#tongue-web-piercing

[blanc-ci]

Spock just wants to be certain that’s still his captain in there… no other reason… yknow you can never be too careful

Design inspired by @papanowo makeup and piercings were suuuch a good idea

[mushtoons]

today had been eventful but through horrible impulsive actions we're now distracted fully from the horrors <- got a tongue piercing without thinking it through

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[fev4rrr]

[givemeascreamcorey]

𝔚𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔲 𝔐𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔲𝔭 𝔅𝔞𝔤! <33

𝐼 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑎𝑔 (𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑢𝑝! 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛! ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

[lilacgaby]

i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue,

oh, and you.

pairing: spiderman!megumi x reader

synopsisꨄ: you and megumi have been on and off for a while, one situation to another has you two webbed together. not like either of you mind. wc: 3k

tags: fem!reader, cursing, fighting, use of she/her, drinking, yuuji is the goat, suggestive (kissing(???)), fluff, pet names, college!au, megumi has a lip piercing. yeah.

as megumi swung back from a night full of work, greeting his roommate yuuji with a fist bump and an exhausted smile as he pulled up his mask, he laid down on his bed exhausted.

his black webbed suit now discarded by the bed as he stared up to the ceiling of his room. his chest heaving slightly as he put an arm over his eyes, blocking out all light so he could sleep for a couple hours before it all began at nine.

not.

he had classes today, classes he dreaded for one reason. you.

something happened between you that should've never been given a single thought, never should've been conceived even in his mind.

he'd kissed you. and that was putting it lightly.

it was at some random college party he'd been convinced to go to by yuuji, he had been taking down cans of cheap beer mindlessly, the bottle now a bit crushed in his hand as he saw you walk in.

fitted dress, hugging you so right. jewelry shining in the dim light of the party, but this place was forgotten as his eyes settled on you. and yours in him.

a lot of the party was a blur in his mind, events playing together and becoming one because the only thing he kept focused on was you.

he thinks you drank a lot too, he can't quite remember. his hand slaps over his eyes in frustration, because the one part he thinks he'll never forget plays in his head on repeat.

your lips on his, you on his lap as his hand held you against him. you were on a bed, how did you get there? he didn't know but didn't care. his hand tilting your head slightly, with the feeling of your hands in his hair. the piercing on his lip rubbing almost addictively painful against yours, his tongue almost slipping in your mouth until–

todo. his stupid upperclassman barged in, a comically loud gasp coming from his lips as he yelled, “megumi and [name] are making out in here!”

safe to say you jumped off of him pretty quick, his hands ripped off your waist as he stood to attention, you shoving past him as you left. megumi shot an annoyed glare as he walked past him, only for yuuji to laugh in his face as he settled back onto the couch of the living room.

“what?” megumi grunted, he was already annoyed, he didn't need yuuji laughing at him right now.

“it's just..” yuuji pointed a finger to his face, before cracking an impossibly wider smile. “you have lipstick all over your face megumi.”

after throwing a pillow at yuuji’s face, he went home.

but you've been on his mind ever since, and he didn't know what to do about it.

you've been ‘friends’ for a while, only because of mutual relations between your other friends. but you'd always had this weird connection between you two. sharing wired headphones during school trips, lending a shoulder to sleep on, studying together.

he'd hate to think it'd be lost just because of a drunken— no it wasn't an accident. far from it. but he just wished he talked to you before it got that far.

with a groan, he shoves his head into a pillow, letting out a muffled scream.

he finally felt his thoughts calm down, his eyes closing as he fell asleep..

and awoke to the beeping of his alarm clock. he threw a web at it and stuck it to the wall. this was going to be annoying.

you seemed to be just as awkward as he was about this whole ordeal, fingers playing with each other as you avoided eye contact with him at all cost.

not like he fared any better, anytime he tried to start up conversation with you, his eyes would fall to your lips and make him flush red.

just two hopeless idiots.

class ended with no words spoken between you two and a voice screaming at him to do something. anything.

but he didn't, and you were already gone. he sighed before packing up and heading back to the dorm.

yuuji had become sort of like his intelligence.. though it wasn't the best idea megumi ever had, he was good hearted about it at least.

as megumi snacked on a bunny-shaped popsicle, yuuji looked shocked to see him. he looked at him blankly before starting, “i didn't think you'd be here.”

megumi squinted, “why wouldn't i be in my own house?”

“because doc oc attacked by one of the school dorms?”

a moment of silence passed, the bunny now miserably dripping down the drain forgotten, as megumi ran to put his suit on. “lead with that shit, idiot!”

he zipped out the window of his room, yuuji yelled out behind him, “dorm 5-C!”

megumi swung quickly, the black and white suit making him stand out in the broad daylight as he sped over there. landing a kick on the face of the man controlling the robotic suit, before landing perfectly on the top of the dorm.

“hey freak. don't you have anything better to do?” he mocked, before webbing down one of their arms.

“oh, nice of you to finally show up, spiderman.” the man spoke, attempting to grab him but slamming his hand down onto the building instead. “so slow, what if i'd killed someone already?”

“you think you're that good?” he sped over to land a kick on the main body of the mission, making the man keel over.

“no, i know so.” the man retorted, before slamming down three arms at once. he missed megumi entirely, but one section of the dorm was now completely cut off.

‘crap’. megumi thought, before attaching a string of web to the man's neck. “can you be more considerate next time?” before he could swat it off, a wave of venom passed through his neck, paralyzing him.

megumi, after breathing a sigh of relief, quickly did a once-over of the damaged area. swinging by only to see you, standing at the broken off chunk of what must've been your room with a horrified look.

you stared blankly at the outside, an odd look on your face. the boba that you stopped to get at the cafe now dropped on the floor.

megumi rushed over to you, moving you from the dangerous edge as he instinctively asked, “[name]! are you okay?”

you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion as he held you close. “..spider-man? why do you know my name?”

shit.

“uhh. i.. know one of your friends? he spoke of you once.”

“really? who?”

“um.. oops.. his name must of slipped my mind.”

“oh?”

“just– listen, you've got to find someone to stay with. sorry about this, but your dorm is wrecked.”

it seemed to get your attention off the topic for a second you looking over and mentally crying at all your lost things. “aw man, my stuff.”

he finally let you out his embrace so you could start calling up people to let you stay with them. “um.. i'm really sorry about this [name].”

“it's not your fault spider-man,” you said while texting, “i probably would be dead if you didn't come when you did. so thank you.”

you gave him a polite smile, before he nodded and swung off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, slumping over at his desk, changing quickly so he could just be done.

he walked out his room, sweatpants hung low as he went to go get another bunny popsicle, only for this one to meet the same fate as its predecessor when he saw you walk in with yuuji.

“hey megumi!” yuuji waved, his eyes wide as if to signal something.

“she's gonna be staying here, since her dorm was ruined by a villain. isn't that horrible?”

“why are you being weird?”

“i'm not?”

megumi stood jaw slack at the implications of living with you, his face flushed before he let out a small. “okay.”

weeks living with you weren't bad. you were a good roommate, you'd clean, do your part of the dishes, hang out as you three, it was all good.

he'd let you borrow his clothes, his sweatshirts and pants became you new style. since his fight with that villain had left you without any clothes.

everything had been fine, you'd even hung out in his room one on one once, lazing about as you laid on the silken sheets, not knowing how you were affecting him.

one day, an altercation with some random villain had left him bleeding from the stomach, stumbling as he walked in. he only managed to make it to the living room, before falling onto the floor. he didn't have his suit on thankfully, he had been caught off guard and had to fight without it, but he'd never missed the slight protection it gave him until now.

you saw him, keeled over on the floor, and rushed to his side. “megumi? what's–” you let a sharp gasp escape your lips at the sight of the blood puddle under him. you flipped him over as gentle as you could, pulling up his shirt and running to find a kit.

you didn't think you'd ever need to use your sewing skills for skin, but you were weaving the needle in and out of the huge wound with precision, ignoring the tears burning at you eyes.

you didn't know what was going on with him, why'd he'd leave at random hours throughout the night and come back bruised every time. but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask.

now you wish you did.

“megumi?” he was out cold, face still as you poked his cheek gently. you dabbed at his wound, cleaning it up before getting yuuji to help him into his bed.

he woke up alone, his wounds even from the months before having been taken care of. when he walked in to the kitchen, only to have you grab his hand.

“megumi.”

“ah. [name].” his eyes were wide as he stared at your grip on him. “what.. what do you do when you go out? you come back all.. bruised and stuff.”

crap.

“i.. i can't tell you.”

you gripped his hand tighter at that, before letting go completely. “‘kay. but,” you held up a finger to his face. “i'll take care of your injuries everyday.”

his eyes widened impossibly, before a small smile overcame his face. “yeah? sounds good.”

that's how he found himself, every night with your hand tending anything that ailed him. you'd make jokes about what you think he was out doing, beating up underclassmen or whatnot. until.. he left his mask in plain vision once.

“hey, why do you have spider-man's mask in here?”

his breath hitched, eye catching the object that fell out of the closet he shoved it in.

“uh.. i'm.. spider-man's friend?” he mentally face palmed.

…

“oh!” you said, eyes brightening. “now i get it! wouldn't you believe it if i said that i met spider-man when my dorm like.. got destroyed?”

“yeah. uh– he told me.”

“oh! he said he had a friend, i didn't know it was you!”

“yeah i help him. research and stuff, get caught in the aftermath a lot.”

“that makes sense. you're so cool megumi.”

he flushed, becoming hyper aware of your hands on his.

“yeah, whatever.”

your almost nightly ritual was only cut off by a party your friend was throwing. you were so excited, not having gone to one since your dorm room was destroyed.

until you needed someone to help zip up your dress. with your friends half an hour away, you wrapped a towel around yourself and knocked on megumi’s door.

“yo–” whatever he was going to say got caught in his breath at this sight of you, clad in a towel.

“hey megumi. can you help me real quick?”

he ripped his eyes off of you momentarily, before averting his eyes and gesturing for you to come in.

he almost freaked out when you dropped the towel, only to see a gorgeous dress underneath. “can you zip me up? i can't reach.”

he sucked in a deep breath, before putting a thumbs up.

with shaky hands he zipped up your dress, instinctively you turned around. “how do i look?”

he couldn't voice his words, but as you saw the gulp that came over him, you knew you looked good. with a pat on the back and a, “see you there!” you set off.

and you found yourself in the same position as the last time, except he was on top of you, your hands pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around him. same bed too, not that it mattered.

you felt the same pressure from his piercing from last time, you two weren't nearly as drunk as then though. it was bruising your lip, you two were breathless, his hands moved, about to hold your face when–

his phone rang. you both jumped, but when he saw who it was he knew he had to answer. it was yuuji, and he wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. “sorry.” is all he said before he went outside.

he always kept his suit near him, so he slipped it on and went to the site where it was reported doc oc would be. being he escaped prison and all.

you were upset and angry in all senses of the word. you stormed out into the streets, the cold biting your skin as you stomped away. only to find yourself… entangled in an iron hand.

“spider-man likes you, right?” a man asked, warped voice behind you. “stay still and i won't hurt you. too bad.”

you were dragged, silent as to not upset this strange man. he settled over a random building, holding you over an edge.

“stay quiet 'til he gets here, i don't wanna hear you scream.”

—-

all the information had been wrong, doc had been on the complete opposite side of the city. with a screaming yuuji in his ear, he now knew the villain held you in his grasp. great.

the guy was shaking you around over the edge, the one you were tumbling over mentally was now physical as the far distance to the bottom loomed under you.

his heart sped up at the sight of you, he made his presence known. “hey, how'd you escape from the psych ward?”

“it was confinement, and i don't owe you any answer spider-man! you'll let me beat you down or– or i'll throw your girlfriend off this roof.” the villain shook you slightly, making you yelp.

“you won't be doing anything.”

“oh, yes i will.”

the arm with you encircled in it raised, he sped over to web the base of his body to the ground, kicking the control in with his leg.

the dome surrounding the villains body shattered, leaving a shaking man in its wake.

“d-don't hurt me! or i'll–”

a punch by the side of his head shut him up. “put her down, before i put you down.”

“i– i can't! that arm is broken! t-the whole panel is!”

he looked and sure enough he was right, the control buttons were electrified and tweaking.

he scoffed. “stay here, actually.” he webbed him down, with a little venom just to be safe.

he walked calmly on top of the arm, seeing the relief form on your lips bruised from him.

“hey pretty.” he said, not knowing where the sudden confidence came from.

“spider-man! thank god.” you breathed a sigh. “yeah, don't thank me yet.” he muttered. “you have to trust me [name]. can you do that for me?” he asked, looking right at you as he stood over the only thing keeping you alive.

“i mean.. yeah.”

“okay then. you're going to fall. but i'm going to catch you, okay?”

you nodded, closing your eyes. “okay. don't worry, i got you.”

before you knew it you were falling, you screamed obviously, because you stupidly opened your eyes to the cars moving below. the lights blinding as you fell closer and closer, until you were suddenly in the embrace of him.

“are you okay?” he asked, looking at your face of pure shock at the feeling of being swung around. “yeah, now that you're here! this is so cool!” he smiled, the fabric of his mask wrinkling as he took you to your unknowingly shared home, though he took the long route.

he was a bit too happy when he dropped you off at your window, antsy as you finally settled in. “thank you, spidey.”

“ah, it's nothing. just doing my job you know?” he smirked, you nodded. you tilted you head slightly as you moved towards him, heart in your throat as you put your hand under the neck of his mask, lifting it up just to reveal his lips.

“what, you trying to pay me for my trouble?” he genuinely didn't know why he was acting on his impulses so much around you, maybe it was the freedom of being spiderman. but you didn't mind as you kissed him. sparks flew, almost literally.

a lightbulb went off in your head, you gasped when you felt the metal of his piercing nudge against the sensitive bruise on your lip from earlier.

no way. “megumi?”

he froze, before a small, “hi?” escaped him.

you pulled off his mask, green eyes greeting you and a messy bunch of hair that you have no idea how it fit being revealed. all you could do was laugh, before planting another kiss on his lips.

“you're so dumb. but i guess i am too, huh?”

a smile overcame his lips, matching yours as he let out a small laugh too.

“guess we are.”

the night ended with you two in each others arms, him speaking on his experiences as spider-man and you questioning him on it. his hands now playing with your hair.

“name slipped your mind huh?” you joked, reminiscing on your first conversation with spider-man.

“tch, shut up.” he grumbled, before silencing you with a kiss. he physically didn't want to be far from you anymore, he held you even closer. even if you poked fun at him.

a webbed seal of fate tied you two together, a web woven by cupid themself.

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

You’ve never had head, Eddie’s never given head, and Steve… he’s got a whole lot of hair and experience.

No one really sugar coated anything. It was a simple gathering of three friends at Eddie’s newly purchased trailer (also know as, the one to the left of Wayne’s). Everyone else in the group had plans, so Steve drove you to Eddie’s, all the while knowing something was bothering you. It ended up being Eddie to tease it out of you.

“Never had a guy eat my pussy before.” Your lips wrapped around the neck of your bottle.

Eddie sputtered on his, Steve’s brows rose in surprise.

“But you’ve had sex, right? I thought you said —“ Steve tried, only for you to cut him off.

“Yes, I’ve had sex a few times, but they’ve never eaten me out. I mean, do you guys even like doing that? My date said I was too slimey.” You’re embarrassed to even admit.

Steve scoffed as Eddie wiped the beer off his chin. “I’m surprised the jerk-off was even able to get you that wet.”

You pick at the label of the dark glass. Steve runs a massive hand through his hair, his voice gentle, protective. “Is that what’s been bothering you all night?”

To which, you nod. You both turn towards Eddie as he clears his throat, adding in his two cents. He tucks a set of loose strands behind his freshly pierced ear, that circular charm dangling. “Uh, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never eaten a girl out before. But I’m all for slime time. That’s a good thing, right?”

Steve marveled, briefly entertained at how backward the two of you looked. He wasn’t stupid, you’d been flirting with one another (the three of you) off and on for a while now. Bringing this up, it would be a wasted opportunity to be with his two favorite people. And the idea, it struggles to keep up with the swelling between Steve’s legs. That weirdly in synch look that you shared, Steve knew it was the correct decision.

“Let me show you guys?”

You found yourself less awkward to be naked around your two best-friends, guys you thought about constantly, in ways you probably shouldn’t have. Still, when it came time to step out of your panties, and the wet spot clung from your cunt to the crotch of the fabric — you let some nerves show. Eddie was frozen, in his boxers, hard as a rock, both men observing your body in a way that had everyone holding their breaths, appreciating scars and marks alike. And Steve, he took suave control in his own tight briefs, that monster on display. His hands found your shoulders, rubbing up and down your flesh.

His voice sounded jagged, honey-hot, pouring out across his tongue as he licked his bottom lip and bent down to kiss you on your shoulder. “You wanna get on the bed, honey?”

“Should I… towel?” You’re giving them another chance, afraid of how soaked you are.

Eddie immediately said no, making Steve chuckle. “It’s okay. You’ll let us know if it’s not, right?”

You were all too eager to slide onto Eddie’s king sized mattress, arousal webbed from you, dripping onto the sheets. Eddie reminds himself not to do the laundry for another day. Both men joined you - Eddie on the right, Steve to the left. It’s basics, mechanics, foreplay from there.

If Steve Harrington has to pick a sight to remember when dying — this would be it. Seeing Eddie Munson grind himself into the bed as you ride his face, pulling so hard on his hair, that Steve’s cock kicks up imagining how Munson’s scalp must feel. Your tits bounce with every thrusting movement, eyes glossed over with tears and looking up at the ceiling. You’re panting with exertion, breaths getting choppier. And the second that Steve says “Fingers” for Eddie to remember - you’re literally screaming, uncaring.

“I’m gonna cum,” you suddenly shout, teetering dangerously close. The only things you can see are vivid shapes, eyes darting around rapidly to find your boys through the haze. How your heart is full for them, how you’re trembling.

Eddie pauses and lifts, his face covered and shiny. He’s misty eyed, panting, overwhelmed. But your cream covered curls, your essence on his fingers that are tightening around him, Steve’s blown pupils as he looks over at him — he wants to keep you two here.

“Why did you…?” You’re whining, tilting, trying to fuck yourself onto his fingers.

“Dude, why’d you stop?” Steve is looking incredulous, inching closer, his hard cock pressing at your hip. You blindly reach for him, working yourself up, legs swaying. Steve slides up fast and presses his palm over your thigh to flatten it.

“You okay?” He checks in with Eddie, which makes you also do the same. You tell them you’re fine, Eddie answers next.

“I’m… yeah, man. Just wanted to make sure I was doing fine.”

“Well a girl tells you she’s gonna cum, that means you’re doing great, bud.” Steve can’t help but to look at his (friend?) fondly. He reaches out to pushes along Eddie’s sweat slick curls.

Once you see that things are okay, you feel yourself relaxing back into things, Eddie’s finger still inside. Steve hears you shakily exhale. He folds, tilting his head as he leans back down, Eddie resuming his position. “Come here, honey. We’re gonna let you come, I promise you. You’re doing so good. You feeling good?” You give a nod. “Yeah?”

You smile lazily.

“Steve?”

He switches his gaze from the curly haired rocker between your thighs. “Hmm?”

“Will you put a finger inside of me too?”

Eddie moans, a sound so deep that it has him raising his face to stare Harrington down, pleading with him to do it. Steve has never been so eager, wiggling his digit towards you, watching you accept it with a swirl, licking like you’re on a mission. You really don’t need it, but Steve does it anyways, letting his arm elongate to give you what you ask for — his cock dribbling into his boxers the second that his thick finger slides into your overly wet walls, right beside Munson’s. Everyone moves in unison, Eddie eating like a starved man, Steve working that spot to the point where he knows what’s gonna happen before you or Eddie do. It’s a fun surprise watching your eyes widen and automatically find Steve’s as it happens, Eddie literally rutting maniacally into the bed as your squirt soaks his face, the sheets, Steve’s arm, even his leg.

Watching the two of you come, sends Steve grinding into your thigh, spare hand cupping the nape of your neck, face hiding in your breasts, as he releases heavily into his briefs. The aftermath is slow, beating hearts, lines crossed. There’s disbelief, nervous wonder. You asking them if they’re alright is what brings them back to earth, each guy taking a place beside you, mingled breathing patterns trying to reset. It’s an unspoken agreement, a must provide, when Steve is kissing you softly, reaching for Eddie like he doesn’t care what people would say anymore, meeting his mouth. This is what he wants, it’s what you all need.

[illusivelle]

chicken scratch

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader rating: t (for now) length: 1,028 words content: mild cursing summary: you've never met your neighbour, but you've received plenty of their mail and now, a large package. of all the stories you made up in your head about who this 'carmen berzatto' could be, the real thing might just be your new favourite. a/n: brain rot means a middle of the night word dump. will likely be the first of many little stories about your next door neighbour, carmen, because that dynamic lives in my mind rent free. fluff for now, but we all know what that means (it means it'll definitely become nsfw later, sooner probably). read part two link to ao3 here!

The first letter was a mistake, the second one was a coincidence. The third one was not a big deal and the fourth was only a little more than a nuisance. But when a much larger package thudded against your front door at the ass crack of dawn, the recipient clearly written across the top of the cardboard box as your neighbour… well, that was just flat out annoying at this point. You hadn't even known deliveries made their rounds so early in the day and as big as the box was, when you lifted it to carry next door, it weighed lighter than a feather.

The pile of letters that accidentally found their way to your apartment were usually slipped through the small mailbox of your neighbour's, sometimes under the door. You'd thought about dropping the package and simply going about your day, but curiosity got the better of you as your knuckles rapped against the door and waited instead.

What could a Carmen Berzatto have possibly required to be delivered at this time?

In the time you've lived in the building, there'd been very few run-ins with other tenants. Not that you'd ever complain, perfectly content with your own company. You made friends with one elderly lady who always offered you some of her freshly baked bread, and in return you picked her up flowers and some extra produce on your farmer's market runs. The landlord wasn't your friend, but he wasn't your enemy either, and somehow you'd convinced him to let you paint your bathroom your favourite colour with little to no resistance. But your next door neighbour remained a mystery, one you've conjured up about a dozen different backstories and personalities for.

Carmen Berzatto, notorious criminal, hiding out in a tiny Chicago apartment. Carmen Berzatto, hundred-year-old vampire, who might either burn in the sun or look like they'd walked through a glitter bomb. Carmen Berzatto, part time Chicagoan, who actually doesn't live here anymore and maybe there's a squatter inside instead. Carmen Berzatto, the tax evader, because why else would they have so much goddamn mail being sent to them?

You'd been lost in the web of made-up histories for your neighbour when the door swung open to reveal said neighbour, and it slowly dawned on you that there wasn't a single story where you imagined Carmen Berzatto to look like that.

Piercing, wide blue eyes and a head of shaggy brown tufts that made you want to tangle your fingers through them, especially that small curl dangling just above his forehead.

"Hi." His greeting was laced with mild confusion that seemed immediately alleviated when his attention dropped to the box in your hands. "Oh."

"Hi," you blurted out, lifting the package, "got another one for you."

"I—I'm sorry about— about, uh, about all of that. It won't happen again."

"Won't it?" You were mostly teasing now. Although you were jolted awake by the sound of it thrashing against your door, and although you were rather peeved about getting up before you wanted to, you couldn't find it in yourself to be irritated anymore.

Carmen reached out to take the box from you, giving it a small shake with what you thought was a ghost of a smile before he set it down to the side somewhere you couldn't see. "It won't. I'm sorry." The flirt of his tongue along his lips brought your gaze toward it before you met his eyes again.

Those stunning icy blues.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry for."

"I must've really fucked up on the— the uh, apartment number."

"What?"

"The apartment number."

"Yeah," you looked at him a bit dumbfounded, gaze darting to the door where the number and letter were, "what about it?"

"I—"

"You don't know your apartment number?"

"My writing's shit."

Both of you seemed to blink in unison, another lick of Carmen's lips which you mirrored before a stupid smile curled your lips. "Oh."

"Not a good excuse, I know." He nodded, jaw working as he turned his head to the metal on the door, a short and deep chuckle sounding from him. "Again, I—"

"Not sorry," you shook your head, "just chicken scratch."

For a moment, Carmen stared at you, and if it wasn't bad enough to have those too-blue eyes simply looking at you, to find them nearly boring holes as they danced between your eyes and across your face made you want to evaporate. Made you wish the ground would open up and swallow you hole. Made you want to drown in the depths of the ocean blues that were his irises.

"Just chicken scratch," he murmured after a beat of silence and what was once a ghost of a smile was definitely something now, the corner of his mouth lifting enough to wrinkle the corner of his eye. Enough to show you the dimple in his cheek. "Thanks for— for bringing the package."

"Yeah." And the smile unfurling on your lips was nothing short of genuine. "You're welcome, Carmen."

"Just, uh, just Carm is good. Carmy."

"Okay."

Another beat passed where you thought you might have been rendered frozen by one of your favourite shades of blue, glued to the floor through hypnosis, until a sound down the hall caught your ear and you nodded at Carmen. Turning on your heel, you took the first step back to your apartment, then another, and another.

And it wasn't until you had your hand stretched out to grab for your doorknob when you heard his voice echo from where you'd came. "See you around?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The moment hung in the air on a thin thread, the both of you sharing furtive and hidden smiles before his door closed and yours opened.

Carmen Berzatto, not a notorious criminal (to your knowledge) or a hundred-year-old vampire (yet). Nor was he a part-time Chicagoan (not with that accent) or a tax evader (maybe). None of the ideas you had floating in your mind about your neighbour even came close to the real thing.

Carmen Berzatto, curly-haired blue-eyed boy-next-door with chicken scratch for writing and a fleeting dimple you wanted to see again.

[osachiyo]

"Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to." | gojo satoru

⊹ pairing. . . gojo x fem!reader

⊹ cw. . . nsfw content (mdni), jealousy, biting, marking, face-slapping, hair pulling, oral (m receiving), light masochism, dom!reader, 1.5k words etc

not proofread so don’t come at me if there’s errors and I hope u enjoy !

⊹ event details & m.list

"woa− baby, feelin' feisty, are we?" satoru laughed as you shoved him against the wall as soon as you entered your apartment. "what was that? she was clearly flirting with you, 'toru!" you grit your teeth, trapping him further as you pressed yourself against him. now, he could easily get out of your hold and pin you around instead but− he wanted to see what you'd do− how far you'd go.

"ooh your muscles are s'big, mister!" you mocked in an obnoxious tone, rolling your eyes at the memory of the annoying lady who was very obviously feeling your husband up at the store. satoru only snickered, about to wrap an arm around your waist when you slapped it away− pinning it against the wall next to him. "no. you can't touch me," you scoffed, smirking at the way his face fell. "but babyyyy− what'd i do, huuh?" he whined, gasping when you unbuckle his belt and let his pants fall down his muscular legs. you quickly grabbed the belt and started to tie his wrists together− now, he could easily break out of your pathetic attempt at keeping him still− but even he couldn't deny how his cock strained against his underwear at the fiery look in your eyes. you looked like you wanted to ruin him and god did it make him stifle a groan.

it felt like hours since you've been edging him now− to him at least. you two had moved to the bed, with him being tied to the bedpost— you had all the power. his cock was throbbing in need, precum melting on your tongue as you suckle on it before taking him fully in your mouth− a nasty mixture of your saliva and his pre dripping down your chin and hands in stringy webs and it was fuckin' filthy. but god did it make his thighs clench when you looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours− smirking devilishly before spitting on his cock and running your tongue up and down his slit. your hands were massaging his balls− which were swollen and tight from the need to just fucking cum. but you wouldn't dare not having some fun before actually letting him cum. he was drooling at his point, hips bucking up to meet your welcoming mouth as his eyes shut closed. fuck, this was absolute torture but why was he enjoying this so much? the way your pretty nails raked down his strong thighs to the way your gentle lips swallowed his cock− staining the sensitive flesh with your lipstick.

"god, satoru. you look like a mess already," you giggled, kissing the tip of his cock affectionately before taking him in your mouth again. he laughed− the sound breaking into a garbled moan as you dip your head further down to lick at his balls. as much as you liked satoru like this− at your mercy while you gave him the best head of his life− you couldn't deny the ache between your own legs, now getting too much for you to bear.

satoru groaned as you finally got your mouth off his cock− which was still throbbing with the need to cum. he watched as you sat across from him, legs spread and putting your soaked pussy on full view for him. and he felt borderline feral as you dipped a finger inside your folds before pulling them out− showing your boyfriend the sticky substance left on your digits. "mm, look at how wet you've made me 'toru," you slurred, needy eyes peering up at him as your glossy lips curved up. he only have a strained smirk in return, the sweat dripping down his body making him look almost ethereal. "shiit− baby, you're fuckin' soaked f'me, eh?" he gloated, piercing blue eyes holding nothing but mischief as he eyed your form. "why don't'cha lemme eat that sweet pussy of yours, hm? clean up the mess between your thighs?" satoru could almost feel his cock throb at the mere thought of tasting your cunt− licking his soft lips as if that would make you give in.

you only grinned in response, fingers circling that pretty little clit as you pretended to think about his offer. "hmm, don't know 'toru.." you hummed, tapping the pads of your fingers on your clit one, two, three times before crawling to your boyfriend. "want a taste, pretty boy?" holding your fingers up to his mouth, you giggled as he stuck his tongue out− lips twitching upwards to reveal a wolfish grin. he hummed when you finally stuck your fingers in his mouth− his eyes closing from the taste of your sweet cunt melting on his tongue. "can't get enough of that pretty pussy, sweet girl," he groaned, cock twitching from your taste. "though," he continued, pretty eyes staring up at your own, "you're anything but sweet right now, baby."

satoru was fighting the unbelievable urge to just snap out of his restraints− drool gathering in his mouth as his jaw clenched. you were straddling him now, circling the tip of his aching cock against your slit, coating him in your essence. "wanna go inside, baby? wanna feel this pussy 'round you?" you snickered− fingers tangling themselves in his hair before tugging hard. he moaned at the pain, hips bucking up to almost slip inside of you but alas, he failed. it was a pathetic sight, really− the gojo satoru underneath you, at your mercy.

once you finally, finally sunk down on his awaiting cunt, pussy engulfing him so fucking nicely he could practically see stars− and you barely even started. satoru's head would've been rolling back if it weren't for the tight grip you had on his snowy hair− lips parting in a silent moan as you started to bounce on his dick. his crystalline eyes travelled between your own to your bouncing breasts− fuck, did you look beautiful.

your hands moved from his hair to his muscular back and shoulders− nails digging into the smooth flesh as you bit down on his neck, making him suck in a breath, the pain felt so fucking good. holy shit, did you turn him into a fucking masochist?

all thoughts left his head when you clamped down on him, pussy sucking him in so damn greedily as you moaned his name. one of your hands flew from his back to cup and play with your breasts− eyes shutting closed as you bite on your bottom lip. you looked like a goddess to him right now− jumping on dick never looked so graceful, but you somehow managed to leave him stunned every time.

and in the heat of the moment, he thrusted up into you without thinking— making you gasp and moan loudly as your hips come to a halt. satoru only let out a frustrated groan at this, grumbling for you to keep going and— ‘slap!’ his eyes widened upon feeling a hot sting on the right cheek.

did you just fucking slap him?

“you forgetting who’s in charge here, satoru?” you spit, hooking your fingers under his jaw. “sorry, fuck— sorry, baby” he moaned,nails digging into the palms of his hands as you grind your hips.

“yeah? why don’t I mark you as mine, huh?” you groaned, lashes fluttering as you felt him twitch inside you.

“fuuck! yeah— yes, shit— please,” he felt himself drooling as you raked your nails down even deeper on his back— a little further and you’d draw blood, he thinks. “oh fuck yeah— mark me, mark me so everyone knows who the fuck I belong to!—“

you resumed your bouncing, ass slapping against his pelvis as you whimpered. your thighs were starting to hurt— you knew you couldn’t last much longer and you had to make him cum. now.

and as if right on cue— “shitshitshit—!!” satoru’s head fell back against the bed frame, cursing loudly as you still your movements, feeling his warm release filling you up.

panting, you slowly got up from his lap, hearing satoru hiss at the loss of warmth. “god, satoru. didn’t know you could be such a submissive lit—!” your eyes widened at the sound of leather ripping, whipping your head around to see your boyfriend rolling his shoulders.

he smirked at you, eyes turning from a crystal blue to a much darker colour. “you had your fun baby, and I must admit, you did better than I thought you would,” he started walking towards you with confident steps as if he didn’t get ridden to oblivion just a few minutes ago.

the next thing you knew, he had you pinned against the bed this time— thick fingers dipping between your legs to prod at your soaked cunt. “and I can’t have my girl not having the same amount of pleasure I had,” he continued, snickering at the lewd squelching sounds coming from between your legs. “toru, it’s fine I—“ “nuh-uh, sweetheart. you’ve played your game, and now it’s my turn.”

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ���

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[dollwrites]

WAAAAAAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT! You write Tokyo ghoul???? I NEED to be aware when you open requests again, I crave anything with my favorite Uta 😍🥰 I don’t see enough of him and I think you’d write him really really well!!!

ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴜᴛᴀ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!ghoul!reader, oral fixation ( fingers ), masturbation ( her! ), reader’s nonverbal, very very subtle pet play ( just the vibes i feel ), finger sucking, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ intermission [ oral fixation ]

“Gently,” Uta reminded you, without so much as looking up from his work. with his right hand steadily swirling obsidian spirals over his newest creation, his left had been outstretched for you, willowy digits tracing the shape of your parted lips before slipping past the threshold, only to be welcomed by your eager tongue. upon tasting the pads of his fingertips, you have the sudden urge to clamp your lips down around the extremities, to suck on them, and relish the flavor of your lover, but you heed his warning and simply stroke each digit from knuckle to nail with your tongue, mouth hanging agape.

“Still quite a feral, little thing, but mind those teeth this time.” his pointer finger twisted slightly, to tap against the shape of your canines, and test their sharp edges, but you had no real intention of biting him. of course, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t do it by accident— which has happened before. you get a little too eager, a little too excited, and you snap your jaws shut like a hungry pup.

usually, you would grip his wrist with both hands, a silent plea not to take the taste of his fingers from your mouth, but right now yours were busy, too. they had both been occupied beneath the loose fabric of the oversized nightshirt you wore, one palming your breast, squeezing and pinching at your own nipple, whilst the other was shoved hastily into your panties, strumming your greedy pussy. you had become accustomed to Uta’s doting ever since he took you in; his constant touching on you, his affectionate lips and tongue seeking out your most sensitive parts, but when he worked you were utterly neglected.

so, you would find yourself in such a position, panting like a happy bitch on your knees at his feet, sucking and licking on his fingers as you tried to mimic the pleasure he could give you with your own hands. your skill paled in comparison to his, but it was all you could do to keep from interrupting him.

Uta knows this, which is why there’s a subtle tickle of pride in the way his lips creeped up, even as his crimson gaze remains fixed on the mask before him, at every sound you make. every heavy breath, every moan of his name. he knows that you’re needy, that your desperate for him, and he knows that to make you wait was probably a cruel punishment for a sweet, but ravenous little thing like you.

“Naughty, messy little girl.” he offers in a soothing tone, feeling webs of sticky drool tether his fingers to your tongue as you lick and suck on each one. the excess dribbles down your chin, either soaking into the fabric of your shirt or leaving a small puddle on the floor between your knees. “You can pet and pet that pretty pussy of yours, but you still can’t make yourself cum like I can, hm?” there’s a hint of arrogance in his soft chuckle, but it’s one well warranted. you shake your head, your tongue too busy to answer by forming words— drawing loops against the base of each finger, allowing the tips to reach deep into your mouth as they could, nearly gagging you as they prodded at your gullet. you rubbed your own fingers against your clit faster, pressing harder until you were squirming on your knees, scooting right up to his leg to press your whole body into it. your own, deep ruby stare flickered up to him, piercing… begging.

“That’s quite alright, I like being the only one that can tame you,” he offers, retracting his digits from your mouth. you let out a soft, disgruntled huff, attempting to follow them, to pull them back in, and worship them again with your tongue, but he doesn’t allow it. they travel downwards, and you watch as strings of saliva sever and drip from them and your own lips. grabbing the fabric of your nightshirt, he gives it a tug, pulling you upright, balancing tall on your knees, so that he can reach between your thighs without bending too far away from his mask in progress. your head swims, and you let out a little whimper as slick, svelte pads push your own away and tap against your puffy button, teasing you further, assessing your sticky sex. Uta lets out a soft, fond sigh, “There she is. Throbbing and swollen for me.” your tongue flicks and rolls impatiently just behind the seal of your couplet, desperate to be occupied, too, so your own fingers pry beyond the barrier created by your lips, leaving the scent and taste of your own cunt on them. you suck on them, purring in pure ecstasy at the sensation of Uta teasing your clit. it wasn’t enough to make you cum, but it was plenty to keep you right on the edge you’d led yourself to, so as not to sully your hard work with a ruined orgasm.

“But you’ll have to occupy yourself for a bit longer, little thing.” he said, resolved, gently pulling his hand back, sitting upright in his seat again. you whine, and -to keep from losing that built up tension- slam yourself down against his foot, grinding your damp panty-clad pussy against his shoe as you lean against his leg. he gives the top of your head an affectionate pat, before he immersing himself in his art. “I’m still busy, you know.”

[bluskaiwriting]

top of the food chain | sergei "kraven" kravinoff

➤ pairing: AFAB reader x Sergei Kravinoff / Kraven

➤ warnings: Smut, predator/prey power play, mild kink if you squint (a little rusty so i'm just easing back into it)

➤ notes: it has been so long since i've felt the proper urge to write smut for a character and of course it has to be kraven *chef's kiss*

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

She thinks it must be fate, the way she practically fell into his trap. Their destinies tangled like a spider's web before they even breathed their first breaths. He was made for her as she was made for him.

She'd been barely old enough to be out there in those woods alone. Old enough that the judge declared she was no longer a ward of anyone. She was finally free.

Hopping on the first train out of there, she ended up somewhere in the mountains. After years of suffocating under someone else's thumb. Fresh air and green grass, that was all she wanted.

The mountains seemed perfectly idyllic and visions of her spending her days here flashed in perfect sequences before her.

Until she realised that she was woefully unprepared for the rough terrain and most definitely did not think her dumb little plan through.

Night fell quicker than she realised, leaving her shivering and struggling to find food. By some miracle, she had gotten the fire going before darkness fell but now the gurgle of her stomach was starting to echo.

Foraging was her plan, though she only knew brief notes of medicinal roots and herbs. Sustenance was slightly different. She'd trudged as far as the firelight touched to avoid losing her way.

Losing the spirit and gusto that so quickly drove her out here, dread and dispair began to take their place. A feeling rose up in her, souring her nose and wetting her eyes.

She was a fool, a silly little girl who honestly believed she could do something for once in her life.

About to lose all hope, something glinted in the moonlight in the corner of her eye, something that looked hopefully like a berry. Instinctively, she turned and stepped towards the glint.

Suddenly she was 10 feet in the air, trapped in a net of some sort and still frozen from shock. She was now caught in a trap.

A stupid, stupid trap that she was doomed to stay in until the hunter who set it up remembered to check on it or until she died of starvation.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on her side tonight. A man emerged from the shadows, steps feather-light against the ground in practised movements. Shoulder-length dark hair that curled against his cheekbones, glowing yellow eyes that pierced through her soul, and the build of a hunter for sure.

The small glimmer of hope she'd felt at the sight of another soul, was quickly eclipsed by something much darker, and far more primal. For some odd reason, her gut told her that she was prey and she needed to run.

She was always very good at ignoring her instincts.

Her eyes scanned slowly, taking him in. Strong thick thighs, long arms lined with veins, and plump lips. She imagined what it would feel like to be caught in those arms, to sit upon those thighs and feel him tense beneath her.

He raised his eyebrow as he clearly caught her eyeing him, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. His eyes were now scanning her too in reciprocation.

Her breath hitched at the sight, and her chest rose and fell in rapid motion. She was a prey caught in a predator's trap.

Though not an entirely unwilling prey.

He approached slowly, eyes never leaving her's.

"Who are you?"

She was surprised to hear an American accent lilting in his voice, betraying his almost native grasp of Russian.

"Cut me down."

Her voice was clear and crisp, she hoped, betraying none of her nerves and trepidation.

His eyebrows raised once again before he stepped forward and lowered the trap to the ground.

It was almost unfair, how easily she followed him when he beckoned to her. The pathetically desperate way she almost tripped over herself to run after him, when he sped up.

It's just because she was afraid of being out there alone, purely for safety reasons. At least, that's what she told herself to ease the sting on her ego.

And how she really found herself beneath him, panting and wanting? Well, she was cold and he was a human heater of course.

"Faster, please." She whimpered pathetically, whining with every thrust he delivered.

His hips pistoned in and out of her poor puffy pussy, wetness dribbling out of her with every push.

"Is all this just for me?" He asked, voice lilting with arrogance.

He pulled back and spread her thighs wide, taking in the sight before him. Pink lips glistened with the evidence of what they'd just been doing, her mind absolutely blank of anything.

Dipping his head, he breathed in deeply, a growl emanating from his chest.

Fuck.

Licking a long stripe along her slit, he pressed deep into her cunt, fucking into her with his tongue. He wasn't just tasting her, he was devouring her.

As he laved on her clit, his fingers hooked into her. Noises of uh, uh, uh, left her breathless.

She could feel it building, cresting higher and higher. She was so close if she could just get him a little deeper.

As his fingers explored her, he found a spot that had her making a noise. A noise so vulgar, her flushed cheeks grew hotter.

Smirking, he ground his palm into her swollen clit and drove his fingers into that spongey spot repeatedly.

She let out a wail so loud, she was certain all the animals heard. Her vision spotting white and a continuous ringing in her ears.

"Jesus Christ."

He huffed a laugh as he sat back up, releasing her thighs from his grip.

"Turn over." He smacked her ass, still kneeling before her looking more like a beast than a man as his eyes seemed to glow.

Trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, she propped herself onto her knees and lowered her arms to the bed. In this position, she almost felt like she was presenting herself to him, spread open for his taking.

She felt more than she heard him spit onto her, warm and wet. She clenched around nothing at the feeling.

Prodding at her entrance, he pushed into her warmth slowly, letting out a groan at the feeling of her walls squeezing him.

Her breath hitched at the fullness of it all and she swore she could feel him in her throat.

He pulled out so slowly, that she felt shivers run down her spine. He pushed back in harder, driving her up the bed.

A gasp left her as he sped up, pounding into her like his life depended on it. Kissing her cervix with every push in, it should have hurt, but all she felt was ecstasy.

As the stars rushed beneath her eyelids, she could feel that she was close again, but she needed a little bit more.

It seemed her beast-man could sense it too, and he brought his fingers down to draw tight circles around her clit.

Breathy high-pitched moans echoed in the dome, as she met her peak.

"Oh god, fuck. Yes, fuck."

She wasn't making sense anymore if she ever was. She clenched down on him, seizing up as waves of pleasure rolled over her.

In the vice grip of her cunt, he followed her over the cliff, grunting into her ear.

Lips pressed to the side of her head, he breathed into her hair as he came down from his orgasm.

As if the fog cleared, they looked at each other in a different light.

A softer light it seemed.

"I'm Sergei."

[givemeascreamcorey]

𝔗𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢 𝔚𝔢𝔟 𝔓𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤! <33

𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙. 𝑀𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝐴𝑏𝑖𝑖, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒, ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐿𝑀𝐹𝐴𝑂. 𝑆𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡! 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑛/𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝐿𝑂𝐿. 𝐼𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑟𝑦!

[wyvernest]

feast on me

pairing: dom!miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: smut, foodplay, grinding, marking, possessive miguel, objectification,

summary: you and miguel try something new, and he gets lost in the raw lust of enjoying every inch of your body

You are sprawled out on his king size bed, waiting. Your heart is drumming in your chest, eyes never leaving his.

"I've been dreaming about this." He rasps, looking down at your form, gaze piercing and imposing. Your attention flows down his perfectly sculpted abdomen, down to the boxers that do very little concealing to his erection.

Leaning down, hovering over you, he makes you feel small, submitted. You let a near animalistic feeling rush through your veins, that he owns you entirely, that your only purpose is to obey him and do his bidding. And the best part about it, it makes your panties soak and mind fuzzy with lust, the way he has you on your knees with just one look. 

Gripping both your wrists with one hand, he releases a strong web string, restraining them to the bed frame. Climbing on the bed, his weight and height alone reminding you of the strength and stamina you're about to try to endure, he traps your thighs in between his, the pressure between your legs increasing. 

His nostrils flare momentarily, pupils dilated. Your breathing is already laboured in anticipation. He bends down, straying from the plan, just to sense how aroused you are. Your scent floods his lucidity, his cock visibly twitching under the flimsy fabric.

"Miguel.. get on with it already. Stop teasing."

"Let me enjoy it, mi vida." His tone is dripping with need and desperation, held back only by his desire to be the one in charge. "You smell so good when you're so ready for me."

You feel burning heat rise to your face. "Ah, Miguel," the rest of the plea dissolves into a moaned sigh.

"Estás bien rica, mami", he licks and bites at the dip of your waist, puffing hot breaths over the soft skin. "Make me hard with just one look."

You begin squirming, wanting to feel more. Wanting him to stick to the idea he had.

With a groan, he reaches for the bedside table, taking the syrup. Your eyes widen, as if you haven't discussed it already. He removes the cap with evident impatience before he starts pouring it over your chest and waist in calculated motions. You flinch as the liquid drips down your naked body, avoiding his lustful gaze. 

When he deems it sufficient, he gets rid of the bottle and stares down at you in awe, a starved man with a five course meal right in front of him. 

His eyelids hang low over his wide blown pupils, showcasing not a single thought beyond wanting to get his mouth on you and dick between your soaked folds. With his arms now bracketing your torso, he gets to work.

You feel like a piece of meat, the prey he's devouring so hungrily, nothing to stop or bother him. You moan his name as his warm breath falls heavily over your flushed skin, indecisive about the place he should start.

And he goes for your neck.

The scent of him, cologne and his distinctive musk invade you like pheromones, drowning out the sweet essence of the syrup. He groans against the crook of your neck, and you give a futile attempt to free your legs from his hold and rub your cunt on his hard cock. He licks the liquid clean from your skin, paying close attention to the sensitive spots he has learned so well. You instinctively tilt your head to the side, your body silently begging him not to stop without your mind even present. One of his hands travels down your side, kneading the soft flesh of your breast, careful not to smudge the cream. 

"Let me.." You whine, pushing into him, feeling the considerable weight of his fat cock laying on your lower belly as he leans down further over you. He can't help but chase the friction, either.

He raises to your face in response, swallowing your empty begging. You taste the aroma of the syrup on your tongue, eager  to prolong the kiss. But before you can deepen the connection, he departs, leaving you even more riled up and utterly frustrated. 

"You're so pretty when you're needy." He teases right into your ear, before resuming the licks and bites down your neck. He has to actively stop himself from sinking his teeth in your skin, the feeling of your smooth and soft skin, the heat of your need, are clouding his judgement.

He reaches your collarbones, his hot tongue lapping up the liquid, always followed by open-mouthed pecks and small bites. You arch your back into his touch, needing his mouth just a couple inches lower. He continues to lick your skin clean, slowly and mindlessly grinding his erection into you.

You feel used, strictly for his pleasure. You're nothing but a fuck toy, unable to voice your own frustrations, forced to take whatever he'll give you. 

You try to move your hips against him, but his thighs tense impossibly tighter around you, and you think you're going to die right then and there.

"Mira qué tetas tan bonitas", He rasps before taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. You whimper and push your chest closer to his face. 

He extends his tongue to press it flat over the tender flesh of your breast, indulging in the feeling of your skin, heated up underneath his touch. He kisses hard over the expanse of your chest, almost hurriedly. 

Your brain is fried with the wet sounds reverberating in your ears, combined with the unabashed groans of the man on top of you.

Your chest is covered in his spit; marked up in various spots by reddening patches, the traces of his need to make you his. You smell like him, and you really are, utterly and completely, his.

He licks up a long stipe of syrup through the valley between your breasts and looks up to you, before taking both of them in his hands, groping and fondling, playing with the soft flesh as he continues his kisses down your navel, to the line of your waist. 

Your eyes roll back as you let out a deep breath you didn't realise you were holding on to, feeling the girth of his rock hard cock rub in on your lower belly. He's unconsciously rocking his hips back and forth, a barely there movement, slow enough not to drive him towards release but harsh enough to make you squirm harder underneath him.

"Así estás muy guapa" he whispers in between rushed licks and kisses across your chest, when he parts his mouth from your soft skin, before diving right back in as if you'll disappear. Exhales laboured, words breathy and deep, he confesses;

"Me pones tan cachondo.", his nostrils flare as he takes your syrup coated breast in his mouth, one hand gripping your waist, the other drifting down. "I wanna be inside you." 

"Please - I've been - ah", he returns to your neck unexpectedly, after having finally licked you clean. "I've been trying to tell you -"

He ends the protest with a hungry kiss, messy and sloppy. His tongue is in your mouth quickly enough, taking you by surprise while his hand works his boxers down his thighs. By now, his cock is twitching in need, precum running down the shaft. 

He shuffles away from you in order to give you enough space to curl your sore legs around his waist, before you feel a broad hand splayed out on your back.

You can barely register his intentions as he flips you both, placing you on his lap and presenting you with his raging erection, propped on your stomach.

You automatically place your hands on his firm chest, feeling up his pecs. He leans forward, kissing below your ear.

"Ride me."

translations:

Estás bien rica - You're really hot

Mira qué tetas tan bonitas - Look what pretty tits

Así estás muy guapa - You're so beautiful like this

Me pones tan cachondo - You make me so horny

a/n: as always, correct my spanish if you notice any mistakes<3

edit: yes i re-uploaded cause apparently i got shadowbanned and i hope it's fixed now

[redstarwriting]

the clash | i. hey, ho! let’s go!

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie

a/n: it’s here 😎 no but fr, i proudly present a new series focusing on hobie brown, loml. i‘m trying to make it gn, so if you spot anything that needs fixing lemme know. i also did include a bit of a description of what you look like, but it’s mainly just to affirm the gothic spider-person look. and if you don’t like it, you can just pretend it isn’t there, my character designer brain just took a hold while explaining lol. enjoy y’all, there’s more where this came from 👀

now reading: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: ii. time bomb

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In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. In reality, the two of you were checking each other out, but no one needs to know that. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Your gaze first fell on his many piercings, which suited him very well. Almost as well as the spikes coming out of the shoulders of his tattered denim vest. “See somethin’ you like?” you hear his thick cockney accent, and you shrug. “The constant changing makes it difficult,” you say, causing him to shrug. “I hate consistency,” he says, staring you up and down. “I like the guitar,” you say, and he nods. “Everyone does.” You raise an eyebrow, and he takes in the way your heavy black eyeliner makes the expression look more exaggerated than it is. His eyes go down, taking in your outfit, which seems to be varying in different gothic styles, but overall is all black with silver studs, spikes, and charms sticking out everywhere. He notices the two of you share a liking for combat boots, and perhaps his favorite thing about you are the intricate and all black spider-web tattoos on your hands crawling their way up your arms. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”

“Feisty for a goth.”

“Instigative as all punks are.”

“What… is going on,’ Peter whispers to Miguel who shakes his head. “I thought they would be best friends?” Peter suggests as he places a binky in Mayday’s mouth. “I did too…” Miguel says, “Maybe this is just a way these types of alternative people talk?”

“Tal vez tengas razón… Hobie does love to be abrasive for no reason,” Miguel concludes, and Peter shrugs and they zone in on the two of you again. “...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”

“For the most part, huh?”

“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond, and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”

“It’s the ideal society—”

“Good start—”

“But completely unrealistic.”

“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”

“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry, and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen; I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”

“Not yet, but we’re gettin’ there,” he clenches his teeth, and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say, and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fuckin’ person and stop usin’ these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel somethin’ when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, that went horribly!”

Miguel punches him on the shoulder, resulting in a soft ‘ow’ and a tiny angry noise from Mayday. “What the hell was that Hobart?” Miguel nearly yells and Hobie snaps his head towards him. “Don’t call me that, neither! They don’t get it. It’s not enough to want to make a difference in the world. You need to take action. Goths love to sit on the sidelines and lament instead of playing the offensive,” Hobie explains, a deep frown on his face, “Watch out for them. They might not be able to do what it takes when it counts.” Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hobie, you’re supposed to show them around—”

“No, fuck that. I’m not goin’ anywhere near that gothic monstrosity,” Hobie says shaking his head in defiance. “We made a deal. You would show all the younger spider—”

“Yeah, well you can shove that deal up your fuckin’ ass, mate, I’m not doin’ shit for them!”

“Okay, okay, calm down there, man. Why don’t you just ask Gwen to help you? Maybe Miles and Pavitr too? That way you fulfill your promise, 'cause I know promises are important to you, and you won’t have to talk to them!” Peter reasons and Hobie looks over at him. He furrows his eyebrows. That would help the situation. And maybe he’d be able to help you see just how garbage your take was with Gwen on his side. “Fine. But I’m not doin’ it cause I need help, and I’m not doin’ it because you told me to. I’m doin’ it cause it’s the last thing that they’d want,” Hobie says, pointing at Peter while saying it, flipping Miguel off, and then webbing away. Peter looks at Miguel who is clenching his fists… and his jaw. “You seem stressed, but don’t worry about it. Not all of us need to like each other, I mean there’s so many there’s no possible way we all could and look at you, you hate Miles even though he’s awesome and—”

“Shut. Up. Peter,” Miguel growls, stalking away while mumbling various things in Spanish. Peter looks down at Mayday. “Tough crowd,” he says as she giggles up at him.

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