Can't Stop Thinking About Ghost Saying

One of the things I will always love The Amazing Spider-Man for is the movie's depiction of Flash.

Don't get me wrong, the other renditions have thier merit but consider:

When Peter just got his power, just started feeling powerfully, just became stereotypically attractive, just got his eyes fixed, just starting to get his life together, just got everything he could wish for in his analytical mind. Ben dies.

He loses another Father, no matter how inconsequential, no matter how hard he tried to do something, he missed it.

Then the whole Flash and Peter fight over 'blonde hottie' and yes cliché but,

Peter has flash by the collar, up off his feet, and is so fucking angry. At himself, at loosing, at the death, and at that greedy money hungry fighting boss but Flash says one thing.

"Makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

Something along those lines,

1- This makes Flash a complex character. Yes, he is now "the abuser becoming the abused." but it's also the complete opposite for Peter, who becomes "the abused become the abuser" and as horrid and morbid as that alone is (and as much of it is bull) it makes Flash a real fleshed out character. He isn't cracking knuckles, making bruises, drawing blood, or being harmful and angry because it's fun. It makes him feel better. It probably made the people who raised him feel better.

2- In some way or another, Flash understands pain. Whether the pain he causes or the pain of grief. And the way he copes, or uses that fear, that grief, that anger, that useless feeling of 'why didn't I stop it?' By creating more pain he can control. So Flash is sympathetic. He is giving Peter the release he needed.

3- He could have been taught this reaction. Maybe it's generational. So he sees his overworked and sad parent hurt him, or his environment and somewhere somehow it helped Flash when he did it. Maybe it's from something else, but he is creating and / or continuing a cycle of abuse.

4- [it isn't that deep, and Flash is just Sadistic and likes seeing pain.] Point still stands, but you know.

And all it took was one line.

Tumblr is doing some stupid AI shit so go to blog settings > Visibility > Prevent third-party sharing.

A/N: Ok, I wanna expand in the thought..... sooooooooooo here <3 oh, and one day, I'll muster the currant to tag that amazing writer in this... one day. Today is that day!! @rodolfoparras (pls just ignore me...just wanted you to know this whole story is your fault with love /p)

CW|TW: includes more sexual things (oral, giving and receiving), implied FTM Price but not stated, a fear of growing older, detail of aids and way to much sappy fluff.

The glasses were Prices newest addition, these thin wire framed things that sat low on the bridge of his nose that he half tried to hide. Refusing to use them unless he absolutely needed to.

Only catching him at home, skimming through document with the things on so he can actaully read the fine print. You catch him, in your own shared home, squinting at a recipe he picked up off of Soap and wanted to try. It would be sorta funny if it wasn't as frustrating as it was.

Coming up behind him, you slip those damned glasses on his head, careful not to drop them on his skin but just place them in his hair with a soft kiss to that spot on his nape that always amost make his knees buckle. Hoping the distraction will help Price accept his fate of wearing glasses.

And it kind of does? If only for the moment, but then you were dragged away from your own brought home work to be picked up and placed on the counter. Handed that recipe and his glasses and asked, oh so sweetly.

"Read it to me?"

The glasses are fogged with condensation, so you know he tried. Just the frustration thats been building up coming to a head.

"Always, pretty."

You had honestly forgotten about him not wanting to wear his glasses after a while, him being called in for months with his team, it had just slipped your mind.

But apparently, someone on his team got him to wear those glasses. To the point that they now rest on his nightstand, reflecting the light in a way that should annoy you as he reads, but it just can't because he's wearing them and you are so proud.

That night may or may not have ended with you going down on him, singing praises about how good he looked all the way down his body. Hands finding the pudge of his gut and tracing the stretch marks on his thighs, easily pulling him into your mouth by his hips, happy to stay and lap at him until he's cum dry. All the while, his lust blown eyes stare at you through those wire rimmed glasses.

And it's like something clicked in his mind.

You didn't even notice when he held you open by your legs, kneeling down in front of you.

You just thought it was one of those days where Price wanted to please you, or to be that close to you that all he could feel and hear and taste and see, was you.

But it wasn't, or it was but not how he normally sank to his knees with worshipping touches, no you didn't notice at first. Eyes flickering closed against the lovely feeling he sent, chasing up and down your spine with every little touch. Yet, when you pet through his hair, careful to scrape your nails along his scalp, you felt something as you dropped that hand to trace his cheek.

That when you realized, there between your thighs with his hands holding you still and toungue half hanging out as he pulls off you to suckle on the skin where your hip and thighs meet, he's looking up at you with pupils blown wide behind those damned glasses.

"Price, you still- fuck."

"Hmm?" Price stops his pursuit with a light nip, smiling up at you, "I need to see you Sugar."

He nuzles the scratchy side of his jaw agaisnt you, watching as the skin goes red, a pleased look in his eyes. Hand coming up to hold your dick steady as he licks along the under side; only pausing to stare into your eyes and half whisper.

"Can't do that with out 'em"

Ok, I OD a while back and haven't had the time or the mental to post/write anything. But but but but you can blame rodolfoparras for this. Love thier work and all their cute cat pics!!

Old man Price, who starts wearing reading glasses from all the damage to his retna. He's kinda insecure about it, but when he sees how clear your blush is when he wears them?

He will just be between your thighs one night, breath way too hot, with those damn glasses still on because,

"I need to see you Love. Can't do that without 'em."

And he does, he wants to look at every shudder, and the way your lips try to hold those particularly embarrassing moans becuase fuck is Price good at sucking your sould out of your dick.

request:

reader jokingly puts a bell on miguel o’hara since he approaches so quietly he tends to startle you and the other spiders. he tolerates it because the humor improves work morale

little did he know that the bell will be jingling all night as you fuck him mercilessly

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗟

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab! reader, bottom! miguel, public blowjob, anal sex, saliva used as a lubricant, consensual suffocation, breath play, implied reader being a spider. minors dni.

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 my archive of editable images of miguel is over, accept this random edit then. I used a lot of words that I don't know very well, so please let me know if I've used something wrong

It was hard to hear anything but the unbearable jingling of the silver bell reverberating through his sensitive hearing; the little ball of iron inside the round shape swayed with fairy clinks where it was attached to the leather strap that tightened around his neck. A joke, had been how Miguel interpreted the unusual gift you said laughing that it was to know when he approached. A lame joke, but still, he let you close the noisy choker around his neck and accepted the kiss you pressed against his lips pursed in annoyance.

During the day, when the spiders shared laughter and a fun that Miguel didn't understand at the gift you gave him, Miguel hadn't paid attention to how the choker tightened his neck, how it accompanied the rise and fall of his throat ─ that he only noticed when you had him on his knees in a blind spot inside the Spider Society tower, and at the risk of being overheard by all nosy and curious spiders, pressed your cock deep into his tight throat until Miguel gasped and struggled for breath, bell rattling violently. The choker felt like your hands squeezing his neck.

After that, the ringing of the silver bell brought a faraway look that no one understood to his face, no one but you. He was remembering that moment, remembering your cock straining his mouth and the sounds you made each time his fangs grazed your cock, the danger of the act that was enough to make you both come, quickly. He found himself unable to get rid of the accessory.

And Miguel was aware of your eyes fixed on his neck as he spoke. Hypnotized. And he would be lying if he said he didn't know what was coming next.

The bell sounded like a drum as you smacked him against the front door of the apartment before Miguel could even close it. You demanded his attention, ravaging his mouth with symbolic violence and sweet urgency, tearing the civilian clothes Miguel wore until they were mere scraps of rags lying on the floor. All this so you could get your hands on his bare skin, map out the scars, the muscles firm and strong and his cock already eagerly hard for you.

You always seemed to want him so badly that it never ceased to amaze him.

You grabbed his bare thighs and lifted him into the air, pressing his back against the rickety door. As if he weighed nothing. Your strength would always surprise you, not because there wasn't someone stronger than Miguel or unable to take him down with pure physical strength, but because you never used your strength to hurt him, you treated him as something fragile and that should be taken care of.

And when the hurried stretching of his hole left him panting and clinging to you, silently begging for more through his grunts and moans and gasps, you kissed him and using only saliva to facilitate penetration, you slid your cock inside him.

The slide knocked the breath out of Miguel's lungs, the friction undiminished by the makeshift lubrication leaving him feeling every delicious inch of your cock opening in his flesh, demanding space.

Lips against his, even though you weren't kissing anymore and the hand that wasn't holding him high, closing around his neck just inches away from the choker, you started fucking him hard against the door. The bell reverberated with a loud bang, swaying along with your movements in and out of his ass and that was all Miguel could concentrate on: the stretching, the burning still there, the sound of the damn bell.

Miguel's eyes rolled back, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and he searched for air, desperately gasped for oxygen ─ and you didn't have to look at his face to know it, the divine image of open mouth and spittle running down his chin; you could feel his throat rippling under your grip, heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingers. The leather strap there, close to your hand, seemed to become tighter, reflecting the pressure imposed by your fingers.

Miguel was shaking now, talons drawing blood from your shoulders, legs gripping around your waist, unable to move, unable to get away from the deep thrusts he could feel in his stomach or the bell that deafened his senses. He couldn't breathe.

White filled his vision and Miguel gasped as the oxygen suddenly handed back to him, the thud of his head hitting the door a distant sound. Maybe he came, maybe he passed out for a few seconds in your arms, but it didn't matter, he knew you were far from done with him.

I was wondering if you are still doing the courting series that what would happen if someone like ghost it vorangibt figure out your a tiger or a panther as well what would happen ?

Black Panther Ghost With a Cat Variant Reader

In my head, Ghost now uses this information to benefit him in the funniest ways, such as he can get more aggressive during training because he knows you can handle it, or his weird ways of showing affection don’t need explaining because you get it. If you reciprocate back by giving him a lil lick here and there, or making bread on he’ll just gruff and either let you continue or roll himself onto you so that his whole weight is on top of you. This 100% leads to fighting if you try to wrestle him off of you. During training Soaps definitely asked Price if he should intervene between the two of you since things were starting to look a little too intense for his liking. Price just told him the two of you usually practice like this and that it’s normal, afterwards Soap and Gaz hold bets as to who would win by the end of the spar.

I don't know how this happened....

But I'm forever grateful <3

All I can imagine is a reader who lives in a continent full of monsters.

One of the only humans there, or well. Human adjacent.

You make some of your money by being a health care worker for the monsters here, not a healer per say but the closest thing to one any of them can get. You're the go-to for cuts, scrapes, bruises, and dislocated limbs. Even for the more, not human side of the residents.

There's nowhere else to go. It's you or deal with it alone.

You learn their stories, or their scars, even the trauma they have to carry. Like the deep forest Naga, whose flares dull when the clouds start to gather. Or the lycanthop who couwers at any loud sound. You are the only one the youkai trusted to help.

That's not the only way you make your money to keep the medical office stocked.

Many of the creatures or monsters can "shed" certain parts. Like the vampire's teeth, they shed those fangs neat yearly, or the avians, the false angles, who mault. But other times, when things like corpses or amputations are a must to hold. You can use those parts, too.

What did those human rulers who exiled you expect?

That a mortician would just be happy to sit down and watch the people around them fumble with basic injuries and watch those small little cuts fester and rot, let alone the major injuries that come about.

You had a fucking medical and veterinary doctorate so you where going to use it.

If that means dismantling the dead or selling off the things you don't keep for study or as trinkets to keep that medical practice open?

Then gladly.

Cant stop thinking about the COD men interaction with a K-9 unit reader who copies their K-9 partners noises.

Everything from growling with the hound to whining or even having dog like mannerisms you know?

<first part is done it!!!!>

May or may not be hung over thinking about a feline könig.....

Fuck it.

Km gonna write it.

Don't mic alcohol kids, never drink clear liquor, then drink after cloudy. Don't dink more than one kind of alcohol. Stick to what you started with, with water between.

Prob the only reason I'm conscious today.

"Just, please... please. I'll beg."

Poly_TF_141 x sex-demon_reader Prt:2

Read part 1 here 》 ....

A_N:... Continuation of the previous! This is part two, and to do with Werewolf Soap going into 'heat' but not the abo kinda heat. Soo, expect more wolf like behavior, and again, the same warnings apply.

CW.|.TW:... Sexual content. Intended male reader. Bottom but Dom reader. Polly-cule TF 141. Religious depictions of demons. Allusion to Reader having an Eating Disorder and the recovery there of. Ghost x Soap x Reader

It had taken some time and effort, but finally, finally, you were OK with the casual emotion that the team shared with one another.

Being a permanent member of the team seemed to help. You even put on weight in the recent months that you've actually fed semi regularly, although it wasn't anywhere near what you should be getting but it was miles better then the months you used to starve through.

Price made sure that any time between missions, there was some form of sexual intention in his team.

Not the hardest thing when all of them have been intemit with each other for years before you joined in with the physical side of things. And Price let you have your fill of him whenever he saw that drop in you again.

But someone else came knocking that night.

A blushing Soap who was leaning heavily on your door frame, looking almost shy for his bulkier body. He hardly says anything as you beckon him in. Eyes still down cast even as he leaves the door ajar and is sitting all but an inch away from you.

"I wan'ed te ask ya if yeh would..." he starts, blush spreading down his neck. "Can ye. I just wanted.."

That's when you felt a pulse of a sweeter emotion, a spiking arousal that was tainted with a primal urge. This absolute need for something so deeply sexual it was practically making your mouth water.

"Your lycanthopic urge?" You question,

"Aye, my heat kinda snuck up on me." He answers with a curt nod. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers find his chin, easily lifting his stubble edged jaw, so he was nose to nose with you.

Soap had dilated pupils, only elipsed by this thin sliver of his irus. Those needs already making his mind want to lean in and chase those lips of yours. Instead, he flicks his eyes back up, that emotion growing thicker, sweeter, with the movement.

"Just please..." he half begs, already so desperate. "Please. I'll beg. I'll go away if ye don't wanna, but I just.."

"Ok, I will lend you help."

You've hardly gotten the sentence out before Soap jumps you. Stealing breathless kiss after breathless kiss.

Guiding your hands to his skin, slipping them under his clothes, and soaking in the warmth with your skin on his. He gets so touch starved, so sensitive to it, when he's like this.

You near fucking his throat with a long split toungue isn't helping him think any more coherently. He tried to ignore the gentle tangle of your hands as you started getting him undressed. Body more demonic with the crackling desires streaming from Johnny's need for intimacy.

"You still got your mind in one peace there lad?"

A deep rumble follows from the door, Ghost standing there with his head tilted. Commenting, "Dumb Mutt just got one thing on his mind."

"You came to watch or pass along something or another."

"Oh, I wanna watch."

Simon crosses the distance from the door to your bed in two quick strides, fingers gliding in the panting Soap's hair. Pulling him back by the grip he has on the werewolf's Mohawk.

"Mainly to see this one don't hurt ya, hun. But to see if yah would need help."

Johnny rolls his hips against your thigh, toungue lulling out past his fangs and bruised lips. Eyes unfocused as he tries to keep his body still while miserably failing.

"Can get a bit one tracked and forget who's helpen 'em. And Price warned me yah got a habit of ignoring yourself."

"Acceptable. Just help me strip him before he cums in his pants."

"Alright hun."

You end up kneeling with Soap, hopelessly humping against your thighs with you stretching out your back so you can reach for Ghost as he leans back. Your hands trace over the fat of his thighs before using your tail to wrap around Johnny's waist, keeping a firm grip to help him actually get what he wants.

His cock already painfully hard, pulsing with each beat his heart had. He was happy to be pulled to where you wanted him, all but panting into your nape as he ruts up against you.

It's always that first breach that knocks the breath from you, but Soap sits still after he's fully sheathed. Just trying to feel as much as he can with skin against skin as that lusty haze fills his mind.

When he does start moving, it's at a brutal pace. Hardly pulling out before shoving back in all the way. Jolting your whole body.

That thickly suffocating emotion had your throat vibrating in the closest thing your kin could produce to a purr. Easily keeping him steady and against you with your tail. You could feel his back tense and ripple with each roll of his hips, with your tail snugly against his waist as he licks along any skin he can.

You heal too fast for him to see the hackies he's working along your shoulders, but the darker marks of his teeth do stick just a bit longer.

It's Simon who traces the rivets of your ram like horns, eyes watching the hitch in your breath. Fingers ever so gentle as he traces all the dents and scrapes along them; careful to rub his palms down the curve against your skull. And you can taste the lust that's just as strong from him.

When Soap had cum with a snarl, as he bared his teeth against your spine, you could feel how the tired feeling was pulsing along the need to keep going. He was hard and needy as he couldn't set a rhythm with the fatigue settling along.

He must have tried to get off before getting the courage to ask for your help.

Feeling a bit sorry for the werewolf, you roll him over; turning to face Simon as you hover over Johnny's body. Watching as Soap mouths over Simon's dick through his boxers, those sex blown eyes watching him.

When you started the roll off your hips, against the shivering Soap who moans egging you on; you saw Ghost lift his gaze. Watching you ride the other with ease.

"Shit." Ghost comments,

He hefts himself up to his knees, nearly covering Johnny's face with his crotch. The wolf didn't seem to mind. Just mouthing and licking at all he could reach. Soaking more of the fabric with his spit.

"Price gave this view no justice when he told me 'bout it."

Redoubled your efforts as more warmth flooded you, but Soap didn't soften. He only meets every roll down with a thrust up.

"Don't know why any of you enjoy it, and not the action."

Johnny is whimpering under Ghost, body trembling in over stimulation. Mind lost in the throws of the absolute pleasure you're helping pump through his very soul.

"More ta do with ya looking like yah enjoying yaself then the act alone."

"You have to be none-"

Those fingers dance over your horns, finally pulling a quiet noise from you. He leaned into you, sharing the quick hiffs of air you're both taking.

"That," Ghost repeats the action. You don't moan this time, but the effect is still evident. "Is what we enjoy of this."

"Prove it."

"Gladly hun." Before his eyes roll back into his skull, "Fuck... watch the teeth soldier."

Soap had pulled his boxers off with just his teeth, getting to his dick. At the comment, Johnny bared his teeth against the intimate skin of Simon's inner thigh. So close to him that the danger runs his blood just that bit hotter.

And for all that Ghost likes the danger, that bit of pain, he doesn't actually want to bite him. And not nearly as hard as he bites at you.

"He will tire out soon, just a warning."

Simon clasps at your horns, pulling you closer by them.

"Not for long hun, he'll be up and wanting more in no time." He presses his lips against yours, mumbling with a smirk, "and I wanna tag team him when he does."