#[ ⇢ ��ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]

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★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches. 

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed. 

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet. 

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had. 

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs. 

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me." 

Your brows creased together in confusion. 

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game. 

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp. 

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy. 

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips. 

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax. 

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you. 

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

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★  𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. miguel o’hara and the nsfw alphabet challenge.

─── ☆ notes. anyone got a slime tutorial link to the new movie yet? . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.5k (11 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | headcanon's | not movie canon | no movie spoilers | creampies | facials | cum play | jerking off | oral sex | eye contact | body worship | size kink | height difference | over stimulation | edging | jealousy | teasing | possessiveness | marking | biting | slight sub/dom | cuddling | let me know if I missed any | not beta'd.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Miguel isn’t the type to wind down that quickly, but he is extremely considerate of your feelings and well-being, most of the time he’s making sure you're okay. Especially since the last thing he ever wants is to make you seem unwanted after having sex with him.

That being said, it did take him a while to get used to the whole cuddling and comfort thing. You swear, at the beginning of your relationship, it was like trying to hug one big bear, but as you two spent more time together, he started to crave just having you wrapped in his arms and listening to your heartbeat every now and then.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

He could go on and on about how much he loves every part of you; seriously, you could tell because of how much he cannot keep his hands off of you, but realistically, his answer in the back of his mind is your mouth and thighs. He’s so down bad. 

Whenever you try talking to him, you always catch him staring at your lips like he’s just starving to kiss you. It's the same situation with your thighs as well. Sometimes you would be standing around the house in the mind of a conversation and suddenly feel Miguel’s fingers groping the plush of your thighs, gawking at your legs like he has no home training.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it) 

Oh brother, this man is a mess in the head, he loves, I mean loves, to see you covered in his cum: facials, creampies, you name a place on your body for him to cum on, and he’ll do it with pleasure.

There’s just something about seeing your soft brown skin painted with traces of him all over your body, especially when he would cum inside you. His favorite thing to do is spread your legs and watch it spill out, only to push it all back in and give you another load. 

D= Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory)

Miguel is a very pent-up possessive man, no matter what he does, he just can't get enough of you, which leaves him feeling extremely needy whenever you're gone or just don't feel in the mood. He would just jack off at the thought of you to relieve himself.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

You had expected him to come from around the entire block from the easy he would pick you up and fuck you, but surprisingly, Miguel only really had a handful of partners in his past—nothing too extreme. 

F= Favorite position

He says he isn't really picky, yet somehow you always end up with your stomach pressed against some surface. Most of the time he sees no point in containing himself, plus weight isn't really an issue on his behalf. Whenever your legs give out from standing, he’ll just pick your ass up as if you weighed absolutely nothing and keep the same pace.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He likes to completely mirror your emotions or help you ease up more. He's very big on paying attention to the smallest detail, so if you're someone who feels a little anxious or nervous, no matter how many times you two have had sex, he needs to break that broadening act to crack a few dry jokes or shower you in compliments to make you feel more comfortable.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

This man is covered in dark hair from chest to toe. He doesn't really find the amount of body hair alarming, but he doesn't like to upkeep his pubic hair a bit, especially giving himself a trim whenever he wears his spider suit. He just doesn't really care that much to shave it all off, but if you asked him too, he wouldn't mind much.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty) 

He’s pretty reluctant to be overly smothering, with his inmate moments just coming out of the blue, especially with his cold attitude. Most of the time, when you think he’s tense, he’ll switch, turn around, and start praising you. Sometimes he doesn't realize it, but most of the time it's always after he feels like he went a bit too far with degrading you, so he switches up just to even it all out with praise and saying how good you make him feel while holding eye contact.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Miguel just has the habit of stressing himself out all the damn time, and half of the time it's always over him being too worked up. Whenever he has a moment alone and you just can't be there, he likes to turn to his memory of you to help work off some of his tension.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Marking. I’m talking biting, scratches, hickeys, and God forbid Miguel sees the fingerprint bruises forming on your hips after he lets you ride him. Just the thought of having traces of him all over you makes that possessive switch in him go haywire.

Size kink. He’s a big guy through and through, and no matter what, he makes sure to remind you of your size difference. Blessed tall and broad, standing next to you, he’s practically a brick wall with the audacity to have a big dick.

Eye contact. Dear Lord, you better hope you laid down in one of his favorite positions and he hasn't fucked the common sense out of you by the time you're about to cum because Miguel will twist you like a hot pretzel and have you begging like your life depended just to hear you say his name and while you look into his eyes.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Anywhere with privacy and on every surface he could reach—floor, wall, upside—doing the splits, Miguel damn near used webs to find a way to have you against him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Miguel will get turned on by the smallest of things: you stretching near him, you wearing his clothes, you looking at him, you saying his name in a certain way, you, you, you. It's like he has brain rot, and you're all he can think about.

But he also likes it when you get angry or annoyed with him; there's just something about you snapping at him and trying to put him in his place that gets him going.

N= No (turn offs or absolutely won’t do)

Pegging, piss and poop. 

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are) 

He loves giving more than receiving, mostly because he prefers it. There’s just something about teasing and edging you until you can't handle it anymore that leaves him wanting to lay you back and spread you open for hours on end.

But if you're offering, it's completely your loss. Miguel loves sitting back and watching you struggle trying not to gag or fit him entirely down your throat; either way, it's a free show for him.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Whenever he’s feeling less merciful and wants to spice things up from the usual fucking you until your lace sweats off type sex, he loves to just see how long he can push you to the edge (which is a lot more days than you’d like to think), and he will be petty and take it super slow just to see your body twitch and squirm for more of his attention.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Even if you're the one offering quickies, it always ends up with you having to reschedule your plans.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He’s open to new ideas but never really offers any himself. Miguel completely trusts you and is willing to do whatever you want for your pleasure, but just know that nothing at the end of the day will get him off but you.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

You have to remind him most times that you don't have the same enhanced superhuman abilities as he does. No matter how many times he tries to make you cum in just one night. You swear sometimes it's like you're fighting for your fucking life just to catch one five-minute break.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Is the type to feel a bit insulted if you ever mentioned having one or using one until you would regret offering him to use a vibrater on you. Like you handed a murder a knife the moment he found your rose toy and figured out how to use it. 

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

There is no sex without a bit of teasing with Miguel; he definitely pushes you a lot just to get a reaction out of you normally, so doing it in bed only comes naturally to him, and if you're not begging, he ain't giving. 

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

He does not shut the fuck up! You will hear him, whether it's grunting on top of you, raspy whimpering in your ear, or talking you through it. Miguel is very vocal, just not as loud with his moans since he prefers to hear yours instead.

W= Wild card (random sin cannon of any sort)

Has absolutely no issues with letting you ride him with the suit on. 

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Slightly less tanned than his skin tone, with a slight curve to the left, and too girthy for his own good.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Surprisingly, not that high, especially since he isn't a really big PDA person and the only time he ever gets worked up is in the comfort of privacy.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Sometimes you have to trick him into falling asleep with you. Dude has really bad insomnia, but having you all cuddled up next to him really helps with his shit sleeping schedule.

🔖 ...

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★  𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐄.

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. the end is near, the time has come surrender yourself to the submissive men apocalypses.

✧. ┊    notes. went on my first date and came back with a submissive men addiction,, ya'll pray that i don't get addicted to this man (there's no way that he mentally knocked me out of my writers block fit) . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

    SUBMISSIVE MEN APOCALYPSE, I'm talking about men who will absolutely crack open and melt the second that they make eye contact with you.

It could be in the middle of him talking and telling you about his day, and in the split second that you glanced up from your phone to pay attention to him, he started stuttering over his words and had to start over from the beginning of his story because of how flustered you made him.

I’m talking about men who whine and cling to you for reassurance, even over the simplest things.

You'd be in a totally different room from your shared apartment, and he’d come barreling in, snuggling into your personal space, none verbally begging for your attention. He might even pout from the other side of the room until you finally give in and acknowledge him.

I’m talking about men who promise their boss that they will finally come in to work on time, only to get distracted by just how naturally pretty you look lounging on the bed, minding your business as you feel the right side of the bed creak under his weight.

“Just one kiss, please,” he’ll mutter. You couldn’t hide the dangerous grin that spread across your lips as he crawled on top of you. The once innocent peck is not surprisingly turning into something more heated as the feeling of his erection pressed against your thigh shamelessly.

"I'm going to be late," he mutters against the curve of your neck and shoulder before pressing kisses into the flesh, shivering against his mouth as he sucks hickies into their respective places.

Submissive men who practically tremble against you, with his chest pressed into your back and his hand placed under the hook of your rear to shove his hips at just the perfect feral position for his dick to be buried snuggly into your cunt, that same position that has him whimpering and groaning your name like a plead.

heavy on — angel devil, eren yeager, hiromi higuruma, satoru gojo, nanami kento, kenma kozume & armin arlert

🔖 ?

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★  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓. + 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. the jjk men and how perverted they would be to their partner.

─── ☆ notes. sorry for being flakey i've been recovering from having Agust D tickets stolen right out of my hands (i was too late putting in my card information) so i'm pretty much in constant mourning at the moment. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | masterbation | scent kink | oral sex | facials | marking | possessiveness | manipulation(?) | sub/dom | switching | brat taming | voyeurism | exhibitionism | mentions of multiple partners | sadism | biting | rough sex | cock warming | creampie | is you see a typo simply ignore it | title inpso by this song.

★     NANAMI KENTO !

‣ He would take it to the grave, though, with the type of things he would do when he did not have your comfort: tucking his shoes to the side and tossing aside his tie after a long day at work, all those rightful morals get tossed aside as well, seeing you had left to go back to your own home, leaving the almost overbearing traces of you against his mattress and pillows.

‣ tucking his face into his bed sheets while he slowly reaches down to undo the buckle of his belt, his hand creeping under the button of his pants in search to help ease the tension that grew as his erection engulfed in him what was left of you.

‣ grunting pathetically as he stuffed his face against his pillow, fucking his fist, the thought of your body, the things you two would do under the sheets.

‣ He will do anything he needs to do to not ruin his gentlemanly persona, his thoughts about you are more tamed and docile than those of the others, who would be more open with their thoughts.

‣ but I feel like Nanami wouldn’t really show his true nature no matter how many times you poke and prod at him, taunting him sexually, he’ll always make it seem as if you are the one that always suggests something first.

‣ I feel like he's also very into seeing you cry, especially if you like light bondage, whether he’s tying your hands together with his tie or holding your wrist behind your back with his belt.

‣ But on a rare occasion, like when he’s just mentally exhausted and really craving your touch and needs a little widedown, he can't help but  be a little touchy and needy for some sense of comfort.

‣ That comfort comes in a lot of ways: cuddling, making out, handjobs, and helping his very terrible oral fixation that never fails to have you fall victim to house mouth by spreading out on top of any and every surface in his home with your thighs trembling as your knee was bent over his shoulder.

★     GOJO SATORU !

‣ This man is very shameless and vocal about the things he wants and will do to you, so shameless that you have to apologize to anyone within a hearing radius.

‣ He literally does not care and does not have an ounce of decorum in his body.

‣ No matter how much he teases you for being "obsessed," you both know damn well how overly possessive he is over you and your body. There is never a time your two are in the same room and he doesn't have his hands all over you.

‣ The problem is that he isn't ashamed of talking about the things he wants to do with you to literally any poor victim willing to listen; he had the dedicated photo album full of saved selfies and pictures and the very lewd picture of you in lingerie tucked in his wallet, ready to be pulled out at any unfortunate time.

‣ The more you two get comfortable and closer, I feel like he will get more whiny and needy for your physical contact and attention, touching and kissing all over you in public.

‣  Kissing all over you, including the multiple items he would spoil you with, ranging from expensive lingerie in his favorite color to little trinkets that remind him of you. His favorite thing to do is buy you clothes and have you try them on in front of him.

‣  He just cannot keep his hands to himself, especially when you look so good in the sexy suit he bought from Victoria Secret that just complimented your boobs so much. It shouldn't be a surprise that it only takes him a glance before he’s tugging your panties to the side and fucking you against the wall.

★     TOJI FUSHIGURO !

‣ Another shameless man who does not give a fuck where he is or who’s around; when he wants you, he wants you.

‣ Definitely more subtle compared to Gojo (which isn't saying much).

‣ He’s just a major tits guy and loves when you post selfies with cleavage just to screenshot for his gallery and zoom in on your chest.

‣ If you happen to be in his company, rather than lounging around cuddling, his hands will at some point end up under your shirt, fondling your chest and pinching your nipples, using your boobs like a personal stress ball, and if he's not doing that, his head is tucked under your shirt, sucking hickies on them as if it were some normal occurrence.

‣ There’s no normal moment when you're dating Toji; this man knows he can act upon his lewd desires and will tuck your panties in his back pocket after sex as if they were some type of award for making you finish twice.

‣  He’s a man with artistic ability; that being said, he likes how you look covered in his cum; rather, it's all over your face, boobs, buttocks, and stomach. You better believe he’s pulling out and painting all over you.

‣ will get a little whiny whenever you try to clean yourself off, but it's fine because the moment you get out of the shower, he’s tapping you in for another round (rest in peace your ability to walk straight).

 ‣ He does not have a single shameless bone in his body; in fact, he loves it when you catch him doing something pervy; he only gets more excited.

‣ Rather its jerking off with your underwear and possibly grunting out your name knowing you're a step away, the moment that door swings open, he’s holding eye contact and fucking his fist.

‣ As much as people assume Toji to be some hard dom I feel like he does have a bit of a bratty side, and it does not help that he can get super petty, especially if he doesn't get what he wants. Oh, lord, that man will teasingly taunt like there's no tomorrow.

‣ And the worst part is that he does it as if he isn't the one practically whining for you to touch him.

‣ Don't even bother trying to get payback, whether it's trying to get him winded up with a cute lewd text or sending a sext picture of yourself, he will hit back ten times as hard and even make you drag it out until he’s the one with the upper hand.  

★     GETO SUGURU !

‣ okay… So I know what I said about Gojo being the most perverted, but I think that Geto might sometimes give him a run for his money.

‣ He's got the shameless thing all checked, in fact, he's so shameless that he makes you feel embarrassed and flustered, as if you're the one at fault.

‣ He is the same with Toji, he doesn't care who’s near doesn't matter he has his hands all over you, taunting and teasing you right in front of his friends he does not give a single care.

‣ He loves getting you all flustered in public, no matter who’s listening, he will straight out ask you to touch him whenever he feels like it.

‣ He loves the thought of you coming undone with an audience watching how much he can please you, a possessive sense of pride waving over him as he fucks you in front of everyone, telling them exactly who you belong to as you moan out his name. As long as you keep your eyes on him, there won't be a problem.

‣ frames lewd pictures of you, I’m not even kidding.

‣ I feel like he would have one of those huge portraits of you modeled in fancy lingerie hung like art in his living room, or small portraits of you in his bedroom.

‣ When you first noticed them, he just sort of smirked as you tried to tell him off.

★     SUKUNA RYOMEN !

‣ Oh brother, this dude gets grimy with it. 

‣ He’s got a major god complex, so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that he doesn't see that what he’s doing is perverted, downright bad, to the point where he calls you a pervert for still liking him knowing the type of shit he’s into.

‣ Is a panty sniffing, dick stepping, fucking in public or even while his friends watch, watching you shower, jacking off while laying next to you, type of freak.

‣ Let's step back and backtrack on that friend thing. To everyone's surprise, Sukuna loves sharing, so much so that he’s into watching you get passed around by his friends.

‣ Practically invented voyeurism, loves the look on your face while you're getting railed, but only while you hold eye contact with him and moan his name while you're with some other dude.

‣ Sure he’s possessive, but in cocky way. 

‣ He knows he’s better than any other man you’ll ever be with, he’s the best thing that has ever graced your silly little pitbull life, so no matter how many times you complain about some sad pitful fuck, he knows it’ll never beat the multiple times he’d leave you trembling from just his mouth.

‣ He’s a huge tease with his tongue and long fingers, you’d have to be in tears and whimpering out his name before he'd consider pulling his dick out and fucking you.

‣ Is very huge on crying, whether it's from overstimulation or you just being overwhelmed from being angry at him. Just know the little devils on both sides of his shoulders are practically barking at him to bend you over and fuck you when the tears start spilling. 

‣ He’s a mean fucking, hair tugging, biting, leaving bruises, slapping, degrading—you could name anything that inflicts some sort of pain, and Sukuna has already tried it.

‣ But on the very rare occasion when he allows you too to take just a bit of charge, his desperate side does get a chance to shine out more, begging for you to let him cum in you, begging for you to give him orders.

‣ Sex will always end with you feeling like some type of jelly-filled doughnut (I'm so sorry), and he refuses to cum anywhere else but inside of you, let alone let you move from his grasp when he’s done. Best believe you’re keeping his cock warm for the rest of the night.

🔖 @souljagrldotcom / @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @venussakura / @emery-333 / @unheolybakugo / @dunixxd / @taeecups / @songbirdgardensworld / @celi-xxmoon / @s-witch-bitch / @chloee0x0 / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @sacvh / @disaster-rose / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @cjm-cookiethief / @zuuki / @tojishugetiddies / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @kiyomeichann / @wenumsmol / @unholybabyface / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @watyousayin / @laylasbunbunny / @crissteetee / @ziggy-09 / @angel-luv-04 / @anotherlovelyruin / @p-rizz-ha / @lone-poltergeist / @mimixrx2 / @t4naiis

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★  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. your strong gymrat boyfriend likes it when the roles get reversed in private .

─── ☆ notes. god bless @lemmetreatya who never fails to write something that has me kicking my feet in the air yet somehow inspired to write my favorite anime mfs with out of pocket job headcanons, please for the love of all thats holy read the iconic juggler!hawks fic. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | gymrat!eren | headcanon | marking | biting | hickies | muscles | pain kink | strength kink | body worship | oral sex (m) | heavy petting | tough submissive men | slight sub/dom | whimpering | whining | overstimulation | clothed sex | handjobs | title inspo by this song .

In the sense of popularity, gymrat!eren your boyfriend, getting compliments was pretty common; everyone knew that Eren was pretty athletic.

Running his own company gym as well as having his own brand centered all around fitness. He had just been so dedicated to his craft that he even had the godly height, lean build, and abs to prove that he had a sleeper build under all his baggy sweatshirts.

Yet you were the complete opposite of gymrat!eren—much to all of his follower’s surprise, you were nothing like what they thought you looked like when he first posted about you to his TikTok page with over two million followers that all drooled over his looks.

In fact, you were much shorter than him, with more pudge and curves that adored your figure. Just the thought of working out had you stressed out, paired with the fact that you wouldn't be caught dead sweating in public, let alone lifting the amount of weight gymrat!eren did without ease.

But you were a lot stronger than him in other ways.

Falling head over heels for your bold personality and forward way of speaking, gymrat!eren found himself intoxicated by your natural confidence, and just the overall way you carried yourself made it just so hard not to be smitten with you.

In fact gymrat!eren was pretty shameless with how he showed his complete and utter affection towards you.

He loves that you don't have to hold back as much because you both know that you have him wrapped around your finger. He lays back against the mattress at your command, watching you between his muscular thighs, trying to hold back his hips from jerking against your touch. 

Holding him pinned flat against the mattress by his legs, the same legs that were littered with small, darkening bruises against gymrat!eren’s olive flesh.

You heard the wince in his breath. You knew that for anyone else the painful bruises would have been a bit convincing, but the sight of gymrat!eren’s cock jumping through his gym shorts only enticed you to want to suck more hickeys against his skin.

Pathetic isn't even the word to explain his disheveled gymrat!eren felt spread out under you, his hair falling in front of his face as he pushed his head back against the pillows.

Squeezing his eyes shut so hard he was seeing stars, his throat was sore from whining out, his cheeks were flushed a cute tint of pink, and his fist clenching into his shirt pulled up enough to see the flesh of his abs muscles every time your teeth would graze against him.

gymrat!eren, who is close to tears as his legs are spread open, with one hand held near his mouth biting his knuckle as the other grips his shirt until his knuckles are white, Your head bobs up and down his dick, as his chest rises and falls under your palm.

The hand you have pressing against this torso kept him from arching away from your mouth. Knowing your boyfriend well enough to learn that he loved to squirm around when it came to overstimulation.

gymrat!eren, who lets out a whimper as his legs shake before he begs you to let him cough, pleading that he can't hold it any longer, yet does just that when you refuse.

Edging him even longer, wrapping your hand around the length that you couldn't fit into your mouth, not even bothering to let him catch his breath instead pumping your hand faster in pace.

You hold him hostage like that for a while, pulling your hand back when he gets too close, teasing his hilt with hot kisses up and down his hilt. All while gymrat!eren sobs and fidgets under you, until you finally grant him permission to let it all go.

With a drawn out whine, you watch his thighs flinch, covering his face as he trembles from the ecstasy, his chest rising and falling from his stuttering breathing.

gymrat!eren's climax leaves him feeling completely uncontrolled of his own body, as if his limbs had given out like he had done a full body workout, he pants as thick strings of cum cover your hand and get all over his gym shorts and lower torso. 

🔖 @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @ziggy-09 / @anotherlovelyruin / @s-witch-bitch / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworld / @emery-333 / @mimixrx2

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★  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊. + 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. with Ethan being the poor loser virgin that he was, the boy just couldn't help but have some weird fantasies about you taking his virginity.

─── ☆ notes. new pathetic whiny man to obsess over added to the list, i haven't even seen the full movie yet which is why this is more fantasy au instead of anything related to the canon plot . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.3k (10 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | succubus!reader | virgin!sub!ethan | dub-con(?) | wet dream | slight sub/dom undertones | corruption kink | pet names | fangs | horns | and a tail! | black coded | heavy petting | oral sex (m) | throat fucking | handjobs | body worship | monster fucking | praise kink(?) | clothed sex | not beta'd look away if you find a typo | title inspired by this song by Kali Uchis

Ethan had the skill of using his thoughts to escape the comforts of his own made-up reality, more commonly known as daydreaming.

He would find himself slouched against any surface, lost in his own dazed thoughts, making up little scenarios that would often leak into his dreams.

Maybe that was why Ethan had liked sleeping so much, mastering the skill of falling asleep every time he would crawl into bed and let his head lay against his pillow.

Just to get back to his fantasy world, he knew that in no actual reality would he find you sitting on his lap.

In real life, you were just friends; having met Ethan through the same group of friends, the feelings that he had for you only seemed to fester more and more, overflowing like a bubbling pot.

He was too nervous to even make eye contact with you, yet here you were, the main character starring in all his fantasies.

well, not the totally normal human version of you, but some sort of demon version at least. Your brown ebony skin, now a dark red, as your eyes glowed a misty light orange, and you had to protrude two small dark horns coming from your temple.

Smothered under your weight resting down, you straddled his hips as your arms steadied yourself with your hands against his chest.

It took Ethan a few blinks to realize the reason he had been panting for air as if he had been taking his last breath. Being covered in a thin layer of sweat, which almost melted into the bedsheets from how on fire his body had felt with the spark of pleasure that had flooded through his system all at once. 

The dream had felt so realistic—the thump of his heart in his ears, how soft your abnormal skin had felt against the rough pads of his fingers, almost massaging your pelvis as you slowly rolled your hips against his erection. 

Ethan felt like he was dying. That had to be the only way to explain why he felt like every section of his body was burning from the inside, like something inside of him was building up to burst out at any second, as if your touch was coaxing something to escape from his pitiful little body.

In addition to your demon-like features, the clothes you wore were normal in the theme of your usual set of clothes, but just below the sag of your gym shorts peeked a lewd mark of some sort of unidentifiable symbol of some sort that seemed to shine the same color as your eyes.

The symbol on your skin matching one had been embodied into his skin in the same place, just above his happy trail. 

the way that they had beamed brighter together in sync, almost like the two were intertwined in the appearance that something was flowing through you, and whatever it was had to be the reason he felt the way he did.

Your eyes had caught his graze, another hammer of his heart beating rapidly against his chest as his tongue dragged over the bottom of his lip by nervous habit.

Your gaze held something completely different, other than the obvious change in appearance.

It was the glint in the way your eyes seemed so alluring that had his hips stuttering to bring some sort of relief to the throbbing problem in his sweatpants. 

You leaned in closer, the peek of your breast exposed from the low cut of your loose shirt, making him swallow thickly under your stare. A sharp smile had spread across your lips. 

Ethan should have found it worrying. 

Alarms should have been ringing in his head, telling him how weird his virgin subconscious was forming some type of freaky monster sex fantasy about his crush. 

But there was a bigger part of him that refused to think about anything other than wanting to bury his cock inside of you.

He had almost felt drunk on this new strange feeling, his lips parting and him panting as your foreheads touched, "Awe, you're burning up, Ethan." 

Just the mere sound of your voice had his hip lifting from the mattress, your tone going straight to his dick.

"It…feels weird…" He had finally managed to stutter from his mouth, he wasn’t in agonizing pain, but the amount of discomfort he had from you teasing his rock hard erection was enough to bring him to tears. 

He shuffled under your weight to ease the deep, boiling feeling coiling in his lower stomach. "I know, baby, I know, I'm gonna make it all go away, okay?" A whine pulled from his throat from the reassurance, the brush of your hands against his cheek. 

Watching your lips form with every word, thinking about how much he had wanted your mouth around his cock, the small embrace had him aching all over for you.

"Please," Ethan begged, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. "Touch me, please." 

A sigh of relief sounds from his lips as your hand trails down his torso straight towards his erection, reaching below the elastic of his briefs and freeing him, greeting the thigh clenching sight of his veiny hilt.

Sitting between his legs, you could feel the tenseness of his leg muscles twitch as you lean down to press a wet kiss against his puffy tip, Ethan shivering at the sight of your tongue poking from your mouth and stealing a taste of the precum that coated your lips as if you were first taking a sample.

His heart started to thump against his chest, the beat of his heart ringing through his ears. 

A pained whine tugged from his throat as his hips arched once your mouth had finally engulfed the head of his cock, and he was keen at the feeling of your warm tongue tracing down along the underside of his veiny length all while you never broke eye contact with him.

“S–shit,” The hum of your mouth around him had him stretching out his arms for a fistful of the blanket. 

A whimper parted from his lips once your hands guided his to the back of your head, letting him ground himself with a fistful of your hair.

His hips thrusting up from the mattress seemed to be on their own, fucking your throat, trying to chase the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that came from the rawness of fucking the back of your throat.

But then there was a pause, with Ethan coming to a trembling halt, his chest rising and falling from his panting breath. "Um, can—is it okay if I do it inside?" His voice was small and filled with concern as if his cock was already down your throat.

Your lashes fluttered from processing the question. The small bob of your head and the way you continued to take him all the way were more than enough confirmation to have Ethan go back to rolling his hips into your mouth.

With one more buck of his hips, holding down your head with one harsh thrust, it was all the warning you could get for Ethan’s abrupt orgasm as he came down your throat. 

It took a moment for clarity to finally kick in. Ethan’s hands stopped moving from your hair to gently caress your face with an adored look plastered all over his blown pupils and his face flushed a tint of pink.

"I—I think I'm in love with you," he whispers as he watches you crawl up his chest, settling just below his still erect dick.

Ethan shivered at the sigh of your sharp fangs poking from your gums and the stretch of your gleeful smile as your tongue dragged over the sharp canines before leaning in close enough to press a trail of kisses up his neck. 

"Wanna put it in me now?" Your question being the only thing to knock around in his head and having your mouth so close to his ear so erotically.

Ethan actually whined at the abruptness enough to knock him out of whatever bliss he had felt just seconds ago, his eyes shooting up and sitting up with an uncomfortable groan.

The wet mess in his underwear as he peered from under his blankets at his morning issues.

🔖 ...

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★  𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. Just when you needed him the most, Miguel was the one to save you.

─── ☆ notes. I haven’t seen the new Spiderverse movie yet, so no spoilers, but my tiktok fyp is starving for Miguel, so just something short and kind of emotionalish leaning more towards the personal self insert. I don't know, sorry if its too selfish and angsty. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. one-shot | not movie canon | hurt/comfort | angst | mentions of death | near death experience | crying | hugging | open-ended | we ignore typos here | taiyo vent fic posting again | title Inso from this song.

You were dying—well,  at least soon to be dead.

You couldn't grasp onto time as you continued to fall, windows flitting past your body as the wind carried you closer and closer to your demise.

You never would have thought the whole expression "life flashing before your eyes" to be something that you would have ever experienced, but there you were with the world's biggest migraine free falling from some ten-story building you got kicked off of just because you wanted to play the hero.

You were cutting through the air quicker than dead weight.

All you could do was stare up at your super mutant recent friends fighting for their lives, and it was ironic how you were the only one without the possibility of saving yourself.

You could see the moonlight above the clouds. The farther you plummet, the harder the building's rooftop is to see from the growing distance.

As the heavy breeze combed through your hair, your body felt numb, your fingers brushing through the air as your ears rang with each thud of your heartbeat.

You wanted to thank your emotions for washing away the fear as the tears blurred your vision. There was no point in fighting.

You were falling.

You were going to die.

Your eyes were closed before your body jerked through the air involuntarily. The cradle of your limbs smacked hard against someone's broad chest, leaving you grasping for more air in your lungs.

Two strong arms cradling you close from the whiplash of being snatched up in midair, you trembled in the strangers' hands, holding every nerve in your body fried as your bones felt as limb as the day you were born.

It was a shameless embrace of the familiar blue and red suit your brain somehow managed to recognize through its panic disguised as your guardian angel.

Tucking your head in the crook of their neck as they threw themselves through the sky, you held as tightly as your arms would let you, making a mental note to apologize for practically sobbing in Miguel’s ear.

He didn't seem to mind at all with his arm hooked around your thigh, only tightening harder as you could only manage to form a few broken sentences thanking him for saving your life.

You could tell how he actually felt; his reaction hid behind the blank, emotionless-eyed mask covering his features.

It wasn't until he had landed on the flat ground that you were able to fully collect yourself.

Your legs felt numb as Miguel tried to set you down as gently as he possibly could. You could only picture his annoyance when his hands reached out to brace you once more as your knees buckled.

In memory, you would no doubt feel embarrassed of yourself tripping face first into his chest, comparable to Bambi, as Miguel helped you stand on your two feet, who had disregarded his mask with a quick tug, his brown hair fluffed out.

His mean grimace was replaced with something of concern, and his dark, thick brows pulled together as his mouth parted from the permanent frown carved against his lips. 

"Hey, hey, look at me." Your stance stumbling as he yanked you out of trance, fingers tight dug into both of your forearms. "You’re okay, you're alive."

Crying was starting to become a bit tiring as another sob carried up from your throat, the tears forming a knot and stopping you from speaking even as his grasp traveled up to your face in a much more gentle and warming hold.

Miguel asses you once more and hesitatingly pulls you into his chest, your arms clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he's wrapped around your torso as you allow him to embrace you.

Sure, the pain that you felt wasn't at all physical, and the dull emotional ache that hammered your heart distracted you from asking why Miguel hugged you so tight.

🍀 ...

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★  𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝟓𝟎𝟓. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. jealousy is a terrible disease, and you and Eren are both suffering from a severe case of it.

✧. ┊    notes. back on the eren d rider train I need more fics of him BAD like there is a shortage of bad bitches that write for eren on my feed and I need that to be fixed real soon. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    word count. 3.2k (23 min read).

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | slight eren/mikasa in the beginning | (fr)enemies | established relationship | hurt/comfort | miscommunication | misunderstandings | sexual tension | jealousy | post-break up | make up sex | porn with feelings | grinding | fingering | unprotected sex | cowgirl | riding | hair pulling | we ignore typos here | title inspired by this song.

EREN WAS CONVINCED you were batshit crazy, that would be the only reason why your brain would always find some new reason to push him away enough to have him chase after you like you had a pretty pink leash around his neck hooked to a collar with his name on it. 

You would always manage to push his buttons just enough to tip him off, and in return, you weren’t the type to just sit back and let some man yell at you cause he certainly was not your father nor your mother.

The arguments you two would be involved in usually led to very amazing angry sex, clearing out a grace period enough to last until the next time you chose to push his buttons.

Well, this time it was different—at least that was your claimed reasoning for telling your friends why you and Eren were on another one of your famous relationship breaks. 

This one happened so fast that Eren wasn’t even sure what the hell he was talking about until you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his number for an entire week, holding onto the smallest things that reminded him of your existence. 

Wincing every time he would see your post on your Instagram story all dressed up and going out with your friends looking so unfazed. Maybe this time it actually was different, and the thought of that scared the absolute shit out of Eren. The heavy feeling of the thought of you losing you left with him a constantly collapsing moping pit forming in his stomach.

It was settled between his friends that they wouldn't let him mope around his place alone any longer, tired of hearing and depressed, mentioning your name on his lips, convincing him enough to coax him out of his apartment littered with reminders of you to hang out at some house party.

What those said friends failed to mention was that you would be there as well, with about seventy people scattered from the front yard to the pool in the back with music raging so loud he could feel the vibration from where he sat lounging watching you from his seat on the back porch.

He was supposed to be having a good time, getting messed up enough to not remember your name. Yet there he was, sitting slouched a few feet away from you, his heart on his sleeve. 

A blunt caught between his lips, minding his business as best as he possibly could, but it was just so hard to believe that he could hear the familiar pitch of your laughter filtered through the music.

"Dude," Connie sighs, interrupting Eren’s growing annoyance, his attention yanking away from where you stood, hugging up a little too closely for comfort to the smirking Armin. 

Eren hands the blunt over with a groan, his legs spreading comfortably and shifting back to lean with his back against the patio chair.

With his head resting on the headrest pillow, he closes his eyes tightly, praying for his high to hit him like a truck so fucking soon, wishing for just one night where he wouldn't have to deal with his annoying emotions for you. "Shit, my bad man, I didn't even know that she would be here." 

Connie rests his hand on Eren’s shoulder, helping ground him back down to earth. "But hey, are you gonna be alright?" The question lingered in the stale air before Eren could process the rigid tone behind it, his eyes fluttering open to Connie eyeing down someone from across the yard with a knowing horny spark in his eye, knowing that his friend was a natural-born player and that it would be just so unfair to hold him back from his natural element.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, man, I’ll be here." forcing a tight grin from his lips, Eren’s hand waving away his friend with a coaxing hand. "All alone.." he sighed under his breath once Connie had finally stalked away, leaving the dark-haired brunette to sit with his own flooding thoughts.

The sight in front of him making him feel as if he was witnessing a kamikaze from just a few steps away from how hard his heart was throbbing watching you completely ignore his existence as if you weren't just sprouting I love yous and kissing all over each other not even a few weeks ago.

He needs to move to get you out of his sight before the swallowing feeling can take up his entire mood and ruin his high. Stumbling around the large crowd of people, he parted through the crowd, finding the unknown kitchen counter that was decorated with enticingly labeled cheap liquor bottles and mixers that were calling his name. 

He hadn't even managed to get one cup down before the slush of his drink was met with the white of his graphic t-shirt, a curse hidden under his breath turning ready to spit the first insult on his mind he could spout from the large cloud of frustration festering from his annoyance only to be cut off. 

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, dude." His attacker was a very apologetic and cute woman, with short dark hair, warm olive skin, and a very bold red bra peeking through the white cropped cami she wore, catching his attention embarrassingly quick enough for him to forget that it was better to actually make eye contact when speaking to another person.

His first initial words were punched back into his throat, a lazy smile taking their place instead. "It's already, uh, the drink tasted like shit anyways." He nervously chuckled, like he couldn't really help the nervousness that waved over him standing in the presence of a pretty girl who had introduced herself quite cheerily as Mikasa. 

If you had told him a few hours ago when he first arrived that he would actually be having fun, let alone sitting with some random girl in his lap, Eren would have called you crazy, yet there he was genuinely grinning ear to ear face to face with Mikasa, who had made it her personal mission to make Eren have a much better night than he was. 

The two getting awfully close in such a short span of time, sitting down clinging onto each other, sprouting out about absolutely nothing important but the genuine want to talk to each other, not to mention that It helps that Eren absolutely finds her stunning, their bodies sharing warmth sitting so close, it was only natural for the flushed feeling to take over with the rake of her nails tangling in his shaggy mullet.

He couldn't even use drinking as an excuse, babysitting the same drink she had remade for him as an apology for spilling the last one. There was really no real reason why he had suddenly leaned in and caught his lips against hers so hungrily. 

It doesn't help that Mikasa kisses him back with the same amount of eager roughness, practically straddling him on top of his lap at this point, the two heavily making out in the open.

With hands wandering, Eren reaches out a hold around her hips, his mind betraying him just a bit, not being able to fully push away the comparison to your figure. The thought makes him react with a wince, parting from the kiss with his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

Mikasa leans back, pushing his hair from his face while letting out a breathy fit of giggles, not discovering the hidden uncomfortable shift in Eren’s behavior. It wasn't her fault, he couldn't blame the girl for him being so caught up with his ex to the point where even when he was kissing other women, he couldn't help but get his mind off of you.

"If you want, we could go upstairs." Mikasa whispers in his ear, leading a shiver up his spine with a flash of sexual excitement. He is pleased at the end of her offer, locked in with the peck of her lips against his jawline.

The offer is absolutely knee-jerking, and if it were any other situation, Eren probably would have let this really pretty girl he just met jump his bone, but all the confidence that had been built up from the night had instantly drained the second he had caught your gaze from across the room. 

Both staring at each other pointedly, Eren’s lashes fluttered under your unflinched, hard glare as Mikasa continued to litter kisses with the promises of hickeys around his collarbone.

He wanted to feel so smug, wanted to use the new attention as a way to finally get back at you for making him feel the way that he felt watching you dance with Armin, but the revenge just didn't feel right, and his mood soured further at the thought of using some poor innocent girl to get back at you.

The intense eye contact is cut off by Mikasa bringing her face closer to his, seeking out another kiss. Eren squeezes his eyes closed, wanting nothing more but to get the looping image of you and Armin out of his damned head.

"What do you say?" being reminded in a soft whisper of the intimate question still in the air from earlier, the creep of her fingers dawning down his chest and rubbing with intention at the crotch of his jeans, Eren grabbing her wandering hand before it could do any more active damage.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn’t right now," Eren sheepishly responds, his eyes searching for any ounce of rejection on her features,trying to shake the sight of you from his attention.

Mikasa doesn't seem all that hurt, if anything, she nods her head in understanding, taking no for an answer without another word, pulling her hands away and wrapping them around his shoulders instead, her head turning enough to show that she knows his attention is entirely too spent on someone else.

"What a player," she chuckles knowingly, not quite catching a glance at you, yet her eyes still scan around the room. "Something tells me I should go get another drink before whoever you're looking for comes and bites off my head." And just like that, Eren's perfect distraction slips through his fingers, and he's left alone once more, kicked back with the same emotions he had coming into the party.

His attention is rudely pulled back towards you as you appear in front of him. It was like you were hunting, searching for the perfect moment when he had his guard down to strike.

You placed your hand on your hips as he dared to stare up at you through his lashes, his body too at ease with the disappointed expression twisted on your face. "Are you fucking drunk right now?"

"Well, is this not a party?" Eren replies almost too easily, his tone has deepened enough to get a shifted, sneering reaction from you at the snappy comeback. Watching your movements a bit too intensely as your arms crossed over your chest, Eren didn't bother to look away from how plump your breasts looked in the pretty little crop top you managed to squeeze them into.

"I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home since I saw Connie dip with someone, but excuse me, I see that you're too busy tongue-fucking any random slut willing to give it out tonight, huh?" Your insults dig deep, even with the drooling sight of your tight-skirted figure dancing right in front of him. Eren sucked in a breath at the acknowledgement.

"You broke up with me." He spoke straight to your thighs, his tongue tracing over the bottom of his lip now that he could see just how good you looked tonight. All dressed up with your makeup done, his heart didn't want to imagine what you were hoping to get into if his presence wasn't there to ruin the mood. "Remember?"

"Fine, walk your ass home." Rolling your eyes and storming away, knowing that he was in the right, Eren let out a sigh before sleazily trailing behind your grumbling every step.

Watching the sway of your hips as you walk in front of him all the way to your car, slumping into the passenger side without any word even as you continued to have a one-sided conversation about how much of an asshole he was for not saying bye to his little girlfriend he was kissing on even though Eren was pretty sure Mikasa would be more understanding than what you were giving her credit for. 

The drive home is tense, the soft pitter of rain hitting the windshield wipers as the streetlights leech orange and white colors through your tinted windows. The radio played lowly, not loud enough to recognize the soft melody of something playing but not quite low enough to have you both sitting in complete silence.

"Are you guys talking?" Eren’s voice is still deep, almost cushioning from how gently he posed the question, almost as if he were so loud that he would be afraid to scare you away.

Your fingers clench around the leather of the wheel, eyes glancing away from the road for just a split second to give him a knitted-brow look. "What, who are you talking about?"

Eren feels like he’s back in middle school again, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his shirt, all nervous around you. "You and Armin, you guys looked pretty close at the party." He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, his head leaning back on the headrest, looking how desperate he had to look, practically pining over you with his broken-hearted expression.

"I should ask the same for you then." You ignore him, reaching to dial the music just a bit louder, not wanting to sit in silence if it meant opening up a question and answer panel between just him and you. 

The statement hurts, both physically and emotionally. Eren gets reminded of the pit still forming in his stomach.

The frowning emotion threatening a knot in his throat, having to swallow down the absolute word vomit of apologizes and begging he has threatened to spill from his throat in your honor, "Well, I’ve missed you." Was all that he could manage before he had to physically turn himself away from you, using the pressing cold glass to help aid the burning firepit of emotions he had covering the rest of his reasonability in dark, thick sud.

You didn't react, at least not in line of sight, even if you heard him, you hadn’t shown any acknowledgement of his heartbreaking confession. Not even when you pulled into his driveway had you bothered to give him a glance other than the action of you sliding off your seatbelt and letting him sit in the car for a breath before he was trialing after you once more.

Trudging through his apartment, even with you inside the home walls, you still felt a sense of lonesomeness. "Ren…" 

"Do you wanna come to bed?" Your voice sounds through the halls, following back to his bedroom, the door left ajar enough to see you lying in the place right where he had thought you belonged, blankets lifted open, enticing him to lie down next to you with a sobering small smile.

Crawling under the blankets right next to you without another word, cuddling against your chest, wrapping his arms around the front of your torso, and hugging close enough for you to lean with your back resting against the mattress as his face rubbed against the plush of your falling and rising cushioning breast.

"I’ve…missed you too." You lowly admit, using your acrylics to softly comb through the back of his hair, easing back his tension farther with a small kiss pecked on the top of his forehead.

The sound of the blanket shifting as it carries with Eren’s movements, his arms ankling at both sides of your head, holding himself up from pressing you with his entire body weight as he slots himself between your part legs.

Your fingers twining tighter into his scalp as he leans down for a kiss, the muffle of his moan pressing against your seeking lips, letting you slip your tongue inside of his mouth, adding to the rising heated makeout session.

The pace never lets up, growing with more eagerness. Eren frees one of his arms, letting his hands wander down, squeezing your thigh part by the bend of the knee, and having your skirt ride up unwearable to your waist.

Knuckling aside the lace of your panties away from your pussy, he used the pad of his thumb to tease at your clit only adding sinking two digits into the equation. Your cunt welcomed them with a greedy buck at the buck of your hips against his touch, kicking off his jeans awkwardly.

Eren is already sweating from the grouling press of his hard cock miserably untouched against your thigh, grinding shamelessly against your leg while his fingers pistoned with a lewd wet squelch from your coated arousal inside of you.

Pausing only when your fist tugs with a knot full of his hair tangled between your knuckles, your other hands push him away by the press of your palm against his chest.

Switching positions with Eren almost a little too obentaintly with you sitting straddled on his lap in an all too familiar position, you look angelic on top of him with your hair dawning over your face knocking out of his daze with a hiss at the slow teasing feeling of your fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and pressing his tip at the folds of your entrance. 

"I’ve missed you." The soft brush of your coo fans against his face from how close you were, and with your noses brushing, you both react breathlessly to the feeling of you lowering yourself down on his cock. The thrusting clench of his hips living up from the mattress and intruding deeper inside of you left him whimpering under your touch. "I’ve missed you so, so much, Ren."

The pace of your bouncing hips is relentless, starting at your own brutal pace and grounding yourself with heavy palms pressed against his chest.

Eren couldn't do anything but lie back and whine against your mouth, as you used him for your own release from the mental war he had to not end the fun for which he had been craving all week. Whimpering at the amazing feeling he missed so badly at your pussy squeezing against him so snuggly as if your body had just been made for him so perfectly. 

Eren’s hands help guide the grind of your hips as your muscles tense and tremble on top of him suddenly, your body going rigid, hugging your collapsed body against his hold, begging a string of nonsense as your cunt continues to milk him until his very last drop.

His hips don't bother halting, switch positions as he lays on top to help with his lazy, slow strokes, listening to your soft whines as you hug him closer to you, wrapping your trembling legs against his hips and pulling him as deep as you possibly could.

“I missed you too baby.”

🔖 @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @ziggy-09 / @anotherlovelyruin / @s-witch-bitch / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworl / @emery-333 / @mimixrx2 / @souljagrldotcom / @carcarmeowmeow19 / @p-rizz-ha / @lilvampirina / @atsumubabe / @lialia3945 / @yazmunson / @professional-2d-guy-simp / @niyizh / @maki-z / @marzipaanz /

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★  𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒, 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. your small town was known to those who carried money in their pockets, especially attention-grabbing men like Miguel, who needed a place to stay in town for the night. luckily, your hostel-owning cousin is willing to make just the perfect bargain for the traveler.

─── ☆ notes. oh brother here we go again. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4k (30 minute read)

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | medieval au | warrior!Miguel | servant!reader | one night stand | strangers to lovers | brief plot | pwp | love motel | size difference | height difference | size kink | body worship | degradation kink | name calling | eye contact | cream pie | marking | biting | rough sex | hair pulling | strength kink | we ignore typos here | song title Inspo

THE POPULATED TOWN of Edgewater was a place you called home. It was strange when it came to its fair share of travelers, from coin-hungry merchants to empty welding warriors and the cobbled roads that stretched from land to the seashore.

Edgewater was known for its lively community, always something happening from dusk till dawn, the moon only encouraging those of the night to linger on.

Most would call it anarchy. You would call it a pisspot full of people who didn't know what else to do with their lives, so all they could do was drink. 

Your uncle, who had owned one of the town's most sought-after local love hostels, catered to the sleazy travelers that would stumble their way into the heart of the town with more coin than they knew what to do with, calling the grotty drunken things that would come through looking for an easy way to settle their darkest desire good for business. 

Your uncle, who wasn't actually your uncle but had been the closest thing you unfortunately considered family since the day you could first remember, had always been guided towards the promise of good wealth. He was a grimy older man you had been stuck with since he had first adopted you after your mother's unfortunate passing. She had been one of his workers who had collected more debt than the men she would have ever bedded combined.

Debt that had been carried on down like a tragic legacy, leaving you shackled as the one and only handmaiden forced to clean whatever was leftover from the men you would envy as they had the ability to actually leave. Your forced imprisonment was the main reason why you would snide at every man that would struggle through the front door, drunk fools with not enough coins in their pockets to pay for rent or take care of their families back at home, yet just enough to come to your uncle's love hotel and buy off one of the mistresses to give them a temporary good time.

You thought them to be all the same, balding drunks running away from their lives off with some mistress that falsely tolerated the disappointment that they used to think with between their legs for the coins in their pockets. You couldn't blame them for their jobs. In fact, you preferred to be the one scrubbing the aftermath, then bed with some of the toothless, grimy slobs considered customers your uncle would welcome as if they were his old friends.

You would even consider the fact of having some sort of liking for your job. Being considered a lowly maid came with its rare but useful perks. Other than not being a lady of the night because you were too busy wiping the stained cum from sheets, you were allowed to dawn more comfy drapes, allowed to eat whatever you pleased without your uncle chastising you about your weight since your body wasn't his to display, and lastly, the best part of it all: the eavesdropping.

The town was big with gossip, word to mouth was how normally word would spread throughout businesses and homes faster than the ink would dry from the papers being passed out. Since you were the only real task hand in the love hostile most upkeep jobs besides cleaning were included in your wages. During afternoon runs through the market, you oh so loved to keep an ear out for bickering couples, big-mouthed children, or even merchants that would slip their tongues of secrets. 

Said way was also how you caught word of an interesting wanderer that had stepped foot on the town's soil. With whispers of a dark-skinned, broadening warrior that stood out from the rest, hipping an iron sword and battle scars, you heard word that he was merking somewhere around for a place to rest for the day, along with some supply trading.

Your brow almost raises at the mention of places to stay the night. Edgewater was a place where you could murder someone and then sell the clothes off their back for a nice dime, not necessarily the place you could go trusting just about anyone to stay the night, especially if you were lugging around the type of gear the merchants already had as big as the target on your back as this guy did.

This is why you were surprised later in the night to see two men ram their way through the front door of the building. You were working on sweeping some of the dust from the wooden floorboards near the entrance, almost flinching out of your own skin as the doors slammed open. You quickly collected yourself, holding back from muttering something rude under your breath instead of turning to greet the guest.

An older man, who you had assumed to be the cause of the door hinges being in their last life, stumbled in and almost slumped over if it weren't for the man beside him carrying his drunken dead weight as he rambled on and on to the other man he leaned against about how great this hostile was for the eye candy and how he whiffed on and on about how he could get them both discounted personal rooms just to prove his point. The other man made you halt in greeting, almost choking on your words as you took in his appearance.

You were starting to understand how he had managed to grab the town's attention now that you were able to see him with your own eyes. He was a much taller man compared to the other, you only assumed he'd be taller in his own height if it weren't for his hunched structure, practically lugging a grown man on his left shoulder. He had been a fit fighter for the warrior description, with his broadened shoulder and the peak of muscles from his sleeve being yanked up as the dark curtain of hair that shields most of his face from where you stood. Though his clothes were tatted and worn-looking, on his hip was sheathed a sword.

His presence alone would suffocate you alone if it weren't for the awkward situation of him babysitting some bubbling idiot. It only took seconds for your uncle to come budging in, greeting the two and settling them into separate rooms. He had managed to even squeeze a little more coin out of the newcomer, your uncle offering him a place for the entire night since he heard he had nowhere to stay "out of the kindness of his heart." You almost snorted at his fancy act of knocking up the prices and throwing in packages that didn't exist to the poor mystery tourist.

Since the unnamed stranger's arrival, the powder room has erupted into a fit of frenzy. You hadn't seen this many of the women chatter about being excited and happy since a few years back when a strangler of men came back to town with their hunt earnings and decided to make the poor decision of blowing all their newly earned money in one night.

It was sad to say that the excitement would slowly die out more and more as the night progressed. Even though who you considered the most stunning women to come back with pouty faces and empty pockets cussing the new handsome-faced fellow's name under their breaths, the man had managed to do his rounds of rejecting just about every working lady in the hostile, much to your uncle's dismay, who at first just waved his dismissal off as him being just being another picky man with a type.

Your uncle wanted to charge him for more than just the bed he had offered him, yet no matter how many times he would send a new girl to his doorstep, the man had gotten to the point of annoyance where he wouldn't even bother to have the courtesy of not slamming the door closed in their face before they could utter a word. Unfortunately, due to their demise for failed flirting, you were the very last option at your uncle's attempt at ringing money out of the warrior's pockets. You put up a quiet fight, making every excuse under the sun until your uncle flat out struck you across the face and spat that he would threaten to stop giving you pay and instead add the wages you've collected to the long list of debts you were trying to pay off.

The threat was enough to have you taking your sweet old time, shuffling your feet against the floorboards, making your way down to the stranger's door, your hands tracing over the soft throb of the cut he had lifted, marked in a scratch from the backhand of one of his rings. You hadn't even bothered changing out of the clothes you had been working in all day. Instead of protesting with what was left of your pride in your hands, you held some spare straw pillows that your uncle gave you to use as some sort of excuse to coax you into at least opening the door.

You lightly tapped your knuckle against the wood for a moment before you knocked once more with just a bit more force, "Excuse me, sir." You hadn't even finished your sentence before the door creaked wide open.

By the slight raise of his brow, you guessed that he too wasn't expecting to see that you were the one behind the intrusion. Your words shriveled down your throat at the towering sight of him. Now standing tall in his full glory, his height almost reached up to the top of the door if he hadn't been using the frame to slouch against, very shirtless.

You took a step back out of instinct, taking in his muscled torso, bared with scars and marks you could only imagine the battle he earned them from. In Between the distance that parted you two was another beat of silence, his as he stared down at you, his features now plastered with what you could only assume was boredom as you gaped up at him, your mouth parting like you were some type of fish as your brain struggled to form the words you wanted to come from your throat.

"Uh, sorry, just—would you mind if I….offered company?" Your voice trembled as you couldn't make the request sound more awkward, forcing the strength surging through your veins to hold you upright as his eyes shamelessly traveled down your body as if you were some sort of prey ready to get swallowed up.

"And what company would you ever have to possibly offer me?" An annoyed grimace soon followed as he spoke, making it difficult for you to even process if the question was supposed to be insulting.

"I offer an exchange. You take these pillows and let me hide out in your room—at least until you leave, so my uncle stays off both of our backs." In the offer, you lifted the pillows towards him, watching as he scanned them with the same expression of boredom as if you were offering him vegetable soup.

"I should mention that if you do not accept, my uncle will be more furious with me than you." Clarifying the stakes you were taking, the beast of a man gave your face a once-over, his expression softening to something that you could only guess was a pity as a sigh parted his lips, gesturing you inside with a careless limp wave. He had not bothered moving over, only raising his arm to let you walk under and into the room before closing the door and making his way to the bed.

You could only watch, standing close to the other corner of the room, as he slouched, sitting against the headboard almost too comfortably against the creaking wooden mattress to what you assume he continued his interrupted task of sharpening his sword. 

The room, besides the moonlight that leaked onto the floor from the open curtains. Had the room been poorly lit, a light orange from the oil lamp that sat on the crate-made nightstand illuminated the man's figure and sword dangerously. The light kissed his muscles and tanned auburn features, basking in the handsome aura that he was intertwined with, reminding you of the portraits you would see strung up in royal galleries of oil-painted men ascending from the parted clouds.

Your staring had not gone unnoticed. The man's dark eyes flitted over to you, gazing upon all the scabbed, light scars that riddled up from his torso to his face as if they were tattoos. "Could you at least give me your name before undressing me so unkindly with your perverted eyes?" he offered out another vague-sounding insult, dipping his sword back into its sleeve as he reverted his attention to you. The raising of his thick brow was the demise of any offense you could have possibly reacted with. You spoke your name softly, almost as if you were in the blink of forgetfulness, falling under whatever spell came with him bearing his charming canines.

"And I, Miguel," he returned, easing back his shoulders slightly, bowing his head, and reaching his arms out for you in a small polite greeting, which you could only assume to be considered manners outside of your town. Your steps were skittish, pausing for a moment before your legs processed the placement that you stood away from had to be closed for you to shake his hand. You had practically wisped across the room with the light of your feet as your hand ghosted close to his.

He took the first step in closing the distance, reaching for your hand and pressing the back of your palm against his lips. To say that the gestures had not stirred something inside of you would be a deep lie as you caught your eyes following his mouth. Your hand flinched under his gentle hold, molding against the callus of his fingers before you had even realized it. Your fingers brushed up against the scar that stretched against the end of his brow.

Miguel yanked back in a wince as your breath hitched, his brows knitted together, and a large hand fisted around the bend of your wrist, yet his hard stare never left the same mouth your fingers had just rudely traced over. "Just what is going on in that perverted mind of yours?" His tone held a strong accent that made every word sound condescending yet more gentle than the last time he spoke, his grasp planting you just beside the bed between his legs. 

You wanted to call him out on his insulting accusation. If it had been any other man on the street, you probably would've given him an earful by now, yet there was just something so alluring about Miguel that left the bend of your knees threatening to wobble as he glanced up at you with his dark, intimidating eyes. "I bet you're not even going to apologize. How rude."

Your own lips parted in hopes of a response, yet shut quickly as his hand interpreted you once more, guiding your hand by the hold on your wrist back to his face and letting your palm rest against the curve of his cheek. Your fingers dance against all the small scabs and smudges he had yet to clean from his face, almost as if he were caressing himself with your own hand. You didn't bother pulling away, letting his warmth dance under your palm at his grasp. Your thumb graced under the most prominent scar caught close to the side of his lip, tracing the mark and pausing at just the underside of his mouth.

The very inmate exchange had opened a portal of doors for your hands to explore the curious marks on his body, from dark specks of moles scattered against his brown skin as if they were constellations to the ugly scabs dug on top of his abs from wounds that healed over from his troubled past. Spread against his skin were stories and experiences, all of which you could never imagine from the bubble of your small rural village.

Miguel let your curious fingers wander on their own, the palms of his hands coaxing around your hips and guiding you into his lap. Not once did you break contact with the light gleam in his dark eyes, not even when you realized that you were practically straddling yourself over just one of his spread-tensed, muscly thighs.

There was no point in squirming away. You had no desire to lean back now, no want to back now, backing away from the control of his cosset, instead melting into the warmth that engulfed under his touch until you were supporting yourself up by the brace of your swung arm around his neck to stabilize yourself.

All senses are overcome with sheer curiosity, with your fingers tracing every ridge and mottle, following the rise and fall of his bare chest. There grew a stained festering of want, a need now revealing its restlessness growing tight within you, so much so that your initial fear was soon drowned out by the heat shifting within your core.

Miguel did just about everything, yet so little to entertain your touch, letting your eyes swallow him whole, knowing just what he was doing and pressing just the right amount of pressure into his fingertips that held around your waist. 

His expression had shifted from that bored and somewhat tired look to something more heavy that you could not quite decipher in the low light. You would have been mistaken for thinking that he hadn't had any interest in the fact that you were sitting in his lap if it weren't for the faint throbbing reaction you felt pressing against your thigh.

You were all for self-respect and protecting your dignity, but you just couldn't help but yank that fucking bar down to the dirt and throw yourself at him. If anything, it was more of a freefall you took, leaning in and pressing your lips against your body to cut through the thick tension.

It was your nervousness fading at the sooth of his hands, bringing you in closer by the waist, your back arching to press closer to his chest. His kisses were as rough as you thought they would be, from everywhere his lips grazed, from your mouth to the curve of your collarbones. They left your nerves jolting at the brush of his sharp canines brushing against a sensitive spot close to your jugular.

The whiny small pleads of encouragement were all that could part from your kissed lips, his hands unknotting from the hold on your hips to slowly undoing the buttons to your nightgown, exposing more of your skin for him to assault, his hands cupping your breast through the cotton fabric, groping and suckling at your budded nipples through the fabric of your arching body with a drooling obsession.

With your eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back, drowning in pleasure, already putty under his touch, it was easy for him to lay your limp figure down against the uncomfortable hay-stuffed mattress your uncle would be too cheap to call a bed.

Hiking your thigh over his shoulder with a quick yank, his clean-shaven face smooth against your spread thighs, burying himself between your legs. The ghost of the ghost wanting to admit to it being your first time caught in your throat, cutting through the thick cloud of your worries and insecurities. The moment he brought his mouth close to your mount, his tongue was practically savage against your poor clit. 

The vibration of his grunts as your nails knotted around a handful of the hair that curled around the nape of his neck, shifting your hips against the rhyme of the roll warmth of his tongue. A sigh was launched down your throat the moment his thick dark lashes fluttered open, instantly latching onto your gaze, a shiver running down your spine at the lewd scene of the man between your legs desiring your pussy with his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you found it ironic how you were practically close to screaming out Miguel's name as if it were a praying plea for your life, yet in an earlier time in your life, you would always look on in disgust at the moans that would leak through from rooms your coworkers serviced, swearing to yourself that you would never find yourself behind those same doors, yet there you were climaxing under a handsome stranger's tongue as he lapped your twitching cunt through the hard ripple of your orgasm.

His lips tasted like you. 

That was the first sense that welcomed you back down from whichever cloud you were floating on. Miguel's tongue invaded your mouth, and swallowing whatever breath you tried to pant out, the struggling continued. He pressed your thighs apart enough to slot himself in between them as a tensed string itched in your lower thigh muscles, your legs trembling under his fingers.

The head of his cock was intrusive and rude, to say the least, bumping his girthy length against you, shamelessly shifting his hips, covering himself in the wetness of your legs, kissing back every whimper that came up your throat at his fat tip, threatening to breach between your lower lips without any proper hopes of a graceful welcome.

The stretch of his fat tip parting you open left a cry falling from you as Miguel grunted into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath against your sweat-clad skin. Your back arched up against his broad chest as the lewd size of his cock overtook the rest of the sense you had left within your fogged spirit, his dawning pace merciful with experimentally slow strokes deep enough to make your toes curl against the scratchy duvet bedding to a rough pistoning rhythm against your core.

Your fingers clamping tight into the straw pillow at the all too familiar tensing knot forming in your stomach, begging with each harsh thrust, you let outpaced, panting, punched-out moans, following the lead of Miguel's hips, who barreled through your tight cunt as your second orgasm rudely yanked you back to bliss. Your body trembled from exhaustion under Miguel's unsetting ramming hips. The minutes flew by as your brain struggled to do anything but cry out unfinished sentences leading with his name.

Using your noises of encouragement, Miguel chased after his own pleasures, slowly drifting into a less rhythmic pace. His hips buried themselves as he rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his size, snug enough to twitch his cum into where he lay with one last low, strung-out, stuttering groan.

With each other's hearts hammering, you and Miguel fell fatigued against one another, welcoming the slug of his weight as a comforting weighted blanket, neither bothering to curl away from the other nor making any effort to pull himself out, instead using the strength that you deemed to be infinity for him to reposition you on top.

His arm wrapping around the lower part of your torso and nuzzling his chin against you with a tired breath, more than content with spending the night in his room, knowing that your wobbling legs would betray you the moment you stood on your own, closing your eyes and slumbering against his chest in comfort.

Maybe that was why you shifted away with an aching start, the bruising mark littered across your skin a shade of a hinting purple and red, as well as the mess between your legs painted as a lone reminder of the acts you had committed last night. Miguel had apparently gone after sunrise, leaving the spot in which he lay empty with a stricken feeling in your chest and a defeated spirit after hearing your uncle congratulate you for milking enough money out of the visitor to pay off all of your debt completely.

★  @xylianasblog / @knightlythoughts4 / @tanith13 /@niyizh /@maki-z / @inspace1 / @marzipaanz / @inumakiiz / @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom / @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo / @dressycobra7 / @pondering-peach / @foxymask001 / @haitaniwhor3 / @creamyarishi / @iheartlinds

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★  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when it comes to your sticky fingers, Joel is pretty tired of being the one to clean up all your messes, so he decides that he finally deserves an award.

─── ☆ author note. pedro pascal brainrot go brrrrr ,, there was no song inspo for this one i literally just wrote the smut first and went "shit maybe i should give it some plot?" so here's that . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ word count. 2.3k (18 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | pwp | porn with little plot | kinda rushed just want that smut | mentions of violence | fighting | black coded | protective!joel | oral sex (m) | heavy petting | brat taming? | rough sex | fingering | slight grinding | kitchen sex | praise kink | finger sucking | facials | excuse the typos | not beta'd | there's no title or story inspo .

Here you were being a bother again, at least that's what Tessa referred to you as every time you would shoulder your way into Joel’s flat with new battle wounds littered the bruising purple and green colors against your brown skin. 

Despite looking as if you had your ass handed to you multiple times on a platter you had a thing for walking around and bragging as if your ribs hadn't felt like they were cracked and you weren't struggling to stand on your own two feet. 

Joel had known you long enough to understand that you just had a knack for throwing yourself full force into trouble, getting into fights, stealing supplies, and after you would come to his flat parading around and striding through his front door without a simple knock.

spending most of his afternoons with you as his company trying not to roll his eyes out of his sockets as you would just have the tendency to go on and on about your next troubling schemes.

That said plan was currently in the middle of unfolding before you, the exchange was supposed to be simple and smooth. It was what you had promised Joel at least the night before you couldn't keep your mouth shut and gave him the entire run down. 

You had mainly blamed your job of stocking for the reason you had such sticky fingers, commonly your name would be the one whispered when secret trades were brought up.  

You knew it was risky business, Joel knew it as well betting that you were practically begging to have a bounty on your head anytime soon but it was the effects of the harsh society that you lived in. 

you were a bit more angsty than you'd liked to admit, which was why a lot of your deals would fall flat out with you throwing a few punches out of patience with the situation. 

In your defense, the guard standing in front of you thought he could blackmail you into giving more than what he had first agreed, in simple terms you saw the way that he looked at you as practically undressing you with his eyes. 

The constant uncomfortable wave of compliments after every sentence he spoke had been the nail to the coffin, your fist already clenching making it quite clear that you would rather drop dead than even think about doing anything sexual just to trade off a pack of cigarettes.

Your hands were trained to be quick, reaching for the small knife tucked in the back of your belt loop ready to draw it across the man's throat if you needed to. 

the flinching in your reaction had just seemed to tense the deal, the guard finding your rejection stubborn and as if taking a hit on his ego wasn't enough the point of the barrel of his gun aimed square at your chest was enough to have you stop for just a split second to think before your body could move impulse.

Before he could even think about his finger reaching for the trigger you barreled towards him, smashing your entire body weight against him sending you both crashing to the ground in a struggle for the gun.

He had pressed your chest first into the ground, under the sole of his boot digging into your lower spine. 

All the air kicked from your lungs all you could do was curl up into yourself in hopes that the leather would cause any broken bones from the way he was stomping down on you. 

It was the first time you had been hit with an assault rifle, much to your surprise, and quite honestly, you wanted it to be your last from how harsh the pain had managed to spread from your busted eye, traveling as a pulsing pain throughout your entire face.

You were defeated, there was no doubt about it. The guard’s kicks now just became overkill as he took all his pent-up anger out through his attacks. All you could do was shield yourself until your knight and shining armor arrived. At first, when Joel stumbled upon the exchange, he hadn’t realized that it was you all tucked away, being beaten half to death. 

You could blame him, it was an easy sight to come across in the back alleys of the district with how corrupt their shit system was.

You also had not recognized him until he was just about to walk away, excusing himself not wanting to get caught up in some stranger's mess, that was until you had called out his name from under the guard shoe and everything seemed to click. 

You were convinced you had a concussion or at least some type of head injury that would explain the sudden blink where before you could realize it the guard had been beaten unconscious spread out on the ground (or at least he looked to be) while you were being hoisted up against Joel’s shoulder for leverage as he helped you stumble back to his place to clean up your pride as well as your new wound. 

The first thing Joel had spoken to you after almost a few long minutes of sitting in silence as he held a disapproving expression while dressing all of your wounds. "You and that bad habit of yours is gonna get yourself killed one day." The tone in his gruff voice held so much malice that you winced at the mention of death.

"Oh, please, that guy should be lucky that I hadn’t cut his fucking fingers off. He only got the upper hand because of that damn gun." You bit back with less sass, sliding off of the counter you were propped on.

Joel only rolls his eyes, standing with his arms crossed, you could tell he was frustrated by the way his eyebrow ticked up as he gazed down at you, not budging from his spot standing right in front of you as he caged you against the counter. "You're doing a lot of shittalk for someone that got their ass handed to them."

"Well, maybe I'm into that sort of thing, big guy?" You pressed your hand against the middle of his torso, pushing him back enough for you to wiggle away, feeling his eyes trailing after every step all the way to the open door of his fridge. 

Squatting down to your knees and glaring at the half empty bottom shelf, a small exhale parted his lips as the annoyance settled in from your unserious attitude. 

Joel knew that he couldn't convince you much with that steel stubborn skull of yours. "You have some business scolding me with all the shit that you get into—"

He had enough decorum to allow you to shut the fridge door before pressing your chest firmly against the front of the fridge and pressing his chest into your back, cramming you against the front of the fridge with the wish of his breath against the nape of your neck.

"And you talk a lot," he threatens in a low hum, goosebumps forming under the grace of his fingers as they sneak under the hem of your shirt, hands finding his favorite place to fondle you. 

As he cups your breast in his palms, raking his cold fingertips over them, enticing your nipples to bud under their rough touch.

“Wait, Tess could come back—” 

"Well, aren’t you into that sort of thing?" Joel grunts in reply, whimpering under his touch. 

Joel's rough calloused hands slide down your pudgy torso, dragging his fingertips lower to undo the buckle of your belt, unzipping your jeans all in two yanks to slide his hand under the elastic of your underwear. 

Your breath hitched at the drag of his fingers groping you, paired with the other fondling your breast over your bra. "Maybe I should give you something to finally shut you the fuck up."

You had almost purred under his touch, melting against his caressing hands as Joel made his erection a statement by pressing himself against the back of your thigh. The outline of his situation makes your thighs press together as you press back, saying farewell to the rest of the dignity you had left. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Don’t make me spell it out for you, hon." Feeling the brush of his breath against your skin, his voice gentle as his hands roamed your body as if he owned it, against the tip of your ears, shivering at the wet kisses that found themselves placed against the exposed peak of your neck.

"This doesn't seem like much of a punishment to me." You sucked in a breath at his fingers finding themselves between your legs, toying with you as all they did was rub mindlessly against your front teasingly, just inches away from where you needed them to be the most.

"I’d like to think I’m a fair man," Joel hums as he dips his hand deeper into your pants, fingers pushing into your pussy, biting your lip as you flinch at the feeling that the rough drag of his dry fingers adjusted on the tips of your toes before he could comfortably settle with a wet layer of your arousal wrapping around his digits. "I get a reward for saving your stubborn ass, and you get a punishment for wasting my fucking time."

Pressing your cheek flat against the cool metal of the fridge while arching farther into his hold, the slick sound of them positioning in and out was starting to make your blood run hot as Joel’s fingers started to move at an earnest pace. "Ngh—fine by me, honestly; maybe I should act out more often."

Joel scoffs, feeling the briskness of his smirk pressed against your hot skin; his mouth drags over the shell of your ear, practically counting the hum of his heartbeat as his chest presses against your back. "Oh yeah?" Just as quickly as the pleasure started, it stopped, Joel’s hands yanking away, leaving you feeling discombobulated as you whined out, leaning farther back and chasing after his touch.

"Ah, since you're having so much fun and I’ve been so patient," Joel pulled away with a small noise of rejection, instead using his hand to spin you facing forward, pressing your back against the fridge as the other made quick work undoing the front of his pants, the noise from his zipper making you swallow. "You're gonna get on your fucking knees for me, and give me my reward now."

Your eyes met the dark, lustful look in Joel’s eyes as he shuffled backward until he bumped into the table, making do with his pants enough to pull his dick from his briefs all while holding sly eye contact.

Joel knows that you find him breathtaking; he plays into the feeling you would get between your thighs, never wanting to keep your hands to yourself when he was around.

He also knew every little thing that would make you tick, all the ways to drive you up the wall, and just how to get you aching between your thighs. You didn't have to be told twice, shame being the last thing on your mind as you huffed, shuffled your steps forward, and fell down to your knees in front of the older man.

Hissing at the small crescent dig of his nails cupping your face forward, he tried not to fidget as if his other hand wasn't losing wrap around the base of his dick, touching himself at the sight of you down there. "Open."

Obeying this command, your mouth is coaxed open by the flat front of his thumb dragged along your bottom lip. Your tongue follows quickly after, along with your teeth, as you lean forward enough to give a playful chomp at the finger before soothing the attack with the wet swirl of your tongue. It only entices Joel further, pulling the same hand away and instead replacing it with another thing you could suck on.

Farther down from the tip all the way to the base, you pull your lips over your teeth with the struggle of your throat reminding you of your gag reflex, your brow creasing, and hands planting on top of his thighs to ground you and steady breathing through your nose.

A satisfied exhale rolls from Joel's throat, his hands buried in a tight grasp at your curls, watching himself disappear between your full, smooth lips. "You're fucking perfect." Joel hushedly praises, "If only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look from here, sweet girl."

You melt at the sincerity and gentleness of his tone, the vibration nearly makes Joel topple over as his knees threaten to buckle. You could feel the tense flex of his muscles under your palm as you grasped at his jeans. Joel's thrusts are considered tamed, more gentle, and slow you even thought him out to be timid around your relaxed throat. 

Gagging only when he got a bit more handsy, your fingernails digging into his pant leg as he strains himself from giving in too much, even if the thought of fucking your throat was becoming more enticing. 

Joel's hips still bent, his hand knotting in your hair, tugging you away with a more rough force as he pants at the overwhelming clarity that struck from his orgasm. 

Your eyes glued to the other hand that worked itself around the hilt of his dagger, giving himself a few quick strokes that unfolded so quickly that you barely had time to process that he was coming onto your face until his fingers clenched around the hair of your scalp, tilting your head up towards the ceiling just to get a better look as if he had created a masterpiece of artwork all over your face.

🔖 @adison-smart27 / @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @do-double-g

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★  𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄. + 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. the lovely feelings Gojo would experience knowing just how vulnerable he was to your roughness.

✧. ┊    notes. everyone thank @ouchthathurts for getting me back on my writing grind, lord knows I need to start posting fics again. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | drabble | slight sub!gojo | hair pulling | strength kink | established relationship | body worship | oral sex(f receiving) | cunnilingus | pussy eating | fingering | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | pain kink(?) | title Inso by this song.

IT WASN'T SHOCKING that everyone thought that Gojo was significantly stronger than he had ever shown anyone.

It was also just the fact that he never really felt the need to flaunt the mass extreme of his abilities in front of others out of the pure amount of boredom he would feel being all serious and how tiresome he would feel wasting his time fighting all the damn time, surprisingly, including over performing in front of you as well.

Because of this, it was only logical to assume from an outside perspective that he was the "strong" one in your relationship. Even if the blue-eyed man did not have an unfair advantage over you with his supernatural abilities, he would still be the one to carry the weight of having the most powerful legacy within his bored, lengthy fingertips from his hidden lean build.

Gojo frequently outshone you in strength, and that was just a result of your extreme inability to even remotely compare to the godlike level of power he possessed. However, as the saying goes, behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.

Gojo can recall the number of times your influence has caused him to feel genuine fear, even though you weren't unable to destroy demons with the snap of a finger, and that you have not shed a few tears after stubbing your toe on something.

Despite all of this, Gojo would openly admit that you were the only living thing to ever manage to strike genuine fear into his heart, as well as the only living being to actually harm him in any way.

There were times when you weren't even aware of your strength. Gojo would still wince when you would find something just too funny to the point where your body would react on its own, playfully slapping him on the shoulder or whacking the front of his chest, too caught up in your fit of giggles to see that you would manage to catch him off guard enough to knock some air out of the poor man's lungs.

So sure, Gojo had his powers, but you were strong in your way. And the mere idea of it would be enough to get your boyfriend worked up all by itself.

When you're with Gojo, you don't even bother to hold back, and he admits that he adores that about you a little too much on his part.

His silvery white hair was caught between each of your knuckles, Your nails not letting up from their death grip, and your fist balled up at the front of his scalp as his mouth parted, leaving wet kisses between your inner thighs to let out a needy vocal reaction from the tug you had at his scalp.

The raw, intimate feeling of Gojo’s mouth teasing at your sensitive clit made it impossible for your hips not to jerk against your soft duvet bedding, even despite his locked-in hold around the bones of your hips. the small indents of his fingers already leaving small marks that you both knew would mix with the warming brown of your skin into a bruising color later.

Even with his hands holding you in place, your hips somehow still managed to buck against his hold so easily, the newfound strength building from the promise of your third orgasm of the night fighting against the man with impossible ease.  

You don't even realize that your hips are rolling involuntarily to the clouded thoughts littering your thoughts as you eagerly press Gojo's face closer between your legs, a low moan of impatience escaping from your throat, wanting him to do nothing more than settle the building orgasm that rudely threatened the proper wire of all your nerves.

Without embarrassment, his long finger's piston inside of you knuckle-deep, pairing almost too perfectly with the warmth of his tongue. The lewd, wet sounds reverberate through your shared master bedroom, making your body flush with a sweating sense of heat.

He made you feel so good that it almost started to hurt. Convinced at the thought of your bones having melted into some type of putty in Gojo's grip, and yet the sight of him lying on his stomach between your parted legs, with one knee bent lazily over his shoulder—the muscle tremor was barely noticeable if it weren't for the twitch of your toes, with the other one folded up—could barely be made through the tears that clung to your lashes.

Your breath was almost heaving at the piercing blue eye contact you had gotten back, and the flutter of his long white lashes almost tickled you as they brushed against the plush of your inner thighs. You could tell he was smiling with the telltale crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he would squint, despite his mouth being all too preoccupied with eating your pussy.

As he coaxed another orgasm from your poor, trembling body, you felt as if he was holding you captive. The whimpering release tensed you farther into your euphoria, having you lean your head back against your pile of pillows.

Your fist clenches tighter into Gojo’s locks at the slight slapping noise of your thighs squeezing together with Gojo’s face smothered and caged between the thick of them.

It takes a few moments along with a few breaths for you to come down from your climax, your legs unsensing and shifting quickly to something comparable to jelly as Gojo frees himself from your plush prison, wanting to laugh at whoever would consider you weak with a deep sigh accompanied by an all too happy famous beaming smirk.

🔖 @souljagrldotcom / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @venussakura / @mimixrx2 / @unheolybakugo / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworld / @s-witch-bitch / @chloee0x0 / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @momoewn / @angel-luv-04 / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @sacvh / @disaster-rose / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @thisbicc / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @rumi-rants / @kiyomeichann / @anotherlovelyruin / @lone-poltergeist / @wenumsmol / @namidaass / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @crissteetee / @princesstiti14 / @watyousayin / @ziggy-09 / @carcarmeowmeow19 / @p-rizz-ha / @lilvampirina / @atsumubabe / @lialia3945 / / @innocxntdexth / @simpforsat0ru / @inumakiiz /

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[dimepdf]

★  𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. sometimes you feel a bit guilty admitting that your best friend's father is the one for you.

─── ☆ notes. gonna be leaning more towards au type fanfic after this as a thank you for 9k! i feel kinda bland not being able to write in the genre of fantasy after my king!eren fic lmao . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | dilf!toji | older man/younger woman | age gap | secret relationship | hookups | corruption kink | height difference | teasing | mocking | finger sucking | handjobs | oral sex | throat fucking | cum swallowing | title inspo by this song.

dilf!toji, who everyone knows is too good looking for his middle age, his clean uncaring dark looks and deep dangerous smirk make many people the victim of his smart charm.

He could have anyone wrapped around his finger whenever he had pleased yet lived to humble himself with only a few causal partners. Cutting said women away whenever the relationship would threaten to get too serious, commitment not much of his strong suit. 

Which was why the older man should have known better than to entertain you, his son Megumi’s best friend.

It was usual for your group of friends to come to his home, using his living room as a lounge spot with the rest of the group on the weekends, taking a break from college life to collectively lounge in comfort at the breathtaking penthouse the full-pocketed family called home. 

During those said visits, dilf!toji never seemed to fail at catching your eye no matter what you were doing. Seemly struggling with some mental battle trying to not make it seem as if you weren’t some horny freak that would constantly eye fuck your best friend's very handsome and seemly always shirtless ab toned father.

dilf!toji, who despite his better judgment starts taking a liking to the young girl that had no issue surging through his snack pantry, yet wouldn't be able to hold a conversation without stumbling over your words or struggling to hold eye contact with him. 

dilf!toji who loved catching you off guard leered around from your friends peering eyes and watching you fidgeting over his looming towering figure, finding out just what alluring comment he could think of next that would make you turn into a flustered mess.

Maybe that’s why dilf!toji had found you so intriguing—the shy little thing that would so confidently whisper about how hot he was to your friends, knowingly confessing the lewd things you wanted to do with the man that was just a wall away. 

Yet the moment you happened to be alone with him, you would be seconds away from turning into putty. 

"We should hurry," you mutter against his lips, a gasp following after as his canines swiped against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed against you, trailing down to the peak of your collarbone.

"When did you become so impatient?" dilf!toji only says this to tease your eager state, proving his point with his move as you back him against the kitchen corner, pressing against his chest before dropping to your knees. 

It was a sight to behold, the soft spoken house guest now with your fingers untying the lace of his sweatpants. "I thought I taught you better than that," dilf!toji continues with a hand caressing the softness of your face.

Tilting your head up to look at him as his thumbs wander around the wrap of your plump lips, sighing at the warmth of your tongues pressing and sucking against the digit.

dilf!toji leans back and watches the dick eager monster he had created tugging down his sweats and boxers, eyes his erection almost close to drooling as if it were the first time you had seen his veiny length in its full glory. 

He couldn't help but smirk, knowing he had taught you just how to please him and just how much he loved it when you kissed his tip and dragged your tongue on the underside of his hilt before wrapping your lips around him and gagging, trying to take him down your throat. 

"Woah, slow down, baby, I'm not going anywhere." It was faux concern laced in his low, grave cadence, his hands trailing up to the side of your skull, finding a nice resting place for them as he thrust against your mouth.

dilf!toji, who, despite chastising you so many times about your loud whines, needs to be quieter while his son is asleep just down the hall, yet loves the loud intruding noise filling his home with the wet suctioning noise of your moans around his dick. 

With tears beading your waterline, you used your hand to stroke what you could fit in your mouth. He loved seeing you like this, all needy just for him.

"Can’t take it all, sweet girl?" dilf!toji would taunt, mocking the whine that would tug deep from your throat in arousal with a false pout.

"Look at you, so fucking needy, can’t even last a second without touching yourself," he cursed, grunting at the sight of your hand split between your spread legs. The insults would have been the icing on the cake if you weren't so deterred from getting him off first.

A woman on a mission, you beckoned him farther down your throat, giving him a look of permission while bracing yourself against his thigh.

dilf!toji hadn't spent much time putting two and two together, taking over the pace and fucking your throat at his own will.

You wanted to feel something other than the bubbling hot pleasure building up between your legs: anger, shame, or even guilt for having a thing for your best friend's dad, let alone agreeing to spend the night knowing that it would be easier for you to have a moment alone with dilf!toji now that the universe had just given you the perfect excuse.

You always knew the next morning was bound to be brutal from dilf!toji’s gruff assault on your throat, his thrust only getting rougher as he adjusted the grasp around your skull, grunting more and more as you tried to unknot the trembling orgasm that threatened to approach from your pleasuring hand.

It doesn't take him long, considering the feeling of you swallowing and humming against his length, cumming down your throat at the sight of you trembling around your fingers, egging on your own orgasm.

Struggling to swallow down most of his mess, humming and swiping your mouth with the back of your hand once he had pulled out.

You had no time to feel guilty, especially while dilf!toji lifted you on top of the kitchen island and buried himself in between your legs, lapping his tongue against your already sensitive pussy. 

You wanted to go back in time and pat yourself on the back for being friends with Megumi, knowing that it meant his father would be pushing aside your panties and fucking you against his marble counters.

🔖 @souljagrldotcom / @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @venussakura / @emery-333 / @unheolybakugo / @dunixxd / @taeecups / @songbirdgardensworld / @celi-xxmoon / @s-witch-bitch / @chloee0x0 / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @sacvh / @disaster-rose / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @cjm-cookiethief / @zuuki / @tojishugetiddies / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @kiyomeichann / @wenumsmol / @unholybabyface / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @watyousayin / @laylasbunbunny / @crissteetee / @ziggy-09 / @angel-luv-04 / @anotherlovelyruin / @p-rizz-ha / @lone-poltergeist / @mimixrx2 / @t4naiis /

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[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 '𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃. + 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when you initially asked Neteyam, the eldest Sully son who also happened to be smitten for you, for more assistance with your Na'vi knowledge, he was happy to help with a more hands-on approach.

─── ☆ notes. saw the new avatar and the way i had to pause and react and take in every detail cause it felt so short,, i cant wait for the 3rd movie to come out while im pushing fucking 40 or something with kids. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 2.8k (21 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | mutual pining | friends to lovers | fem reader | pwp | porn with feelings | not movie canon | size kink | height difference | stretch marks | body worship | fluffy | confessions | monster fucking(?) | handjobs | fingering | grinding | manhandling | oral sex(f) | cute aftercare | not beta'd | title inspired by this song.

"You can't, Tuk!" Only grumbling at his two most annoying younger siblings who had been following closely behind him, Neteyam dismissed the two in the typical older sibling tone of irritation. 

Both of them were curious, like cats, to find out where he was going when he broke his patrolling routine and made the error of asking both their father and mothers for permission to spend the rest of the day helping you at the labs with your studies that you had been struggling with.

No matter how much he tried to pull both parents aside, at least one sibling had managed to eavesdrop, and then his plans of keeping it on the down low had fallen through like a domino effect. 

This was why Tuk was bouncing on her heels, trailing after her two bickering brothers, Neteyam and Lo'ak. "No fair!" She tantrums, adding to the chattering back and forth, "I want to see y/n too, how come you're the only one that gets to go?" 

With your parents being loyal scientists passionate for a change, standing alongside Jake Sully were a group of good hearted human beings that were allowed to stay on Pandora to live alongside the Na'vi colony. 

Given that you were the second less rogue lab baby, it was the story that set the stage for your loving and extremely intelligent life. 

Maybe it was the fact that you still had your two loving parents, ending up more bubbled and growing up to be more of a homebody constantly wrapped up in some sort of new experiment scattering around the lab despite working with people twice your age. 

Everyone had grown to feel like one big nerdy family within the lab walls. 

Neteyam tightly inhaled with his hand wrapped tight around the leather hand grip from the holster for his Ikran. He was starting to grow thinner and thinner with the patience of telling the little girl every excuse under the sun other than flat out saying that he just wished to spend time with you alone. 

Lo'ak, of course, had been no help in calming Tuk down; his motormouth only added fuel to the flame as he continued to pester him alongside her. 

"He doesn't want us to come so he can finally make a move on his girlfriend." The youngest boy teased. Lo'ak flinched away from his brother's attempt at kicking him in the shoulder with a knowing chuckle, the comment only made Tuk whine more in disgust.

Muttering an insult as he mounted his ride, Neteyam ignored the tightness in his stomach at just the mere mention of your name beside his hinting towards a romantic relationship; it was an odd pretty relationship you had with the eldest son.

“I won't be fawning, I'm just going because she asked me for help with her research.” Neteyam gave his siblings one more stern glare.

“And she's not my girlfriend.” 

Lo’ak doubled in laughter, fuel only added as Neteyam showed more signs of annoyance. “Research? For what, exploring each other's bodies?” Neteyam had only rolled his eyes at the lewd question, taking off just in time for Tuk to ask what the joke had meant. 

Neteyam had been to the labs a handful of times, whether it was to hang out with Spider, accompany Kiri to see her mother, or just keep a close eye on Lo'ak to make sure he would stay out of trouble.

But he felt like this visit was just different from all the others—more intimate, greeting the few familiar faces as you guided him by hand through the lab rooms. Ducking through doorways and crouching through cramped human sized halls to your quarters that had been cleared out for a separate space all to yourself. 

It had been an old rec room redesigned and rearranged to your liking to hold all your personal belongings and decor. What was notable to Neteyam was the lack of boring control panels, odd techy devices, and bland white furniture all over the rest of the lab. 

The usual white and blue alien sleeping pod had been swapped out for a netted hammock similar to the one he would use at home, making your room appear completely disconnected from the rest of the sterile and overly organized aesthetic. 

A long desk piled high with books and paperwork was located across from your resting place next to the hatch entrance door, taking up its own space next to the large window overlooking the forest below the cliff. Your desk served as a clear confirmation to Neteyam that you were as intelligent as you appeared.

To enter Neteyam had to duck down enough to fit under the sliding door frame. As he did so, he peered around your messy bedroom with big curious eyes, soaking up as much information as he could about the space you loved to lock yourself up in all day rather than with him. "Okay, so this is what I've got done so far."

He followed the slight gesture of your hand, following towards the splattered spread of canvas against the once white wall now covered in layers of small paintings and scribbled wordings, but there was once a portrait that had caught his eye the most, a towering blue warrior posed with a bow. 

You had painted him on your wall.

Neteyam exhales as his long fingers run against the textured wall, his ears folding back, expressing his hidden bashful feelings as he comes face to face for the first time with a beautiful mural of himself.

"Ah, don't touch it," The gentle grasp of his elbow draws his attention back to you, "it's still drying, dummy."  

Your entire hand could only manage to wrap around two of his large fingers as you used the bottom hem of your shirt to wipe away the smudged paint on his fingertips, the view allowing Neteyam to look down at you while swallowing at the peak of your midriff.

In a good way, your body was very different from his. In contrast to his towering frame, you were much shorter with skin a warm shade of brown rather than the light sky blue he was used to seeing around.

It was more enticing to Neteyam, you weren't like anyone else he was used to, not even similar to Spider. You were a woman for one, he couldn't help but find himself entranced by you just so soft and plush looking, especially as you stood before him collecting your art supplies from around your bedroom.

He liked the way you always seemed to exude confidence with every step you took. How whenever you were concentrating on a task, your expression would soften, biting at the skin at your lip enough to draw his attention to the shape of your lips.

“Okay, so sit for a moment.”

He does as you say and sits with his legs crossed in front of you while kneeling on the ground. He had managed to have a height difference that reached your collarbone even while he was seated while you stood in front of him. Neteyam felt a bit insecure under your studied, silent gaze, watching your eyes move down his body with an uncomfortable exhale.

It didn't help his anxieties much that you were a more hands on learner, blinking as your hand reached out to caress his face.

A shiver ran up his spine at the gentle brush of your fingers against his cheek. "Your marks are so distinctive, pretty," you complement breathlessly with the trace of your pointing finger against his temple.

His ears twitched, and before he could react, his tail wrapped itself snugly around the middle of your thigh and drew you closer to him.

He murmurs timidly, "Yeah, they're kind of just all over," Before his hands could rest flat on his lap, he gestures while briefly puffing out his chest.

His eyes were looking anywhere but yours, as he was almost close to purring under your gentle touch. He just couldn't trust how his body would react to anything else. It was a mental war, trying not to make it seem as if he was completely gawking at your body.

The lift of your shirt exposed that same part of your stomach that his eyes could only see but his hands longed so desperately to trace. Neteyam’s fingers twitched, making a fist before hesitating in his grasp on your hips, his palm engulfing your sides.

The sight of his thumbs not being able to touch caused him to let out a shaky breath.

You nearly fell over when he suddenly wrapped his strong hands around you. The only thing you noticed was the curious look in his large, yellow eyes that were raking up from your waist as you used his shoulder to help you ground yourself. "Can I see it?" he asks.

You took a moment to process what he was trying to ask before your other hand could instantly cover the pudge of your stomach. "Hm, sure." You finally nod, lifting your shirt just enough to reach the midsection of your torso. 

You had your marks in the form of a scar, a healed claw mark that stretched just below your rib, and a memory of the first time Neteyam nearly saved your life from a rogue Thanator that had wandered too far from its territory. 

His face winced as he tried to push back the dreaded feeling he still would get in his chest thinking back on that horrible day. His fingers stroke against the rough skin, gentle enough as if he were afraid that he would crush you between his fingers by accident.

"I'm sorry," he mutters shamefully. "I let it leave a mark on you." He felt as if he had taken an arrow to the chest, the clench that he felt nicking in his ribs with every flooded memory of having betrayed your parents and his trust by being unable to truly ensure your safety in his hands.

"I told you to stop apologizing. You saved my life, Neteyam." You reassure him, yet he would fail to feel the same way, his fingers continuing down the scar tissue low enough to reach the waistband of your pants. 

Neteyam’s fingers brush more towards your sides, his interest lingering at the hints of stretch marks on the skin of your hips. 

"And what about these?" Foreign were the marks embedded against your hips and the dance of his fingers as they dragged down the jagged lines under them, hidden under the waist of your pants. 

It was a daring request, meeting eyes with a soft gaze that had a flaming heat feel as if it were flowing through his veins. 

Peering down at him with a dark look that made the tug of his tail more inviting, you closed the distance, falling against him with enough reaction time to straddle his waist. “Aren't I the one supposed to be the one studying you?” you whisper 

“I don't mind, go ahead.” Your back arches as you encircle his shoulder with your arms and tuck yourself closer as Neteyam watches how you react. 

His hands had taken the place of his previous grasp on your thighs, his tail wrapped possessively around your midsection. “Ohe think ohe'm keye’ung love.”

The beating in his chest was dangerous, but so was the way you looked at him before your lips could meet.

Neteyam didn't consider himself to be much of a romantic, the closest he had come to experiencing true love was through the example of the close bond his parents shared.

But as he kissed you, suddenly it all just made sense.

When you pulled away, exhaling hard, all he could do was chase after your mouth. The proportions were only a bit off—not too much that either of you had any objections against—as he swallowed each moan and whine that would pull from your throat.

Neither Neteyam nor you have ever kissed anyone before, maybe it was the way it felt so right to just let each other's instincts take over, grasping and tugging each other tightly as if there were any possible way you could get any closer.

Pure lust was what had taken over as Neteyam felt you shiver under his fingertips, the tangle of your hand in his braids had sent a new, inexperienced spark through his body.

Neteyam hissed at the odd feeling that struck him like a wave. "Oh, sorry," you mutter with a lick of your lips, your arms still laced around him.

He hadn't understood what you were apologizing for at first until he had followed your pointed stare to his crotch. 

The feeling that had waved through him was now all too clear as you both glanced shyly at his bulging situation—that you had the guts to reach out and fondle before he could even process how to breathe once more. 

With a sigh of breath, Neteyam practically whines at the contact, too caught up with the pit forming in his lower stomach to feel the embarrassment he would have felt at the pitch of the noises that parted from his lips. 

You readjust yourself in his hold, wincing slightly at the death grip he had on your thighs. The small space you created was enough for you to fully get a better grasp on his length, disregarding the cloth that held his privacy and rubbing your thumb over the dark blue tip of his dick, smearing the precum that he oozed.

Neteyam doesn't know whether he wants to watch or squeeze his eyes shut, his expression pained, yet his body felt everything but. 

His breath was shaky, and his limbs were tensing with each fisted stroke. 

All he could do was tremble and moan as you jerked him off. "Ah, hold on, p–please." As he sagged forward and whimpered, Neteyam attempted to catch his breath.

His sudden deadweight forced you to fall backward onto your back, where you then caught yourself lying beneath him. You followed suit to the small moment of mercy, mostly for your own sake at the dull tiredness in your wrist.

Now that the position had not helped much to ease whatever was building up inside, Neteyam sighed at the newfound feeling of rutting himself against the soft skin of your leg that his dick was pressed against.

Wanting more of the skinship, Neteyam’s hands wandered to whatever they could grab, hearing you giggle slightly from the ticklish sensation. 

It was the guide of your hand wrapping around his wrist, guiding his hand lower past the waistband of your pants. He felt drunk watching the way your expression shifted at just the mere feeling of his long fingers finding just the spot where you needed him most. 

It was an otherworldly sensation that Neteyam was experiencing, feeling you tight around his fingers and pistoning in and out of you at a careful, almost unbearably slow pace with each thrust.

Even as you finished with your tense muscles clenching around him and a broken moan that made him shiver, a noise of encouragement would make him never want to stop praising you.

Once Neteyam got a look at his slick covered fingers, it was like a lightbulb had switched on.

Before you could even process the end of your orgasm, Neteyam had crawled down closer to your legs, leaning down desperately and tugging off your pants. Both of you still found the atmosphere light and comfortable enough to humor each other's eagerness. 

Your laughter faded into small gasps at the strength with which Neteyam had elevated you enough to bury his face into your pussy sitting crouched on his knees as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

The same tongue he used to shyly babble to you with is now showing its true talent as his fingers probe you open the twitch of your hips shift against his mouth, directing him straight to his tongue sucking at your clit. 

It doesn't take much strength for him to hold you in place, your entire lower half is lifted in his grasp, knees bent and held up against his shoulders, and you use your elbows to perch yourself up as your muscles clench from the pleasure of your orgasm.

Neteyam, who hadn't had much of a grasp on the ecstasy of climaxing, continued to suck and finger until you trembled all over and were begging out his name for mercy. 

He was practically boneless, and tears threatened to roll down your cheeks as he finally allowed you to collapse into a heap of putty mess flat on the floor.

You push out your arms lazily, beckoning Neteyam into your embrace as you tug him down to lay on his chest with each other's legs tangled together, panting the same breath. 

It was a comfortable moment of silence, listening to the matched rhythm of each other's heartbeat.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. Eren fucking hates babies, which is why he feels so confused sat the feeling he gets in his stomach seeing you with one.

─── ☆ notes. i blame tiktok for giving me the worst baby fever while also making me so digusted with them as well, i saw a tiktok where this mother was like "oh yeah i suck the snot out of my toddlers nose!" ??? . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.1k (10 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. domestic fluff | babies | babysitting | baby fever | readers niece | bluey slander | Eren lowkey wanting a kid | suggestive ending | this is all tiktoks fault.

Eren hates being around kids, especially the ones that scream and cry with their snotty noses and run around throwing tantrums just because they could get their way, type of toddlers, mostly just to be even more clear.

He excuses the hatred with him growing up an only child, coming from a small, close-knit family where he was the only baby raised around older relatives that had refused to plant their own roots so he wasn't left with many cousins around his age to interact with.

Eren's parents were the only ones to really expand their family tree when having him, which was why he was just so spoiled rotten with attention and gifts, and if there was one thing that Eren loved more than you, it was attention.

"Woah, when did you multiply?" was the second thing you heard, followed by the sound of your shared apartment door swinging open and the rustling of bags.

His arms were occupied with a huddle of grocery bags, all carried on his forearms. That last thing that your boyfriend expected to come home was the sight of you and your uninvited guest, your young niece, lounging together on the couch.

Eren didn't want to scoff and complain about how she was practically neglecting the 40-inch flat screen instead of cursing the screen with some cartoon with a blue fucking dog with an accent, using his surround system setup that he was plotting on coming home and ending his day by playing GTA on.

"Oh my bad baby, I forgot to text you." Taking your eyes off the show for only a quick minute to give him a small greeting smile from your comfortable looking spot on the couch.

Right next to the beaded haired little girl giggling and clapping her hands at whatever nonsense was playing out on the screen, "My sister had something to do today, so she just dropped the baby off for a bit."

Eren hummed in acknowledgement of your response while dropping the bags on the counter. Not really knowing what to say, he tried his best to hide the fleeting glances he would give from the kitchen every once in a while as he put away the food. 

Eren was convinced he was fighting some sort of demon after seeing you being all motherly with someone else's child. 

His thoughts spiraled about his lovely future with you, conflicting with the stupid smile he tried oh-so-hard to repress while opening cabinets at the thought of him coming back home to you and his own child one day.

Obsessed with how it would feel to swing open the front door and be greeted by his future loving wife while holding a little human who would call him dad.

Eren had been so caught up in his own fantasy world that he hadn't even noticed you walking up to him, standing right beside him with a questionable glance. Having called out his name so many times, you were down to using his full government, yet not even that would break him from his trance.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging against his back, to finally catch his attention. "You okay, baby?" you chuckle, feeling his muscles tense for a split second before flinching back to reality with a drawn-out sigh.

"Yeah, you know, just thinking about shit—stuff," he mutters, caressing the arm you had slung around his torso with the brush of his thumb, as he tried to figure out just what was going on in his mind. "Just seeing you around babies and stuff, it kinda just fucks with me a bit, I guess."

It was as if the child could feel eyes on her, taking a break from sucking on her finger to turn and stare bug-eyed at you two all snuggled up in the kitchen. Watching her struggle a little to slide off the couch and waddle over to him was just another heart throbbing scene.

He almost clenched his imaginary pearls too. "I think she wants you to pick her up." you laugh, both glancing down at the toddler that just stood there looking up with her arms reached up as if she were stuck in place.

"Oh," Eren hesitated for a moment, his glance shifting from you to her almost as if he were second guessing whether it was really okay to pick her up.

He first wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans, then reached down and lifted her up by her sides as gently as if she were some glass doll.

Eren had first handled her outstretched in his hold, as if he were presenting the child to someone in front of him. "Uh hello…" He muttered, almost melting at the smile that spreads across the little girl's face as she shyly tucked herself into his chest, muttering something close to a greeting reply.

"Not you charming the entire family tree." You teased him from beside, smiling at the adorable exchange.

The day continues on without much issue, you were able to actually get some rest with the little girl actually attached to Eren’s side for the entirety of the night.

The little girl even convinced him into watching some more toddler cartoons alongside her, having Eren wrapped around her small little finger as he nodded his head at whatever nonsense baby blabber would come from her mouth.

Spending the time together drained whatever childlike energy the kid had left in her. Once you had given her a bath and given Eren a much-needed lesson on how diapers work, the little girl was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow.

Leaving you and Eren with a bit of a cautious peace period alone in the living room, you two were able to finally enjoy each other's silent company.

"You're not as bad with kids as I thought you’d be," you said in a quiet, gentle tone while snuggling by Eren’s side, not wanting to make much noise despite being a whole room and hallway away from the sleeping baby.

Eren’s face scrunched slightly in a slight teasing appearance of offense, but he quickly glanced off in the direction of the baby in a trance of his thoughts.

"I would be cool with a lot more of them if they didn't shit and cry all the damn time." He shrugs honestly, not wanting it to show that his baby fever alarms were blaring at full volume as his hands traced over the exposed part of your stomach that peeked from your shirt.

"Would you... like to have kids?" He was finally done tiptoeing over the big question, the hitch in his breath telling you all you need to know about how nervous he was about even suggesting getting you pregnant.

"I mean, yeah," you answered a little too simply, "babies are cute." And then quickly followed the look—the dark puppy pouty eyes staring back at you were all too telling as to what his true motivation behind the question was. 

"Eren." 

"We could always practice too!"

🔖 @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @ziggy-09 / @anotherlovelyruin / @s-witch-bitch / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworld / @emery-333 / @mimixrx2 / @souljagrldotcom / @carcarmeowmeow19 / @starr-k / @p-rizz-ha /

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★  𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. crowded in a full club with a crowd of familiar faces, the last person you wanted to ever see again was your ex. Luckily, Eren swoops to safety, wanting to keep your mood high and wants to save the night by taking a more direct approach.

✧. ┊    notes. this took way too long to write, good lord I was struggling to choose if I wanted to write a jungkook fanfic or this,, the brain rot is getting bad ya'll pray for me to unclench that seven days a week song from my hands | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    length. 3.5k (27 min read) .

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | friends to lovers | smut | sub!eren | confident girl/nerdy guy pairing | fem reader | night club | jealousy | handjob | protected sex | teasing | begging | groping | fondling | cowgirl | cuddling | aftercare | pov changes(?) | I'm bad at summarizing just read | title inspo from this song .

THE MUSIC THUMPED through the planked floors of the room to the vibrate of the bottom of your chunky heels. Dim, low, orange lights outlined the many figures that were scattered around the condensed club that had a known wait line outside that was close to wrapping around the building and down the rest of the block.

Luckily, your name was printed in bold black at the top of the exclusive people list, one of the many perks of being friends with your friend Connie, who somehow managed to be the owner of the most infamous bar in the city.

Dragging your friend group out for the stress free weekend, wanting nothing more but to get drunk under someone else’s tab.

After the pretty rough recent breakup you had with your sistutionship that Mikasa and Sasha were just so tired of hearing you mope about through the many group chat messages and facetime calls they had to endure with you yapping about another guy from Tinder ghosting you. 

The offer of filling your poor little heartbroken spirit with many many free shots was enough to get your ass off your couch and squeezed into an old cute red mini dress that hugged your curves just a little too much that if you stared for just a bit too long you would see the slight outline of the cute lace matching set under.

Especially where it stopped at the mid peak of your thighs, the material plumping out around the tight hem giving you a very attractive and alluring sight for anyone that so happened to trail their eyes down your adorned figure.

In short, you were prepared to take it all off at the end of the night, and by God’s will, you hoped to end up in your birthday suit, tangled up with some handsome suitor willing to fuck away all the pent-up fustration that your blessed rose touch failed to reach under the blankets. 

Eren, to no one's surprise, hadn’t gotten the same idea, the timid soul drawing something close to his normal casual attire did not really know what was club appropriate, no matter how many times your friend group would drag him along on a night out just to drink the boy out of his shell.

Tonight, surprisingly, he was the only one in the friend group chat to give a hurried response to your nighting invitation, watching from your palm-resting chin as he babysat his second drink.

Letting out a covered chuckle at every grimace that would twist on his lips that you couldn't tell was because of the sip of alcohol or the fact that he was buzzing with anxiety, refusing to leave your sight.

The music in the dimly lit open room thumped through the floorboards, the air wafting with desperate cheap cologne and hard bar liquor. You had to admit that seeing him glued to his spot beside the bar was a bit funny.

Avoiding any lick of interaction with anyone as his sight would dip whenever anyone would push through near him, the way his shoulder stood up tense as his hand clutched his drink to the long line of girls that would stumble up to him as if he were their lighthouse beacon, their exchange awkward as Eren would often play the same "I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music card." just to shoo them away nervously back to the dancefloor. 

You couldn't blame the ladies for at least giving it a try; you could admit that Eren did look good, especially under the club's light. The leanness of his sleeper build made the fill out of his dark brown button-up shirt alluring with the aid of the peek of his slightly muscled arms.

His shoulder-length shaggy dark brunette hair tugged lazily into a half ponytail, leaving wisps of hair from his face-framing bangs, made him look as if he had walked straight out of some male model ad, from the fashion to the accidental aloof attitude that he naturally radiated.

Relaxing some of the tensation from his shoulders, Eren’s lips parted with a slight sigh before nervously fiddling with the rolled up cuffs of his shirt, his eyes easing from his lap to sneak a quick glance at you, almost flinching out of his poor skin when he had met your rested glance.

His eyes widened a bit in surprise, his tongue poking from his parted mouth almost as if his thoughts had interrupted him from speaking before your eyes could track down the slight bob of his adams apple. "I don't—I don’t think I got to tell you yet, but you look really gorgeous tonight, I like your…hair." His tone held a bit of a tremble, the stutter in his voice was the realization that he had to speak a bit louder of the music even with you sitting on the stool right beside him. 

You were definitely a little caught off guard, Eren wasn't the type to suddenly dish out compliments, let alone notice the fine details about someone’s appearance to save his life. You could recall the times Connie would make it a game to see how long Eren would go until he would realize the change in his appearance.

"Hm, you don't think it's too much?" You asked, leaning in a bit into his personal space and keeping a level tone as you spoke into the direction of his ear, pretending like you had seen Eren react in a tense fluster, his fingers tensely gripping his cup with your sudden proximity. "I mean, with the color and all." Your lips curve into a slight charmed smile, finger caught twirled around a newly dyed dark auburn curl, watching the coil spring back into place with a tug.

Eren's gray eyes followed the swipe of your finger as you moved away from his personal space and rested your back against the bar stool. It looked as though Eren was being drawn in by your actions.

The interaction consists of him merely nodding his head and remarking, "Well, I like the color, I think it suits you." The conversation did not lead anywhere else as your attention had shifted once more towards the dancing  crowd, scanning the mingling group of people until your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a certain person in particular that stood a few feet away.

Your sudden switch to having a discomforting mood had not gone unnoticed, Eren’s head turned at the slightest frown of your brows, scanning over the open crowd with no avail to what had soured your mood so quickly. "Hey, what happened?" Your trance not budging at the sound of his question, your attention tugging onto whatever you were across the room glaring at. 

It was only when the brush of his palm caressed against your lower thigh that his fingers danced warmly against the exposed leg of your skin, despite the soothing cold sensation welcomed from the silver rings that had adorned his fingers fashionably, his touch being enough to stir you away had you finally looked at him.

"You okay?" A static-like shock trail ran through your nerves, not only from his hand placement but also from the way he had somehow zoned you into feeling like you two had been the only two people in the room just by the way he was looking at you.

The lighting was deemed dangerous, with your brain buzzing from how well it had sculpted Eren’s features, from his defined cheekbones to the alluring yet genuine and compassionate dark glint in his eyes. 

You had swallowed before remembering how to speak, praying that the way his eyes traced over the nervous habit you had of biting the skin at your lower lip was all just in your fucked-up horny mind.

That would be the only way you could have been thinking about Eren in such a risque way. "No, no, it's just my ex is here." Not even enough in you anymore to sigh, you couldn't turn your head before Eren could scoot you close in within his presence by the grasp he had on the underside of the stool you sat perched on. "Sorry, it just kind of caught me off guard, I guess."

Eren’s attention was completely devoted to you, his eyes carefully watching every twist and turn of your expressions, zoned in completely on your mood as it drained into something sour and insecure. You tried to keep up the front that you were trying to force out that you were having a good time—anything to help pry your ex’s eyes away from you as he seemed to be drifting closer and closer towards you as the night continued to painfully slowly unfold.

"Hey," you flinch as Eren laces his fingers between yours, this thumb rubbing comforting circles against your knuckles. "Sorry, what do you want to do? Wanna get out of here?" he asks, with his eyes searching to latch onto anything that would express how you felt. 

"Um, yeah, I think I've had enough for tonight," you admit, holding your breath at the way Eren’s hand slid from your thigh to your lower back as you rose from your seat. His dark eyes traced over your stiff movements carefully, eyes flickering nervously over the allure of your attractive curves, especially how dangerous they looked squeezed into your dress.

"I want to—" You watched him wince, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before looking back at you with a shy glance, almost as if he had to bite his tongue and start over to stop himself from saying something. "Did you want to come back to mine?"

★  .  .  .    !

Time had to be an illusion. Eren didn't care too much about religion, but he was convinced that maybe he was just dead and this was him experiencing his own personal depiction of heaven.

From the whirlwind of events that began with him boldly inviting you back to his apartment, to the length of the very flushing conversation the two of you had on the car ride back, to the two of you laying limbs tangled against his mattress, everything about the way the night had unfolded seemed like something straight from one of his wet dreams. 

Eren even let a few stray tears spill past his thick, wet lashes from how touch-deprived you reminded him he was as he trembled in response to your lewd touch. Each stroke of your soft palm against the shaft of his dick entices an embarrassing, needy whine from his throat as his hips fuck against your slow, teasing hold.

The lights from the flat-screen TV that was mounted at the front of his bed illuminated as the show played. While the unattended lights from the show, which had been long ignored, only helped define the gleaming beauty of your features and sparkling dress.

In spite of the wicked work that your left fist was carrying out, he thought that you looked undoubtedly angelic. Eren was also convinced that he was going through some kind of brain rot with his badly clouded thoughts from how the only thing that could slip past his lips was the desperate, choked whimpers of your name.

A light strawberry flush spread from the bite of his cheeks to the trail of his heaving chest. Eren was too tied into the bubbling effects of pleasure, causing his nerves to melt under the touch of your palm. His own fist gripped, white-knuckled, into the pillow resting under his head. As his other hand grasped less tightly, his fingers wrapped fully around the wrist of your hand, which continued to pump his cock at a steady pace.

Even with his jittering nerves, he could still feel the sparkling, sticky gloss of your trial of nibbling kisses stick to the soft skin of his neck. Your lips ghost close to the shell of his earlobe, sending a welcomed sensation up his arched spine. "You have to talk to me, Eren. Tell me what you feel, honey."

Overwhelmed with just so many new sensations, Eren felt like he was just close to sobbing from how good he felt from the pleasure. You couldn't help but wait for his answer with a very self-satisfied smirk as he gasped at the kiss you placed right under his ear.

"It feel–" he swallowed back the words he struggled to choke on, "it feels really good, please." He hadn't even known what he was begging for, from just your touch. He had melted into a mumbling, brainless, shuddering puddle of nothing with each kiss and sleek stroke. 

"Hm, Does it now?" You were practically torturing the poor man, knowing exactly what you were doing when you talked to him in that sultry, flirty tone of yours. Rising from his side to sit perched with your knees pressed into the blanket of his soft duvet. Eren stared up at you as if he were entranced by your every move, his adam's apple bobbing with a thick swallow as your thick lips curled into an even more flattering, sweet smile. 

His cock ached over the loss of your touch, as if it weren't enough that you left him breathless, you had to muster the nerve to undress in front of him.

Sliding the straps of your dress over your shoulders and reaching behind you to unzip yourself loose, his eyes refused to leave yours as you yanked yourself out of the fabric with a kick, revealing the drooling sight of the hidden dark maroon matching set that had been tucked away underneath. Simply saying, "Come here." was enough to get him to crawl over to you.

Reaching out with an unsteady hand, his eyes glued to your chest, he sighs at just how perfectly your tits sit before placing his hands against them and gently fondling you, despite the pained look screwed on his face that you couldn't help but to bite back a chuckle at.

You had to admit that you found him very attractive—the sight of his pale, slender fingers dancing against your warm brown skin. Even with a layer of lace in the way, the feeling between your thighs still grew more agnited with the brush of his silver rings fumbling clumsily over your budding dark nipples.

Letting an encouraging moan part from your lips, Eren hadn't even gotten enough time to breathe in his new-found sense of appraisal, as the movement of your own hands unbuttoning the rest of his shirt left him feeling under your control once more. 

Opening his shirt with a bit of an inpatient tug, you apologized, "Sorry, you just have too many clothes on." It was a soft moment that both of you got to chuckle over as you helped him shoulder out of his button shirt as well as the muscle tee he wore under it with a shared giggle to ease back the tenseness.

"You should lay back," you said, running your fingers down his naked chest. Eren has just the right amount of muscle, his skin torso bundling with a lean peak of a six pack, almost as if he had accidentally gotten a ripped figure without even really trying. His greenish flag was just how damn attractive he managed to be, yet how unbelievably unaware he was of his own insufferable good looks.

“Wait." Eren sighs, his fingers instead threading themselves in between your wandering hand, just inches away from brushing against his very clear erection.

"Just give me—give me a second, please?" struggle to find the correct words, cursing the hard task of speaking, especially as all you did was watch the form of his lips with every word. Eren was surprised that he could even steady his breathing enough with how obviously you sat back and watched him catch his breath with that pretty smirk on your mouth that he wanted so badly to kiss, but he knew it would only rile him up more. 

After his small recoup of mercy, you helped him out of the rest of his jailing clothes. Only peppering around his face with quick kisses, knowing how sensitive Eren truly was, even as he squirmed around the feeling of your hand's gentle touch, putting his length into a condom, with his head tilted back and his eyes screwed shut.

You were truly surprised to see firsthand how touched and starved the man was. As you positioned his length near your entrance and slowly sheathed down on his cock, his hands were uncertain as to whether they wanted to hug around your hips or fondle with your tits.

The sensation takes a minute of stillness and shifting for not just Eren to get used to, not surprised on your part by your months of dry spell suddenly being broken with a bigger than average-length bulge while resting itself inside of you.

Every squirming inch of him inside is rudely rubbing against your warm walls as Eren's hands dig into the plush skin of your waist as if it were any more possible to hug the curve of your ass down against him. Feeling the tense muscles of his raised thighs against the brush of your behind, you both just needed a moment of relative stillness to allow your bodies to become more politely accustomed to the new sensation.

"Tell me when it gets too much." You let out a sigh as you gazed in awe at the man below you, Eren's hips shifting up at the hush warning in response. As you lifted yourself up with your hands resting to steady yourself against his torso. Leaning in closer towards him to get a better look at his glossy eyes, they mirrored the expression of awe that was on your face, and they continued to do so even as you sank back down onto his length.

Your pace would grow more excited, fueled by the punched-out groans of pleasure that would tumble from Eren's throat at the sensation of your pussy engulfing his cock completely. He hadn't bothered to cover his mouth, and with each shift of your hips, a string of whines would follow as he would praise your name as if he were mumbling a prayer.

The bedstrings of his mattress, accompanying the grunt of his lewd moans. Repeatedly, your hips would slam against his, aiding in the tense curl of his toes and the dizzy feeling he would get from throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he was starting to see stars.

His hands held a death grip against your shifting waist, holding onto you as you tortured him at the unforgiving, grinding pace at which you bounced on his lap. "I— I can't, please, oh fuck—uh god." Eren would plead with you as if your entire world were in your hands. "I can't—I need to, please." Riddled with so much emotional desperation, and yet the last thing you wanted to do was hand him an orgasm so easily, the aroused part of you clenched at the sound of his begging.

"Just let it go, Ren." You sigh into his ear, gasping at the way his hips bucked into you in response. He was definitely working to do so, the slight switch of your control not flattering his pure sexual need as he squirmed all he could to chase after the slow grind of your hips. 

His body begged him to keep going, the need to want to drag it out as long as he could to stretch the knot as far as it would be possible let him not want the moment to end laying under your touch. Fueled by the sheer absolute pleasure that washed over him the moment he felt your lips part tongue poke out to suck under the sensitive spot under his ear, a melted expression stretched on his bitten sore lips as his hips buck under you.

You hadn't bothered to give him any more mercy than what you had already graced upon him. Every twitch and tremble felt beneath the warmth of your skin as you returned to your hips and began to meet Eren’s thrust, his moans sounding almost close to poetic. With overly drawn-out vowels and pitched whines, it brought you both to sheer intimate ecstasy.

It took a few sighs and some soothing touches to replace the hard press of his nails digging into the hips of your flesh. Even sharing a small kiss was maybe crossing a few boundaries, but both of you were too fucked out to care for the moment. After a few tosses and turns, Eren dragged the blankets to cover the both of you, kissing your bare shoulder blade as you crawled to lay down tucked under his arm.

"Do you…do you want to stay over?" It was hard for Eren to search for the right words to say, especially with his inability to even breathe correctly. He copied the way your chest rose and fell, knowing you could hear every thump and bump of his heart beating from his chest.

"I’d like that," you lean up to say, showing off that pretty smile that had him so entangled in the first place.

"If that's okay with you?" Eren didn’t mind one bit, snuggling the girl right in front of him closer to his chest with contentment.

✧. ┊    @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @marzipaanz / @maki-z / @niyizh / @creamyarishi/ @professional-2d-guy-simp / @yazmunson / @lialia3945 / @atsumubabe / @lilvampirina / @p-rizz-ha / @carcarmeowmeow19 / @souljagrldotcom / @mimixrx2 / @emery-333 / @songbirdgardensworld / @dunixxd / @toji-dabi-wife / @celi-xxmoon / @laylasbunbunny / @s-witch-bitch / @anotherlovelyruin / @ziggy-09 / @blkbxrbie-esther / @04oyaoyaoya01 / @haitaniwhor3

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★  𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒. + 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐎𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when you tease Jack just a little bit too much before the Scream VI movie premiere, making it difficult for him to stay grounded in the theater, especially with your lingering hands.

─── ☆ notes. hopping on the Jack Champion train even though I hated his character Ethan Landry lmao, but @evethestargirl’s work has raised me from the dead. I think I scrolled through their entire x reader tag AND YOU SHOULD TOO! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | actor!reader | needy!jack | porn with barely any plot | established relationship | making out | movie theater sex | public sex | exhibitionism | grinding | overstimulation | handjob | i hated the new scream movie lmao

It had been the Scream VI movie screening, the room packed with casting crew and lucky chosen fans littered throughout the Los Angeles movie theater, the movie you had starred in alongside your boyfriend Jack. 

Having the privilege to cram in the front once the lights had dimmed, the very touchy and needy Jack could keep his hands off of you, your armrest folded up so his arm could drape comfortably over your shoulder and hold you close. 

"Try not to get too handsy in front of our coworkers, honey." You whisper into his ear, watching him squirm in his seat in your peripheral vision.

He was a great actor, amazing even for being able to cover up the massive fact that he was close to breaking a sweat in his tight black and red suit from how worked up he was from having to interrupt the very heated makeout season you had teased him with the minute you had to leave.

It had been like modern day torture having to stride through a crowd of fans and familiar faces, taking pictures, and signing autographs at the entrance as if he wasn’t sporting a massive boner. 

Jack prayed to whoever was watching above that he wouldn't see his name trending on Twitter with the discourse of his massive bulge being the main topic for the night. "I know, I know," he shuddered, curling closer into your side.

There was no point in paying attention to the trailers that lit up the massive screen when a much more entertaining performance was being shown right beside you.

You caught Jack nervously covering his erection with the large bucket of popcorn he had bought to cover up the fact that he was trying to relieve some of his tension with the pick up of his breathing and his lashes fluttering, his eyes struggling to focus on what was being shown on screen.

"Are you doing okay over there?" You asked, watching as his eyebrows frowned and his lips pressed together. Once his alluring, blown dark pupils met yours, the environment around you two had shifted into something dangerous.

He didn't even have to answer you, already telling you from the clear of his throat and his slight panting that the bucket of popcorn was his greatest enemy, pressing almost too perfectly against his dick. 

"I’m fine." was all that he could manage through his uncombable fake gummy smile that had fallen quite quickly after his words had departed, seeking out outside comfort with his other hand moving to the plush of your thigh and giving you a knowing squeeze. 

"You sure?" You were teasing him again, smirking at the bob of his Adam's apple as your breath fanned against the sole of his ear.

Speaking in a lower tone than necessary, it was clear what side of the battle you were on, and it certainly was not his.

Unleashing your most hard hitting attack with the slight grope of your hand on his thigh, replacing the weight from the popcorn with your own fingers, to any curious lurking eyes, it would have looked like you had been resting in the bucket. 

It was all a front that allowed your fingers to go under the front buttons of his pants. Jack let out a long exhale through his nose with his neck slumped back at the small moment of mercy.

The hiss from your palm grabbing him straightforward by the hilt was covered up by a fake slight cough, his hand covering his mouth now to cover the small noises that threatened to slip from his lips as your touch did nothing but make him tenser as his muscles clenched over this suddenly entrapped feeling fabric of his fancy clothes. 

You weren't as helpful as he’d thought you would be, the sloppy work of your wrist stroking him and loose hold around his length had him taking matters into his own hands.

Jack reached down and wrapped his hand over yours, guiding your continued strokes up and down to hold him just tight enough to make him work up enough to start pathetically trembling around your fingertips.

The fiction was starting to become deadly, and the much needed handjob seemed to be making him more worked up, knowing what a risky place he had chosen to have his dick out. Only the popcorn bucket in his lap rustling covered the lewd, slick sound of your hands picking up pace.

His breathing became more labored, and his body heat was starting to turn him into a personal heater as he struggled to muffle his reactions with every grace of his sensitive veins that you would purposely make pulse with a gentle brush or squeeze, sending shivering white sparks of pleasure to surge through his worked nerves. 

You heard Jack release with a shaking, trembling breath, his panting slowly subsiding as the warmth of his mess coated your hand, and you had not let go of your pace, drawing a genuine, sensitive gasping reaction from him as you continued to push him over the peak he had already dropped from.

"One more for good luck?" You smirked, finding your own enjoyment in watching your boyfriend struggle to keep his score, knowing that he would have to struggle for the rest of the entire movie with you teasing him.

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