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#why would he show me his bed
sunglassesmish · 13 days
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the thrilling sequel
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hayaku14 · 9 months
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kaishin au where kaito unwillingly received immortality from pandora. kaito is torn and broken upon the burden of eternal life. shinichi promises to stay with him forever. to do so, he drinks aptx 4869 every 10 years.
years go by and soon everyone in their life passes. kaito and shinichi learned how to create the poison from haibara before she left the world as well. but though it works in consistently turning back time for shinichi, it is still a deadly poison. accumulated, it slowly weakens him.
as shinichi's body slowly deteriorates, the poison chipping away at his life, kaito spirals. once again, torn and broken, kaito is desperate. feeling this to be their last years together, he decides to find a way to stay with shinichi forever.
a way to reverse his immortality.
a way to die together.
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onecyed · 2 months
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It's the hour of realizing that everything that made Aegon a shitty person was brought on, because he had no reason/excuse to be better as thanks/rather no thanks to Viserys he wasn't wanted.
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Kuroo would totally help his father adjust correclty his tie, kiss him on the cheek and say "Gotta go. Love you, dad" and then leave for another day of being a smart students and an amazing captain
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jegulus-trash · 2 years
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imthatqueerkid · 6 months
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Sabal scams Ajay out of his family and steals his dad so that he can finally call himself “Son of Mohan” like he’s dreamed of for years.mp3
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steine-druff · 1 year
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do you ever just spend hours trying to figure out which specific issue of a magazine about a show that you loved as a kid contains that one comic that shaped you as a person AND THEN FIND SOMEONE WHO FOR SOME REASON STILL HAS IT AND IS SELLING IT
#i am having a GREAT DAY BRO I AM GOING TO COMBUST#the comic is from 2008 AND its in german so the chances of actually finding it were super slim i cant believe i found it#my history with this comic is very long ok#and of course im gonna share it#so obviously i got it when it was released. didnt know what it would be about#turns out it was about my favourite of the fairies and her bf having some ~trouble in paradise~ BUT the conflict (looking back at it) was#surprisingly mature for a show targeted towards 8-13 year old girls#the conflict was that her bf wanted to leave the fairy world behind for reasons i cant remember and that ofc included her because shes#a fairy and she didnt understand it and was heartbroken about it ofc but she was like 'ok were not a couple anymore but im gonna help you#move bc i still care about you even though i dont understand your decision' AND THEY WERE BOTH PINING SO HARD AND HER BF WAS STILL IN LOVE#WITH HER SO THERE WAS THIS BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLE GOING ON#also there was a hint of daddy issues sprinkled in there because his dad is like this super powerful teacher at the boys school and he#was never pressuring his son into anything and loved him dearly but also he didnt understand him either so the bf never felt like he could#live up to expectations and ALSO he never felt like he belonged in ~the boy school~ to begin with#WOW i WONDER why i loved this comic when i was younger kdjflgdskljg that's a very neat queer allegory right there#i dont remember how it ended but i know they get back together eventually#i think it was him spending some time in the human world and then realising that thats not what he needed and returning to the fairy world#on his own terms#so YEAH WE LOVE TO SEE IT#anyway i lost it some time after getting it which made me SO SAD but when we moved like 2 or 3 years later we found it under my mothers bed#where i apparently dropped it when i slept there SO WE WERE REUNITED ONCE MORE AND I WAS SO HAPPY because it was the only magazine missing#from my collection#and then it chilled in my shelf for a long time until my mother told me to get rid of old stuff so i threw all the magazines out :')#WE SHALL BE REUNITED ONCE MORE#you dont know how HYPEEEEEE i am right now KJDSHFLVKHSFGHBKLFJH#i am completely normal about this#thank u for reading if u did i appreciate u#rennmaus
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being a teen gen z, gen alpha terrifies the living fuck outta me.
#these kids be using ipads for like video calling and shit when i've not even used the camera of an apple device like wtf#like i haven't even held an iphone. no one in my fam has one. we all are like SAMSUNG SUPREMACY because it has memory and battery life#whenever i realise one of my teachers uses a macbook i go like-#HEY THEY USE APPLE THAT'S WHY THEY HAVE SHIT INTERNET QUALITY! now i get why i can't ever hear shit in their class.#and the worst part of that is that they don't even know what i just said means. they be using that without even knowing what a usb port is!#like desi gen alpha be like OMG DID YOU WATCH THE EPISODE OF BIG BOSS LAST NIGHT? BITCH MY PARENTS WOULD DISOWN ME IF I STAYED UP THAT LATE#they would be like go to bed and don't you dare eavesdrop this shit or we'll lock you in the fucking bathroom for a week#AND THAT TOO THEY WATCH IT AS LIKE 8 YEAR OLDS??? LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? I STILL DON'T WATCH THAT SHOW BECAUSE IT'S SO NEGATIVE!#i just feel like i'm talking like a threatened millennial and i totally get them man. i confess that i am fucking PETRIFIED of these kids.#they be like wearing uggs at FOUR and like leopard print and shit and be making ig reels and i be like MOM WHAT IS E: DRIVE???#istg i am nowhere except tumblr and pinterest and these KIDS have like fricking DISCORD ACCOUNTS and LISTEN TO R RATED MUSIC#my dad still bats his eyelashes at me like a cop when he hears a fuck or even a shit in the lyrics and goes WHAT WAS THAT?? but mildly#and i'm teen!#my parents would stop me from using the INTERNET if they found a word like fuck in the lyrics of the songs i listened to at that age!#i am not even sure if i had allowance to use internet at that age- i was allowed google at like 10 i think-#these kids get that shit at like what 4???? i mean??? oKAY i GUESS???#gen alpha#see these kids even have a weird name#totally understandable#cole shitposting
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kisakunt · 2 years
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Kisaki is just the hottest!!! 😍😍😍 Gawk Gawk 6000 for that man any day!
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yawning, y’all are too corny
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sunflowerstelle · 2 years
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Prince ranboo from my dream come back i forgot to show you that parrot/praying mantis thing that one of the people had..
It was rlly disturbing and nearly made dream me cry but he would've love it I just know it :(
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pantalonely · 5 months
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why are lol players SO LOUD
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510hz · 6 months
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☆ — MESSAGE SENT WITH INVISIBLE INK ! • jjk edition
minors do not interact.
⋆ ࣪. ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji & choso
★ — contents ! explicit sexual content ⦂ sexting, mix of gn/f!reader, pre-established relationships, suit kink, ex!boyfriend, suggestive/smut, mention of fellatio, daddy kink, masturbation, hand kink, kink shaming reader?
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⋆ ࣪. ☆ GOJO SATORU — mirror pics
the faucet squeaks as gojo turns off the shower. he pulls back the curtain and steps out to grab his towel, using it to dry his hair before wrapping it loosely around his waist. he stops before the mirror on the way out and can’t help to admire his half naked form. his damp hair hangs low on his forehead which he flicks out of his eyes with a swift movement of his head, hands flexing slightly as he runs his fingers through it to smooth it back. beads of water slowly run down his chest and chiseled abs before disappearing beneath his towel that hangs so dangerously low. his perfect v-line, so sharp it looks like an arrow coaxing your eyes to travel down, imagining what could be hidden under that towel. yeah, he looks good. with a mischievous grin, gojo picks up his phone off the counter and opens the camera. before snapping the photo he drops his towel slightly, holding it in his hands to drape just between his legs to hide his cock while exposing his muscular thighs. he pulls up your message thread, selects the photo and hits send.
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chosen one <3 just got out the shower. why don’t you hurry on home so you can make a mess of me again? ;)
⋆ ࣪. ☆ GETO SUGURU — dick print
fuck, geto misses you. more than he’d ever let on. how dare you dump him when he was just about to consider getting his act together? geto sits in his bed in the dark scrolling through your instagram. the bright light illuminates his irritated expression as he lurks through your vacation photos. he guesses your no good friends decided to wist you away on a trip to get him off your mind. tsk, those bitches… they were always against him. geto feels his chest tighten in anger seeing you laid up on the beach in that skimpy ass bikini. just thinking about any other man seeing you like that and getting to touch you has him fuming. how dare they oggle at what’s his? and how dare you show yourself off like this for all the world to see? flaunting those perfect tits and the curves of your body as you’re splayed out amongst the sand, your skin now glistening and tanned from the sun. it has his dick stirring in his boxers seeing you look so sexy, happy and carefree. you never looked like that when you were with him. geto adjusts himself letting his dick sit against his thigh creating a delicious print in his boxers. his long shaft and mushroom tip imprint explicitly through the fabric leaving nothing to the imagination. he knows you miss him — you have to. why else would you pull a stunt like this? he closes instagram in favor of opening the camera app letting the shutter flash as he captures what he knows you’re after.
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+1 (555)-555-0203 I know you miss this dick, baby. Why don’t you stop being a tease and come sit on it for old time’s sake?
⋆ ࣪. ☆ NANAMI KENTO — shirtless pics
sometimes nanami’s work takes him out of of town, which he hates. he hates working more then he needs to, but most of all, he hates leaving you. when you send him a message requesting he “send you something,” nanami can’t help but feel a little flustered. he has never been into sending lewd images but the thought of you thinking of him while he’s away stirs something in him. he feels a little silly as he loosens his tie with those skilled fingers. the ones that always managed to reach so deep inside you rubbing all the places you can’t. he slowly unbuttons his dress shirt to reveal inch after inch of pale skin pulled taut over his ripped chest and abs before folding it neatly and setting it on the hotel dresser. he thinks briefly about removing his tie, but decides to leave it, letting it hang loosely around his neck. an embarrassed smile forms at his lips as he cringes at the absurdity of it all. nanami slinks back in bed, phone in hand, letting out a deep sigh before opening the camera app to snap two pictures: one a straight shot of his torso, and a second cheekier one, his strong hands tugging down his dress pants slightly, exposing a small tuff of blonde hair.
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kenny <3 I hope you find these to your liking. Now, I believe it’s your turn.
⋆ ࣪. ☆ FUSHIGURO TOJI — nut vids
it’s just past midnight and toji is sitting on the couch in your shared apartment watching reruns of some sport game. like he fucking cared. he would rather be with you, but earlier this evening when you asked him with those puppy dog eyes if you can go out with your friends tonight he just couldn’t say no to you. it was rare that he ever did. but he misses your cute self. now’s about the time that you’d be cuddled up on the couch with him watching tv before things got too close and you ended up on your knees with his dick lodged down your throat. toji needs you and bad. his growing erection is already creating a strong print in his grey sweats like clockwork. without you here, he’s left to take care of it himself, but not before making you aware of the situation you’ve created. toji slips his dick from his pants, it’s hot, heavy, and pulsing as he takes it in his fist, milking the clear liquid that slowly seeps from his slit. he picks up his phone with the other hand, opens the camera at and presses record, stroking himself as low grunts and filth spill from his lips.
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daddy <3 “you see the things you do to me? look how hard daddy is for you…” he groans as he strokes the sweet spot on the underside of his cock. the lights from the tv flicker in the living room, reflecting off the slick that coats his shaft. “bring your cute ass home, so you can take care of this mess you made…”
⋆ ࣪. ☆ KAMO CHOSO — hand pics
choso doesn’t understand what your obsession is with his hands. they’re just… hands? but still when you ask him to send you a picture of his hands for “science” he pauses his game and sets down his controller to try to figure out about them that drives you wild. could it be the vein that bulge under the skin? the rings that stacked up his slender fingers? his thick knuckles that rubbed against your sweet spots as he pumped his digits inside you? the roughness of his palms that gripped the soft skin of your hips as he gripped them firmly? choso can’t imagine them tasting like much of anything yet still you never failed to hum eagerly as you took them in your mouth. maybe their strength is what did it for you then? like when he clutched them around your neck while we bullied himself into you? he guessed he could see the appeal there but they’re still just hands. whatever. if that’s what you want, he’ll give them to you. pulling out his phone, he poses his hands under the dim light of his room and snaps a couple pictures.
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choso <3 here, i guess. weirdo…
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☆ REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !
if you don’t have an age on your profile pls don’t like, reblog, or comment under my work as it makes me deeply uncomfortable. thank you for respecting my boundaries.
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Show me where it hurts (part 2)
Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader
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GIF by aenhanse
(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist
summary: You confront Miguel.
warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!) 
a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.
wc: 4k ish
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You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door. 
You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.
He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets. 
"You shouldn't be here." He strains. 
Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?" 
All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."
Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat. 
"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."
He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"
You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp. 
Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive. 
It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."
You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy." 
He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "
You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?" 
He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum. 
He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."
You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head. 
"What makes it feel better?" 
Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-" 
"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this? 
"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."
"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."
His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-" 
"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes. 
"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."
He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."
You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter. 
You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."
Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it. 
"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better." 
He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit. 
"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "
You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."
It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face. 
"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods. 
Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause. 
"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again. 
Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard." 
"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me." 
"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?" 
"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you." 
"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand. 
How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.
Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help." 
Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-" 
You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum. 
Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy.  Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him. 
It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips. 
"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy. 
As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know. 
He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry. 
"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."
With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure. 
"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.
Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong. 
You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver. 
"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."
" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-" 
He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip.  Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it. 
"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out. 
" Miguel, fuuuck." 
How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised. 
"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit. 
He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities. 
"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."
You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure. 
"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."
With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body. 
One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light. 
And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back. 
Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.
"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this." 
You look at him in your haze, brows knitted. 
"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though." 
"Better , Miggy?" 
"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."
You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous. 
"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."
As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body. 
"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- " 
"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature. 
"Let-" Smack. " Me-"  Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack. 
You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell. 
'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure. 
"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."
Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another. 
"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist. 
He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.
Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand. 
"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another. 
"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.
"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?" 
Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit. 
You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."
~~~
"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious. 
The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily. 
You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom. 
"You didn't either." You throw back at him. 
"That's not th-" 
"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."
His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-" 
"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"
"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you. 
"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-" 
"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight. 
"...I don't understand."
"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."
You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this? 
"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichito. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."
With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always. 
You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say. 
"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."
"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile. 
Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to. 
"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?" 
Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"
"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."
"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."
"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest. 
"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."
"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."
"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."
He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.
"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."
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intoxicated-chan · 1 day
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angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader
and then they make up yayayayay
Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete
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♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.
♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.
♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 1.4k
♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…
Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!
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You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.
“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”
He nods.
“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
He nods again.
“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”
“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”
“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.
“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”
He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…
“But Mig-”
“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”
He didn’t mean it like that.
“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.
“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.
You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.
You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.
The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.
How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?
This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.
And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.
You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.
You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.
“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.
“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.
“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.
“Yeah.” You huff.
“And… how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.
You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”
“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”
Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?
“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”
“Talk about romantic.”
“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”
“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”
“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.
“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”
“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.
“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”
“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.
You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”
“Bed.”
“(Y/n)-”
“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”
“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.
“You heard me.”
“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.
“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”
“(Y/n)-”
“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”
“I know.”
“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”
You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.
“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”
He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.
“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”
“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.
“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”
“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.
“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”
You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.
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© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.
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kioplama · 9 days
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i might write a part two to this because reader was supposed to give simon aftercare, but this fic had other plans. also reader is said to be a younger sibling, other than that, no background or physical descriptions
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"Fuckin' hell . . ." Simon groans as he stretches out his back and rolls his shoulders. "Think I'll be feeling that tomorrow."
Snickering, you feel a little bad for the pain he's feeling, but you can't pass up the opportunity to be a little shit. "I guess we shouldn't have gone that extra round, huh? Bit too much for you?"
You grin up at him from where he stands as he snaps his head to look down at you still lounging--naked--in your shared bed, narrowing his eyes at you in a menacing squint that should have made your alarm bells go off.
"And just what are you implying?"
And because you have a terrible sense of self-preservation, you continue to needle him, holding back your giggles as you hug a pillow to your front. As if that'll be an effective shield to protect you from any retaliation from him.
"Nothing." You shrug innocently. "Just that maybe we should've taken it easy. Rested up your weary body. I know you're getting older--"
"You finish that sentence and I'll show you older."
Simon gives you a glare that would send hardened soldiers running, but all you do is snicker obnoxiously. You can't help it. It's the younger sibling within you. It's a part of your DNA to be intentionally annoying. A need to irritate someone for shits and giggles. In this case, that someone is Simon.
"Fine, I won't." You pat the bed and scoot over to your side a bit more. "Now get in here, old man."
"Call me that one more time, I dare you."
If he weren't nearly naked, save for the extremely well-fitted boxer briefs he wears, you might be more inclined to be less troublesome (not), but since he isn't, you choose to be an annoying little shit. Simon's annoying little shit.
"C'mon, just get in, you're so slow--"
Simon sends you a warning look.
"--like an old man."
He sucks in a sharp breath.
"A really, really old man."
"That's it."
--is the only warning you get right before Simon rips the pillow you're hiding behind from your hands and jumps in the bed to start tickling you. A shriek of laughter spills from your lips as Simon pins you down, fingers digging into sensitive spots along your body. He's relentless in his torture as he grins down at you.
"Simon--Simon, p-please! I wa-AHHS! Was o-only j-jok-INGG!"
"Oh, so now you wanna be sweet? What happened to all that talk of me being old?"
"I didn't--didn't me-EANN it!"
"Sure, and I'm the king of England."
Fuck, don't say it.
Don't say it.
"O-old like him, th-though."
Goddammit, why do you have to run your mouth all the time? Oh, wait, you know why. It's because you're an idiot.
Simon pauses to squint down at you, giving you a brief moment to catch your breath. Taking in large breaths of precious air, you try to blink away the tears in your eyes, savoring the break he's giving you because you know he won't be showing any mercy in the next couple of seconds.
"Si, you know I love you, right?"
The man above you tilts his head, considering your words as you at least try to appeal to his better nature. Try to delay his punishment.
"Go on."
Be sweet. Just be sweet and maybe you'll be shown an iota of mercy.
"You know I love you," you repeat slowly, sweat dripping down your brow, "and that I always will. No matter what. I will always love you."
Simon raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, as if to tell you to hurry up. Like he knows you're just trying to stall the inevitable. You gulp, trying to get the words out. Come on, you're capabable of being sweet.
"And that will never change. Even if you are old."
Fuck, nope.
You can't be sweet. Why can't you be sweet?
"Should've just kept your mouth shut, darling."
And without letting you get another word out, Simon digs his fingers into your sides, pulling out a cackle of laughter and pleas from your lips. But this retribution is worth it, you think. If only because you get to see a rare boyish grin grace Simon's face.
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