⚠️ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! ⚠️

28 "i’m just getting comfy" with Steve Harrington ? 🥺

warnings: smut (oral m receiving, grinding, semi-public fooling around), mutual pining, steve being a little rough/impatient

It started out relatively innocent: movie night, with a bunch of your friends, on the couch in your basement. Every blanket and pillow from upstairs you could find, popcorn, Junior Mints, all that-- you wanted this to be perfect.

The one thing you kind of forgot to anticipate was that your couch was just not big enough for this many people.

"You look uncomfortable down there," Steve noticed as you shifted around on the pillow on the floor; you'd offered the couch to your friends, but a little decorative cushion wasn't really enough to protect your poor butt from the hard basement floor.

"It's fine," you insisted, "I want you guys to have the couch."

"Shh," someone hissed, apparently (rightfully) annoyed that you were talking during the movie. Steve, sighing, grabbed the remote and paused the tape; some of the group groaned a little bit.

"Seriously," Steve frowned, "it's your house and you're on the floor. There's room for you on the couch."

"Uh, where?" you motioned to the already-full sofa: Stacy and Kyle were squished up next to Evan on the end, who had Claire on his lap since they were dating and all.

"Come on up-- everybody will scoot over," he promised. You sighed and stood up. But, of course, when you approached the couch, nobody moved. "Guys, come on," he instructed them, waving his hands to motion for them to move.

"We never said we were gonna make room," Stacy noticed. "Because there isn't any."

"Then one of you guys sit on the floor!" he decided.

"No, no," you interjected, "you're all guests."

"Why don't you just sit on Steve's lap?" Kyle suggested, looking a little too proud of himself; you knew what they were doing, they'd probably planned all this... the whole group had been trying to wingman for you and Steve for a while now. It irritated you because, one, you told Claire about your crush in confidence, and two, because you were sure Steve didn't feel the same way. Why would he? He had his pick of the litter of the girls at school and you were just his friend. Not that you minded that. It was just a little crush, nothing you couldn't get over.

"I... isn't that weird?" Steve mumbled.

"No, it's fine!" Evan insisted.

"We're doing it," Claire pointed out.

"Yeah, but you guys are, you know--" Steve explained.

"It's not a big deal," Stacy rolled her eyes, "can you guys just work it out so we can watch the movie, please?"

Hesitating for a second, you gave Steve a look. "I mean, if it's okay with you..."

"Y-yeah, I mean, it's fine with me, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't gonna be weird for you," Steve replied.

"Why would it be weird?" you wondered.

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, "just sit down and I'll hit 'play'."

You did, gingerly, hoping to not go too fast and slam into his thighs; when you relaxed, it wasn't super comfortable, but it was certainly making your body react. It felt like everywhere he touched you-- his hips near yours, the top of his legs on the back of yours, your feet bumping together-- you felt warm and sensitive. "Are you good?" you asked him.

"Yeah, totally," he nodded, "you don't have to sit so far forward-- lean back so I can see the TV--"

When you leaned back, your back pressed into his chest, and you found yourself biting your lip... good thing he couldn't see it.

"Okay, here we go," he mumbled, grabbing the remote again and unpausing the film before tossing it onto the table and getting comfortable under you.

You expected him to be... bonier? But his thighs were strong and soft and not as bad to sit on as you thought... that said, you had to adjust once or twice to make sure your legs didn't fall asleep. Each time you moved, you heard his breathing change; wanting to lean back a little more, you gently moved your hips back, and you heard him suck in a breath quickly.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he whispered under his breath.

"I'm just getting comfy," you whispered back.

"Could you... do it less?" he hissed.

"What's the problem?" you asked.

"I... you're just getting kinda close to... stuff," he explained awkwardly.

You really didn't mean to move again, when he just asked you not to, but for some reason you did-- and that was when you felt it. Actually, what you felt first was his hand shooting out to grab your hip and keep you still. Only then did you process that the shape you were feeling pressed against your ass was his erection. Your face heated up in an instant; that's what it was right? Could that be it?

...It almost felt too big to be his cock, but then you shifted again, and you heard him choke out a little noise, and you smiled. Oh god... am I grinding on Steve Harrington right now?

He dug his fingers harder into your hips, and it hurt, but it didn't deter you as much as it should have; it just made you bite back a moan and glance over at your couch companions to make sure they were still paying attention to the movie.

How were you supposed to make it through this whole 90-minute experience without getting caught, or getting so worked up that you had to do something?

Whether it was intuition, good luck, or just a case of being less subtle than you realized, it was Stacy that saved you by pausing the movie about a half hour later. "Who else needs a pee break?" she announced.

"It's your own fault for crushing three Cokes in the first act," Claire noticed.

"So? You had two," Stacy replied.

"Yeah, I didn't say I didn't have to go, too..."

"Okay, uh," you tried to remember the layout of your own house, "there's a bathroom in the hallway by my room, and one by the living room, and another at the end of the hall on the left."

"Great!" Stacy hopped up first, Claire following her. You stood up, too, just to stretch your legs and not look too suspicious, but didn't have anywhere to go. After a quick moment passed, Evan got up, too.

"I could actually use a glass of water," he decided, "mind if I get one from the kitchen?"

"No, go ahead!" you smiled, and he made his way to the stairs as well.

Quickly realizing that you were one person away from being left alone with Steve, who was currently staring at you which you were trying to avoid openly noticing, you decided you needed to make a break for it.

"Uh, you know, I bet there's still a bathroom open... I'll go, so we don't have to pause again later..."

You dashed away and bounded up the stairs, finding the bathroom by your room thankfully unoccupied; you went in and shut the door, running the sink to splash your face when Steve barged in.

"Steve, what the fu--" you frowned, but he slammed the door behind him and spun you around, pinning you to the counter.

"What were you doing back there?" he hissed.

"I... I was trying to get comfortable," you defended.

"Bullshit," he sneered. "What was your plan, huh? Make me bust in my pants during the movie, and then what? What did you think would happen?"

You chewed your lip, glancing away. "Uh, I dunno..."

"Yeah, you weren't thinking, were you?" he sighed. "You didn't think you'd have to deal with the consequences of getting me hard in front of everyone and leaving, right?"

You swallowed as he stepped back, just enough to start opening his belt.

"Get on your knees," he demanded.

"Steve!" you gasped.

"Or you can leave," he offered, "and we can pretend nothing happened-- but I don't think that's what you want, is it?"

Just then, he reached into his jeans and pulled his cock out; just as thick as it had felt against you, hard and flushed and dripping precum already... you absent-mindedly licked your lips.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he scoffed smugly. "Get on your knees, finish what you started."

Carefully, you obeyed, kneeling on the bathmat in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on you, watching you carefully reach out and take his cock in your hand, before delicately licking a stripe over the tip. He only reacted with a twitch of his mouth, a ghost of a snarl, and you nearly whimpered. Opening your mouth wider, you took the head inside and swirled your tongue around it.

"Fuck," he breathed, reaching out to rest a hand on your head-- not forcing you to take it deeper, yet, but guiding you gently.

With each bob of your head, you fit more and more, letting your spit soak him and glide with every motion. He tasted good, maybe it was just because you could smell his body wash, but it was nice; sweet and musky in perfect contrast to the little doses of salt you got each time more precum smeared on your tongue.

"Mm, that's good," he praised softly, grabbing your hair a little more roughly-- not rough, but forceful. A pang of arousal hit right between your legs, making your hips rock in the air against nothing. "Shit-- where'd you learn to do that? I thought you were a good girl, guess not..."

You whined, the sound reverberating through his shaft, and he groaned.

"F-fuck, do that again," he pleaded, and you hummed around him; he let his head fall back, putting his hand on the back of your neck to push his cock right up to your throat. "Oh, we waited way too long to do this... I've been waiting so long for this."

Gently, you ventured deeper, the tip of his cock making you choke at first-- but then you swallowed around it, and it worked. With patience, you took more and more, until both of you moaned when your lips were wrapped around the very base of him.

"You're so good," he whispered, "I'm pretty close-- keep going, we need to get back out there soon..."

Of course, 'keep going' was kind of a moot point when he was fully fucking your throat at this point, keeping your head still as he thrust his hips back and forth; you know, you'd been a little offended when he said you weren't a good girl, but considering the way your body reacted to him using your mouth like this, he was definitely accurate.

"Fuck, m'gonna come in your mouth," he warned you with a whisper. "You'll swallow it, right?"

You weren't sure if you'd be able to nod enough for him to notice it, but apparently he did, because he purred proudly.

"Yeah, that's my girl," he praised, and you whimpered around him again. You wanted to sit down further so you could grind against the floor and get some friction on your aching pussy, but he was too tall, you had to stay on your knees... you tried reaching between your legs to touch yourself, but it wasn't enough-- you needed him.

You could feel his cock pulsing just before he came, and you winced a little when the first spurt of come shot back into your throat just because you didn't see it coming. He breathed through his teeth, clearly trying to stay quiet in case the other people in the house could hear from wherever they were... oh god, you were trying not to imagine that. The idea of one of them walking in right now was humiliating, and terrifying, and sexy.

"Hnng, fuck," he groaned, pumping a few more times before he was apparently done and finally stilled with a sigh. You suckled on his cock while it was still in your mouth, making him wince and pull out. "Fuck," he panted, looking down at you again, "show me."

You opened your mouth and he bit his lip at whatever he saw in there-- it felt like he came a lot, you could feel it moving around your mouth. It didn't taste, like, awesome or anything, you weren't about to go spread it on some toast and dig in, but knowing it was Steve's come in your mouth was just so hot that you didn't care at all. You swallowed it all in one gulp, and he smiled down at you, fixing his hair before he put his cock back in his pants (priorities, right?).

"Okay, see you out there," he offered as he reached for the bathroom door, about to leave.

"W-wait, what about me?" you pouted, standing up.

"We'll take care of you after," he promised, "I think that's the least you deserve after pulling that shit."

Fair enough, but your body was so desperate for him already. "But Steve, I... I'm so wet," you whispered, and he smiled, letting go of the door to step closer to you.

"Really?" he smirked.

You nodded, and he tilted his head. "Well, you know what?" he said.

"What?" you asked coyly.

"That's your problem," he smiled, giving you a peck on the cheek and a 'boop' on the nose with his finger before he left, shutting the door behind him.

You stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the door as if it would make him reappear and say he was just kidding and he was gonna fuck you silly real quick. He was right, there really wasn't time, and this was the least you deserved, but shit... you didn't know Steve could be so mean.

But you liked it.

and he’d be so sweet to you when you’re pregnant!

meeting your every need and he’s with you every step of the way during labor and once the baby comes he’s over the moon and he def cries bc he’s just so happy to be a dad😭

dad!bob is what keeps me up late at night, I need to give that man as many babies as he wants!!! (and he wants a lot, he has a breeding kink, trust me I know him)

Bob has a DIRTY BREEDING KINK

and the man wants a whole house of kids and I would happily provide

yeah im an absolute whore for this man

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: im so out of practice from writing, so this is not my best nor does it really flow- but im getting back into writing so you already know i have to write for the love of my life.. so sorry if this isn't the best!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: shang chi x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤/𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, unprotected sex, praise kink, oral (m & f), mentions of over stim and breeding kink, this is unedited

you'd meet at a bar- sitting across the room, he couldn't help by be mesmerized by your beauty. the nerves would set in as katy convinces him to go talk to you. his hands would get clammy and his heart would race the closer he got to the bar.

you're with friends, drinking a beer while just chatting about life. it was your first time in the bar, not expecting to meet a man or even talk to anyone. shang chi would walk up nervously, wiping his hands on his jeans. "hi, i couldn't help but notice how beautiful you are.. i was wondering if i could by you a drink?" you'd look back at him and see the cheesy grin and nodded nervously.

the longer you'd talk the more you wanted to see him again. from the night forward, you'd be inseparable. karaoke nights, bar hopping, movie nights, hiking, etc. you'd do everything together.

shang chi would show you off proudly, being the perfect gentleman. you wouldn't lift a finger while with him- he would make sure that you had everything you needed. nights in would be your favorite- both of you in sweatpants and cuddled into each other.

his love language would be physical touch- constantly needing to hold your hand, having his arm around you, or leaving small pecks on your shoulder- he needed to know you were close by.

when it comes to being intimate, your comfort was his top priority. he'd take his time to appreciate your body- every inch, kissing down your body, dragging his tongue down the valley of your breasts.

the first few times, he'd take it slow, getting to know your body and the things that make you squirm. when he has become comfortable? there is not a thing he wouldn't do. trying different positions and exploring new kinks.

he'd love praising you, being as deep as he could. "s'good, baby, you're so wet for me" "slow down, we have all night, baby" each thrust would be deep, making sure you felt every inch- stretching out your pussy. watching your eyes roll back and your hands dig into his back as he pumped you full of his cum.

shang chi would love going down on you- he'd be addicted to your pussy. holding your hips down, licking up every last drop of your juices- "oh you taste so good, could stay down here for hours!" he'd mumble against your cunt

as much as he loved going down on you, he loved your mouth- how pretty you looked with if stuffed full of his cock. "such a good girl for me, look at you" tears welling as he bucked his hips against your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

I Was Made For Lovin' You

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

song inspo: I was made for lovin' you by kiss

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 3.4k

summary: Eddie believes you're a "quiet miss goody-two-shoes". You're going to prove him wrong.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI!, both eddie and reader are 18+, fingering (feat. ring kink), oral (m), sub/dom dynamics, PIV, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), cowgirl to missionary, dirty talk, praise kink, biting kink/leaving hickeys, creampie, language, mutual pining, fluff, eddie being sweet, tattoo tracing, way too many fucking italics and semi colons, it ends real sweet tho

A/N: This is a part two to I wanna be with you but I wrote it so it could be read as a standalone. Also, I’ve never written a smut oneshot, so this was definitely a challenge, but I tried my best. :)

It's silent between the two of you on the drive back to Eddie's place. He has the radio tuned to the local rock station, and you can hear Metallica's Master of Puppets playing through the speakers. You were bopping your head, drumming your fingers, and silently singing along to the song. Eddie could hear you and would turn to look at you during stop lights. He couldn't fucking believe that you, quiet miss goody two shoes, were in his van and heading back to his place. He thought he was losing his mind but in the best way possible.  

It wasn't much longer 'til he pulled up to his trailer. As soon as he parked, he turned the car off and got the keys out of the ignition. Then, hopping out of his van, he makes his way to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you step out. Eddie led the way to his door, unlocking it and stepping off to the side to allow you to get in first before closing the door behind you.   

He kicks off his Reeboks and leaves them by the door as he explains, "Sorry for the mess, uh, the maid took the week off."  

You mimic his actions while asking, "You live here alone?"   

He shakes his head and clarifies, "With my uncle. But, uh, he works nights at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks." 

Smirking up at him as you took in his words and realized, "Well, at least now I know there won't be any interruptions."  

You've been messing with Eddie's head since your first propositioned this whole thing to change his mind. He really did think you were a saint, though. He thought about you a lot his (second) senior year. He had the habit of watching you, just across the cafeteria or passing by in the hall or your shared English classroom. He tried his best to be subtle, and he was sure you never noticed him because every time he looked in your direction, you were looking anywhere but him. But from what he saw, you were introverted, sweet, smart. Everything about you pointed to being a quiet miss goody two shoes that guys wanted to bring home to meet their parents. And now, here you were, at ‘the freak’s’ trailer, looking entirely out of place.   

"Hey, you know, you don't have to do this. I'll understand if you were just messing around." A selfish part of him wishes you aren't. That you actually do want to be here with him. He started drumming his fingers against his thigh, a little nervous or bored habit he picked up. In this case, it was for the former reason.   

Your eyes went to look at his ring-clad fingers before bringing your gaze up to meet his. You didn't say anything yet, just quietly made your way over to him until you were standing toe to toe. You noticed his breath hitch at your proximity, and there was the start of a light pink blush dusting his cheeks. Your gaze flickered down to his lips before looking back up at him.  

"Can I kiss you?" as soon as the words left your mouth, his nod and whisper of a yes were all you needed before bringing your lips to his. Eddie leaned closer to you, gingerly placing his hands on your hips. You brought your hands up to his hair. God, how you had dreamed of running your fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as you imagined. Tugging on his hair, Eddie groaned in response and deepened the kiss. His tongue making its way past your now open lips; you always thought that he'd be a great kisser, but you never could've known it'd be this magical.   

You pull away a little bit, your hands making their way down, trying to take off that Dio jacket he wore all the time. He took his hands off your hips, and an involuntary whine came out that was soon replaced by a sigh as he fully took off his jacket, and you saw his forearms, his bat tattoos on display. You always wanted to get a closer look at his tattoos, wanted to see just how much ink covered his body and where.   

Before you knew it, he was back on you, kissing you with such fervor that you almost believed this must be his last day on Earth. Your hands slipped under his Hellfire shirt, feeling the warmth radiate off his skin. He was quick at work unbuttoning your blouse and untucking it from your skirt. As he slipped the shirt off your body, he pulled away and let out a groan at the sight of your breasts still contained in your bra.   

"Take it off," he begged, "please."  

You could never deny him when he pleaded with you, so you reached behind to unhook your bra as you watched him pull off his shirt. A moment of silent appreciation passed as you both took in the appearance of each other. You wished he had granted you more time to appreciate the tattoos that graced his chest, but Eddie had other plans.   

He leaned down towards you, hands on the back of your thighs and lips brushing against your ear as he whispered one word: jump.  

With your help, he wasted no time picking you up and leading you the short distance down the hall to his bedroom. He laid you down on your back, trailing kisses down your neck towards your chest. You could feel the sting of his teeth scraping and biting against the sensitive skin of your breast. He was marking you. The dizzying realization sent shivers down your spine and sighs parting from your lips.

The feeling clashes with a new one, the one of his hand trailing up your thigh. Rubbing circles on the soft flesh just below your aching cunt. His fingers start to make their way farther up until you can feel them brush against your swollen clit over your panties.   

"Can I?" He pleaded as he toyed with the seam.   

You nod, choking out the words, "Yes, please."  

Eddie hooks his fingers under the band as he slides your underwear down your legs before dropping it onto the floor nearby. You squirm under his set gaze on your bare pussy, feeling insecure under the full attention he's giving you. Unconsciously, your legs try to close, to shield yourself. Eddie places a hand on your knee, not using any force to open you up again.  

"You okay, sweetheart?" You can see the concern in his deep brown eyes. Those same eyes that just moments ago you felt insecure under. Why? There was such adoration in them that you couldn't imagine feeling anything but secure and safe around him. Without thinking much of it, you let your legs spread open in front of him. A breathy thank you left his lips as he started up his marking again.  

You gasped as you felt Eddie running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you. "Please, Eddie, I need you." You were desperate, whining at this point, waiting for him to give you any sort of relief. Finally, he surrendered to your begging as he slipped a finger inside your weeping cunt.   

"Jesus, darling, you're so wet— all this for me, huh?" All you could do was nod as your mind focused on the coolness of his ring against your skin as he pumped his finger in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. He soon started to stretch you out further, adding a second finger. You clasped your hand over your mouth, trying to stop some of your moans from spilling out. Eddie noticed, shaking his head at you and placing his free hand over yours.  

"C'mon baby, no one's here, just you and me." He started to guide your hand away from your mouth as he went on, "We can be as loud as we want." As those words fell from his mouth, he curled his fingers up, hitting that spot that drew you so close to your release. Once his thumb started rubbing circles on your clit, you were a goner. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders where you were gripping tightly, pulsating clenches on his fingers as your orgasm washed over you and crying out for him.   

You feel Eddie let his fingers slip out; they're glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. You look up to see him holding your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Your whimper is soon swallowed by his mouth on yours, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You use this as an opportunity to switch positions, having him lay down under you. Eddie starts to move his hands down to land on your hips once again, but you're off him before he can.   

He sits up at the edge of the bed now, cocking his head to the side in confusion. You lean down towards him, placing a short kiss on his lips before heading further south. You're trailing kisses down his neck, across the expanse of his chest, paying particular attention to the tattoos that litter his skin. As your lips leave kisses further south, you get down on your knees. You hear Eddie gasp above you as you place one last kiss over the bulge straining against his jeans.   

 Your fingers work deftly on his button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips to help you get his pants off. He takes the opportunity to pull his boxers down along with his jeans. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, aching and dripping with precum. The moment you wrap your hand around him, his head is tossed back, whimpers and moans tumbling out of his mouth. You wanted to taste him, to feel the weight of him against your tongue. Wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking, you nearly purred at the words of praise from him.  

"Please don't stop." He begged, "You feel so good—" Looking down at you, gazing up at him through your lashes, he can't stand it. Eddie feels like he's going insane. He can't fucking believe that here you are, on your knees, sucking his dick like you've done it a hundred times before.   

"Shit— you're really good at this." But he doesn't want to think it's because of practice. He'd burst at the seams with jealously at the idea of another man ever having been in this position before with you. So, he won't; instead, he's focused on the fact that he can feel a pleasant vibrating sensation whenever you moan with him in your mouth. All the more incentive to get you to make those pretty noises.  

"Oooh yes— just like that, keep going, darling." He's gripping the side of his bed so tight that his knuckles are turning ghostly white. He began gently thrusting into your throat just a few times before you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. Eddie started to whine, saying he was so close.   

His protests soon died down at your request, "Scoot back and lie down." He followed your instruction without hesitation as you started taking off your skirt and made your way back to him. You're straddling him, a hand placed on his chest to steady yourself while the other reaches down to guide his cock right at your entrance.   

"Say you want me, and I'm yours." Eddie looked up at you with those pretty, big, brown eyes, already pleading with you with his gaze. He placed his hands on your hips, not forcing you down but preparing for your actions as he said what you were waiting for.  

"I need you, please— I'm begging you, darling." That was all you needed to hear before sinking down on him, slowly, inch by inch. You can't believe how full you feel; you've never felt like this with anyone before.   

"Good girl, fuck, you take me so well, like you were fucking made for me." And you believe it. You really believe that you must be made for each other because there's nothing else that can explain just how right it feels to finally have him inside you. Right now, you just want to take your time with him, slowly working your way up and down on him, focus on how he pulses inside you, on his praises.  

"Shit, that's my girl." My girl. You can feel yourself flutter and tighten around him just at the thought of being his girl.   

"Mhm— your girl, Eddie." At these words, he sits up, arms wrapped around your waist and flipping you both, your back now pressed against the mattress. He stills for a moment, cupping your face to look into your eyes. Then, running his thumb along your bottom lip before closing the gap between you two. You moan into his kiss, feeling him thrust, slow but firm.   

He pulls away from your kiss, placing his hands under your thighs to push them up towards your chest. You cry out as you feel this new depth, fuck, you didn't know he could get even deeper.   

"Love the sounds you make when I'm 'side you, sweetheart." You could say that same, that you arch and clench for him whenever you hear him. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.   

Eddie can sense it too, "That's it baby, I know, I know, c'mon, let go for me." He's all but begging you; he needs it, needs to feel you come on him. There's no way you can deny him or yourself that. That knot finally snaps, your eyes rolling back as you scream out over how intensely your orgasm is wracking through your body.   

"Jesus— You're so pretty when you come all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings.   

"Fuck I'm close, christ, where do you want me?" You're so cock drunk you can't say anything; nothing at all. All you can do is wrap your legs tighter around him, trying your best to send the message that you need him to stay inside you; that's where you want him.   

"Shit shit shit— gonna fill you up, that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. And with one final deep stroke, your wishes are granted. Eddie holds himself over you as he empties himself inside you, milking him for all he's worth, you feel every drop of him, and you're addicted. Addicted? Can you be addicted after only one time?   

With Eddie Munson? Absolutely.  

You're brought out of your trance as you feel him maneuver to lay down beside you. You turn to look at each other and are met with a dazed, lovestruck smile on his face. You can only assume you look the same way to him.   

"Told ya." Those are the only words you can think of in this hazy moment.  

Eddie's smile falters a bit, and his brow furrows, "What?"  

"Told ya I wasn't a saint." You assume the grin on your face has taken on a cocky demeanor at your statement.  

He laughs, almost in disbelief, "Please tell me you didn't sleep with me just to prove a point."  

You're taken aback, a faux offended gasp leaving your lips, "Of course not! I've wanted this for a while; proving myself right was just a bonus." And it was a great bonus. You loved being right, especially when it proved others wrong.   

Eddie didn't mind much, simply focusing on one part of your response, "A while, huh?" His raised brow had such a smug air to it that you couldn't help but lightly smack him on his chest.  

"Oh, hush!" You left your hand on his chest, placed right over one of his tattoos. So, to avoid being teased further, you moved your attention to the ink on his skin. You began lightly tracing it but soon noticed Eddie squirming under your touch.   

"Are you ticklish?" Your eyes widened at the possibility, already planning on how you could use this to your advantage in the future.  

He nodded, adding, "Just a bit, but I'll hold it off just for you." Sending you a sweet, dimpled smile, like he was doing you the biggest favor in the world.   

You shook your head and laughed, "You're such a dork." Eddie shrugged and just accepted the title. At least it was better than 'freak.'   

After some more mindless tracing, you notice the handcuffs hanging on his wall; nodding towards them, you ask, "Maybe we can use those next time." It was a test of sorts, trying to get a feel for how he'd react to the possibility of this becoming a recurrent thing.  

"Next time? There's gonna be a next time?" His smile soon morphed into a smirk.  

"Well, only if you want to." The ball was now back in his court; up to him to make up his mind about the two of you.   

"Fuck yeah, I do! I've waited so long for this; I'm not gonna let you go now. I can't get enough of you." Of course, that's not entirely the answer you expected, but you gladly took it.  

"Waited so long? Jesus, Eddie, did we like each other this whole time? Are you trying to tell me I had a chance with you a year ago?" There's no way. You spent the entirety of your senior year pining over him. If there was even a chance that something could've happened, you feel like you'd create a time machine just to go back and smack some sense into past you to get the nerve to make a fucking move on him.   

Eddie's eyes widen in shock, "A chance with me? I didn't even know you knew I existed 'til a few hours ago!" Now he couldn't believe it. That entire past year, he was sure that you had no clue who he was. And now? Now he's finding out that you liked him for a year? If he had just talked to you at least once, you two could've already been together.  

You groan out, exasperated, "We're idiots!" He snorts at this because you're right. You two were idiots in love.   

"Well, at least I'm your idiot." His gaze steady on your face, testing his luck with you, "Hopefully."  

You're beaming at him, basking in the meaning of his words, "Wouldn't have it any other way."  

You take this newfound confirmation and comfort to cuddle into him more, sighing against him, "I like being close to you. You're warm." And he was. So warm and soft and comfortable, everything about him felt like home.   

He smiled down at you, "You too, darling, could have you in my arms all night."   

He started to pull you in closer, but you glanced up at him and asked, "You want me to stay all night?"  

He looks at you, baffled, "Did you think I'd kick you out or something?"  

You feel yourself heat up a bit in embarrassment, "Well, no... but I don't know how you're gonna explain this to your uncle when he gets home."  

His smile made his whole face glow as he said, "Easy, my girlfriend spent the night; he'll understand."  

You couldn't fight the smile that mimicked his own at the fact that he now called you his girlfriend. With the knowledge that you could stay here with him, you started to relax more into him, closing your eyes and awaiting the peaceful bliss of sleep in his arms. You were just starting to drift off when:  

"Shit! — I should probably do some aftercare, right?"  

You can't help but laugh. 

  ~~~

Taglist: @ofstarsandvibranium​ // @bubblebuckys​ // @manicflavoredjuulpod​ // @crystalized-drumming​ // @mraisedto3​ // @missfranklinstein​ // @spectorbear​ // @heraclesmaximoff // @auroralwriting // @jxlb // @strictlyliberty // @bonkyboinkybucky​ //

Tagged some mutuals, people who read part one, and my perm taglist

add yourself to my taglist (or send me an ask)

eddie playlist

LANI PLS THIS WAS SO GOOD, IM AN ABSOLUTE PUDDLE RN

A Seasoned Fighter

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Older!Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Just because the First Order dismantled, doesn’t mean the Resistance has stopped fighting for the freedom of the galaxy. You’re newly recruited and stationed at a base that’s run by the legend himself, General Poe Dameron. Based on this artwork + my shitty edits.

Warning: age gap, Poe's kinda a dick, smut - rough sex, p in v, choking, oral (m receiving), this Poe is suuuuuuper ooc.

A/N: I'M WRITING FOR POE AGAIN! YAY! Also, I might write more if people want. because i do have more ideas for this version of Poe...

Tagging: @darthdameron @abelslittlebunny

You've been with the Resistance for a short time. A little under five years. Despite the end of the First Order, that didn't mean that there weren't still people who wanted to take over the galaxy. The Resistance still remained in tact taking care of those who tried to take the First Order's place, as well as keeping the overall galaxy safe.

In the time you've been with the Resistance, you heard about the legends such as Rey Skywalker, General Finn, and General Poe Dameron. Rey and Finn were off on the other side of the galaxy, training new and upcoming Jedis. General Poe Dameron? Well, he stuck with the Resistance.

You grew up hearing stories about him. He had saved your parents, Resistance fighters as well, and if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here. You thought that when you'd meet him, he'd be just as witty and charming like your parents described.

Unfortunately, he was the opposite.

Keep reading

THIS WAS EVERYTHING

𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 | ꪑ.ꪑ.

fandom marvel

featuring matt murdock x reader (f)

rating NSFW / MINORS DNI / DARK FIC

content warning CNC (consensual nonconsent), roleplaying, dark!elements, matt losing control, unprotected sex, threats, breath play, semi public play, impact play, brief blackout, creampie kink, oral sex (f), use of a safe word, aftercare

summary the best way to keep his conscience in check is to let him stray every now and then. no one seemed to understand that but you.

word count 5k (yikes, sorry) / one shot

attention not proofread. do not read if you don’t like dark!fics (duh) because i’m not responsible for your media consumption and this fic contains consensual non consensual sex acts & abusive behavior! do not copy/repost/translate. reblog / give feedback. divider by @firefly-graphics !

“Look,” you exhale slowly, twisting the golden band on your ring finger as you consider the easiest way to let him down, “no offense but I—“

“You’re waiting on someone?” he asks, brows arching above the rounded edge of his dark glasses. “Husband, maybe, judging by the way you keep fidgeting with that ring. I’m guessing it’s a wedding band.”

you sigh, and nod, but answer quietly. “I’m married, but,” you glance around the bar, scanning each face, before your gaze falls on him again. the man on the stool beside you, his arm resting on the bar top, thick digits rimming the lip of his beer bottle. “My husband— he doesn’t exactly know that I’m here. It doesn’t matter, really, just looking to be left alone tonight.”

his smile remains, as if it’s been painted on his lips. he tilts his head to one side, as if he’s intrigued, or perplexed, by this new information. “He doesn’t know where you are?” a breathy chuckle escapes his grinning countenance, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? A girl like you?”

your eyes narrow, and you hiss, somewhat defiantly. “A girl like me? A girl like me can take care of herself, keep that in mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” he answers smoothly, the arrogance that has you gritting your teeth as his smile contorts into a flippant expression as he shrugs, “Didn’t mean anything by it, you just seem sweet. Your voice is soft and kind,” there’s a subtle twitch in the left corner of his mouth that you take note of, before he adds, “but I suppose that you’ve gotten good at lying to men, haven’t you?”

staring at him incredulous, you scoff, “Just what the fuck do you know about me, anyways? I—“

“I know you’re in some sleazy bar late at night, and that your husband doesn’t know where you are.” he leans close, as if whispering a terrible secret, his palm finding your bare thigh and rubbing firm circles, “I know you’re wearing a dress too short to be wanting to be left alone, and cheap perfume that you don’t mind wasting, drenching yourself in to… cover up the scent of the man you plan on cheating on your husband with. Should I keep going?”

“No.” you snap, fed up with the glaringly obvious truths spilling from his lips, “no. You should get up and walk away. Right now.”

this is the moment his aura shifts, the air between the two of you seems to thicken with tension and you can see his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. it’s almost intimidating, but you try not to seem too disturbed by it, clearing your throat, you turn back towards your nearly-empty glass, kicking your leg in hopes to shake his hand free of your thigh.

“It’s not going to fucking happen.”

the weirdest part about him was that he stayed. sure, he put some distance between the two of you, but merely moved to one of the tables in the corner. and that’s where he sat, drinking, waiting. you could swear that the man didn’t plan on leaving until you did, so you tested your theory.

you stayed until last call.

and the man did, too. he hadn’t talked to anyone else after you, just sat at the table and ordered beer after beer.

just as the bartender swaggered over to you, flipping a rag over his shoulder, you felt a body breeze past you from behind— it was his cologne. you turned on the stool to see him leaving the bar, silently, and taking careful steps, guided by a nearly rhythmic tapping of the white cane in front of him. you felt a wave of relief upon watching him leave— not that he seemed necessarily dangerous (just a massive prick), but you couldn’t explain the jitters you felt when his hand rested on your thigh. pensive, you run your fingertips over the affected area.

“All right, lady.” the bartender huffs, “You ain’t gotta go home, but ya can’t stay here.”

snapping back to the present, you nod, gathering your things and pulling yourself to your feet. “Oh! Right, sorry.” nibbling on your bottom lip, you settle your tab and exit the bar with a couple of late-night stragglers.

you hadn’t been expected the rain. a steady shower that had started sometime after you’d went inside, and now you’re standing in the middle of it, soaking from head to toe, and wishing you brought an umbrella.

you fish in your clutch for your phone to order an Uber, but think better of it. a cab, instead. there was one approaching from over the hill and you take a step forward, extending your arm to wave it over.

that’s when he grabs you.

one palm clamps over your mouth hard, whilst the other plants itself firmly on your midsection, hoisting you off the sidewalk and away from the street. your first instinct is to scream, a muffled sound drowned out by the rain. your next was to fight. you thrash wildly against your attacker, kicking until one of your heels flies off and lands in a mud puddle he drags you by, your arms flailing in attempts to reach his face. when they do, you feel thick, soaked fabric over his eyes, and no matter how you try to sink your nails in, you can’t seem to get a grip. the man drags you into the alleyway by the bar’s employee exit with you protesting violently the whole way. finally, he grunts when you grasp his cheek, and jerks it away, before flinging you on to your back on the metal door of the dumpster.

wheezing loud through his tightly sealed fingers, you arch your back, eyes fluttering as you feel every bit of wind knocked from your lungs. his hand is tight over your mouth but he leans close to your face. even in the rain, you recognize the scent of his cologne. the man from the bar, but he’s certainly dressed different. clad in all black, he appears as a wicked shadow of the suit-wearing asshole he was before. your eyes squint, blinking rapidly as raindrops blur your vision ever so slightly, but you’re glaring up at him, screaming obscenities through his palm and kicking your legs.

“You’re going stop screaming,” he mutters, lips hovering dangerously close to your cheek, “so I can take my hand off your mouth, or I’m going to have to make you be quiet. Understand?”

fuck him. fuck him!

you only howl louder against his hand, both hands latching on to his wrist. your nails bite at the thickness of his gloves, but you can’t tell if they actually go through.

his free hand comes down in a tight, strong fist and strikes the metal inches from your skull, a bang as loud as a gunshot making your ears ring. a strangled whimper dies in his palm, dizzy from the noise and grateful that you had narrowly avoided being hit hard enough to produce that kind of sound.

“I said you’re going to stop screaming.” he repeats. his fist must’ve been throbbing, but he didn’t let any discomfort reach the stoicism of his countenance, or what you could see of it— “Now, scream again, and maybe my aim gets a little better. Understand?” the grip over your mouth has his clothed digits digging into the flesh of your cheeks, and he uses the leverage to nod your head for you. “I’m going to take it off, now, and you’re going to behave.”

he does, and you follow his rules, for now. huffing, you attempt to suck in as much, burning oxygen as you can, sputtering raindrops.

“Smart girl.” he seems pleased, or at least approves of your cooperation, and he snatches the purse from your shoulders, tearing it open.

panting, you prop one elbow into the rusted metal you’re lain upon to try and push yourself up. “So what, you want.. money? Take it, Jesus. Could’ve just snatched my purse from the street.”

“I don’t want your money.”

and, you watch him punctuate that statement by emptying the contents of your purse on to the concrete, sparkling like night stars. a small handgun, compact mirror, cellphone, wallet.

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

his hand latches on to one of your ankles, yanking you to the very edge of the dumpster so abruptly that you lose your balance and fall back against it with a soft grunt. “I want to give you what you want.” he murmurs, gripping both of your knees to pry them open. no matter how hard you try to close them, he’s much too strong to compete with, and he forces them wide enough for him to step between with ease. “What you were looking for the moment you stepped foot into that bar dressed the way you did.”

you dig your knees into his ribs from either side with a furious snarl. “No!” you exclaim, pushing yourself up again to throw both of your arms in his direction. he lays a palm flat against your sternum and overpowers you with ease, holding you down with your spine flush against the dumpster. he was so goddamn strong, you remember thinking, that fighting against him was practically useless. “I don’t want this,” you hiss, and he uses his teeth to pull the glove off of his free hand and discard it beside your writhing frame, “I don’t want this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can keep repeating that mantra,” he murmurs, his now bare hand delving between your open thighs to find the warmth that lives there. fist curling around the thin fabric of your panties, with one jerk, he’s torn them from your body with a horrible sound echoing around you. he grunts low, like a beast, when he finds it; the rough pads of his digits worm their way underneath your delicate nether lips, and for the first time, you see a grin etch his lips upward, flashing pearly white teeth, “but your pussy’s wet, you know. Drenched, actually.” wrist craning, his thumb presses hard on your button like he knows exactly where to find it and you suppress a needy moan, hips rocking to try and escape his filthy caress. “Been that way since I told you that it was dangerous being out here alone. I could smell your juicy cunt in the bar, you know that? Even from across the damn room, I could feel the warmth radiating from it, fucking needy, little pussy. Tell me I’m mistaken.”

even with the chill of the raindrops on your face, the apples of your cheeks burn with humiliation. had you truly been turned on at the prospect of danger, or was this masked man full of shit? you couldn’t remember properly, like everything before his hand between your hips was a distant memory. his first, two digits tease your clenching hole before he pushes them in and hooks them there, like an anchor inside of your body. the moan escapes you now, tearing through your tightly pursed lips like a bat out of hell. “You’re mistaken…” you murmur, but the excited fluttering of your walls against his fingers gives you away.

“And you’re a bad liar.”

his fingers dive deeper, curling every few centimeters or so, and you grit your teeth, your own hand covering your mouth to prevent any more moaning. still, it was hard to deny how good it felt, the skillful prodding of his digits. “Goddamn, that’s a tight, little hole.” his breathing had become somewhat ragged, like he’d been running a marathon, but only after he got to feel you. it was you that was making him this way, pant and grunt and dig his fingers into the fabric of your dress where he still held you down. “Just begging to get stuffed full of dick, isn’t that right?”

you shudder, body aching at every syllable as it hangs in the air around you. your legs tremble against his taut frame, looking up at him with a bleary gaze. allowing your hand away from your mouth, you push against the wrist that plants his palm firmly on your chest, “Don’t—“

but the sound of the zipper whirring makes your head spin. puts you on edge. you squirm until you’re partially crumpled on the lid of the dumpster, neck craned as far as it will without pain to see him retrieving himself from the fabric prison of his inky trousers. even in the blur of the rain, the dim lighting of the barren alley, you see it. thick and heavily veined, already rock hard and throbbing. ready to fuck you into an oblivion like you’ve never experienced before. the thought makes your stomach turn, for all the wrong reasons.

temporarily stunned, you don’t even realize that his hand has slipped from your chest and, instead, cradles the back of your neck, urging you forward.

“I gotta feel that tight cunt wrap around my cock right fucking now,” his words are an exhale, a spectral version of a statement that has goosebumps raising over your arms and legs, “be a good girl and take it.”

the force at which he enters you is astounding. if you weren’t so wet, it might have even hurt. you suck in a whimper that was threatening to fill the air between the two of you as he bottoms out, swelling your canal to max capacity with a single thrust.

“That’s it,” he moans, jaw clenched tight, he hauls you closer to his body, slumped in a forced sitting position with your legs swinging helplessly at his hips, “that’s good.” his grip on the back of your neck seems to tighten, pushing you closer to him as if he couldn’t get deep enough to satiate his lust for the destruction of your cunt.

you mewl, lewdly so, and slam the sides of your fists against the broad expanse of his solid chest. the fabric that clings to it makes a slick thudding, like the sound you may hear if you jumped on a wet trampoline. “You can’t!” you protest, choking back sounds of pleasure that so desperately wish to assure him that he most certainly can, “You can’t do this! Stop! Stop—“

the familiar sensation of his thick palm clamping over your lower mandible returns to shut you up, only this time, his thumb and forefinger pinch your nostrils closed at the same time. “I said I needed your cunt, never said anything about your mouth—“ he grunts, his rutting finding a violent pace as he jackhammers himself into you. you dig your nails deep into the sleeve that covers his forearm, wriggling helplessly as the masked devil takes you. “I’ll take it, too, when I’m done wrecking this sweet, little fuckhole, but hush up until then.” your eyelids flutter, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen reaching them. he doesn’t seem to care, though you get the feeling he’s aware, and he shifts, positioning you like a rag doll, with one of your legs thrown over his bicep so he can force it back towards your chest when he leans forward, opening you up for a more thorough plowing.

the angle gives his throbbing length access to new depth, and the swollen head of his cock batters your insides with reckless abandon. “Yeah,” he spits, husky and starving in your ear, “Yeah. Dick’s way deep in that pussy, isn’t it?” he can feel the vibration of your sobs of protest melding into helpless moans of ecstasy. “I know you like it, sweet girl, I can tell by the way you’re gripping me right now— holy hell, what is it? Hubby doesn’t fuck you hard enough? That why you’re here, throwing yourself into the water like a piece of fuckmeat, and waiting to see what shark is gonna come up and take the bait?” you gurgle in response, lids heavy but you force them to stay open, sinking your teeth into the glove. it wouldn’t be enough, you realized, it probably didn’t even hurt. but you were in a whirlwind of sensation, your belly churning as your walls milk his girth. he grunts, gasping for a proper breath as he keeps yours nonexistent, his lips smearing saliva and raindrops over your cheek before he snarls, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ the expletives sound especially sinful when uttered in that coarse whisper, broken into base syllables, edged by the pleasure of hurting you. by smothering you.

smothering. the word rings true as your lungs ache and yearn for oxygen, you start to jerk and squirm, hoping to -at least- break a gap between his fingers to suck air through, but he holds you tight and close to his heaving chest, your forehead smashed against it. “You wanna breathe, sweet girl?” he teases wickedly, plumbing your depths with a ferocity that had to be unique to him. “Because I’ll let you, all you gotta do is cum for me, first. You’re close already, I know it—“ he groans, his jaw tight, “I can hear your heartbeat, fast like a scared little bunny, and feel how tight your little pussy is getting around me, you’re gonna cum so fucking hard, huh? Even harder because you can’t breathe.”

he’s right. heavens, is he right! your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, pulls you to the depths of ecstasy like an undertow. you thrash like you’re drowning, screaming muffled through his hand until your throat is raw and sore, and you see white specks, like stars dancing about him. darkness burns the edges, vision like vingette as you quiver, locked in place. “That’s it, good girl,” he huffs, forcing you to ride through your orgasm, “give me a nice, big one. Just… like… that…”

dizzy is no longer a strong enough word to express how you feel. you’re beyond dizzy, you’re weightless. you’re floating through space, directionless, helpless, and utterly broken. your grip loosens on his wrist, only slightly, and he reacts in turn, releasing your mouth and nose to strike your cheek in rapid slaps, bringing you back into the consciousness you’d been slipping out of. “Come back, sweet girl, come on. Not, ah, not done with you, not yet.”

the breath you take almost feels like the first one. it’s new and it burns all the way down, you sputter and spew rain drops, choking on sweet oxygen when you come to, eyes wide and trying to adjust. you flail in his grip, temporarily disoriented and scared, until he hooks that one leg over his shoulder and grips the back of your neck with both hands, fingers interlacing against your nape, forcing your chin towards your flouncing breasts.

“I want you to watch,” he pants, ragged and needy, in your ear, “watch me fuck your little cunt and tell me what you see.”

you’ve no choice with the way he’s pressing your chin into your chest. you moan but it’s a strangled, frustrated sound. “I—“ you pause, pursing your lips to try and kill a whine of pleasure; it doesn’t work, “I—I see your cock going in and out of me!” sucking in another breath, your eyes are glued to the vividly obscene display where your bodies connected, “And, fuck, you’re going deep-p— my— I came all over it!”

he’s buried his face in your neck, sucking on the tender skin and teasing your pulse point with his teeth to muffle his own, needy moans. “Yeah?” he asks, “Is your clit nice and swollen? Aching?”

you bite down on your lower lip, “Y—yeah…!”

he inhales deep, teeth grazing your collar bone, rutting more erratically. “Play with it.”

you shudder at even the thought of touching the screaming bundle of nerves. “I can’t— I’m too sensitive!” you protest, shaking your head.

“Not gonna tell you again,” he huffs, “rub your greedy pussy for me.” his jaw tightens, and you can feel his member palpitating deep inside you. “Shit, I need to feel you cum again.”

you try to look at his face, adjust your body so you can see the muscles in his jaw pulled tight, or at least so you could see something other than your body swallowing his cock like you were starved for it. one, trembling hand approaches your sex with caution, fingers prodding experimentally at your clitoris. the slightest poke sends electricity through your veins, and you let out a pathetic, little squeak.

“Keep going.”

you swallow hard around a lump in your throat but obey, rubbing your nub harder and quicker. you groan, half in pleasure and half from how sensitive you were— how it almost hurt to touch yourself now.

“Ah, fuck,” he moans in your ear, heavy breath sending chills down your spine, “you’re getting tight again. Heart beat kicking up. I bet you feel that churning in your belly, don’t you? Don’t stop, sweet girl, make yourself cum on my cock one more time.”

you hated that he was right; loathed that the constant decimation of your sex and the new stimulation has brought on a second orgasm. you convulse, eyes rolling back when you cum for the second time in a matter of minutes, this one hitting you much harder than the first. expletives spill from your swollen lips and tangle within labored breathing; your hips jut forward to meet the violence of his rutting, to accept the battering he deals you with a masochistic lust.

“I’m close. Real close.” you could already tell by the way his moans had turned into hisses of breath, and how he throbs inside of you, but hearing him say it only extended your orgasm for another few seconds. “I’m gonna cum— gonna fill you up, sweet girl.”

you didn’t even have time to protest.

warmth engulfs your interior, spreading through your belly like a wildfire, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moans muffled and vibrating the flesh of your throat.

several seconds pass.

you can feel his seed oozing from the join of your bodies, sticking to your thighs and smearing over his pants, and he stays there, getting his breathing under control, while he deposits what seems like years of pent up sexual frustration into your guts. after what seems like a lifetime of aftershocks shared between the both of you, he retreats, using one hand to pull himself free while the other holds your nape, flinging you off of the dumpster and on to the concrete below. you land on your feet, but your knees are like jelly, and you melt to the wet ground shortly after, panting, wheezing. looking up at him, looming over you, you can see that his cock is twitching madly, but his grip on it is tight, thumb massaging the protruding vein. was he… was he stroking himself back to life?

aware that going another round with this man meant your willpower would be completely shattered, you roll yourself on to your knees and look around, heart beating fast and hard against your ribs. you catch sight of your phone, a few feet away, and scramble towards it, extending your hand for it. you were so close that the tips of your fingers brushed across the screen and it lit up, the words FACE ID NOT RECOGNIZED USE PASSCODE flashing.

then, you feel his hands in your hair. delving deep against the roots, he yanks hard, and your back arches, knees digging into the gravel. “Ah!” it’s partially a cry of frustration, and partially a startled gasp.

“You thought we were done?” he asks, chest heaving as he drops to his own knees behind you. the grip on your scalp keeps your head forward, tilted back, and he wedges his knees between yours, forcing them wide open again. you moan, helpless and weak, when you feel the rain mixing with his cum on your thighs, more oozing out of you. “We’re not done.”

“Please!” you whine; you know how pathetic and tiny you must sound to him, but you can’t help yourself. “I can’t cum again! I just can’t!”

“Sure you can, sweet girl,” he scoffs, every word laced with acid, “I’m gonna make it easy for you.” he leans in close to your sex, inhaling the concoction of scents. yours and his, before licking a thick stripe between your nether lips. you squeal, trying to crawl forward to escape the tingling in your toes and the throbbing of your clit, but his grip is too strong. “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue until you beg me to stop.”

your thighs quaking, you mewl and babble and beg him to let you rest, to stop this torture of never ending orgasms, but he’s too deep between your thighs to listen. his tongue dives into your abused hole, slurping on his own taste as well as your desire. he nibbles on your folds, one hand planted firm on your ass cheek with his fingers dug in deep. you reach for the phone again, and groan when you see that it’s just out of the way, the very tips of your digits can only just ghost over the home button. the visage of salvation just beyond your fingertips, leaving you at the mercy of the man in black taunts you.

his couplet encases your clit in warm, tongue swirling around it, and you can feel the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw. your whole body is shaking so violently that you’re forced to brace yourself with both palms on the concrete. “I can’t,” you moan, desperate, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” those two words are repeated over and over as he devours your core, another orgasm fast approaching. you were at your limit. you were done.

“Silver,” you whisper, breathless, and you feel him stop and pull away from you. “Silver, Matty, silver.”

your name falls from his lips. not sweet girl. your name. he releases your hair, but his palm falls to caress your face as he crawls up to kneel at your side. you rest your fiery cheek against the bare palm and look up at him— his mouth is sparkling with your arousal coating that and his jaw, but his lips are pulled downwards in a concerned frown. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. Just really sensitive, now.” you assure him, grabbing on to his arm with both hands to haul yourself into a sitting position, “I just—“ you tilt your head, shaking digits pushing the black mask from over his eyes. those gentle eyes. then, you cradle his face in both hands and guide his lips to yours in a soft peck. “Take me home, yeah?”

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you hum, softly, running your fingers through Matt’s freshly washed, damp tendrils as he rests his head in your lap. the two of you had been curled up on the couch in that spot since after your shower together, where you took turns washing one another carefully. it was somewhat of a routine, and one that assured him that he had done no real damage to you during the session.

he turns his head, resting the back of it against your thigh. you pause, before brushing along his scalp near the top of his ear instead. he looks up towards the ceiling, hand reaching for your face. your free hand gently guides it to your cheek, and you nuzzle into the caress. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“All of it. The game, the safewords… why?” he doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, but merely confused. “No one’s ever really done anything like this with me… For me.”

you tilt your head, thoughtfully twirling a damp lock of his hair around your forefinger. “You told me before, that you had the devil inside of you.” he nods, still not getting it. “Well,” you start, watching his countenance carefully, “The devil’s like a dog trapped inside. And if you never let a dog out of the house, they rip up furniture, eat things they’re not supposed to. They destroy things because they’re bored, understimulated.”

“So, what you’re saying is that all of this is you metaphorically taking the devil inside me for a walk?” his brow quirks, and he chortles lowly in amusement.

you scoff, shaking your head. “Not exactly, and thanks a lot, you just screwed up my metaphor.” your fingertips glide over his scalp and towards his forehead, drawing soft, loving circles about his temple, “Every now and then, the devil needs to be let out, needs to breathe and run. If we keep him stimulated in a safe environment, there isn’t any need for him to destroy, is there?”

Matt cocks his head to the side, “But who says it’s all that safe? I could hurt you one of these nights.” his voice lowers as he says it, as if simply uttering the words brought a sadness over him.

you arch your eyebrows, “You would never hurt me, Matthew Murdock.” sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you turn your head to press your lips to his fingers, kissing the golden band on one of them in particular, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t trust you.”

“And if I don’t trust myself?”

“Then, trust me.” you murmur against it, “Trust me.”

he seems pensive for a moment, and is quiet as he thinks. “All right, I trust you, baby.” he smiles, letting go of your cheek to instead pat his lips with the pad of his forefinger twice. it was his way of telling you to kiss them. you do as instructed, leaning over to press your couplet to his, and you smile into the embrace. “Mm… even though you go to sleazy bars in town late at night without telling me.”

a giggle bubbles, uncontrollably, out to break the kiss and you nip at his lower lip with a playfully thoughtful hum, “Well, I guess that means you just need to fuck me more, Mr. Murdock.”

“Oh?” he chuckles, too, and sits up, turning to angle your chin up towards him with his forefinger curled beneath it. the pad of his thumb runs over your lower lip, and he grins wide. “I think I can do that, Mrs. Murdock.”

omg???🤨 you’re valid for that tho <3

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

Keep reading

IM GOOD MY LOVE, HBU?♥️♥️

me personally??? i need him to come without touching him

like he’s just so so so pent up by making out and he can’t hold it off any longer😩

no but fr he’d be so pretty flushed red and panting and his eyes are glassy and he’s so wrecked and I need him SO BAD

ROBYNNN MY LOVE

i witnessed smth so bob coded that I just needed to share it with you

making out naked w bob, his hands on your tits, and he’s so hard and leaking precum and you haven’t even touched him yet, he’s just so turned on by you😩

HI HI HI MY LOVE HOW ARE YOU???

oh don’t I’m so sick rn

His hands groping you and tugging at your nipples while you sit on his lap, precum leaking onto your thigh

When the make out gets heavy and his cheeks get all flushed and his glasses are foggy and slipping down his nose HES SO

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

where she goes ᅳ miguel o’hara

“mami, te vo’a a dar hasta que te duela la popola como a glou.”

｡･* +18. dom!miguel. messy throat fucking. cumshot. use of toys. spit k.

“buena niña, look at you drool all over my cock.” miguel´s groan was rough and deep, watching the spit drip from your mouth as you held him as far as you could take him down your throat; spit running over your chin and dripping down to his balls.

it was one of miguel´s favorite things to do: thrust deep into your throat, over and over again to make you gag around him, taking himself out to let you breath but having a firm grip in your hair, it was a proper scene to be filmed, for miguel to remember your face full of tears as you took him whole into your mouth.

“you look so pretty when you’re a mess for me. quién habría dicho que mi pequeño ángel era una zorra...” miguel groaned as he pulled himself off your drooly mouth, taking his thumb and opening your mouth, he leaned down, spitting on your open mouth before sliding his cock back in to mix it together, your spit and his now all over his hard cock. (who would´ve said my little angel was such a slut,)

you looked so pretty with your face flushed and eyes watery, chin slick with spit and the hungry glint in your eyes, miguel was aware that you loved this as much as he did.

“se siente bien, no es así?” he said, inside of your cunt, the tiny bullet toy sat snug, low vibrations that were controlled by miguel making you soak through your thin panties, feeling your desperate hum around his cock only added to his pleasure, head tilted back while his fingers ran through your hair. (it feels good, doesn´t it?)

knowing his baby was getting pleasured and genuinely got off on making him feel good? it was a good cycle to have, you both worked to make sure each other got what you needed.

“what do you think? quieres más? i want you to come while you suck me dry.” he murmured, holding your cheek in one hand and the remote to the toy in the other, your lips were wrapped around his tip as you gave him the most pathetic little whimper paired with a nod. (you want more?)

your moan at the rush of new vibrations were enough to make his cock fall out of your mouth, but it was quickly resolved when miguel grabbed your hair with one hand and threw the remote back on the side, keeping a tight grip on your head while he fed you his cock, your nose grazing the small hairs on his base while he made you take him whole.

“i didn´t say to pull off, mami.” he warned. "you gotta do better, baby.” with a new eagerness, he helped you bob your head up and down, watching you closely, seeing that you enjoyed it, your little noises of satisfaction made it even better.

miguel knew your reactions and your body better than you, and when he felt you get squirmy and your nails digging into his muscular legs, he knew you were about to cum. "i knew you were dirty, baby, but getting off with this? eres mi pequeña zorra.” he smirked, pulling you off his cock for a moment. (my little whore.)

“mhm, miggy, i can’t....” your eyes crossed slightly when he pressed the button on his remote to speed up the vibrations. “ungh- miguel.” your mouth fell open as you moaned his name.

“no puedes qué, niña linda? no puedo entender que necesitas, princesita.” he cooed, looking at his lover. you looked always so beautiful, but seeing you a complete mess, on your knees all because of him made a rush of blood go straight to his cock, getting him closer to his realease. (you can´t what, pretty girl? i can´t understand what you need, little princess.)

“please, please, i-i want to cum.” your voice got higher pitched, breathless as the vibrations rocked you, pulsing inside of your soaked cunt, it lacked the stretch his cock gave on your gummy walls, but you was happy with it in your mouth.

“oh my.... god, miggy, please....” the desperation in your voice was obvious and to him, it was delicious, miguel´s always been a weak man for begging.

“hazme venir como la buena niña que eres, and then you can.” (make me cum like the good girl you are.)

as soon as your mouth was back on him, your start sucking and licking, drooling all over his cock, and his vocals come out to play, moaning your name and groaning deeply.

“mi ángel bonito, you make me feel so good.... joder, right there. suck right there.” he hissed through the lewd actions, the slick sound of your sucking, the vibrations and your whimpers filled the room. “listen to how dirty you get me. soaking my cock with your spit, como lo haría una verdadera zorra. mierda.” (my cute angel/like a true whore would.)

knowing his weak spots, it isn’t hard to make him cum; right at the tip, rubbing your tongue up against that spot while your hands work on his length, stroking up and down while his curses continue, sometimes slipping your hand to his tightened balls.

“mierda, justo así. you dirty slut, just got to get that cock in your mouth and you show what a dirty little girl you are.” his hisses are heard through the messy strokes of your hands.

it was when you began to whimper around him that he felt the orgasm bubble over.

“oh yes. mhm, that’s it. keep moaning for my cock, voy a correrme en tu boquita.” and with one more press of the vibrator remote, the both of you became a mess, his cum in your mouth, your thighs shaking as you came around the toy and held onto him for stability. (i´m gonna cum in your little mouth.)

pulling off to moan at your orgasm, his cum started dripping from your mouth as you moaned his name.

“ah, my messy angel.” he chuckled, rubbing his cock through the mess of your lips and chin while stroking himself to get every last drop on your face.