Cloudy day by Alariko

consider being sandwiched by two big ole dilfs who r both madly in love w u

the predicament was strange, to say the least. one minute, you’re entering headquarters after a long mission. the next, you’re inside the break room, your back against peter while miguel bullied his way into your pussy. one could wonder why the leader of the spiders was whispering obscenities in your ear, but you knew you only had yourself to blame for this.

"that all you can take?" the taunting voice of none other than miguel calls out to you, giving a sharp slap to your clit as you bit your lip. your mind is numb when he pushes into you again, his cock stretching you out just right. a sharp inhale comes from miguel before he lets out a small laugh.

Simon Riley fucks intensely and passionately. He doesn’t grab your hair, or spit on your face, or cause you physical pain - my man’s has openly admitted to dealing with violent thoughts/dreams against women and wanting to be better. He might get rough if he’s stressed or angry, but he won’t be, like, throat fucking you for example. Sorry. I just can’t see it. He can be fast, but I don’t think he’s gonna be hardcore or degrading. I think if he gets the mask on, he miiiight be a little more… forthcoming.

Simon Riley finds sex to be the highest level of trust, love, and vulnerability. Don’t expect him to be a quick or easy lay. If he wants you intimately, this is the biggest honor you would ever receive from him. Maybe before he was tortured he would’ve been quicker to engage, but the Simon we know now? Yeah, you gotta work.

Simon Riley… ohhhhh he’s always asking you: “is that alright, love?” “that feel good?” “ahhhh, yeah, you’re a good girl, aren’tcha?” If you’re not feeling it, he’s not feeling it. he wants to make sure you’re into it 100%. the moment you grunt, wince, or groan in pain, he’s stopping to check up on his lovie. he just radiates Soft Dom energy to me (and I want him so bad). Simon loves to see you get all flustered, too. When you beg for him (and you’re a good girl) he will give you anything and everything you want.

Keegan Russ is a provider and you’re lying to yourself if you even think otherwise 👏 if he could make it to where you didn’t have to lift a finger for the rest of your life, he 100% would. That being said, I hope you love to be on the receiving end of oral! I genuinely believe this man will deep dive right on in there, and would stay there until you’re shaking, crying, and begging him to stop (to which he probably won’t).

Keegan Russ can be chatty when it’s just you two, and especially - you know where this is going - in bed. He loves praising you, but in such a gentle way (he also praises you day-to-day but this is nsfw hehe). If you get all shy, he will eat it tf up. imagine hearing these in his deep, gravelly, purr of a voice: “you’re so perfect and I’m so lucky you’re mine” “fuck, you look so beautiful riding my cock like that” “you wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” “how could I say no when you asked so nicely?” “ahh, that’s my girl.” “I love how your pretty little mouth feels.” I could literally write Keegan talking for like 6947950 years mmkay

Keegan Russ loves it when you initiate and/or take charge, even if he ends up doing the work. Ride him, sit on his face, swipe his nose like a credit card, suck his cock, for the love of god anything. Even though he absolutely loves performing acts of service, the moment you hop into action? Weak! This man is weak! just tell him it’s because he’s been so amazing, that you just wanna do this for him if that’s alright 🥺 you missed him sm and you just wanna make your baby feel good 🥺 is slobbering on his cock too much to ask for 🥺 if you’re doing this, you got him whipped

(My gif🤷🏻‍♀️🤞🏼)

I’m all for fuck boy Satoru, womanizer Satoru, can’t stay loyal to one woman Satoru… but I offer you… love struck Satoru who doesn’t know what to do with these emotions.

Satoru who just immediately assumes you want him for his body and can’t fathom why you’d be interested in anything else.

Satoru who’s shocked when all you do is give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him for taking you out and walking you home.

Satoru who’s immediately overwhelmed by this change of pace and finds himself texting you the next morning asking when you’d like to meet again.

Satoru, who’s leaving women on read and deleting the dating apps he browses for fun because all he can think about is you.

Satoru who can’t believe it but he’s actually nervous as he walks up to your apartment to take you out on a 2nd date

Satoru who is trying desperately to impress you and seem so smooth and cool but finds himself getting shy and soft spoken when you smile at him from the other side of the dinner table.

Satoru, who's hands shake as he hesitantly reaches for your own while walking you back home after a wonderful dinner.

Satoru, who's blushing as you see a quiet place to sit in the park at chat under the stars. Letting you drag him over to the bench as you tell him quite boldly that you don't want the date to end yet.

Satoru, who finds himself melting into the comfort of your presence, listening to you talk about your life, your friends, your family, things you love and things you hate.

Satoru, who is listening so intently that his brain short-circuits a bit when you ask him to tell you more about himself.

Satoru, who finds himself at a loss for words, nearly tells you it's not important and to continue talking about yourself so he can hear you speak. But instead he opens up way more than he anticipated.

Satoru, who walks you home hours later after having one of the longest and most meaningful conversations with you, noticing he isn't as nervous now that he feels that you both know each other beyond just surface-level things.

Satoru, who's frozen in place as you get on your tiptoes and place a chaste kiss on his lips, thanking him for such an enjoyable night.

Satoru, who finds his heart soaring out of his chest as you shut the door, feeling as light as air as he practically skips away from your apartment, a large grin plastered to his face.

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

this is outta control like oh my god i damn near burned my grilled cheese—the DETAIL + DESCRIPTION? AND WHEN—[gunshot noises] [explosion noises] [war cries]

i can't stop thinking about that one fanart of hobie's concept art. it's actually taking over all of my mental capacity

.・✭ very suggestive/explict details ✭・.

i just can't help but imagine them in hobie's apartment, smoking weed and lying across the living room, chatting languidly since they last saw each other. some are splayed across the rug, others slumped on the sofa, passing the blunt as they discuss their dimensions while music hums from the record player. then, the door creaks, announcing your arrival from your late-night shift as you step through the threshold, and lord, it would be a sight.

you stand there, shocked, in front of five men (who look suspiciously similar to hobie) smoking in his apartment. it doesn't take much to tell he's smoked through his first blunt and is higher than he lets on. if the suffocating smell hanging thickly in the air isn't anything to go by, his hazy irises tinged with red and flippant body language are every sign you need. hobie greets you like normal, his words slurring at the edges in introducing you to his friends with a wave of his hand.

and they're all looking at you hungrily, eyes cloudy at the weed coursing through them and the thought of sex. you present yourself, though the introduction doesn't seem to be needed by how they greet you as if you've known them your whole life.

unbeknownst to you, it's because, in their world, they have. each of them is lusting after a version of you, all stuck in the label of mere friends despite secretly wanting so much more, and seeing this hobie, with everything they crave and fantasize about, makes jealousy and spite prickle at their skins. how could hobie, the nerdiest version of themselves, pull the girl they have been in love with for years so easily? how is it you're able to fall for him when every other version of you ends in pining?

it's not until hobie explains who they are when he catches your unasked questions that your eyes shine with understanding and you shrink away from the increasing weight of their stares. you already know his identity as spiderman and the spider society he occasionally visits because of how often gwen drops by from her dimension, but this is something else entirely.

amid the hazy mindset, your hobie catches on quick. being the only one in the room with enhanced senses, he deciphers the atmosphere in seconds. he invites you over using the same two fingers that had been pumping inside your cunt just this morning with an amused smirk to drive you crazy, patting his thigh. it takes a second for the initial shyness to wear off from literally being surrounded by hobie to sit in his lap.

and oh, the glares he receives are intense, irked by his blatant boasting.

you try to converse with the rest, who are incredibly unbothered about the same things you are trying to wrap your head around, while his hands grow bolder, much to their displeasure. envy replaces the carefree atmosphere the longer his hands wander, and you might have swatted his long, teasing fingers in spots they shouldn't be in front of others a long time ago if it wasn't for the lecherous stares you receive that have you rethinking the purpose of their attendance.

they're hungry, starving for any ounce of yourself you can give them, freely displaying the jealousy consuming them of how much of yourself your hobie has. how you're inexplicably his while they can only wistfully dream.

you can tell they crave it, fantasize about being the one to skillfully manipulate your body, and your breathing picks up just as one of them adjusts himself in his pants.

"you look just bloody like her." comes the deep, seductive rumble of the hobie sporting striking spikes with streaks of red running through the cut. he's referring to the version of yourself somewhere in the depths of the punk rock in his dimension, his far away yet very feverish expression saying everything.

the weed is long forgotten as your hobie pridefully grins, showing you off without inhibition. carefully, giving you time to refuse, it starts.

the variant, with headphones wrapped around his neck and dreads pulled into a messy bun, runs the back of his hand over your arm, the smooth surface of the metal rings eliciting pleasurable shivers down your spine. as if testing your boundaries, his fingers glide up your arm, dancing across your collarbone and settling at the base of your neck.

when you don't refuse and even go so far as leaning into the contact, the others take it as their queue to join. bodies crowd around yours snugly against hobie's lap, his relaxed posture hiding the arousal poking into your lower back. his demeanor, however, remains inviting and smug while they move in with perverted intent, a multitude of hands, fit chunky jewelry descending upon your body. you're not sure you ever want it to end.

TAGLIST: @alicefallsintotherabbithole

for anybody wondering, when referencing the fanart of hobie concept art (mostly in rockstar!hobie fics with his band) this is what i mean:

(art credits: stillindigo on twitter)

these are the visuals i use and i know there are other writers who reference this too!!!

cuz the way this has a chokehold over me-- 🤤💦

actually foaming at the mouth and clawing at the walls

Ok ok hear me out

PROFESSOR O'HARA

who is PURPOSELY failing you just so he can keep you after class mid-semester to tell you you're not doing well.

When he breaks the news to you and your face fills with desperation, a tad of disappointment and confusion (because you were doing so well, weren't you? You understood everything!), he pretends to sigh. “I could maybe give you some extra credit work to help you through the semester.”

Your eyes light up, a little ray of relief shining through. “Yes,” you eagerly say. “Yes, anything.”

You poor, poor thing. All naive and innocent, eager to pass this subject. Maybe too eager.

You end up on your knees in front of him, his huge cock down your throat, your eyelashes wet with tears as you gag around him.

“Just like that, bonita,” he groans. “Open wide. No uses los dientes. Yeah, like that.” Don't use your teeth.

This one guarantees you a C.

After he's fucked your throat raw, he tosses you onto his desk, removing your clothes and eating your pussy out until you're shaking and whining, trying to push him away because the pleasure is just too much. Your slick is dripping from your cunt, down your body, leaving the desk soaked from your arousal.

This one guarantees you a B.

Finally, when he's done eating you out, he bends you over the desk, slamming his cock into you, reveling in the feeling of your slick, warm gummy walls tightening around him. He fucks you hard, making you see stars, the sound of your soaked pussy loud in the room. And your moans would be louder if not for his fingers stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

You lose count of how many times he makes you come, and then he spills his thick, hot load into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

This guarantees you an A.

But ever since then, you purposely start failing his class just so you can ask him for more extra credit activities.

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inspo from @burobuchan on X (Twitter).

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@yagirlheree @sukioyakio

*if you want me to add you to my taglist for Miguel O'Hara fics, leave me a comment or send me a message <3

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Blog masterlist

Desperate to breed, desperate for your scent ༶ Miguel O'Hara headcanons nsfw 18+

⊹ He’ll sneak your used underwear out of your hamper, keeping them out on his desk in his home office, sniffing them to soothe his stress and nerves, but mostly when he’s craving you. He’ll imagine you, squirming and whining as he eats you out. He’ll imagine how you taste, remembering how your fresh heat smells, as his nose rubs against your throbbing bud, all while keeping his nose pressed against your lace panties. He gets off on it. He’ll try to control himself, but every now and then, he’ll release a shameful load into them, imagining his tight, lacy fist were you, though he knows too well it’ll never compare. After you search all over your apartment for them, he’ll return them in a week, now freshly washed and ready to be wet again. You roll your eyes when he returns them to you, as he defends himself, “couldn’t help it, mamas, you smell too good to wash away so soon,” he’ll shrug, kissing your neck, “I just needed to savor it.” 

⊹ Miguel is animalistically desperate for you when you’re ovulating. He fights to ignore his dirty thoughts, but his heightened senses make your hormones smell one million times stronger, the sweet musky smell driving him insane. He usually keeps his distance, trying not to overwhelm you with his intense desire, but mostly fails and ends up smothering you on these special days, which you don’t mind. He’s always obsessed with you, but those days, he’s like a desperate animal, craving your taste and your wet warmth. 

⊹ He wants to make sure it takes. After filling you up with his hot thick liquid, he’ll finger you, curling his fingers back up into you, pumping his seed back into you, hoping it’ll stick and make you plump with his child in a few months time. He doesn’t even realize/acknowledge how obsessive he can be about it; it’s natural to him. You moan, concealing your smile, as you let him satisfy his instinctive desires. 

⊹ He lends you t-shirts to wear and sweat in for one whole week, knowing your scent and musk will be absorbed into it. He makes it a job for you to complete, handing it to you, expecting his shirts back in one week, drenched in your scent. When he goes home, he puts one on immediately and wears it as pajamas all week until the smell wears off. 

⊹ He loves the smell of your sweat. Especially the sweaty essence you bring home after you work out or after a long summer day. He’ll embrace you right at the door, digging his nose into your neck, or burying his head into your chest and underarms. When you resist out of embarrassment or exhaustion, he begs and whines for you to let him smell you all over, asking to help you undress for your shower so he can smell you all the way up until you wiggle out of his grasp and begin to shower the long day off of you. As he undresses you, he buries his face into every corner of you. He’ll kneel down, undressing you, pressing his nose in between your inner thighs, inhaling and humming against your skin. You can’t help but blush and giggle at his simple, kind of embarrassing but harmless requests. He’s obsessed and addicted to you, and you love it. It reassures you that he craves your skin and entire existence as much as you crave him.