Be4 I Work On All The Requests In My Inbox, Lemme Do Some Food For Thought. Spider!mike X Silk!reader

be4 i work on all the requests in my inbox, lemme do some food for thought. spider!mike x silk!reader

→ mike becoming spiderman was the worse and best thing that’s happened to him. worst: it was harder to pay the bills and take care of Abby. the city constantly needed him costed him many jobs and opportunities of bonding with Abby.

→ best: he made met you. though you and him never revealed your identities to each other, he found his twin flame. since you and him had been bitten by the same spider, the magnetic attraction between you two was unbearable.

(he’s actually convinced you to have upside down sex with him🤭)

→ “fuck.” Mike thanked his intelligence for making a fly in his suit. he could easily whip himself out without removing all his clothes. you were pressed against at the wall in one of the shady alleys Mike had urgently found. you were babbling noises. you wanted to moan his name, letting him know who your cunt belongs to. but you didn’t know his name. “remind me to piss you off more.” you chuckle. your walls clamp around him, making his hips thrust harder in you. Mike was getting lost in his daze. he gripped at your mask like it was your hair, accidentally pulling it off. “shit!” he groans, his seed spilling in you. he opens his eyes, looking at his hand holding your mask. “shit…i’m sorry.” he mumbles, giving you your mask back. you chuckle, pulling your mask down, “we’ll get there soon, Spiderman.”

taglist ;; @baumbii

i just got recced…

AAHHH

THANK YOU SM ! !🩷🩷

Fav Keanu writers? I'm so new to the fandom, and totally need recs! 😍😊

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I would love to tell you some of my favorite writers! This isn't a super big fandom, especially if you're looking for non-john wick works (I love him too I get it 😩), so it's really important to make sure we support the writers we do have <3

Some of my favorites are: @iovesia @meltingcandyheart @desoolate @neoinfinity @dyysania @fushic0re @sickzmbie @writers-advocate

I would love love loveee to see more keanuverse writers in the future! Reading others fics is just as important as writing your own, and I love seeing other's takes on different characters he's played <3

KEEP QUIET , BABY

synopsis ; just you riding eddie cause he’s drunk and horny. notes ; bruh i honestly don’t know , drunk!eddie , semi-public sex (no one can see it but it’s a public setting) , venom talking eddie is in bold (only once though)

“come on.” he slurs, pushing you in the big stall. he was giggling to himself, or something venom said to him. he locks the door before stumbling towards you, slotting his lips on yours.

“eddie, you’re drunk.” you manage to say in the kiss. “i don’t care. you’re not either way, babe.” he twirls the both of you so your back is facing the stall door.

he flips the lid of the toilet down, pulling his pants down and sitting on the lid. “fuck, i need you baby.” you pull your bottoms off while he struggles to pull his boxers off, laughing at himself.

“you’re an idiot, eddie.” venom criticizes how drunk and loopy he is. “i’m tryin’ , vee.”

the boxers drop to his knees. he pulls you on his lap, his length slipping in you easily due to how wet you were. “eddie.” you gasp. you needed to adjust to his size a bit.

it’s been a while since you and him had sex since vee always wanted to be the protector of san antonio at night.

“move, baby.” he grabs your ass, squeezing a bit.

getting caught wasn’t even on your mind at this point. every time you bounced, he grunted and whined. “eddie, hush.” the alcohol made him more sensitive than usual.

or maybe because you were clenching around him so much.

he couldn’t hold it in anymore. his moans were probably heard from outside the bathroom. “baby, you’re being too loud.” you chuckle, putting a hand over his mouth.

he whined as you moved a little slower. “baby!” his hands traveled underneath your shirt and bra, playing with your breasts.

if there was one thing you liked about eddie when he was drunk was how vulnerable he would get. sexually or not. he was always cute to see.

his hips plunge into you, eddie now taking over. “you were taking too long.” he removes your hand off his mouth. he squeezed on your breasts from time to time; a way from him to contain his moans.

”fuck, you looked so hot earlier. and now you’re all fucked on my cock.” he teases, biting your neck. “i love you. i fucking love you.” he slaps your ass, triggering you to let go unexpectedly.

“fuck!” you cry out. your eyes rolled back as his hips pistons in you harshly.

his teeth sinks in you before you feel his load pour into you. “fucking shit.” he groans. “i don’t think i’m drunk anymore.” he chuckles.

JOHN WICK + PRIMAL KINK (kinda?)

inspo ;

”stop running away or i can stop right fucking now.” he twirls your hair around his wrist, tugging your back to his bare chest. his sudden burst of aggression made you whimper and shake.

after getting his car back from abram, bruised, full of adrenaline and clearly upset, he saw that it was only fit that he took his anger out on you. not in way that hurts your feelings. but to abuse your cunt. to make your brain turn into putty as your cunt squeezes around him, coating his cock with your arousal.

“this cunt belongs to me. me only. mine to fuck, abuse, pleasure. whatever i please to do to you, you will take it all.”

the apples of your cheeks were red, glazed by your tears that would momentarily roll down. “john, please.” you beg —pleaded— for him to slow down a bit, give you some grace.

but grace was and has never been in his vocabulary. he killed people for a living. with his bare hands that are now wrapped around your throat. how silly are you to ask for mercy?

“begging gets you nowhere, sweetheart. you need to earn it.” he chuckles darkly, his hot breath tickling your neck. a sharp thrust was enough to send you over the edge, your back arching as you reached your climax.

“baby, you might be done. but i still need a release.

me while writing this ;;

taglist ;; @iovesia

today was a tragic day for the COD cosplay fandom. i am not one to be interested nor do i really get those types of videos on my for you page.

about a week ago, i came across a keegan's mask (whose account is now deleted) video "exposing" inquisitore3 for grooming and pedo activity. i wasn't invested in the drama but it was still in my mind. i didn't think much of it because she didn't bring much context or evidence to the table for us to observe.

then, maybe two days ago, i saw a video of some moron(s) breaking into his house. for what? i will do not know.

and comes today. i received the devasting news that inquisitore3 took his life on live the day prior. my heart sunk. i may not have known much about the creator but an innocent life was taken because minors were bored with their lives. it's a shock to me how low humans will go for any type of entertainment.

i may not be the right person to speak on this, but i feel sorry for those...incels. i feel sorry that they are so messed up to the point that they drive a man to insanity and suicide. i feel sorry for keegan's mask for her lack of morals and self-respect for herself that she can make fun of a pained man and only acknowneledge her mistake when an irreversable choice was made.

there are so many words i could type about but i would be here for centuries.

my deepest condolences to his family and friends. he will be deeply missed.

AGRYDVDJD JE

i’m acc bussing nuts

❛⠀TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.

kinktober 2023. — day one.

synopsis. a simple job as a counselor at your local summer camp becomes more than what you bargained for when bodies start dropping.

✶⠀ ׅ⠀ ࣪⠀warnings. slasher!john wick 𝑥 f!reader — extreme dub-con. fuck or die. murder. gore. doggy position. machetes. size kink. major character death. friday the 13th au. 1.5k words.

josie's little note. slutty slasher szn's officially begun! i'm vv excited to share this with you guys! had to postpone this fic for a hot second— but hope you enjoy ♡🔪 !!

THE CHILDREN’S SCREAMING ECHOED THROUGH YOUR BRAIN.

You groaned, rubbing your temples tiredly as the sun beamed down on you. Your terribly short camp counsellor uniform allowed the rays to gently warm your skin, as you adjusted the sun glasses on your face. It was a nauseatingly hot summer’s day in July— and the joyus screams of the campers festered a migraine. 

“Hey, don’t run!” You call out to the two little girls whose feet padded alongside the lake bend. The two pigtailed wearing campers merely giggle at your expense, before continuing to run down to the dock filled with other campers. 

Lifeguard duty was truly your least favourite shift. You’d give anything to trade places with Michela’s aerobics group or Jake’s hiking activity. Anything to get out of this unbearable July sun. Sweat beads spouted on your forehead as you weaky fanned yourself with today’s schedule. 

A sudden loud burst snaps you from your sweaty daze as you jump up in surprise. Your eyes catch the sight of two older kids and a sad, torn inflatable toy. The plastic swims along the lake as the two boys look awkwardly at you.

“Are you kidding me?!” you groan, irritation burning on your skin along with the heat. Pulling your red shades back down, you make your way down to the dingy, old shack near the docks. A dusty little storage unit that your camp director keeps putting off on rebuilding. You let out a cough when the cloud of dust hits your face. The door damn near tears off from its weak, copper hinge. 

“I’m so not doing this gig again,” you mumble bitterly as you enter. The soft rays of sunshine in through the cracked window as you search for a replacement inflatable. The dusty plastic toy catches your eye on the bottom shelf, and as you lean down to grab it— 

Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

The hoarse quiet whisper that’s been haunting you for the last two weeks of summer. The whisper that echoed in your ears, and sent the cool breeze down your spine. The whisper that had a pair of eyes watching you. 

YOU RAN.

Your worn out converse hit the bark of the forest, the tree branches slapping roughly against you as you hurry through the dark outdoors. The stain of Michela’s blood on your face, and the stench of it that burned your nostrils boiled bile in your throat.

 Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

That whisper rings through the forest, along with the sound of metal slashing and a masculine scream… then a loud thud. Your friends were being slaughtered left right and centre. The memories of Jake’s decapitated head rolling towards you made you want to hurl, scream and cry all at once. But, for now you just ran. Ran from the 6’1, machete wielding maniac.

You heard the folk stories, and the legends of John Wick— the boogeyman. What was supposed to be one of Brad’s stupid stories to scare the boys and girls at camp, became your unfortunate reality. 

Stupidly, you run onto the docks, leaving you in the wide open. For a moment, all goes quiet. You pant loudly and weakly, sobs wracking your chest as you look around tearfully for any means of escape. 

Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

Creak.

A heavy footstep rests on the dock. Followed by another.. And then another.

You’re too terrified to turn around— or too slow to do anything as a large hand snatches your shoulder, and spins you around to face the inevitable. Letting out a blood curdling scream when you come face to face with your worst nightmare. John.

The brutish giant who towered over you, wearing what appears to be a leather coat and jeans— all gloriously painted with the blood and guts of your fellow counsellors. He glared at you coldly, his hand damn near pushing you back off the dock and into the murky waters. You watch frozen in fear as his blood covered hand lifts his machete, preparing you for your demise.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” You sob desperately, the moonlight bouncing off the machete and shining onto your face as John holds you over the ledge of the dock. “Please, don’t do this! I’ll do anything!”

John stares at you blankly, his firm hand still gripping tightly onto your top. Time freezes for what feels like ages before he lifts you back up off the ledge. He quirks his brow, his facial expression speaking for himself.

“Anything, please, just don’t kill me,” you beg desperately. John’s eyes trail from your puffy red face, past your breathing neck, to your breasts that rose up and down with each shaky breath. The colour drains from your face when you follow his eyes that scan your body hungrily. Wordlessly, you knew. John’s quick in his movements to push your helpless body down to the dock floor. 

A loud wooden crack rings out and pain blooms in your side as your head bangs against the docks. Your delicate face scratched along the rough wood of the docks as John’s machete slices cleanly up the pant-leg of your shorts. The bloodied metal snags at your underwear as well as the flimsy material falls off your body and you gasp at the sudden cold wind hiding your rear and cunt. Humiliating tears brim your eyes when John’s grimy hands spread you apart, his knee pushing yours further out— almost putting you on display. 

John’s low breathing reverberates in your ears and you hear the glob of spit forming between his lips as it stretches down, hitting your cold skin. Your body trembles as John’s fingers slide the spit in between your folds, and rip a gasp from your throat as he plunges his index and pointer finger into your small hole. 

“Shit— fuck—” you hiss under your breath.

John simply hums at your reaction, his face remains stoic. If he’s enjoying your reactions, he’s not showing it. He slides his fingers in and out of your cunt, his one act of mercy to prepare you for his final kill. Your dignity. The squelching of your wet cunt plays over the sound of crickets and the lake moving. His agonisingly slow movements serve to prolong this tortuous and depraved experience. You whimper when John’s hands disappear, leaving your empty cunt to clench the air. 

Ziiiipppp.

Swallowing the lump in your throat as you hear John’s belt buckle hit the floor. His large hand suddenly presses your head down harder against the wooden dock, the faint splinters digging into your soft cheeks. Tears well in your eyes, and you internally pray to the souls of your dead colleagues for forgiveness for what’s about to happen. Just as you try to lift your head up against his hand, your eyes meet your reflection as the machete violently stabs into the dock… Right next to your head.

“Don’t.”

He says firmly, sending chills down your spine. You whimper, like a little lamb to the slaughter. John’s hand returns to your head, his grip tighter as he holds you down. The head of his thick tip teasingly slides up and down between your wet folds. His other hand holds tightly onto the fat of your waist, dirty nails digging into your soft skin as his fat cock plunges slowly into your cunt.

His cock just hit so deep, and your small pussy is stretched to the brim. A choked sob dies in your throat as John’s eyes grow half-lidded, and a quiet sigh escapes from him. Your warm cunt engulfed him so well as he gradually moved his hips back and forth. His mushroom tip kissed your cervix, you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

You whimpered and sobbed, your lower lip in between your pearly white teeth as you bite down. The maroon copper taste fills your mouth with John’s unrelenting thrusts only getting faster. As a fruitless attempt to dry your tears up, you squeeze your eyes closed. John’s cock keeps rhythmically moving in and out of your walls, using your warm body like a ragdoll. Hot tears slide down your face, and John’s sweat hits your back, his dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes never left the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

Something stirred in your lower belly, and your toes curled in your converse shoes as guilt swam in your chest. You opened your legs, and spread your cunt for the assailant who murdered your friends.. and you were enjoying it.

John’s hold on your body grew harder, when his thrusts got faster and faster. Through short huffs and tight grips, you could tell he was close. Suddenly, you felt John spurt a thick rope inside of you, filling your exhausted cunt to the brim with his seed. The pants and sobs fall from your mouth as your body collapses against the dock. The pleasure quickly be replaced with shame and horror, as John stands up, towering over your frame. 

You wince at the sharp sound of the machete being pulled from the docks. Your eyes follow his every move as his bloodied hand holds the handle of the machete, lifting it above his head, his dark eyes squint at you. Your eyes widen.

“No.. No, no, wait!”

Fin.

— taglist. @alwaysinblck @sickzmbie @hearteyedbambi @worldsgreatestsinner @rizunaur @cillivnz @beansricejc @97keanu @the-trash-site @keanuthot @sulibbyyyyy @20s7nn @aerangi @alyssagames01 @prongsio @starrgurl46 @nogr4vity

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