he rubbed your clit with his thumb, still knuckles deep. You moaned into his chest, clawing at his bicep as he whispered filthily praises.

“I know baby I know, it gets so much for you when I don’t listen huh?” He mocks. He continued to fuck his thick fingers into you and he didn’t plan on stopping.

He watched you lose the power to protest from the overstimulation, your pussy continued to swallow his fingers greedily as he played with the sticky slick dripping out of you.

After all, he had to teach you a lesson to listen.

[stevesbanana]

Boinga doinga

Said nia as she bounced like a cranberry thats ripe on Miguel’s big, girthy, juicy, wanton, twin tower sized magnum King Kong dong

[vktrsnclr]

Miguel O'Hara headcanon porn links ★ no minors allowed

☆; Miguel using you as you prepare lunch

☆; Miguel ties you up with his web

☆; Him letting you hump on his clothed dick

☆; shower sex

☆; his dick stretching you out

☆; how he'd fingerfuck you

Masterlist ☆ Part 2

[spctrsgf]

to his office

prompt #351 from @/lyralit: 

“I could kiss you right now.”

“You’re very welcome to do it.”

word count: 3.8k

warnings: spidey!reader (tried to make it gn, lmk if i messed anything up!), language, my shitty spanish, innuendos but no actual sex

a/n: i saw atsv and miguel was SO SCRUMPTIOUS i had to write this

“HOBIE!” You yell at the aforementioned Brit, narrowly missing a chunk of some building that is being thrown at you. “I bloody know!” He yells back, swinging from the building next to you.

You nudge your head to the left as a signal to him, releasing a quick whip of web to maneuver behind a rough, brick building to land on the side of it. Hobie wasn’t too far behind, and Gwen was soon to your left as well. The three of you heave in heavy breaths, synchronous in your silence. The inevitable stomp of the angry anomaly of the week roams in search of the very people next to you as well as yourself. 

“She just does not give up, does she?” Hobie quips, filling the silence.

“Well,” Gwen adds. “We did make her angry.”

“We? You were the one who threw a brick at her, mate.”

“And who’s idea was it to do that?”

“It was a bloody joke!”

“It didn’t sound like it–”

“Okay!” You exclaim, cutting their childish argument in half. “Enough. Back to defeating the Wannabe Crab woman, okay?”

“Right,” Hobie answers, quick to drop his anger like usual. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We gotta trap him somewhere, but this fucking city is endless. It’ll take forever.”

“I think we gotta get her hands tied,” Pavitr says from above, nearly desticking Gwen from the brick wall in surprise. “That’s where the power is, right?”

“Jeez, Pav,” You yelp, coming down from your initial shock. “We didn’t see ya there.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for scaring you, but seriously. I think we gotta tie her hands!”

“He’s right, that would solve all the cement throwing we got going on.” Hobie agrees, shifting to lean on the windowsill next to him.

You tilt your head. “Do ya think webs’ll be strong enough for that one?”

“Ours? Nah.” 

“True, but Miguel’s would do us a solid right now with all this.” Pav interjects.

“He’s right. We need those ever so strong webs your boyfriend has to do the job.” Gwen nudges you with her shoulder.

Your cheeks flame, and you’re eternally grateful for the silky mask you have on. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gwen! We’re not– he doesn’t– oh my god,” You pinch the bridge of your nose as best you can through the mask. “Back on topic!”

“Seriously,” Hobie nods. “You should ask the lad to help us out.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

All you get is a shrug from him.

“Or you, Gwen? Or Pav?”

They all give you a look, a look that tells you exactly what they’re thinking.

“No. Oh my god, guys! Seriously? He doesn’t like hearing from me, anyways.”

That’s true, you firmly believe it, and you have ever since you first got to Nueva York. Being the person you are, you originally doted around the idea of talking to him, of engaging in a conversation. But, to be frank, he scared you shitless. He towered over your stature, a whopping 6’9” to your pacifying build. But, somehow you found yourself standing next to a nonchalant Hobie, watching his floating platform float impossibly slow towards the two of you after a mission. 

He’d been… you could tell right away that Miguel wasn’t the type of person to sugar coat nor was he very good at hiding the emotions that flew across his face, because oh my you felt it. You felt the trail of his scarlet gaze as he took in his first impression, you felt the razor sharp cut of disgust, felt the way his tongue ran along his accentuated canines as you rambled through your report. 

He’d dismissed you as quickly as humanly possible, opting to talk to the laid back Brit, the one who didn’t have to clear his voice every few sentences. Maybe it was a force of habit, you’d tried to reason as your head bowed to scurry out of the room. He has been working with Hobie longer, there has to be an ease between them. 

But, as time passed, Miguel remained the same. He tossed you a cold shoulder, and seemed to avoid your presence unless needed. You tried to shrug it off, to pretend like it didn’t hurt you as much as it did, but it was hard to pretend when the sting of rejection slapped as soon as he was brought up. Which actually happened a lot. 

You weren’t sure where Gwen had gotten boyfriend from that. Sure, you thought he was attractive. It was hard not to with his broad shoulders, a stark contrast to his (slutty) waist. There was something about his fangs that intrigued you, it was something you’d never seen before. And it wasn’t just the appearance that did it for you: it was that under all the anger and the rough exterior and the mask was a man, vulnerable and caring and wanting to stop what happened to him from happening to someone else.

He might be blunt and mean and pushy and all those things, but he came from a truly caring place, from a want to help. You could see that shine through in the way Gwen and Hobie and even Lyla talked about him, and you could see that in the mission notes he writes and in the slim amount of time that you were graced with his presence. 

“That’s why.” Gwen’s voice shakes you clear of the memories. 

“Wha?” You blink incredulously at her, like that would somehow shock you into understanding her sentence. 

She shoves your wrist, which hovers in front of you with the button to call Miguel in a booming orange. “Call him.”

You glare at her, but all that earns you is a tilt of the head and a not-so-encouraging punch from Pav. “Fine! Fine.”

You take a deep breath before hitting the call button. It sends off some sort of interdimensional wave towards Nueva York, and you buzz with a different type of frequency, suddenly nervous. The Miguel effect. Your brain blurts. Always nervous. You sigh and remind yourself that there are three other spiderpeople next to you as the call goes through, and Miguel’s face pops up unceremoniously in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Uh, well, you see–” You start, only to be rudely cut off by his attitude. “Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”

The blunt words don’t roll off your back like normal, maybe it was because you could hear the anomaly pound, inching closer. “We need help. We need your webs, they’re stronger and can hold this guy’s claws together. He’s been tearing up the city.”

“You’re supposed to be containing the threat, not me.”

“Miguel, if you don’t get your fucking ass over here right now, all four of us are gonna be dead.”

“Doubt it.” He sounds distracted, like he was observing something else in front of him.

“Seriously? You can’t take two seconDS..!” You cut yourself off to launch off the building as the anomaly slams her fist into the spot you were rested at just a few seconds before. 

You go to follow your partners in chasing the monster away from the buildings, to yell at the stubborn man currently still on call from the watch encircling your wrist, but your spidey senses perk up and then you’re swinging back towards the anomaly. Your eyes train on a woman, not much older than thirty, running for her life from the gnarly creature above her.

You don’t think. Normally, you’re all about thinking and finding the best course of action to try and save everyone, but you don’t now. Not when you’re so short on time, not when that woman could die. You dive, holding your arms out as you beeline to the poor woman. Her face turns from fear to relief when she sees you, reaching out to grab your hand as you scoop your arm around her waist and carry her to the nearest roof.

You’re off before she can say a word, and the glance back you lend her tells you that she knows exactly why you couldn't linger and conveys the thank you she couldn’t say to your face. It fuels you, and you move quickly, pulling the anomaly farther and farther from the people. “Are you a quiet one, huh?” The anomaly’s voice is low and gravelly. “I’m always up for a little banter.” You shoot back, taking a quick left to navigate to where you see your partners waiting, hidden and ready to attack. 

“Alrighty then, let’s banter!”

“Let’s.”

“Are you expecting me to now spew out my whole plan and sob story, cus it ain’t happening.”

You shrugged. “Nah. Most of you don’t anyway.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” You shake your head, coming to a stop. “We usually have you caught by that time.”

Right on cue, Pav, Gwen, and Hobie shoot webs out, attempting to contain the anomaly. You realize, as you're adding your own webs to the mix, that Miguel must’ve hung up the phone during your little fright. “What happened with the boss? We getting that bloody help we need?” Hobie calls out, tightening his grip. “Dunno!” You call back. “Maybe he hung up.”

“Call him back, eh?”

“I- I can’t! This is harder than it looks.”

“We know!” Gwen screeches, voice strained.

“What do we do, guys?” 

“Try and hold on.” Pav’s voice is uncharacteristically dim, lacking its normal cheer.

His tone sinks into your stomach. “What if we don’t–” 

“You will,” Miguel’s voice crackles from your wrist. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Uh–” You risk a look around as the anomaly struggles with a scream. “Open field. I can see an ocean from here, and there’s mountains to my right. Actually, I think it’s a river– we’re at a bend in it.”

“Got it. I know where you are, I’ll be there in a minute tops. Stay on the phone with me, okay?” 

“Will do.”

“He won’t be here in time.” You look up at the anomaly, her deep green eyes locked unsettlingly with yours. She yanks hard this time, and you see Gwen nearly topple and Hobie’s footing slip slightly, giving her arms more wiggle room. “Yes he will.” Your jaw sets as you shoot another web to wrap around her wrist, yanking her down onto her knees.

“You’ll lose. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Spiderman. Losing.”

“Crazy? Yeah, cus it won’t happen.” Gwen grunts from above, struggling to keep a clean facade.

“I’m almost there, cariño, hold on.”

“I am, we’re fine–”

And then you’re not. Because the anomaly bursts up in a spur of movement, effectively breaking the confinement you four had put on her. She runs forward, taking a straight track for you. You leap up, swinging away as quickly as you can. You pick through the strain on your forearms, through the cloud of fear in your head. You try to stay in the same general area you told him you’d be in, but it’s hard with the anomaly on your heels. 

“Miguel! Help, she’s chasing me, I can only keep her away from me for so long–”

“I know, I know, I’m coming. Hold on.”

But you’re not responding anymore. The anomaly swings a mighty claw straight into your abdomen, effectively sending you into the ground. Pav lets out a scream, sliding to catch you before you can slam into the grass, and Miguel knows something is wrong. You can hear his yells and Pav’s telling you to respond, but the pain in your side is excruciating and your brain feels like mush and your mouth is dry like sandpaper and your vision is tunneling into black and you try to speak but–

…

It’s very dark.

That’s the first thing you notice when you come to. It’s nice. But there’s an off putting feeling about it, like something’s lurking in the dark, and then you’re itching to turn on the lights so you can see something. “You have something covering your eyes, you do realize that.” Miguel’s smooth tone slides in from the left, decorating across the bland abyss.

Ah. So that was the problem.

Your arms feel foreign as you reach up to pull the fabric off your eyes, exposing you to the room you were in, only slightly brighter than before. “Lyla said the mask was supposed to help you heal better,” Miguel starts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to look at the man next to you quite yet. “I listened, she’s better at this than I am.”

“Am I not in the infirmary?” You question, before frowning at the way your voice sounded. You sit up, clearing it a few times.

“You were, but I moved you.” 

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you in there.” He answered bluntly, yet it lacked any substance at all.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You chuckled dryly. “Miguel, you moved me from the fucking infirmary to your office. I think you owe me a damn explanation.”

“No.” He turns away, slinging a web out to launch him onto his floating platform.

“Miguel–” 

“No.” The orange screens encircle him, effectively slamming his hard tone into the flow of conversation that wasn’t really flowing anymore.

You frown, half sat up in the bed that he’d placed you on. You’re frustrated, you don’t understand what’s been going on between you and him. He hated you. You’d previously established that, his vibrant reaction to your question confirmed it. But he saved you. And he moved you into his fucking office. 

Your head swims with this new information, and you flop back down unceremoniously onto the bed. Your head tilts automatically to him again, the fiery red in the bleak, monotone room. His back is to you, and he’s furiously tapping at something on one of his many screens. The boldness of his stature, the way he’s standing is so unwelcoming that you’re now sure he never really wanted you there at all.

You sit up and hop out of the bed as quietly as you can, even though you know he can probably hear you in the silence that enveloped you both. Yet he doesn’t react, he doesn’t turn and yell like you thought he might. He stayed stoically and almost stubbornly facing his screens, so you turn and slip towards the door.

Fucking say something, Miguel.

He doesn’t. You don’t know what you expected anyways. 

So you continue your walk, your path out of noose that the room brought. Yet, steps to the hallway seem harder and harder to make, like the hallway is getting longer or maybe you’re moving a lot slower than you normally do. You move to shoot a web, hoping to gain traction and move somewhat faster, but you can’t quite get your aim right– 

And then your vision is fluctuating and you start to feel unbalanced. You’re not moving. You’re moving your feet, but you’re not going anywhere. Your brain is fuzzy and the ground is getting closer than it normally is- you don’t remember being this short? “Ay, cariño!” Is exclaimed from behind you, and then something’s grabbing onto your back and pulling you back upright.

Miguel has his arm wrapped around your waist as you wobble, guiding you back to the bed and then lifting you up to sit on it. Your hands come up to rub your eyes, trying to get them to refocus. They blur and then unblur, finally resting to take in your wobbly hands, which are held out shakily in front of you. In response, you twist your hands together just enough to feel the pain of it, reminding you that you were in fact awake and aware. 

“Are you okay?” It’s then that you realize that Miguel is still in front of you. He’s got you caged in, blanketing you in his grand shadow. Your neck cranes up to reach his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let your eyes linger during their ascent. When you meet the scarlet of his irises, you’re taken aback by the level of concern in them. Like he was actually worried about you. 

“I’m okay,” You respond, tilting your head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He scoffed, but didn’t move away. “I’m not worrying.”

“If there’s one thing you’re bad at, Miguel, it’s lying.”

“I am a great liar.”

“Oh?” 

“Dios mio, cariño, yes.”

“What does that mean, anyway?,” You question, rocking backward to tuck your feet underneath your legs. “I tried to get Lyla to tell me, but she will not let the secret loose.”

He freezes. “Nothing, sorry, slip of the tongue.”

“You do realize I can just search it up, right? Would you rather me find out from the reach of the internet?”

“Not really, what if you just don’t–”

“Miguel.” You rise onto your knees, leveling your gaze with his own and resting a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? It can’t be that bad, it’s not like you’re saying you’re in love with me or something.”

“Well–”

“Right, cus that would be like…” Your words tumble over him, your brain too keen on keeping your feelings, your delusions to yourself. “Te amo? Te quiero? I’m not sure…”

“Either one.”

“Yeah, so it’s not one of those, so what is it?”

He takes a deep breath, looking slightly troubled. His face twists his face up like he’d just bit into a lemon, and then you’re panicking again.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that–”

“It’s a term of endearment,” His voice stops your apologies in their tracks. “It literally means affection, but when you use it as a nickname it’s more like sweetheart or darling. Dear is another way to say it, but you get the point.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry about that–”

“Don’t be,” Your head tilts with his, following the way he turns his gaze away from you in embarrassment. “I like it.”

He meets your eyes again, curiosity and hope strung in his vibrant eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. The way you say it is so satisfying, if that makes sense.”

“You like when I speak Spanish, huh?”

You nod, and suddenly you’re the one hiding your face from his smirk. 

“Querido, mírame.”

“Miguel–”

“Ahora. I won’t ask again.”

You sigh, glaring at him. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn,” He leans down and then innnn, so that the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I know you can do it.”

“Do you?” Your brain is screaming at you, making you even more painfully aware of his proximity to your face, yet you somehow manage to clearly deliver the line. 

“Mhm.”

“Well, it’s only cus I’ll have the best teacher. You.” You hit his nose with your finger, catching him off guard.

“I am happy to take that title.” 

“Good.”

He hasn’t moved. Even as the room fades into silence, he hasn’t moved. He’s still so close, like you could lean in, barely four inches, and you’d be kissing him. You can smell him, a tinge of metallic blood yet so earthy and centering. It’s intoxicating: your brain is swimming and you're struggling to keep your head above the water. 

Cariño. Sweetheart. A term of endearment. You still haven’t quite wrapped your head around that, not that you’ve been given much time to mull over it. Was that him telling you that he liked you, more than a friend? Was that a normal thing, using that term? You didn’t know, but you had a feeling that would be the best confession from him you were getting, if he meant it that way at all. You were gonna have to make the leap yourself.

“Everything okay?” His hand lands on your shoulder, a gentle reminder that you’d been staring into nothingness for what must’ve been a painfully long time for him. “Yeah,” You stumble to regain your words. “Sorry, I-” 

“Spaced out.”

“Yeah.”

He nods, smiling just enough so you could see his fangs peek out. You were caught.

“Migu–”

“I could kiss you right now, you know that?”

“Huh?” stumbles stupidly out of your now slack jaw.

“I could kiss you. You’ve been staring at my lips for the past few minutes, mi amor, whether you realize it or not.”

“I have? Oh my god.”

He chases your drifting gaze, just like you did with his. “It was cute.”

“Cute is a word I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

“Cállete, you hear me? Shut up.” 

You giggle, grabbing his hand and sliding it up to fit comfortably on the back of your neck. “You wanna kiss me, O’hara? You’re very welcome to do it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Now he’s leaning in, closing in those four painstaking inches to lock lips with you.

And it’s insane. Showstopping. Any kisses you had before then? Not even a fucking kiss. Sure, it was a bit awkward at first– mainly you, you suppose– but it worked itself out. Miguel must’ve really gotten into it, because once you swear he nipped at your bottom lip with those fangs of his, just hard enough to draw blood. Your hands, in the meantime, explored his mass of brown curls, previously smoothed back but released by your fingers.

His own hands nestled themselves in your hair, tugging on it just enough to draw a sigh out of you. He tastes like blood– surely yours– yet ever so homey. You lean into him inadvertently, so content in the moment. The rational part of your brain reminds you that you’d probably suffocate if you kissed him for much longer, but nothing in you cared very much about that fact at all. 

In the end, it’s him who takes a dip for air, who drags your face off of his reluctantly to gasp softly. You do the same, resting your forehead on his toned chest. His hand, still in your hair, guides you gently back up, just so he can absorb your appearance and vice versa. It’s crazy, taking him in like this. He looks so out of control, his hair disheveled and his lips puffy and his cheeks red, releasing air in quick puff puffs. You’re sure you’re not much better looking.

“Out of breath already?” He says, head tilted with a goofy sort of grin adorning his face. “I’m regaining it currently, don’t tease.” You puff back at him, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“Oh, but teasing you is the best part.”

You stab a finger into his side. “Be quiet.”

“If you fare like this, mi alma, you won’t last very long where we’re headed.”

Your head whips up, equal parts confusion and frustration. “First of all, I’m fine. Second of all, what?”

“C’mon.” he pulls you off the bed.

“Are we sure I can even–”

His arm is around your shoulders, hand clamped tightly around it to squeeze you reassuringly. “I got you.”

“Thanks.” Your smile towards him is mushy, but you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care.

“De nada,” He smiles back, and you mentally note to tease him about his softness later on. “Let’s get all the way to home plate, huh?”

“Let’s.”

feel free to drop by my inbox anytime, everyone, before i run out of ideas

[stevenssacrab]

Popsicle

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: In an attempt to beat the London heat wave, you enjoy a popsicle, unlocking a need in Steven he never knew he had.

Rating: 18+ smut (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: Blowjob (rough), teasing, innocent Steven, Steven being surprisingly rough (good for him lol)

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: I hope this is satisfactory, I had so much fun writing it. And yes I will write about other marvel characters, but I just love him mom!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Steven has always been timid about the more intimate parts of your relationship; he never wanted to pressure you into anything, so he never said anything, leaving all of his needs unsatisfied. You always had an inkling that he was holding back; you always tried to give him the push he needed, but to no avail.

Steven, are you comin'?" You yelled from across the apartment; you were sitting on the sofa fanning yourself with your hand; this London heat wave was killer; even with all the windows open, it was still blazing; you decided on a sugary treat; what better way to beat the heat than with an iconic bomb popsicle. You return to the sofa, and Steven is still not there.

"Steven?" You asked, worry evident in your voice

"Yes?" Steven chirps face etched in worry at the tone of your voice.

"Oh, there you are." You say happily, motioning for him to join you on the sofa.

"Hey, are you okay, honey?" You ask, concerned at the pensive look on Steven's face

"Huh? Oh, uh yeah, aces." He sputtered, walking over to the sofa. He plops beside you, automatically wrapping his strong arm around you.

"Okay, let's go," you say in a singsong voice, hitting play on the remote.

"God, does she have to be eating that right now?" Steven thought to himself, cussing himself for letting his mind wander; he hadn't been watching the movie at all; he'd been more occupied watching how well your lips wrapped around the popsicle. You sat leaning full into Steven's body, just eating your popsicle, not knowing the effect you were having on him.

Steven shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to look anywhere but you, but he can't look away; Steven's breath hitches in his throat as you slowly lick up the side of the popsicle, moaning gently at the taste, stopping to suck the tip softly; you groan again loving the taste. Steven clears his throat awkwardly, trying to rein it in but failing miserably.

You release the popsicle with a pop and turn to Steven. "Are you sure you're okay, honey? You seem tense. Do you want a massage?" You offer, bringing your hand to his shoulder; Steven only flitches and moves away from your touch.

"Yeah, y-yeah, I'm fine, love, don't worry," he says, eyes darting all over the room; he uncomfortably shifts away from you, moving the sofa pillow over his lap, hoping to conceal his secret, praying you don't pick up on how he's acting.

"No, something's wrong, Steven. Honey, you can tell me what's wrong; I wanna help you," you say, crawling on all fours towards him. Poor Steven is so flustered; his breathing is quick, and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears; it's all becoming so much.

"Steven?" You say gently, placing your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. Steven gasps at your touch, looking directly at your hand, eyes flickering between you and your hand.

"I-I, will you please?" He whimpers softly before hiding his head in his hands and sighing loudly in defeat.

"It's just that I've been watching you eat that popsicle since we started the movie, and I can't focus, and I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I was trying to be mature about it, and you don't—"Steven rambles on, clearly heading into a spiral.

"Steven," you interrupt, grabbing his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"Did you like watching me suck the popsicle?" You say deep and sultry

"Did you imagine me sucking your dick like that, Steven? You like watching me wrap my lips around it and suck gently, moaning at the sweet taste," you say, hands slowly running up and down his chest, feeling his heartbeat in your palm; you look deeply into his eyes, your hand gripping his upper thigh; watching him swift awkwardly in place.

"I-I, please, I need" he stutters, too shy to voice what he needs

"Hmm? What do you need, baby?" You whisper innocently, hands slowly sliding where he needs you most; you gently stroke him over his pants, feeling his rock-hard cock. You lean forward, licking from the base of Steven's neck to his ear. "Do you like it when I do this?" You whisper into his ear as your hand worm underneath his pants, grabbing his cock, and slowly stroking it once.

Steven gasps and moans lowly, throwing his head back. "God, yes," he answered, looking at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you for more. You can never resist teasing Steven; he's always so responsive to your touch; you stroke his cock at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Ah fuck” he groans. "More Y/N, more," he begs, entirely giving into it. "Please," he whimpers, gripping the sofa tightly.

You grip his cock tighter and stroke his cock faster, watching his eyes roll back and groan at the sound he lets out.

"Anything for you, my love" you say lightly, getting off the sofa and dropping to your knees in front of him, placing your hands on his knees and pulling them apart; you slide your hands up his thighs slowly, reaching for his pants, you pull them off him smoothly, you mouth waters, he cock stands up against his stomach, tip glistening with precum. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and bring it to your mouth; looking Steven in the eyes as he watches mouth agape, his chest rising and falling quickly

"Keep your eyes on me, Steven," you say firmly; you stick your tongue out, gently licking the precum, moaning softly at the taste; you keep your eyes on Steven as you slowly take his long cock into your mouth, watching his face contort with pleasure. You bring your head back up slowly, hollowing your cheeks, moaning around his dick; Steven moaning loudly at the site; he eagerly watches you close your eyes, your lips wrapping perfectly around him, almost like you were made just for him. You grab the base and slap his cock on your tongue, smiling up at him while you do it.

"Fuck Y/N, just like that," he whines lowly, "you're so perfect' he says, eyebrows knitting together. He sits with his hands at his sides, afraid to touch you; you grab his hands and bring them to your head, his hands burying themselves in your hair, making you move faster. He groans loudly, gripping your hair tightly; you feel chills crawl across your body, and you moan around his cock, loving how desperate he is right now.

"Oh god, yes," he lets out, panting loudly, guiding your head up and down his cock; you loved seeing Steven like this, so desperate; he'd do anything if you ask. You look up at him, moaning at the utter bliss written across his face; you bring your hand up and gently cup his balls; Steven growls at the new sensation; he scoots closer to the edge of the sofa as he abandons any hesitation he once had. He grips your hair tightly, tearing up at the pain, the once hesitant Steven long gone; he pushes your head all the way down til your nose meets his pelvis; you whine loudly, hands gripping Steven's thighs tightly.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck” he grunts out with every thrust, his cock hitting the back of your throat; you gag loudly. Steven doesn't care; he greedily fucks your mouth, tears roll down your cheeks, and you focus on not gagging; Steven gently wipes your tears away, a stark difference to how he uses your mouth. You feel his cock twitch; you know he's close; you suck harshly, taking control once again, and he watches you bob your head up and down, panting loudly.

'I'm so close, don't stop," he moans out, head thrown back; you reach your hand up his chest and play with his nipple gently; he whines loudly, bucking his hips into your mouth.

You pull his cock out of your mouth; you stroke his cock quickly. "Cum for me Steven, cum in my mouth" you say, quickly putting his cock back into your mouth sucking harshly.

"Fuuuuck," he groans loudly, his hands burying themselves in your hair again, holding you down, as he cums in your mouth, gritting his teeth together as he comes down from his high; you swallow everything, happily showing Steven afterward

"Oh my god' Steven says, smiling brightly to himself. "That was even better than I imagined," he sighed happily

"I'm glad you liked it," you giggle, sitting next to him, cuddling into him

"Liked it? I bloody loved it," he chirps, kissing your temple.

[mygroovymutationn]

So...I had an idea 😏

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Insta: @mygroovymutation