OMG, HES SO JAWHHRFUE

nsfw - mdni

♡thinking about needy men, coming home late and finding you already asleep in your shared bed

♡thinking about needy men who try to ignore their needs and go to sleep without disturbing you, but it's so damn hard when their cock is straining against their pants and you and your sweet pussy are literally inches away and you've told him multiple times that it was fine if he did something while you were asleep

♡thinking about needy men succumbing and start to almost unconsciously grinding on your plump ass, trying to find some relieve

♡thinking about needy men mumbling they're sorry when they accidentally wake you up from your sweet dreams

I'm so sorry love- ah~ I couldn't help myself ngh-

♡thinking about needy men reaching for your chest to play with your nipples while their cock rubs between your thighs

♡thinking about needy men who pull your panties to the side and slip inside of you, shushing you and kissing your neck to distract you from the slight burn, but you're so wet you almost don't feel it

♡thinking about needy men almost coming on the spot, lasting only a few thrust before spilling their seed deep inside of you, but they keep going because they're so horny

♡thinking about needy men who fuck you for what seems like hours, babbling almost incoherent words and pleas

"you feel -ah- so good love- ngh"

"just one more please- oh please"

"wanna fill you up so bad- so so bad"

"gonna cum- ah- gonna cum gonna cum gonn- ngh i'm coming love- fuck"

♡thinking about needy men filling you up with their cum so many times that at one point it just keep dripping out of you

♡thinking about needy men who only stop when they're almost falling asleep on the point, not even caring about pulling out and just holding you in their arms while they drift off

KICKOFF GOJO LMAOAOAO

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

my legs just divorced

art by: @nramvv (instagram)

am i crazy if i say that i think caitlyn is doing the knee thing in this clip and that’s why vi goes on her tippy toes…. vi’s face? it sounds like there’s a little breathy moan (i might just be delusional)? the way caitlyn’s foot lifts up? if you watch it slower it’s easier to see but she’s definitely doing the knee thing to vi.

shigaraki didn't know shit about sex before he met you.

all he even "learned", if you could even call it that, were through doujinshis and hentais that he watched, or those really extreme porn videos. poor boy, was so isolated from the human contact experience and is so deprived of touch that he puts all his frustration in a porn addiction.

so then, enter you in the picture, and shigaraki is so clueless. he's saying how he doesn't need your help, but you knew that he did need it once he tried to insert his finger DRY in you. he didn't even know where the clit was! and once you pointed out, he tried to play it like a joystick.

absolutely not!

so there's now shigaraki, having sex education for the first time of his life with you, who's using your body was example. and he finds out that getting himself off can have multiple ways of doing so. even better, he can get you off in multiple ways.

he tries being a dom when he finally gets the chance to use his cock instead of his tongue and fingers like he's been training the past days with you, but he finds the sensation so overwhelming that he crumbles, he almost cries from how good it feels!

so yeah, you now have a whimpering tomura, who's panting and moaning like a bitch while you ride the life out of him. he does cum embarrassingly fast, but that doesn't even matter, because he's somehow still hard! look at that, is that the most frightening villain of the century? crying as you keep on riding his overstimulated cock? blabbing incoherently and barely being able to say anything besides your name?

he can't even think anymore, all has been reduced to obsessive thoughts. his hands travel your body without knowing where to put them. if you let him hold your tits as you almost break his hips from how hard you're riding? he could cum just from that.

he became submissive so fast with you that it's almost pathetic, but you're just as crazy as he is, so instead, it's endearing.

moonie… moonie wtf im shaking… SHAKING !!!

i can just imagine him on top of you, moving the way he thinks he’s supposed to after rotting his brain with porn and hentai, wondering why you haven’t squirted or gone cross eyed yet. he’d be all force and no technique, going fast while you just lay there wondering if this was really what all that talk was about. it would get to the point where you’d have to flip him over, your legs on either of his as you lower yourself onto his cock and ride him nice and slow. and its like agony and bliss had a baby and punched him in the face. he’d throw his head back, muttering something and clenching his teeth as he fights the urge to hammer his hips up against you. but you’re so warm and tight and it’s like you’re sucking the souls out of him with every lazy roll of your hips. he’d try to reach for you, to take control (if you could even call it that) only to be forced down by your hand pressed against his chest, keeping him in place as you begin to go faster… harder. he’d be so loud too, whining and whimpering and feelimg tears prick at the corners of his eyes because fuck, he didn’t know it could feel this good. not with his hands or his toys he might have spent a small fortune on… no, nothing could compare to the way you were clenching around him and milking him dry. he’d be dazed, his heavy lidded eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, gray strands of hair sticking to his flushed, sweat glazed face as he pants before he finds you towering over him once more, your fingers spreading your cunt open and hovering over his lips. and it’s like hes gone dumb, the way he immediately opens up for you, his tongue sticking out for you to lower yourself onto and use while his hands fist into the sheets. he knows better than to reach for you. knows better than to act like he’s the one in control and risk having the euphoric feeling of your pussy on his tongue ripped from him.

only you could put tomura in his place like this <3

Smau: "She just left. You can come over now." 😏

- the jjk guys pranking you by texting you "she just left, come over"

nanami, shiu, sukuna, choso, gojo, geto, and toji

contains: crack lol

a/n: something fun while we wait for pt. 4 of the anniversary series 💓

Nanami Kento, who enjoys it when you tug on his tie, forcing his mouth back to yours as you bounce frantically on his lap, chasing your high.

The same man who's impressive girth makes you feel utterly stuffed, stretching you to your absolute limits.

"That's it, my love," he always whispers, "Ride me just like that."

Nanami Kento, who can be gentle one minute, and the next, will throw you on your shared bed and fuck you senseless.

The same man whose hands grip your ass- spreading your cheeks as his tongue licks up and down your slit. That man who has his head between your legs for hours, making you cum so many times that your thighs shake and your toes curl- his mouth the perfect wet heat.

Nanami Kento, the one whose lips will be red and swollen when he emerges from between your legs, the same man who kisses you- the taste of your juices lingering on his tongue as he holds your face in his hands, the one whose fingers will caress your cheeks and whisper how much he loves the taste of you, "... Just like honey."

The same man who will fuck you until the sun rises- the one who will never stop until you cum so many times you pass out against his chest, his name the only word on your lips even as you slumber.

Nanami Kento, who without fail, always wakes up before you just so he can watch you sleep for a few moments before getting out of bed.

The same man who is still amazed that you're still here with him despite his dangerous occupation.

Nanami Kento, who makes you the perfect cup of coffee every morning. He spent weeks secretly learning your exact preference.

The same man who's frame curls protectively around you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leans against the counter while you sip on your cup.

Nanami Kento, who keeps a small photo of you in his wallet. The same photo he takes out at times when he's in a mission, when he needs to ground himself and remember why he has to come back alive.

The same man whose eyes will always find yours, even in a crowd- the one who will always know when you need him and where.

Nanami Kento, who would give up everything he's built for himself just to live on a beach somewhere- anywhere- with you, his wife.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary · a typical night of lovemaking with your boyfriend takes an untypical turn when you decide to accept rather than decline an incoming call from his best friend.

content · NSFW MDNI, dom!bottom!reader, sub!top!armin (ft. the amazon position, my beloved<3), sub!eren, a pinch of eremin, phone sex (sort of), praise, degradation, humiliation, elements of exhibitionism and voyeurism, pet names (darling, sweet thing, baby), laughter, banter and bad flirting during sex, intended as an armin x reader NOT an eren x reader (reader just bullies eren the entire time lol), reader and armin fuck nasty while eren gets off to it basically

wc · 4.7k

notes · hello! i haven’t written smut in a hot minute lol. this has been sat in my drafts for months but i finished the rest in the last, like, day lmao. anyway, this is DISGUSTINGLY self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy! <3

Armin’s phone buzzes on the bedside table, screen lighting up with the name of the caller.

Usually, he is always quick to answer, only one, two rings max, but that’s a little hard to do considering you’re currently fucking any and all sense of self right out of his body.

Nonplussed, you reach for the vibrating phone, a smile forming when you read the name of the caller. You slow your movements to a stop too, which finally pulls Armin out of the foggy daze he’s in, enough for him to recognise his ringtone.

Before he can voice the question, you tell him, “It’s Eren.”

Armin swallows the drool that’s gathered in his mouth. “I’ll– I’ll have to call him back.” He gently squeezes your thighs, bracketing his own, and groans. “Later,” he adds softly as his eyes flutter shut, unable to stay open.

Alluring as your boyfriend is, so vulnerable and open, with his sweaty skin shining like honey in the dim light of your bedroom, your mind is unable to resist wandering... Replaying all the conversations you’ve had with Armin about your shared attraction to Eren, the transparency in Eren’s own reciprocated feelings, the lingering stares, the hard gulps, the ‘platonic’ flirting...

Your fingers tiptoe up his chest, a playful gesture, not uncommon for even the bedroom, but still it piques Armin’s interest enough for him to reopen his eyes. “Why later?” you muse, grinning like a fox. “Why not now?”

As if processing your words, Armin blinks, hard, then parts his lips to reply, but words fail to reach his brain, much less his mouth. And so he stares at you, like the unspoken answer couldn’t be any more obvious because it couldn’t. Armin is quite clearly busy right now, and he’s sure that whatever reason Eren has for calling him can afford to wait, at least until he’s– well, finished.

...But you don’t seem to agree.

You go ahead and offer the phone to him as if it’s commonplace to do so in these circumstances, and Armin’s eyes widen, his lips part and close again, but he makes no further effort to protest or stop you.

“It’d be rude to keep him waiting,” you say, “and if you don’t hurry, I’ll just pick up for you.”

A few seconds, a pause, drifts into place then; a chance to decline the call or say the safeword or just do anything to show that he doesn’t want to continue — but Armin just chews on his bottom lip, eyes casting down, indigo under the shadow of his lashes, and it’s all the answer you need. You’ve always loved that about him; he may look and act like a blushing virgin, but here, with you, he can’t help being your dirty little pervert.

With a satisfied smirk, you accept the call and hover it over Armin’s ear. Your boyfriend catches his breath, but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, you’re resuming your actions from before and knocking that breath back out again.

“Fucking finally,” Eren’s playfully exasperated voice crackles through the phone speaker. “Thought you were never gonna pick up, dude. What took you so long? You always answer on the second ring.”

Armin glances at you, as though you might be able to supply him with a believable enough excuse for his behaviour. Despite those puppy eyes, you know he doesn’t need your help — not that you’d give it to him if he did, though. You enjoy seeing him struggle a bit sometimes. How could you not, when he always makes the cutest expressions? And besides, diamonds can only form under pressure, right? So all you do is give him a small, encouraging flick of your head. Go on. Answer him.

Armin takes a deep breath. “S–sorry,” he starts. His sweaty palms nervously massage the flesh around your hips. “My phone was, um, in– in the other room.”

“More like in another building,” Eren jokes and chuckles to himself. Armin probably would have laughed too, if he wasn’t so busy trying to keep his voice in. “Anyway, I just wanted to know if you’re still down for drinks on Friday? We never actually made official plans and usually you get back to me by now but– well, I know you’ve been busy so I thought I’d, y’know, call and check.”

You notice Armin regaining his bearings at the reminder of his plans with Eren, and out of jealousy or sadism, or perhaps a bit of both, you lift yourself up, until the tip of Armin’s cock is on the brink of slipping out of you, and forcefully drop back down.

Your poor boy barely manages to capture the noise he makes behind his hand in time, the other leaping up to claw at your shoulder. His face screws up, eyes and lips squeezing tightly, but you don’t stop there. You lean over to his sensitive neck to nip and kiss the already marked-up skin, all the while making fast, shallow thrusts. The lewd sound of your motions, definitely audible to Armin and potentially to Eren, makes Armin’s cheeks fill with blood. Behind his hand, he suppresses another sound.

“Hello? You still there?”

You’re lucky enough, for whoever’s sake, that Eren is as oblivious as he is.

“Yes,” Armin says, trying to stabilise his breathing. “Mm– mhm! Friday sounds g–good, yeah.”

Unfortunately, Eren is not oblivious enough.

“Is everything, uh... okay? On your end?” Eren asks, and perhaps to anyone else, it would have sounded like a genuine question, but having known Eren for a while now, almost as long as Armin, you notice the uncharacteristic quiver in his voice — one that seems less concerned and more nervous.

You hand Armin the phone then, confusing him for a moment as to why you suddenly decided to give it to him. He’s about to speak into it, to respond to Eren, but that’s when you lift up again and drag Armin down the bed by the legs, a faint noise of surprise escaping him, before raising them up so his knees are pressed to his chest.

He tries to regain his composure despite the compromising position. “Uh, yeah, I’m–” But then you’re sinking back down on him completely, and he moans out at a volume that a part of him hopes Eren doesn’t hear — but that another, more significant part of him hopes he does.

“I’m okay,” he finishes, a little high-toned and not much louder than his moan from seconds ago.

“Are you sure?” Eren’s voice cracks. He hurriedly clears his throat. “Cause you, um, you– you just sound...” He laughs awkwardly and you know in an instant that you’ve got him right where you want him; that his relaxed demeanour is being tested, chipped away at by Armin’s suspicious sounds and staggered speech.

As if on cue — you still aren’t sure if it was on purpose or not — Armin moans again, louder this time, so that it’s painfully unmissable. The curse word Eren mutters under his breath right after is a little less unmissable, but you’re much too hyper-aware from the adrenaline and endorphins to let it slip past you.

You take the phone back again. “Pretty, right?” you say, right into the mic, and you physically feel the way Armin shudders at your intervention, how his sweaty skin grows goosebumps all over.

There’s silence on the other end, but you aren’t so easily discouraged.

“Don’t back out now, Eren,” you insist. “Go on, finish your sentence. You were about to say that Armin sounds pretty, right?”

He remains quiet for a few seconds longer. Only his breathing is audible, so you can hear the way it shakes, the way he licks his lips. “Something like that,” he mutters, voice dry.

You hum. “And I’ll bet his sounds have made you really hard, huh?” The muscles in Armin’s thighs helplessly jump under your weight. “Bet you wanna touch yourself to them, don’t you, Eren?”

On the opposite end of the phone, Eren’s breath hitches. His face is unbearably hot, like lava under his skin. He and Armin are close, sure. Always have been. They’ve done some things together before, when drunk, lonely or just curious, but this? This is different. You’re here now, and something about your presence has Eren’s thoughts fizzling into static.

“I asked you a question, Eren,” you say, stern yet somehow casual, bored, as if such authoritative phrases came naturally to you — and suddenly Eren is hearing Armin’s name in place of his, imagining you and Armin in different scenarios, in ways he knows he should never imagine his best friend and his partner, yet which could never be so vivid with anybody else. Images of you fucking Armin, pulling his hair, looking down at him with a misleading merciful gaze; Armin tied up, gagged and blindfolded, with erotic toys strapped to his body, like the girls in those porn video thumbnails Eren typically avoids; tears on pale cheeks, big blue eyes with fair eyelashes, a pink tongue and two fingers sliding across it, deeper and deeper into a gagging, o-shaped mouth.

Then those eyes melt into sea green, tears form on dark lashes, slide down skin slightly more olive-toned, past a jaw that’s more defined...

Eren combs his fingers through his loose hair, trying to catch the breath he didn’t realise was getting away from him.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and answer me?” you urge further at Eren’s skeptically long silence, with a smirk that’s wide enough to be heard in your voice. “Or should I just hang up and leave you to take care of that boner all on your own?”

Eren lets out a small — very, very small — and involuntarily whine, so subtle that if it wasn’t for the vibrations in the back of his throat, he might not have realised he made it, or that it came from him at all. He wants to argue — “Boner? What are you talking about? Don’t be so full of yourself.” — but he doesn’t need to glance down to know you’re right.

“D–don’t hang up,” Eren says, curt and a little unsteady. Humiliation rises in him like hot air at the sound of his own desperation, oblivious to how he’s playing right into your hand.

You smile, absentmindedly caressing Armin’s shoulders and torso, a wordless way of reminding him you’re still paying attention to him, but also a silent demand to stop squirming. “So bossy,” you say, like you’re scolding a child. “A ‘please’ would be nice, you know.”

The true nature of your words swells under the surface — an underlying threat. Not everything is as it seems in the world, and this is not just a suggestion or a statement, nor a throwaway thought that you happened to voice out loud. This is an order.

Whether or not Eren obeys, however, is a different story. He casts his gaze down to his lap, where the outline of his hard cock is visible through his sweatpants, along with a dot of precum, soaked through two layers and much too soon for what can be considered normal. He wonders what you would say at such a sight, what kind of expression you’d make — but that simple wonder is really just yearning in disguise, and Eren decides then, that complying is the only way he can get remotely close to satisfying that yearning.

He couldn’t disobey if he wanted to — and he really didn’t want to.

So, “Please,” he finally says. Less reluctantly this time.

“Atta boy!” you chirp, though only in a partially condescending tone. You’re sure that given Eren’s personality, he’d typically be fighting back a little more, flashing a bit more attitude or snark, but — whether it’s you, Armin, the situation or some combination of those things — something must have his head too clouded with arousal to try denying himself this.

Beneath you, Armin whines.

You turn your focus back to him. “Is my boy getting impatient? Or jealous, maybe?” you tease, caressing the apple of his cheek with the backs of your knuckles.

His eyes shutter closed as he leans into your touch and whines again, further back in his throat, but loud enough that you’re certain his phone still picks up on it. “Please,” he says, delicately, as if trying to find his voice, or perhaps the courage to speak at all.

Armin is unfortunately your weak spot and with Eren at your disposal, to mess with and be cruel to, you lack the heart to tease your lover any further.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you, darling.” You lean down and kiss him gently. “I’m here, I’m listening. Tell me what you need.”

His face glows pink; he hesitates.

You catch on.

“It’s okay, don’t be shy,” you soothe him, petting his hair. With your other hand, you make the calculated decision to bring the device closer to your mouth. “Eren needs to know how to be a good, obedient boy, after all–” You trail your fingers down the contours of Armin’s cheek to his chin and tenderly hold it– “and who better to demonstrate than you, my sweet thing?”

Across the line, the breath suspended in Eren’s throat, that he’s been holding back in fear of interrupting the scene he feels so ashamed for listening to, suddenly sputters out of him like gas out of a clogged car exhaust. Because, fuck, he was not prepared to hear you say his name just then. To suddenly make it personal; to swing open the door on this private, intimate, closed-door moment between you and your boyfriend, his best friend.

He wasn’t but he should have been. He’s heard and witnessed enough about your dynamic with Armin, as well as fallen victim to your friendly bullying and teasing himself, enough to know you’re not somebody who passes up an opportunity to see a person scramble and fluster. He should’ve known better than to think he could get away with being a passive player in this game of yours; that it was only a matter of time before you dragged him back, by the collar and leash you managed to lasso around his mind in the short duration of this call, and threw him out on the playing field as an active participant instead of a mere spectator.

Sure, you can’t actually see each other, but the phones in your hands are a constant reminder that every word comes with a plural audience and every miniscule sound may or may not be audible to the other side. That alone does its wonders, but here you are the gamemaster and you wield the power to do more; to take matters into your own hands, to bend, knead and shape them to your will. And you’re no amateur; you know exactly where to sink your fingers, how much pressure to apply and when to press harder or let go, so that you have not one, but two pliant putties in your palm.

“Now...” You sigh and shift your position on Armin’s cock. It garners the exact reaction you were aiming for — a warbled moan — and one that will surely leave its mark on the third pair of ears in the room with you. “Let me and Eren hear what you need, baby. Show us how a good boy uses his words.”

Armin sucks in his bottom lip and inhales a steadying breath through his nose. “I...” He swallows. “I want you to move.” His eyes, though hooded, noticeably drop to where the two of you are connected. “I want you to– to fuck me ‘til I can’t think. Please?” His voice is high, desperate, quivering. Clammy hands paw at your thighs. “I just can’t– I can’t take it. I can’t take waiting anymore, I need– I need you to fuck me and make me come, I need– y–you, I need you, please.”

A shaky groan interrupts through Armin’s phone.

You smirk, let the noise steep in the silence you make for it, to marinate in your own satisfaction, so he might think, for just a moment, that you didn’t notice, before leaning into the speaker.

“Eren,” you say innocently, and you think you hear a sharp breath in response, “I hope you’re not touching yourself right now.”

Nothing. Only background noise.

“You’re not, are you? You know that would be bad, right?” you continue. “And worse, if you lie to me about it.”

All you hear is a quiet exhale and the distant hum of what might be the AC.

You lower the phone. “Tell him why it would be bad, Armin.”

Armin’s eyes never once leave yours as he answers, “Because you didn’t give permission.”

“That’s right.” You smile at your boy and stroke his hair in approval. “Be honest then, Eren,” you resume. “Were you? Touching yourself?”

As you wait, you watch anticipation, glimmering with an edge of hope, grow in Armin’s eyes.

A heavy breath. Then, a low, gravelly, guilty, “Yeah.”

You emphasise your disappointment with a long sigh. “Mm. See, this is exactly why Armin has to set an example for you,” you reprimand, your hand still brushing over messy blond hair. “He’s doing you a favour and you’re not even paying attention? Just getting distracted by your cock like that’s all you can think about?” You drop a lock of hair that you were twirling around your finger. “It probably is, isn’t it?” you scoff. “God, you’re so fucking pathetic.”

Excitement passes through Eren like a tidal wave. His hand is still resting over his crotch, fingertips over his balls and palm under the head of his cock. He doesn’t quite understand why he’s so smitten by your words nor why he craves to hear more of them, but he does. And he’s willing to chase after it — to do anything, really — if it means he’ll get more.

“Hands off your dick, Eren.”

Another order, this one large and unsympathetic, leaving no room for doubt or defiance.

His hand retreats, shamefully, as if you were really there, as if you had caught him red-handed with your own two eyes and are now observing him to make sure he does as he’s told.

“I don’t care how hard you get or how bad you want to come. Your full, undivided attention stays on this phone call and nothing else,” you explain, as if you’re just talking about the weather. “Have I made myself clear?”

Eren swallows and hums his affirmation before quickly correcting himself.

“Yes.”

And unbeknownst to you, he has to cut himself off at the polite honorific that almost follows, the same way a person might catch themself about to call their teacher ‘Mom’. Somewhere in the firm, instructional tone and the ease with which you hand out commands, it felt like a natural addition, but not one that Eren, nor even his already dwindling dignity and pride, are ready for.

But rather than bestowing him the praise, the infamous pet name that you’ve been taunting him with, for his agreeable behaviour, you grace Eren with no more than a simple clinical, “Good,” and an air of finality followed by a thunk as you set the phone on the nightstand.

When you sit back to face Armin, with his hair all mussed, cheeks flushed and lips tinted red from constant worrying between his teeth, you’re unable to suppress your grin.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Armin grins back, full of teeth and that pinch in the corners of his eyes that you love. “Hi,” he returns with a chuckle. You steal a quick kiss amidst the soft laughter before hooking your thumbs behind the back of Armin’s knees and rocking forward and up. You both sigh with the movement, then again, when you move backward and down.

Armin’s head lolls back into the pillows, unfurling a column of pale skin before you. “Fuck,” he gasps out. His hand slaps down over one of yours and the other digs blunt nails into your waist.

You move again. Faster.

“Oh, fuck–”

Again. Harder.

Another cry, another expletive.

Hearing, seeing, experiencing your boyfriend rapt with ecstasy and useless to conceal it fills you with a glee that borders on manic.

“I love your reactions so much, Armin,” you rasp; a confession you’ve made countless times, every time, but that never fails to make your beloved blush. “And I love that they’re all mine. You’re so perfect, I love you so much.”

His next stream of sounds melts on your tongue as you kiss him eagerly. “Always so pretty and vocal,” you say in the breaths between yours and Armin’s panting mouths. “So good for me, aren’t you? Only for me. Only me and Eren get to know you like this.”

You grind down into Armin’s erratic thrusts until you’re all but fused together each time you meet. Your hands roam; crawling up to cradle his jaw, dragging down to toy with his nipples, jumping to his legs and pushing until he’s folded under your weight and clutching your hair in a wanton fist.

You reluctantly part from him to return to a more comfortable position above him while Armin’s hands clamber to secure his knees in place for you — always aiming to heed your every whim, even the ones you don’t voice. Your own hands layer over his as you slow down, drawing circles with your pelvis. Steady, smooth, sensual. Savouring the feeling of being so close to him.

You long to be closer, still.

So you move yourself up, off his cock, push his legs down and back onto the mattress, help him sit up. The entire time, Armin is just gazing up at you with glazed-over yet still-adoring eyes, up until you’re straddling his lap and he registers what you’re doing. Then he becomes your grateful devotee, chanting a breathy chorus of ‘Yes’s and ‘Thank you’s and encasing you in his arms as you welcome him back inside you. You hush his sweet cacophony with the hungry embrace of your lips, catching whimpers and fragments of love declarations, as you ride him with fervour. Every so often, you slow down and tease, just to prolong your unified bliss, but the sporadic fluctuations drive Armin insane.

He makes a noise like he’s overjoyed and on the verge of sobbing at the same time. “You’re– fuck, you’re so good to me, I love you, I– ah, shit, I love you so much!”

In Eren’s grip, the back of his phone is damp with his sweat. He’s addicted to the sound of you and Armin, the words you share, the moans you make together. He wants you both so carnally yet he couldn’t be happier than where he is now, forced to clench slippery fingers around the fabric of his sweatpants, far from where he’s aching for relief. Entirely dependent on his imagination to pair images with what he can hear. It’s cruel and heavenly. The more it drags on, the more he’s convinced he could come right there in his briefs. Untouched.

“Can– can I come? Please? I’m so close, I– I’m losing my fucking mind,” Armin babbles against your neck.

You nuzzle his temple while your fingers rake through his undercut. “Me too, let’s– let’s come together, okay?”

Armin nods frantically against your skin until tears breach the barrier of his waterline and he’s coming inside you with a muffled moan. You’re right there with him, head thrown back as your hands form fists in Armin’s hair. His arms, enveloped all the way around you, squeeze you from the tension of his full-body orgasm before falling slack at your sides.

As Armin slumps against the headboard, you catch your breath and reach for the phone. Over the sounds of pleasure earlier, you couldn’t tell if the line was silent or if your little voyeur of a friend had hung up. You’re pleased to see his name still aglow on the screen.

“Enjoy the show?” you quip. Though the unfitting conversational lilt to your voice throws Eren for a loop, that’s not why he chooses to remain quiet. Compliant as he’s been, he refuses to indulge your ego any more than he has to — but you expected that, so you simply move on to the question you did want answered.

“Did you keep your hands off your cock like I told you to?”

Armin perks up at that, curious as you are about what the answer will be. With bated breath, you both wait, but the tense silence is disturbed by Armin’s phone vibrating. You are about to ignore it until you recognise the sender of the message — and notice that it contains an attached image. Your eyebrows arch up your forehead at the bold gesture, but you tap the intriguing notification nonetheless.

Nestled just below the last exchange of innocent messages with his best friend, is a photograph of Eren Jaeger’s hard cock, straining against grey boxer briefs and lewdly framed by a circular patch of damp fabric.

“This is what it looks like... without you touching it?” you say, wearing a shit-eating smirk that is sure to translate into your tone.

“Yes,” Eren hisses through gritted teeth; a hybrid of embarrassed frustration and the ever-present need for release.

You giggle and show Armin the photo. “He sent us a fucking dick pic, Armin, can you believe that? Our little show must’ve really done a number on him, wow.”

The subject of your appraisal sighs and shakes his head at your mocking antics, but by the size of his pupils you can tell he isn’t unaffected by the image.

You take another look at it, but the most you feel is amused. “Barely even touched himself and he’s got a precum stain that big, that’s hilarious,” you snicker.

As though he can sense Eren’s humiliation through the phone (it’s quite palpable, really), Armin mercifully defends him. “He’s been good though, right?”

Disappointed by Armin ruining your fun, you pull a face. “I guess.” But then, struck with an idea, it morphs into an impish grin and you lean forward, hand on his chest, as you exaggeratedly purr, “But not as good as youuu, babycakes~”

“Pfft!” Armin pushes you away half-heartedly. You relent and manoeuvre around him. “God, that is terrible. It’s like you’re not even trying,” he jokingly criticises, but cups your face as you lean in to kiss him anyway. You decide to nip his bottom lip and tug at it, still feeling playful, but when you part, Armin is staring at you with an intensity that warms you more than a harmless joke should. You kiss him again, a little harder, a little longer. Breathing a little heavier.

“Can...”

Right. You almost forgot you have company.

With much reluctance, you tear your focus away from your boyfriend. “Mm, what is it?”

Eren hesitates for a second before asking, “Can I, um, touch now?” His desperation is evident in the gruff quality of his voice. “Please?”

All too familiar with what you’re like, Armin gives you a pointed look and mouthes, ‘Be nice.’

Rolling your eyes, you take a moment to think, then say, “Send us a video of you edging yourself three times and I’ll think about it,” before tacking on a quick, “See you Friday!” and abruptly ending the call.

Armin stares at you in shock for a few seconds, then shouts your name scoldingly. “I told you to be nice!”

You gasp and cover your mouth in faux-alarm. “No way, is that what you said? I totally thought you were saying ‘mean ice’, that’s so crazy how that got lost in translation...” You keep your mouth covered to hide your growing smile.

Armin frowns at you, or tries to at least; he ends up smiling too. “You’re so mean sometimes.” He lightly pinches your cheek. You swat away his hand. “I ought to keep you in check more.”

You scoff and snake your arms around Armin’s neck. “You wouldn’t dare. I know you like it when I’m mean.”

Armin mutters a small, “Only in moderation,” that is meant to be assertive but gets lost somewhere under the scope of your bewitching gaze. Even though you’ve been dating for years, he still falters in moments like these. Too adorable.

Giggling, you seize his lips in a kiss — one that is only the prelude to the sequel of your passionate night ahead.

Hungy deer 🦌

i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘

Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds

A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!

Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.

He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.

He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.

It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.

But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.

He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.

Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.

He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.

He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.

“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.

Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”

You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”

He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”

You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”

He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”

“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.

He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.

“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.

He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.

You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”

He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.

He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.

He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.

When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.

“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.

You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”

“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.

You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.

But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.

You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.

He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.

“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”

Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.

“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.

“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.

He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”

You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.

You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”

He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.

You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.

Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.

He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.

“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”

He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”

You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.

“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.

“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.

You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.

He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”

“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”

He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.

He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.

He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.

“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.

“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.

“So needy.”

“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.

“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”

You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.

He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.

Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.

He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.

You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.

When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.

Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N

He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.

So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.