⌖ 𖦏₊ ⊹

lil miss paradise

[6slux]

⌖ masterlist ⌖ visuals

all works written by © 2025 @6slux (obvi) are not to be replicated.

six or Sedes (say-deez) ˎˊ˗ island gyal ! (22)

jhené & summer apologist hibiscus flowers. shimmery oil.

sandy tan lines. french tips. vinyls. gold jewelry. piña colada

[otakufilms]

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

st. lucia, eren.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—10.4K, onlyfans!contentcreatorcouple!, vacation!, originalblackfem!reader, boyfriend!erenyeager, bubblyslightlybimbo!femreader, gymrat!eren, gymrat!femreader, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!eren, aggressive!eren, dominant!eren, gruff!eren, sweet!eren, submissive!eren, size kink!, pet names!baby!bunny!, sofa!sex, face slapping!, riding, doggy style, slightly aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, squirting!, creaming!, condomless sex, talks of relationship issues, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— happy belated birthday, dada. inspired by a twitter video i seen. it’ll be linked, nasties.

pt 4 of na na.

૮₍ ៸៸ ᵜ ก ₎ა

…piscesbimbobunny has made a new post! 

click ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა  to open. 

˚ ⋆❀ 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏. ₎ა✮⋆˙𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ 🐚

DEEP, ROSY AND PINK. That was the only way to describe the intense flush of your freckled cheeks, startled by the tan of your skin that went from caramel to earthy brown in days of soaking love from the sun. Being here was a dream—one that you couldn’t bring yourself to wake up from. Not yet.

A vintage filter flickers to life, bathing the screen in golden St. Lucian sunlight that spills through the open balcony of your Mediterranean oasis. The space feels like a dream—terra-cotta tiles underfoot, cream-colored brick walls draped in ivy and trailing flowers, an indoor waterfall trickling softly in the background. The bedroom is an open sanctuary, sheer white curtains billowing around a wooden four-poster bed, its canopy draped lazily over rumpled white sheets.  

And there, in the center of it all—him. 

Lying sprawled on his back, deep in sleep, his massive frame takes up nearly the entire bed. Dark brown hair—almost black in the shadows, but warm bronze where the sun catches it—fans out across the pillow like spilled ink. The tattoos covering his arm and creeping up his neck stand out starkly against sun-kissed skin, muscular chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. Even in rest, there’s something commanding about him—the natural scowl of his brows, the sharp cut of his jawline, to his full lips slightly parted.  

You zoom in slowly, your voice a hushed, adoring whisper—  

“Look at you… ‘So handsome.”  

The camera lingers on his face—the faint freckles dusting his nose, his lashes brushing his cheeks, down to the stubborn set of his expression even in sleep. You bite back a giggle, leaning closer.  

“Baby…?” 

No response. Not even a twitch.  

Another soft laugh escapes you as you adjust the frame, capturing the way morning light paints him in gold.  

“Out cold,” you murmur, fondness dripping from every syllable.  

The scene holds—just for a moment—before the camera shifts, panning over the tropical paradise outside, the sound of waves crashing in the distance. 

A burgues script title card flashes:  

My love letter to you. 

The camera catches the delicate flicker of your French-tipped toes as you peel yourself from the bed—moving like a ghost to not disturb him. The lens follows your path through the sprawling villa, gliding over terracotta floors kissed by sunlight, past open-air archways draped in bougainvillea, until you find the perfect spot—a plush, low-slung sofa nestled between an indoor garden and the infinity pool’s edge.  

You angle the camera carefully across from you, and there you are. 

The sun has painted your skin richer—your freckles somehow more pronounced, scattered like constellations across your cheeks and nose. A faint pink tinge dusts the high points of your face—part sunburn, part blush from pure contentment. Your hair is a masterpiece—long, full French curl braids cascading over shoulders, blending seamlessly with loose ringlets that catch the light like spun gold. They frame your round face perfectly—accentuating full, arched brows, dark cat-like lashes, and lips so plush and pink they look perpetually bitten.  

Your neon orange bikini top—streaked with deep pink swirls—clings to your heavy, voluptuous curves, the ruching at the sides straining just slightly from the weight of your breasts. An anklet and sandals in matching pink rest nearby, abandoned for comfort. Your wrists jingle with charm bracelets as you fold yourself onto the sofa, knees tucked under you like a daydream given human form.  

You are sinful innocence incarnate—a doll with a devil’s smirk and an angel’s glow.  

A delicate hand lifts, waving at the camera as your voice comes out smooth, sweet—yet laced with something deeper.  

“Hi, babies. It’s…been a while.” 

The camera drinks you in—this vision of sun-soaked serenity—before you finally take a breath and lean forward, ready to tell your story.  

But first—a wicked little grin curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s catch up.” 

The vintage filter softens your features like a sun faded Polaroid as you tuck a loose curl behind your ear, exhaling with a wistful smile.  

“So—You're probably wondering where we've been." 

The lens lingers on your face—nostalgia flickering in your dark eyes as you glance past the camera, like you can still see the walls of your old New Orleans shotgun house behind it. That cozy, creole haven with its peeling paint and humming ceiling fans, where the scent of jasmine and Eren’s cooking curled through every room. Home. 

“Six months changes things," you murmur,  “And, well...life happened." 

A breath.   

“‘Ren’s meal prep business blew up." 

The confession comes with a giggle, like even now it still feels surreal. The Seoul deal had landed like a lightning strike—some high-end Korean health conglomerate offering stupid money for exclusive rights to his keto chicken bowls and Creole-spiced shrimp packs.  

“You saw the anniversary live, right? The one where—" You bite your lip,“—Yeah. Anyway. Two days later, they slid into his email with a contract thicker than his arm.” 

But? The logistics were brutal. Endless flights between NOLA and Incheon, you both exhausted, missing each other achingly in the stretches between. You mimic Eren’s signature scowl, deepening your voice—

“'Either come with me or I’m burnin’ the passport, Bunny.'" 

The move to Korea had been a whirlwind—thrilling at first. Neon-lit streets, steaming bowls of tteokbokki at 3AM, Eren’s hands possessive on your waist as he showed you his Seoul between meetings. But then...  

Your smile falters.  

“It got lonely." 

No Sunday gumbo with your momma. No impromptu BBQs with your cousins spilling onto the porch. Just the two of you in a sleek high-rise, struggling with subway maps and missing the warmth of your people.  

“We were happy, but—hollow?" 

You press a hand to your sternum, like you can still feel the echo of it. 

You then exhale softly, curling your fingers around the edge of the sofa as you confess, “We needed a break—And ‘Ren’s birthday was the perfect excuse to escape."

The waves crash lazily in the background as you tilt your head, sunlight catching the gold hoops in your ears. 

“St. Lucia was his dream. Warm water, no schedules, no ’corporate meetings’—" You roll your eyes playfully, but the lightness doesn’t quite reach the tension in your shoulders.  

Then, quieter—  

“But...he hasn’t been handling twenty-nine the way I thought he would?” 

You bite your lip, eyes flickering toward the bedroom where he still sleeps. 

“He keeps saying shit like—" You deepen your voice into another gruff imitation of him, “'Damn, Bunny. I’m gettin’ old. Need to settle down before my knees give out.'" 

You shake your head, “It’s not just jokes, though. He’s been different. Obsessing over timelines, talking about legacy.” 

Your fingers trace idle patterns on your thigh, avoiding the camera’s gaze for a second.  

“And then one night, he just—" You swallow hard, “…He said he wanted a baby.” 

You curl into yourself slightly, arms wrapping around your middle as if bracing for impact.  

“I mean...we always talked about it. But..." you shrug helplessly, "You guys know I don’t plan on doing this—" You gesture vaguely at the camera, “Once we’re married with kids. And I love that you guys have been with us through everything. But..."

A shaky breath.  

“I never expected it to be now, you know?” 

The air between you and the lens feels thick—charged with something unspoken. Then, abruptly, you straighten, blinking away the wetness in your eyes as a slow, secretive smile tugs at your lips.

“Before I bring myself to tears—well, just watch."

The burgues script appears again. 

ST. LUCIA THROUGH YOUR EYES. 

A montage flickers to life—each frame saturated with golden sunlight and laughter, the ocean breeze tangling in your hair as St. Lucia unfolds around you both like a dream.  

The first day. ‘You in a sheer, plum wrap dress that clings to every curve, standing barefoot on the villa’s terrace as Eren’s hands slide around your waist from behind. His lips brush your shoulder—“My pretty fuckin’ Bunny,” before he nips at your earlobe, making you giggle and swat at him.  

That night. A low-lit restaurant nestled right on the beach, lanterns casting a honeyed glow over your faces. You’re seated at a candlelit table, the ocean breeze tousling the loose waves of your dark hair. The camera catches you mid-laugh—a plunging white dress clinging to every dangerous curve of your body, the neckline dipping just low enough to tease the swell of your heavy tits.  

You flash a mischievous grin at the lens, dragging your fingertip through the frosting of the miniature birthday cake the staff brought out—“For my birthday boy,” before sucking the sweetness off your finger with an exaggerated pop. 

The camera pans to Eren. 

Oh, God. 

A crisp white button-up clings to his muscular frame like a second skin, his sleeves rolled up to expose those tattooed forearms. His dark hair is slicked back in a low bun—jawline sharp enough to cut glass—green eyes glinting with something between hunger and amusement as he watches you.  

Without breaking eye contact with the camera, he leans in—dragging his tongue between your lips, stealing the last traces of frosting straight from your mouth.  

You let out a breathy giggle, cheeks flushing as he pulls back with a smirk—“‘Shit tastes better on you." 

 The second week. A bustling street market. You wear a sage green crochet bikini top and high-waisted denim shorts, sandals dangling from one hand as Eren feeds you bites of spiced plantains off his fork. His thumb swipes sauce from your bottom lip, then slowly licks it off, eyes locked on yours while vendors wolf whistle in the background under your flushed squeaking for him to stop. 

That afternoon? A lively, sun-drenched outdoor hair salon tucked under a canopy of palm leaves and strung with colorful beads that clink softly in the breeze. You’re perched on a low wooden stool, surrounded by four St. Lucian aunties—their hands moving in a hypnotic blur as they section, twist, and fold your thick, dark curls into an intricate masterpiece.  

Eren’s deep chuckle rumbles behind the camera—“Look at my baby, lookin’ like prettier than the ocean.” 

You go to stick your tongue out at him, but that’s when one of the women chides you gently in Kwéyòl—“Hold still, darling!”—before dissolving into warm laughter with the others. The rhythmic swish-swish of hair being braided fills the air, fingers tugging just enough to make you pout.  

Another day. The rainforest. ‘You in a khaki mini-skirt and a tied-up tank, shrieking as your sandal slips on a mossy rock—only for Eren to catch you mid-fall, his biceps flexing as he hauls you upright with a growl. 

“Watch ‘your feet, woman. You break an ankle, I’m carryin’ you everywhere from now on.” 

That evening. A local elder—"Banana Man," as you dubbed him—grinned toothlessly as he guided Eren’s hands around a machete, teaching him to split a ripe banana stalk. Eren listens intently, nodding, repeating phrases in rough-but-earnest Creole while you beam beside him, fingers laced through his free hand in support.  

And finally? Sunset. The beach. You in a flowy, butter-yellow sundress, bare feet sinking into warm sand as the Banana Man and another woman chuckles, handing you both each a piece of freshly-cut fruit. 

Behind you, you hear the woman fussing at Eren in the same melodic dialect, “Ou pral koupe dwèt ou yo!,”  You’ll chop your fingers off!—her tone exasperated but fond. 

You bite back a giggle, still focused on your own fruit, not daring to glance over.  

"Are you givin' her a hard time?" you call out, voice lilting with amusement.  

Eren’s response is soft, almost too casual—  

“Not at all, baby." 

A pause. Then—  

“…Might need some help from you, though." 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning with a grin—  

And the world stops.  

Because there he is.  

On one knee. 

The machete abandoned beside him, replaced by a velvet box cradled in his trembling hands. His face—usually so composed, so controlled—is raw with emotion, eyes glistening under the sunset.  

"Mwen vle ou pou tout rès vi mwen," he rasps—I want you for the rest of my life. 

A sob tears from your throat before you can stop it. Your hands fly to your mouth, the piece of fruit tumbling forgotten into the sand as your knees nearly give out.  

“Wi—YES—oh my GOD!" 

You're in his arms before he can even finish, nearly knocking him over as you collapse against his chest, babbling yes in every language you know—Creole, English, everything—between desperate kisses and tearful laughter.  

The camera cuts back to you now—sunlight catching the glint of tears still clinging to your lashes as you hold up your left hand, the diamond glinting like captured starlight. Heavy. Perfect. His. 

“We're getting married!” you whisper yell, voice trembling with a giddy, breathless laugh—but it fades too fast.  

"...Haven’t been able to get pregnant, though." 

A shaky breath. The words taste like salt and something sharper.  

“We tried. A couple times. And then...weknew." 

Your throat works around the weight of it.  

“‘Doctor ran tests. There's—" A tiny, broken noise, “A lot." 

Your gaze drops to your lap, where your other hand fists in the fabric of your slip.  

“Eren…has given up so much for our content. Let the world into us. But—" 

A tear splashes onto your knee. Then another. You don't even notice until your voice cracks.  

“All he wants now is privacy. His wife. A baby.” 

You swipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, laughing wetly—“And I couldn’t even—" 

The sentence dies.  

For a long moment, there's just the sound of the ocean and your unsteady breathing. Then, so quiet the mic barely catches it—  

"It felt like I failed him." 

Your laughter wavers—thin and watery—as tears streak hot down your cheeks. You swipe at them with trembling fingertips, shaking your head as you murmur, “Sorry, sorry,” to the empty air.  

Your voice steadies, even as the tears keep falling.  

“But we’re here, in St.Lucia. And I get to spend the rest of my life with the man I love.” 

You tilt your face up toward the sunlight, closing your eyes for just a second—  

But that’s when the sound of heavy footsteps on tile makes your breath catch. 

And there he is.

The camera doesn’t catch his face—just the sheer mass of him, silhouetted against the morning light. Long dark hair, streaked with gold where the sun touches it. Broad shoulders, tattoos creeping up the side of his neck. His bare chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin, scattered with moles and faint freckles.  

But you see all of him—the deep green of his eyes, hazel flecks burning under heavy brows. The natural frown etched into his features, lips full and pink, parted as he rasps—  

“Why the hell ain’t you in bed?” 

His voice is sleep-rough, edged with concern.  

“…’Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, “Got dressed.”

Silence. 

His thumb suddenly grazes your cheek, catching a stray tear. His touch is rough but tender, tilting your face up toward him as he grunts—  

“‘You good?” 

His hand dwarfs your face, fingers tipping your chin up further. You blink up at him through damp lashes, lips curling into a soft smile despite the lingering tears. 

“‘Was just talkin' to our little family," you say, thumb brushing the camera lens gently—“They miss you." 

“I miss you in bed," he counters, voice a low, sleep-rough rumble that sends heat prickling up your neck.  

A breathless giggle escapes you as you glance at the time.

“Baby, it’s barely noon.” 

Your fingers catch his wrist, tugging lightly—“Come sit with me?" 

He hesitates—then shakes his head, jaw tightening slightly.

“I’ll ‘show face in a bit," he grunts, “‘Gotta shower first." 

“And then you’ll come?" 

"Mhm." 

The affirmation is gruff, but his grip on your chin tightens as he suddenly leans down, claiming your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss—tongue dragging slow over your bottom lip before pulling away with a wet pop. 

And then, he’s gone.

You sigh playfully, shaking your head with a knowing smile as you watch him stalk off—"That's him in a good mood," you murmur, rolling your eyes affectionately before your expression shifts—mischief sparking in your gaze.  

“Well, what he doesn't know is I've got a little surprise.” 

You bite your bottom lip, fingers tapping against your thigh.

"For him... and you guys."

 A sly wink, “You know I can't come on here without giving y'all the other part of our channel." 

With that, you hop up from the sofa—bare feet padding silently across the sun-warmed terracotta floors as you tiptoe through the sprawling Mediterranean villa.  

The outdoor shower comes into view—a stunning mosaic of turquoise and deep cobalt tiles, sunlight dappling through the latticework. The sound of rushing water meets your ears first, then—  

Him. 

Eren stands fully nude beneath the spray—a masterpiece of masculine power carved in ink and muscle. Water sluices down the hard planes of his tattooed chest, his biceps flexing as he runs a hand through his dark, wet hair—pushing it back just enough to reveal the sharp cut of his jaw, the sinful curve of his mouth. Droplets cling to his long lashes, framing those deep green eyes as he tips his head back, throat working as the water cascades over him.  

His body is ridiculous—abs like forged steel, thick thighs taut with restrained strength. And then—there. Between his legs, heavy and full even at rest, his cock hangs thick against his thigh, the flushed tip glistening under the water. 

You carefully prop the camera up, angling it perfectly to capture the outdoor shower's decadent scene before slipping the sheer coverup from your shoulders—letting it pool at your feet in a whisper of fabric. Your neon orange bikini clings to every curve as you step under the arched entrance, hips swaying with playful purpose as you approach his towering frame.

The moment your arms slide around his waist—lips pressing a teasing kiss to the small of his water-slick back—his entire body tenses. Then, slowly, he turns. 

One large hand cups your chin, tilting your face up as he looms over you—those hunter-green eyes dark with warning. 

“Du kleine Unruhestifterin," he murmurs, voice rough. 

You little troublemaker.

His tongue lolls out lazily—a silent command. You obey instantly, your own tongue slipping past your lips to meet his. The slide of them together pulls a shudder from you, your eyes rolling back as he deepens the kiss with a growl—claiming your mouth like he owns it. Because he does.

When you finally pull away—giving his bottom lip one last tug between your teeth—the noise he makes is pure animal. A deep, possessive grunt that sends heat spiraling through your core. You giggle, high and breathless, licking the taste of him from your lips.

“Be nice," you whisper, fluttering your lashes up at him—equal parts angel and devil. 

His fingers thread through your French curls, gently cradling your head as he tucks your giggles against his chest—the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Then, finally, he turns his gaze toward the camera—voice a low, affectionate rumble. 

“She’s always been good at persuadin’ me.” 

You drape your arms around his neck, pressing your body flush against his as your giggles bubble up—tits bouncing against him playfully. 

“‘You happy now? You love all our babies?" you chirp. 

His response is a deep, vibrating ”Mhm," as his hands slide down to grip your hips possessively. You snuggle closer, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder with a satisfied hum, breathing in his scent—sandalwood, something distinctly him. 

But while you're nestled against him like a content kitten, Eren has other plans. His lips quirk in that cocky half-smile as he mouths “I lied," directly at the camera—his wink full of mischief before he nuzzles back into you, knowing damn well what he just did.  

The camera now cuts to a sprawling deep green sofa bed in a sun drenched corner of the villa, where you're sprawled out in nothing but a skimpy gold bikini—back arched, hips tilted, ass up—your skin glistening under the Caribbean light.  

You pout dramatically at the lens, running your hands over your thighs. 

“Ugh, I swear I won’t get a full tan here!” you whine, twisting to show the untouched skin of your inner thighs—your fingers tracing the faint tan lines with exaggerated frustration.  

Before you can continue your lament, a sharp smack! echoes through the room—Eren’s palm landing firmly on your ass, making the flesh jiggle. 

”Move," he rumbles, already nudging you aside—his natural dominance taking over as he manspreads onto the sofa bed like he owns it. His tattoos flex under the golden light, one thick thigh nudging yours apart as he settles in. 

Your lips purse into an exaggerated pout, eyes fluttering up at him with faux hurt.

“You're being mean.”

Eren's stares. His index finger then crooks, wagging you closer with that effortless, commanding ease that always makes your stomach flip. You slide toward him, hips swaying playfully, until his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss—quick but deep, his tongue swiping possessively over yours before pulling away with a wet smack.

“Tut mir leid, Schatz," he rumbles—I'm sorry, baby—his rough German apology curling around your ears like smoke.  

You grin at the camera, freckles standing out against your brown skin as you rub your hands up and down Eren’s tattooed forearms. 

“Guess what we have?" you chirp, excitement bubbling in your tone.  

Eren arches a brow, his deep voice dry. 

“Fan mail?" 

"Fan mail!" you squeak, immediately digging into the pretty stack of envelopes beside you—tied together with a silk ribbon. You pluck one out, scanning it before correcting, “Fan question, actually." 

Clearing your throat, you read aloud—

“'I love you both so much—your dynamic, the way you tease each other, how passionate you are...Awe!” You pause, pressing a hand to your chest, touched. 

“'Okay, okay—so, I'm kind of shy asking this, but I'm in a relationship, and my boyfriend loves when I ride him, but I...don't really know what to do? Any tips?'"

Your lips curl into a sly grin as you shift your hips against Eren’s thigh, fingers drumming playfully on his chest.

“So, let’s talk about cowgirl—fun fact, it actually dates waaaay back," you purr, eyes sparkling with mischief.  

“…Some historians trace it to ancient tantric texts, others say it was practically sacred in certain cultures—but let’s be real," your curls sway as you tilt your head, “The real magic? ‘How many ways you can make this classic feel brand new." 

Eren’s palm thwaps your ass lightly—a silent get on with it. 

“There are several—yes, several—ways to ride," you announce, holding up the corresponding number of fingers, “And lucky for you..." You pat Eren’s thigh like he’s your favorite piece of gym equipment—“..I’ve got the perfect demonstrator right here."

His grunt is half-amused, half-exasperated as you swing a leg over him, straddling his lap playfully. 

“Consider this your full tutorial.”

Your posture shifts instantly—shoulders rolling back, lips parting with slow intention as your gaze locks onto Eren’s. The camera catches the way his pupils dilate just slightly when you run your tongue along your mouth, your voice dropping into that tone—the one that’s equal parts instructor and temptress.  

“Lesson one," you purr, fingertips skating up his chest, “Start with him comfortable. Relaxed." 

Your hips roll in a lazy circle against his lap, the heat between your thighs already unmistakable. 

“And obviously...hard. That’s the goal." 

You nip at his earlobe, breathing a giggle against his skin when his grip tightens on your waist.

“Baby," you murmur, dragging your tongue along the shell of his ear, “How’re you enjoying St. Lucia?”  

Eren’s jaw flexes—the only tell he’ll give you—but you feel him hardening beneath you, the thick ridge of him pressing insistently against your core. Your laugh is velvet-wrapped mischief as you grind down harder, relishing the way his breath hitches. 

“Mmm, that’s the reaction we want."

Your fingers glide over the bulging curves of his biceps, kneading the taut muscle with deliberate appreciation. 

“Aren’t you having fun with me?" you coo, batting your lashes up at him through the dark fringe of them.  

Eren’s eyes—always tracking you—darken further, his voice scraping low from his chest.

“You know how I feel bein’ here.”

“Good boy,” you softly praise, lips curling into that wicked little smile—the one that makes his jaw twitch. Your hands slide down to rub slow, teasing circles over his thick thighs, fingertips ghosting dangerously close to where he really wants them. 

“Thank you for being so...communicative.” 

Then, with a sinuous shift of your hips, you arch deeper into his lap—your gaze flicking back to the camera. 

“Now, tell me—does our birthday boy deserve something…special today?" 

The camera catches Eren perfectly—his dark hair pulled into a loose bun, those few stubborn tendrils escaping to frame his glaring, predatory expression. He’s pure power sprawled beneath you—legs spread wide, chest rising with each controlled breath—watching, waiting, like he’s deciding whether to make a move or let you play longer.  

Then—your hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

A sharp inhale. A quick tug.  

“Oh.” 

Your gasp is high, breathy, practically whiny as your big, round eyes drink him in—his cock springing free, thick,  flushed and already leaking just from your teasing.

“Look at you," you mewl, voice dripping with honeyed reverence—like he’s something sacred, "’All for me?" 

Eren’s smirk is barely there—just a twitch of those sinful lips—before his hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to his.  

“Always."

Your gaze flicks back to the camera with that signature mix of sweet and sinful—letting them in on the moment before your attention returns to him. 

“Make him ready for you first," you instruct—your lips parting slightly, tongue swiping along your bottom lip as if already tasting him.  

Eren's eyes darken, his grip tightening on your thigh.  

“’You thirsty?” he rasps. 

You nod eagerly, biting down on your plush lip with those big, pleading eyes.   

He doesn't hesitate. His calloused fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up as he spits directly into your open mouth—a thick, wet string of saliva that lands heavy on your tongue.  

“Mmm—" You swallow instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as his palm cracks against your cheek.

“Zeig’s ihnen," he growls—Show them. 

And oh, you do.  

Your tongue drags slow and filthy from the thick base of him all the way up—a long, indulgent lick that leaves a glistening trail along his length. The taste of him—pure Eren—floods your senses as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip, savoring the bead of precum that leaks onto your taste buds.  

Then—your lips part wider, sinking down onto him inch by inch until he’s pressed against the back of your throat. The sound—wet, filthy, obscene—fills the room as your nose brushes against his pelvis, swallowing around him with deliberate patience.  

Eren’s groan is low and rough, fingers tightening in your hair as he mutters something in German—praise or a curse, you can’t tell—but the way his hips twitch upward tells you everything you need to know.  

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

Your movements grow desperate, hungry—swollen lips struggling to stretch around his impossible girth, every inch of him throbbing against your tongue as you hollow your cheeks and force yourself deeper. The sounds you make—tiny, choked mewls turning into breathless whimpers—only spur him on. His cock hits the back of your throat, again and again, the slick slap of skin against skin filling the air as you drool around him, spit dripping messily down your chin.  

When you finally pull away—gasping, lips shiny and ruined—you whine at the loss, your fingers immediately wrapping around what your mouth couldn’t take. Both hands jerk him off in tight, twisting strokes—your tongue darting out to swirl around his leaking tip, collecting the thick beads of precum and licking them up like a starving little thing.  

Eren’s voice is ragged, his German words rough and guttural—“So verdammt gierig..." 

“So greedy..." you translate breathlessly, giggling around his cock like it’s something adorable, something sweet, despite the filth dripping from your chin. Then? You’re practically bobbing your palms around his dick, going even lower than before. 

Eren’s thighs tense, muscles straining beneath ink-stained skin as he curses, fingers tightening in your curls.

“Fuck—" His head tilts back, jaw clenched, as he uses your palms—hips lifting off the bed to fuck up into your hand with sharp, punishing thrusts. You mewl once more as your mouth follows back onto his tip—sucking, sucking down. The camera catches it all—his dominance, your submission, the sinful wetness of every thrust as you put your mouth back on him—until finally, with a growl that rumbles through your bones, he yanks you off with a filthy pop. 

“Enough."  

Your lips are parted, panting, still aching for him—but his grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to meet his gaze.  

“You want to ride?" He rasps, “‘Come fuckin’ ride me.” 

“Mm, baby—“ you mewl, “This is a tutorial, shouldn’t we—“

Eren’s response is interrupting—his thick fingers hooking into the flimsy fabric of your bikini bottoms, yanking them aside with a roughness that makes your breath hitch. The sudden slap of his palm against your pussy—sharp, mean—has your hips jerking forward with it.  

“Keep goin’ then," he growls, fingers beginning to rub rough circles over your swollen clit, his other hand gripping your ass cheek tight enough to bruise. 

“Talk.” 

Your body shudders, thighs trembling as you struggle to stay composed—your giggles turning into more breathless whimpers, your voice wavering but still playful as you turn back to the camera.  

“O—Okay, so—once he’s ready," you stutter, cheeks flushed deep bronze, “You just—ah!—sink down on him—slow, okay?” You bite your lip, "Especially if—mmf!—if you’ve got someone as big as my 'Ren—“ 

Eren grunts, dragging the slick, flushed head of his cock through your dripping folds—letting the camera catch the obscene wetness coating him before he smacks your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint.  

“Ain’t nobody as big as me," he snarls, voice thick with arrogance—his grip tightening on your waist as he lines himself up, the heavy tip of him pressing teasingly against your entrance. 

“Bring it to me.” 

Your hand reaches back, fingers curling into the flesh of his thigh as you lock eyes with the camera—your lips parting around a shaky exhale as you begin to sink down onto him.  

Eren’s grip shifts suddenly—his calloused fingers seizing your jaw, forcing your face to stay angled toward the lens as he tugs you down with relentless pressure. The stretch is unreal—your walls clenching around his thick cock inch by inch as your breath hitches in your throat.  

Your eyes roll back—voice slurring as you try to keep instructing through the haze of pleasure, "Y—You wanna—mmf—take all of it—" 

Eren’s his hips jerk up hard, forcing another inch inside—his voice thick with arrogance, “You feelin’ me?” 

You whimper, hands gripping his thighs as you force yourself down, your slick walls yielding around him until your ass meets his hips—fully seated. Your face twists—lips parted in a silent moan, eyes squeezing shut before fluttering open to find him instead of the camera.  

And then—God—your folds spurt a fresh rush of cream against him, your body betraying you completely as you lose all semblance of control, trembling in his lap.  

“Look at you,” he rasps, “Actin’ like a big fuckin’ girl, little one.” 

Your arms snake around his neck, clinging to him as you press a soft, pleading kiss to his lips—whispering against them in Creole, just for him—“Lèt mwen mennen, chéri..."

Let me lead, baby… 

Eren hesitates—his dark eyes searching yours—before he exhales sharply through his nose. He pulls back just enough to guide your palms onto his chest, lips pressing against your ring, to both of your palms in turn—a silent permission—before his arms drop to his sides, muscles taut with restraint.  

“‘Go ‘head.” 

Your voice then lilts sweetly, hips rolling in slow, teasing circles against his lap.  

“Okay, so first—warm up," you murmur, fingers threading through the loose tendrils of his dark hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw clench.  

“You wanna start slow," you breathe, eyelashes fluttering—though your breath hitches when he twitches inside you, thick and impatient. 

“It's all about—mm—connection..." 

You whine a little—high-pitched, adorable—your folds clutching desperately at his cock with every tiny shift.  

“T—Take your time adjusting," you instruct shakily, though it sounds more like you're reminding yourself—your thighs trembling as you rise up until just the tip of him remains, then sink back down with a breathy sigh.  

Eren's hands flex against the sofa—his nostrils flaring as he watches you, taunting him with your lazy pace. But he lets you lead, just like you asked—even if his teeth grind together when your nails scrape against his scalp.  

“‘Feel good, baby?” 

Eren just growls, his hips jerking up just enough to make your entire body twitch.  

“Quit playin’."

Your lips press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose—soft, sweet—and he retaliates by bumping his nose against yours in return, making you giggle breathlessly.  

“Okay,” you whisper, “First three positions—think of ‘em like gears,” you explain, hips rolling in slow, indulgent circles—your thighs flexing as you shift upward, grinding rather than bouncing.  

“First gear—easy, sensual, all about the tease.”

You demonstrate, your back arching beautifully as you rock against him—your gaze locked onto his, heavy-lidded and dripping with intent, “It’s more for your pleasure, but—” 

One of your hands lifts, twirling a loose curl around your finger—your French braids cascading over your shoulders, the scent of vanilla and sunshine clinging to them.  

“You keep his attention by making him watch.” 

Your other hand slides up your own body—fingers trailing over your collarbone before you hook them into the ties of your bikini top. With a flick, the fabric falls away—your heavy breasts bouncing free, nipples peaked and begging for touch.  

Eren’s nostrils flare, but he stays still—letting you lead, even as his cock twitches deep inside you.  

“Second gear—”

 Your breath hitches as you shift again, riding him with more purpose—your hips undulating in slow, delicious waves.  

“Third gear—” 

And then you grind, your clit rubbing firmly against the base of him with every movement. A rush of pleasure floods your senses—your walls fluttering around him as you struggle to keep your voice steady.  

“Th—This one—” You swallow hard, your words slurring slightly, “Might—mmf—hit your spots—“ 

“Yeah?”

 Eren suddenly rasps—arrogant, smug—his fingers flexing against your hips but still refusing to help.  

A desperate little whimper escapes your lips—“Y—Yeah”—as your hips roll faster, grinding against him like a toy wound too tight, chasing that sweet, throbbing pleasure building low in your belly.  

Eren stays perfectly still beneath you—just watching with those eyes, his low voice taunting as he growls,  

“C'mon, baby. Keep goin’.” 

Your breath catches—a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as your head falls back, braids cascading over your shoulders. But Eren’s fingers snap up, wrapping around your throat in a firm grip, forcing your gaze back to him.  

“Nah, nah—eyes on me," he rasps, thumb brushing your pulse point—“‘Want you to see me watchin’ you.”

Tears well in your eyes—spilling over as your climax crashes into you with a sob, your cream gushing around him, coating his balls in slick heat.  

Eren tsks—his grip tightening on your ass cheek, tugging your grinding hips right where he wants them as he murmurs low in German,  

"So schön... so verdammt schön für mich…” 

So beautiful... so fuckin’ beautiful for me… 

Your hips slow to a sensual sway, chest rising and falling with each breath as your curls tumble over your shoulders, framing your breasts like a dark halo. You glance down at Eren through your lashes, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing—but the second your arms wrap around his neck, you let out a soft,  shy giggle, turning toward the camera with a sheepish smile.  

“Oops—" you murmur, voice dripping with playful sweetness, “Didn’t mean to get so...carried away."

Eren huffs out a rough chuckle, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses between your breasts—“I love watchin’ you like that. Love watchin’ you cum like that." 

You bite your lip, suppressing another giggle before looking back at the camera—your expression shifting back into instructor mode, though your voice is still breathy from pleasure.  

“See? The three gears—always gonna get you there," you sigh, fingers threading lazily through Eren’s hair—“And trust me... your man’s gonna love it."

Your lips curl into a lazy, satisfied smile as you glance at the camera, breath still uneven.  

“Not done yet though,” you hum—“‘Might feel a little sore after that first round, so this is when you just...sit in it. Warm each other up all over again." 

Your fingers trail down to nudge Eren's chin, tipping his face up toward you—your eyes softening as you whisper, "’Love you, yeah?" 

He doesn't answer with words—just tugs your mouth down to his in a slow, deep kiss, tongues sliding together with unhurried heat. His hands roam over your back, fingers pressing possessively into the curve of your hips as you shift slightly—your folds grinding lazily along the swollen tip of him, drawing a low groan from his chest.  

Then, with a breathless shudder, you sink back down onto him—your lips parting against his in a silent gasp as he fills you completely. The kiss deepens, languid and intoxicating, until you finally pull back—turning toward the camera with flushed cheeks.  

“This one—" you pant, rocking up and down in slow, shallow motions, “—We call the lazy cowgirl. No rush, no pressure... just breathing together before the next round." 

Your hips roll in smooth, rhythmic waves—your tongue dragging teasingly along Eren's neck as you murmur against his pulse, “Keep it playful now... this one's for him." 

Your hands glide over the sculpted planes of his biceps and shoulders, fingertips tracing the ink-dark tattoos as you murmur, “You’re too handsome, baby—" between slow, rocking motions. Eren grunts through the praise, dragging you into a deep, appreciative kiss—but you feel it, the way his restraint starts crumbling, the sharp catch of his breath against your lips betraying how badly he wants to take control.  

You tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder, braids spilling like silk over his skin as you peer behind you—watching the sinuous arch of your spine, the hypnotic sway of your hips as you move atop him.  

“Okay," you exhale once more, pulling back just enough to meet the camera's gaze—your voice dripping with playful mischief, “Next positions are where it gets fun—pleasurable for both of you." 

A giggle bubbles up as you admit, “It’s a silly name, but—we call this one the shakedown.” 

And then you show it—your ass lifting slightly before shaking in slow, deliberate twists atop him, the motion making your folds clench around his cock in a way that has his fingers digging into your thighs.  

A harsh smack echoes through the room—Eren’s palm cracking against your ass cheek, leaving a stinging flush in its wake. You gasp, but don't stop—grinding down harder as he spanks you again, and again,  each sharp slap punctuated by his guttural groans.  

“Fuck—" he grits out, grip bruising as he watches your body jolt with every strike.  

You whimper through it, trembling—but your voice is a pure sultry tease as you murmur to the camera, “Your man's gonna love how this looks…’gonna turn him on completely.”

Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his naught as you continue rolling your hips in slow, decadent circles—French curls cascading like dark silk over his shoulders, tickling his chest as you tilt your head.  

“Baby...you still with me?" you tease, breathless laughter lacing your words as you nudge his temple with your nose, "’You’ve been a little quiet…”

Eren’s response is a rough blend of English and German, his voice thick with barely-restrained hunger as his palm cracks against your ass again—harder this time—forcing a sweet little “Mmph!" from your lips as you jolt forward, your mouth brushing his.  

“Scheiße—" he growls, gripping your waist as his other hand lands another stinging slap—“Du siehst so verdammt gut aus—" 

You look so fuckin’ good. 

His words dissolve into a shuddering groan as your walls clench around him, your body squeezing him in a slick, greedy rhythm. You bite your bottom lip, catching the camera’s gaze with a sultry grin—your voice dropping to a low, instructional purr.  

“Next one’s called...the swirl.” 

And then you demonstrate—your hips twisting in slow, hypnotic spirals, muscles fluttering tight around him in a way that wrings a filthy, wet sound from where you’re joined. Eren’s grip turns vicious—his cock throbbing inside you as your folds suck him deeper with every sinuous roll.  

“Goddamn, Bunny. Just like that. Shit.”  

His head is tilting back, groaning as he drags the words out.

Your breath hitches, but you keep going—grinding down in relentless circles, your body milking him with every motion as the camera captures every obscene shlick of your arousal coating him. Your hips continue their sinuous swirl, fingertips skimming the hard planes of his chest before crawling up to cradle the back of his neck possessively.  

“This is your chance to dominate.”

Eren's head stays tilted back, his hunter-green eyes locked onto yours—jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitch. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his cock twitching as your folds clench in another deliberate, milking squeeze.  

“Hell—" he grunts out, fingers digging into your hips, “That feels too fuckin’ good.”   

“Yeah?" 

“Yeah.” 

And you smile, rolling your hips in another filthy, slower, perfect circle.

Your gaze locks onto the camera as you plant your feet firmly on the sofa—tightening your thighs around his hips as your fingers drag lower, tracing the hard ridges of his abs with deliberate admiration.  

"And this—" you breathe, “—Is probably your man’s favorite. The expert cowgirl. Where you let him use you to his strength... his advantage."

Your eyes flick down to Eren, lashes fluttering as you coo, “My man’s so strong—‘can fuck me any way he wants to."*  

The second those words leave your lips, Eren’s grip shifts—his hands sliding beneath your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin of your ass as he takes control, tugging you down onto his cock with a slow, purposeful bounce. 

“This—ooh!—this’ll also hit your spots if you let it—" 

You gasp, your words fracturing as his tip drags directly over that spongey sweet spot inside you. Your eyes roll slightly—a giggle bubbling up as you try to suppress the shiver of pleasure that ripples through you.  

"That’s it," he rasps, his grip tightening as he drives you down harder, faster.

“Take it. Take it. Squeezin’ me just fuckin’ right.” 

Your thighs tremble—your folds fluttering around him as he uses you exactly how he wants, his cock pistoning into that perfect, blissful spot with every snap of his hips.  

“Eren—" you whimper, your control slipping—your body melting under the weight of his dominance.  

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Feel it.” 

Your fingers slide helplessly over the thick ridges of his biceps beneath you—and that’s when a real, broken whimper claws its way out of your throat, voice trembling as you gasp,  

“F—Feels too—mmph!—too good—" 

Eren’s response is a rough, impatient tch—his grip tightening as he growls, “You ain’t been enjoyin’ yourself enough. Hold onto me.” 

At those words? Your head lolls back, your body going pliant against him as he pounds you—his powerful thighs driving you up and down his cock in slow, devastating bounces that leave your vision hazy. Your nails dig into his forearms—your whine pitching higher, dissolving into a slurred “Mmmphfuh—!" as your words fail you completely.  

“I c—can’t think.” 

And that’s when you see it—that untamed, rough-edged side of him that follows him everywhere. The country boy who doesn’t ask, just takes—who fucks you with the same effortless dominance he carries in every other part of his life. His hands slide up to your waist, fingers bruising as he lifts you—then drops you back onto his cock with a filthy, wet slap, his hips driving up to meet you.  

“Don’t gotta think," he rasps—voice dark, mean with desire. 

“Just keep takin’ it.” 

Eren's hands lock around your hips like steel bands—his thick cock splitting you open with every brutal, upward thrust. This ain't riding anymore. This is him fucking you—claiming you—his deep southern drawl rumbling against your ear as he takes over your lesson with rough, possessive authority. 

“Last one, baby. My fuckin' favorite—the Noise Complaint.”

And God, you understand why he named it that the second his powerful thighs flex beneath you. His grip is absolute—those big, rough hands lifting your entire body with terrifying ease before slamming you back down onto his cock in slow, devastating drops. The sound is obscene—a wet, rhythmic clap of skin-on-skin that echoes off the walls, punctuated by your broken little “Ah! Ah! Ah!" with every bounce.

It’s everything that defines him—raw, unfiltered, dominance, that arrogance dialed to eleven. Clap after clap after clap—skin slapping against skin in a rhythm so loud it dares the neighbors to complain.  

“Hear that?" Eren growls, “That’s the shit I wanna hear.”

You're sobbing now—pathetic, high-pitched whines of “E—Eren!" tumbling from your swollen lips as your body betrays you, clamping down on him in helpless pleasure. 

“Take your reward for bein' such a good fuckin’ teacher.” 

Your fingers clutch at his forearms, desperation creeping into your voice as you whimper, “Baby, please—‘wanna cum in my favorite position...” 

“‘Thought it was my birthday, huh?” 

But you give him those eyes—the ones that always make him cave—your lower lip trembling as you hiccup, “Please?"

It’s almost adorable—the way you beg, your tits bouncing with every ragged breath, those big, pleading eyes. How could he say no? 

“Face first, ass up—now.” 

You scramble to obey—arching your back sexily, pressing your flushed face into the sofa cushions as you present yourself for him. The contrast is stark—your small frame dwarfed beneath his towering body, your curves trembling as you wait.  

Eren’s gaze flickers to the camera—“‘She knows how she submits in this position," he rumbles, gripping his cock at the base as he watches your folds drip for him. He drags the thick head of his dick against you, taunting you as he growls—

“Only givin’ it to you if you take all of me—no fussin’." 

You bite your lip—your fingers clenching the cushions—before spreading yourself wider for him, your voice a sweet, breathless whimper. 

“Won’t fuss... ‘promise."

His thick thumb presses down on the small of your back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch as he spreads your folds wider with his free hand. 

“All of it," he grunts—and then he sinks into you all at once, his heavy cock stretching you to the limit in one relentless push.  

You groan—a high, desperate whimper tearing from your throat as your pussy makes a wet pfft sound around him. He doesn’t let you adjust—just tugs halfway out before slamming back in, the sudden stretch making you sob adorably into the cushions.  

Again.  

Again. 

Again.  

Over and over—until the pleasure borders on discomfort, his thick shaft dragging against your walls with brutal precision.  

“Fuck," Eren curses—his voice rough as he starts bouncing you on his cock, your hips gripped tight in his hands.

“Always so fuckin’ tight.” 

His groans deepen—low, drawn-out, almost pained—as your slickness coats him completely. 

“Goddamn, you’re drownin’ me—“ he pants, hips stuttering as your pussy squelches around him with every thrust. He’s not even lifting you anymore—just pounding into you over and over, your cries turning into sweet, broken sobs as you drag his name out pitifully, “E—Erennn.” 

His breath comes jagged—his own control slipping—as he mutters again, “Fuck—you’re so wet—" 

And then—with one final, punishing thrust—he buries himself fully inside you, his hips flush against your ass.  

That’s when he moans—really moans—his voice slurring. 

“Fuhhhhckkk.” 

You whimper back—slurring messily, your words barely coherent as you press your forehead into the cushions. 

His thrusts slow as he angles his hips just right, grinding the thick head of his cock against that spot once more. 

“C'mon," he growls, voice rough with urgency, his grip tightening on your hip—“Get it out. Wanna feel you drench me—make a fuckin' mess." 

He yanks himself out, his cock glistening with your slick as he fists himself hard, head tipping back with a jagged groan.  

The sudden emptiness makes you whine—but before you can protest, his palm cracks against your ass hard, the sharp sting forcing another sob from your lips.  

“Rub that clit," he orders, his voice dark with command—“Don't stop 'til you squirt all over me." 

Your thighs tremble violently as your fingers fly to your swollen clit, circling desperately—your entire body tensing as pleasure coils too tight, too much— 

"’Ren—‘M—gonna—!" you wail, your voice breaking into a sweet, shattered sob.  

He groans—filthy and approving—his strokes on his own cock speeding up as he watches you unravel.  

“I know,” he rasps, his green eyes burning with lust. 

“Do it. Cover me." 

Your back arches violently as your climax explodes out of you—a gushing, uncontrollable flood that soaks his thighs, the sofa, everything—your pussy pulsing around nothing as you scream his name.  

Eren growls, his own release hitting him just as hard—thick ropes of cum painting your trembling ass as he groans through gritted teeth.  

“Good fuckin’ job, Bunny.”

Your body shudders as the last waves of your climax begin to ebb—but then, without warning, a different kind of release crashes over you. Soft, warm tears spill down your cheeks, catching you by surprise that you quickly wipe your face. It’s not just pleasure anymore—it’s something deeper, more needed, like your body finally surrenders to the intensity of everything you just felt.  

Eren notices immediately.  

“C'mere," he murmurs, his voice suddenly tender as he pulls you against him, ignoring the mess between you both. His large hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing away your tears as he tucks you into the safety of his chest.  

His fingers slide into your braids, stroking gently—his lips pressing against your temple in slow, soothing kisses as he whispers, “You did so fuckin’ good." 

You cling to him, your breath hitching as the last tremors of emotion—and pleasure—rush through you. His warmth, his scent, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear—it all grounds you, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety.  

“I got you,” he rumbles, “Always do.” 

Your body melts into him, boneless and spent as you curl your arms around his neck and tuck your face against his skin—hiding from the camera’s gaze, suddenly shy despite everything you’ve just shared. Eren chuckles—a deep, knowing sound—his fingers tracing idle circles against your lower back.  

“‘Never done that before,” he muses, voice rough with amusement—but there’s no teasing in it. Just warmth.  

You don’t answer—just nuzzle deeper into him, your breaths slow and steady against his chest. And like always, he adjusts—his knees bending slightly to give you what you need, his frame curling around yours protectively.  

But then—his phone rings.  

Eren tenses—his head lifting with a frustrated suck to his teeth—but before he can dismiss it, you murmur, “Might be your Korean investors, baby… take it." 

He exhales through his nose.  

"Fuckin’ timin’.”

His lips linger against your temple—warm and rough—before he rises from the sofa, his towering frame momentarily blocking the camera’s view. You curl your knees to your chest, still glistening with sweat, your wide, round eyes tracing his every movement—the way his muscles shift beneath his tattooed skin, the way his damp hair clings to the back of his neck.  

“Got me on international fuckin’ hold," he grumbles, glancing back at you with a smirk.  

A weak, breathless smile tugs at your lips.

But then your gaze sharpens, studying him—the way dominance radiates off him even now, the handsomeness etched into every sharp angle of his face—and something tender swells in your chest.  

"Need me to translate when they pick up?" you offer softly, tilting your head.  

His green eyes narrow—defensive. 

“What you tryin’ to say?" 

“That my Korean’s better than yours." 

He grabs your discarded top off the floor, entirely dismissing your insult—“Put this on," he orders, tossing it toward you.  

You catch it lazily, shrugging. 

“Not like they didn’t just watch me—"

“Bunny." 

His voice drops—a warning.  

You sigh dramatically but relent, sliding the fabric over your head as he steps closer. His fingers brush your nipples through the material—rough, possessive—before he cups your chin, kissing you briefly, firmly. 

A command, not a request.  

You don’t kiss back—just nod with another sigh, letting him suck your bottom lip once more before he pulls away, already striding out of frame. 

You tie the strings of your top back into place, smoothing the fabric down with a soft, playful smile toward the camera—your cheeks still flushed, curls tousled from Eren’s hands.  

“Hope y’all enjoyed fanmail," you hum, "It’s always fun answering your questions.”

Behind you, Eren’s deep voice rumbles in Korean—Yes, I understand. I’ll contact you after reviewing the contract again. 

You glance over just in time to see him staring directly at you—chin lifted, green eyes gleaming with challenge—as he over-enunciates each syllable, chest puffed with pride.  

You roll your eyes hard, fighting a grin as you turn back to the camera and whisper, “He’s been studying as you can tell.” 

For the next few minutes, you chat sweetly with the camera—rambling about random things, laughing as you adjust the camera angle—until Eren reappears, a rare, broad grin splitting his face.  

“They doubled the investment,” he announces, voice thick with satisfaction.  

Your hands clap together, “That’s huge, baby! I knew they’d love you.”

“Let’s celebrate,” he rumbles, already striding toward the kitchen—“‘You hungry?" 

You nod eagerly, rubbing your arms as you follow his movements—watching as he pulls open the fridge, muscles flexing under the dim kitchen lights.  

“Could make spicy pork stir-fry," he muses, glancing at you—“Or that creamy garlic shrimp you like. Maybe both."

You rest your head on your knees, watching him move through the kitchen with that effortless, masculine grace.

“Whatever your heart desires, birthday boy." 

His shoulders tense slightly—the way they always do when he’s deep in thought, jaw locked tight. You notice it instantly.  

“Mon chéri," you say softly in Creole, voice a gentle hum beneath the sizzle of the pan—"Défroncé to mâchoire—li plen de tension."

Unclench your jaw—it’s full of tension. 

“‘Force of habit.”

“You’d think you were always unhappy,” you warily murmur—which he hears of course. 

Eren pauses.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy here with you?" he counters gruffly, not looking up—but you hear it, the defensiveness. 

“‘Just wanna pick your brain," you admit, tracing idle circles on your knee—“Feels like if I don’t...I lose you a little." 

Eren stills. Then, finally, he turns—his green eyes meeting yours, really meeting them, as he sets the knife down.  

“Alright," he rumbles, “Pick, then.” 

You let out a slow sigh, chewing your bottom lip as you search for the right words—your fingers twisting together in your lap. 

“We’ve been in St. Lucia for a while now,” you start, “After everything—the chaos, the traveling, the proposal,” Your lips curl into a soft smile at the memory—"I’m so happy here, ‘Ren. It’s everything I never knew I needed. But..." 

Your throat tightens—because the unspoken thing hangs between you, heavy and undeniable.  

“…I just need to know you’re happy too," you finally say, fingers pressing into your knees—“That nothing’s...disappointed you.  

Eren’s expression darkens—not in anger, but in fierce disagreement as he steps closer, crowding your space, his rough palms cupping your face.  

“Listen t’ me," he rumbles, “There’s nothin’ more I could ask for. You—this—us—" His thumb swipes at your mouth, “You’re my fuckin’ world, woman.”

You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you exhale softly—nodding as you whisper, “Okay." 

His hands grip your hips roughly, lifting you just enough to smack your ass—the sharp crack making your body jump as he growls, “Let's have some fun, yeah?"

A soft laugh bubbles up in your throat, but before you can respond, he’s already moving—grabbing a glass, rummaging through the fridge.  

“Want me to make you a drink?" he offers, half-turned toward you, already reaching for a bottle of rum.  

You shake your head, “You're an amazing cook, baby—not the best bartender. ‘M fine." 

“Oh?" His head snaps towards you, “So now my drinks ain’t good enough?" 

He turns back towards the fridge grabbing fresh fruit, mint, and crushed ice.  

“Gonna’ make you eat those words," he mutters—but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. 

You grab the camera, following him into the kitchen with quiet steps—propping it up at the perfect angle to capture this moment. The lens frames him perfectly—his broad shoulders, the way his muscles flex as he bends into the fridge, rummaging for ingredients. You press yourself against his back, molding your body into the warmth of his frame, breathing him in.  

Eren chuckles—a low, rumbling sound—before reaching his arm back, large hand cradling your head gently. He tilts his face toward yours, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.  

"Love you too," he murmurs against your mouth before pulling away, returning to his mission—citrus fruit in hand, determined to prove his bartending skills.   

“I’m really okay without a drink," you say softly.  

Eren immediately shoots you a frown. 

“We’ve been in St. Lucia for a month," he points out, voice dripping with faux sadness—“And you haven’t drank with me in two whole weeks. What’s goin’ on, huh? I thought you loved me?” 

“Pregnant women can’t drink, baby." 

Eren freezes. 

His hands still—mid-squeeze of a lime—juice dripping forgotten onto the counter.  

Slowly, he turns—his green eyes locking onto yours, darker than you’ve ever seen them.  

“Bunny," he says—just that—his voice a growl, rough with shock.  

You nod—shuddering out a nervous giggle—your fingers twisting together.  

“…Yeah." 

And then—his hands are on you, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his forehead presses to yours—his breath uneven.  

“Fuck," he rasps—and for the first time in years, Eren Yeager sounds shaken.

“How long?" he rasps, voice rough with emotion.

You bite your lip, exhaling shakily. 

“Remember... when we first got here?” you murmur, brushing your thumbs over his wrists, “I cried because I wanted dragonfruit—and you scoured the whole island trying to find one?" 

A slow realization flickers in his eyes—because you don’t crave things like that. Not randomly. Not desperately. 

“…I knew something was off then," you admit softly, “Took a test a few days later...and I—" Your voice cracks slightly, “I didn’t believe it. ‘Thought I was seeing things. So I waited. ‘Took another one. And another." 

Eren’s jaw clenches—his breathing uneven—but you can see it in his eyes, the way his mind races, piecing together every moment, every mood swing, every sign.

“I’m sorry," you whimper, pressing your forehead harder against his, “I was so scared it was a false positive—‘didn’t want you to get your hopes up just for it to be nothing." 

His grip shifts—one hand sliding down to press against your stomach, his palm huge against you, like he’s already trying to feel what’s growing there. 

“When the doctors told me I was possibly infertile…it terrified me—not just because of what it meant for us, but because... I realized how much I wanted this. How much I wanted your baby." 

A tear slips free, trailing down your cheek as you continue, words spilling out in a fragile rush—  

“But Korea’s so far from home, ‘Ren. All our family’s back in New Orleans, and I—" Your breath hitches, “I want my momma through this. I want her with me when I’m scared, when I don’t know what’s happening to my body. I wanna be home. But I also don’t wanna be away from you—not for a single second of this.” 

Your throat tightens, another wave of fear crashing over you—  

“And our supporters... our careers... I’m scared of shutting ourselves away from the love we’ve built. I just don’t wanna feel alone—“

“Stop," he orders, voice raw with conviction, “Stop worryin’—right fuckin’ now. You hear me?" 

His grip tightens, eyes burning into yours—  

“I’d burn down whole goddamn countries for you. For this baby. You wanna go home? We’re goin’.You want your momma? I’ll carry her ass to Korea myself. You scared of bein’ alone? Not happenin’—not as long as I’m breathin’." 

A shuddering little cry escapes you—but Eren doesn’t let you crumble. He crushes you to his chest, his heartbeat thundering against your ear as he rasps—  

“You’re mine. This baby’s mine. Not distance, careers, not anythin’ will stop me from takin’ care of you.”

You mewl “I love you" against his lips in a tearful, trembling kiss—his mouth crashing into yours with a devotion so deep, it vibrates through your entire body. The heat of his hands cradling your face—every touch radiates pure, unfiltered love.  

Pulling back slightly, you turn your watery gaze toward the camera, your damp lashes fluttering as Eren ducks his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply—like he’s memorizing your scent, grounding himself in you.  

“We’re having a baby," you beam, voice thick with emotion, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.  

Eren lifts his head, eyes locking onto the camera—determined, possessive—before he gruffly murmurs, “Y’all been with us through everything. ‘No way we go through this without you. Expect more content—a lot more." 

Your breath catches—“You sure?" you whisper, searching his face.  

He nods without hesitation, “‘Only want you happy, Bunny.” 

And then—without warning—you launch yourself into him, legs wrapping around his waist as you giggle, “We’re having a babyyy!” 

Eren grunts as he catches you effortlessly, a playful growl rumbling in his chest as he clutches your body tight—“Let’s go see if we can get you pregnant twice.” 

Your laughter echoes as he carries you down the hallway—your limbs tangled around him—and with one last breathless “Bye!" from you, the screen flickers, dissolving into static as the camera shuts off in a nostalgic fade.  

[6slux]

🌺🍹🥥

[forriku-deactivated20260315]

୨୧ megumi teaching his shy gf how to ride him for the first time . . .

you’re curled up on megumi’s lap on the couch, legs tucked under you, his arms loose around your waist while the movie drones on. you keep fidgeting, cheeks hot, heart hammering. finally you hide your face in his neck and mumble it against his skin.

“gumi… can we... try something?”

he stills, thumb pausing where it was rubbing your hip. “hm?”

“i... i want to ride you” you whisper, shy but determined. “you always make me feel so good… want to make you feel good too. please?”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, dark blue eyes softening. a faint flush dusts his cheekbones, but his voice stays low and steady. “yeah? you sure, baby?”

when you nod, biting your lip, he exhales through his nose and kisses you slow, gentle, like he’s savoring it. “then let’s go. i’ll take care of you.”

. . . that’s how you end up naked in his bed ten minutes later, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard, black hair messy from your fingers, pale chest already flushed. his cock is heavy and hot against your slick folds, tip leaking, curving up toward his stomach. thick, flushed angry red, veins standing out along the shaft, and the sight alone makes your thighs tremble.

megumi grips your hips gently, guiding you up. “hold it at the base for me, baby. yeah— just like that.” his voice is calm, but you hear the strain when your shaky hand wraps around him.

you line him up, notch the fat head at your dripping entrance, and he stops you before you sink down.

“slow,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back. “let yourself stretch around me. don’t just drop.”

your face was burning but you nod anyway, biting your lip, and start to sink on him.

the first breach makes your breath hitch— his cockhead popping past your tight ring, spreading you obscenely wide.

it burns in the best way, your slick little hole fluttering, trying to swallow him deeper. inch by inch he disappears inside you, walls clinging greedily, juices dripping down his length and soaking his balls.

when your ass finally meets his thighs you’re both panting, your pussy stuffed so full you can feel him in your throat.

“fuck,” he breathes, head tipping back for a second before those sharp eyes lock on where you’re joined. “h-hahh.. there we go... taking me so well just to make me feel good.”

you whimper, trying to rock, but he stills you with firm hands. “slowly, love.” he slides one palm up your belly, pressing just below your navel. “feel that? that’s my cock inside you. all the way up here.”

“g-gumi, that’s— nngghh!” you whine, the pressure makes you clench hard, a filthy wet sound filling the room as more slick gushes out around him.

megumi groans softly, hips twitching. “good girl. now move— roll your hips. nice and slow.”

you do, tentative at first, grinding in small circles. every drag of his cock against your walls lights sparks behind your eyes, the thick ridge of his head catching on that spot that makes you see stars. your hands brace on his chest, nails digging into pale skin as you find a rhythm— up until just the tip stays inside, then sinking back down with a wet slap, his balls smacking against your ass.

“that’s it..” he rasps, voice rougher now. “ride me just like that. fuck— you’re so tight, baby, creaming all over me already.”

his gaze drops again, watching your puffy pink folds split open around him, clit swollen and glistening. “shit, you’re swallowing me whole.”

your thighs burn, but you can’t stop— bouncing harder and faster, chasing the heat coiling low in your belly. every drop down forces a soft grunt from his throat, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you so wide you feel split in half.

tears prick your eyes from the overwhelming fullness, but it’s so good, so fucking good.

megumi sits up suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist, mouth latching onto a nipple. he sucks hard, teeth grazing, and you cry out, hips stuttering. “keep going,” he growls against your skin, tongue flicking. “you’re doing so good.”

you sob his name, riding him faster now, the bed creaking under you. your pussy flutters, walls clamping down as you get closer, slick running down his shaft in sticky rivulets, pooling on his pelvis. he thrusts up to meet you once, twice, gentle but deep, and that’s all it takes.

“megumi—!” you wail, back arching as you come, cunt spasming wildly, gushing around him in hot pulses. he curses low and deep, hips bucking as your release milks him, and then he’s cumming too— thick ropes of cum flooding your insides, painting your walls white, leaking out around his base with every sloppy thrust he gives to ride it out.

you collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard, his cock still twitching inside your oversensitive cunt. megumi kisses your temple, fingers stroking your back in slow soothing lines.

“did you feel good...?” you asked, voice breathy against his neck.

“felt so good, baby,” he whispers, his voice soft again as he press a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “it’s my turn now, yeah?”

and then he was flipping you onto your back. “wanna make my girl feel good too.”

© dearsei — do not copy, translate or reupload my works anywhere !!

[otakufilms]

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

dogtooth. eren.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—7.0K, onlyfans!contentcreatorcouple!, originalblackfem!reader, boyfriend!erenyeager, bubblyslightlybimbo!femreader, gymrat!eren, gymrat!femreader, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!eren, aggressive!eren, dominant!eren, gruff!eren, sweet!eren, submissive!eren, size kink!, pet names!baby!bunny!, kitchen counter!sex, pussy eating!, face slapping!, fingering!, foot rubbing!, slightly aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, riding!, missionary!, stand and carry fuck! squirting!, creaming, condomless sex, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— …it’s me again. i’m kinda obsessed w/ them? idk. somebody chain me up. part three of a new couple unlocked—part’s one + two, here. here. enjoy, love you. muah.

૮₍ ៸៸ ᵜ ก ₎ა

…..piscesbimbobunny is now live!

CINNAMON DUSTED FRECKLES FLUSH AN APPLE RED BENEATH THE STUDIO LIGHTS, CHEEKS ROUND AS YOUR GIGGLES FILL THE AIR BEFORE YOU EVEN PRESS RECORD.

The lens flickers to life, capturing the sprawling luxury villa kitchen in Seoul, Korea—warm golden light spilling over marble countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances. The space is immaculate but lived-in; half-opened bags of Korean snacks clutter the island, a bottle of soju sits half-finished near the stove, and two wine glasses still glisten with condensation from earlier sips.  

Behind the camera, your boyfriend's deep voice rumbles—rough but tender—“Check connection for me, baby.” 

Then? You stumble into frame with clumsy giggles—dark curls bouncing as you adjust your lace camisole— sweetheart neckline hugging heavy tits that threaten to spill over, your dimples digging deep when you flash a wave at the chat already flooding in. 

BUNNY AND EREN ARE BACK! 

You play innocent, batting anime-thick lashes as you plop onto the stool beside Eren. He’s in a stupidly tight black tee that strains over his tattooed arms, fiddling with an apron string you’ve forced around his waist.

“‘Chat says ‘happy anniversary’”, his low voice rumbles, “‘Said they miss us.”

You lean into the camera, eyes sparkling with genuine emotion as your hands clasp together. 

“Awe—we missed you too, babies! Thank you so much for all the sweet messages—seriously, you guys have been so good to us." 

Your lips purse in a playful pout as you exhale dramatically, “Eren and I have just been...away, y'know? Enjoying each other." 

You perk up again, “But guess what? Thanks to all your support—” You clap excitedly, “A brand reached out to partner with him on meal prep kits!" 

The chat explodes instantly—

’REN DESERVES IT!

Eren rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish despite his usual rough exterior—deep voice dropping even lower, “Thanks, everyone. But I wouldn’t have ‘none of this shit without you, baby."

That’s all it takes for you to melt entirely. 

With a soft whimper, you grab his chin and smother him in sugary little kisses between giggles until he grunts—startled but amused as you bounce onto his lap unannounced.

“Okay, so—I know we usually keep things…spicy for you guys," you tease, tapping one painted nail against his chest, “But in all honesty? ‘Ren likes us a little more private off camera."

Eren being Eren, squeezes at your hips in a way that means agreement—“But since you guys have been so supportive from day one? We figured—let's switch it up today!"

You slide off his lap—ignoring his reflexive tch at the loss of warmth— sashaying toward the counter with a natural sway of hips, bending just enough to give the chat an eyeful of your mini skirt before reaching into sleek bamboo drawers to pull out ingredients for hotteok ; a Korean stuffed pancake that was Eren's latest culinary obsession.

A bag of brown sugar glitters under studio lights alongside cinnamon sticks and roasted walnuts waiting to be crushed into filling. You brandish them like prizes toward the lens with dimpled glee, “We're making dessert tonight. And while we do?"

You pop onto tiptoes over the marble countertop, “Ask us anything you wanna know!”

Eren moves with that quiet, focused intensity of his—rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before deftly retying his bun, a few dark strands escaping to frame his sharp features. His hunter-green eyes flicker over the ingredients like he’s assessing a battlefield, methodical as always.  

“Baby—we should’ve gotten you a bigger size.” 

His grunt is exasperated—“This was the biggest size.” 

Cue your instant giggle as you tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal those unfairly sculpted abs—deep ink swirling across taut muscle.

“Four months of chicken and keto,” you announce,“And somehow? He’s even bigger.” 

“Imma’ heavy man, baby.”

He murmurs those words to you—leaning down to then catch your tongue between his teeth—just long enough for you to melt into a sweet little whimper against his lips.  

You pull back with mock sternness, patting his chest—“Okay, focus.” 

But your little smile ruins it entirely. 

“Go ahead, Chef.” 

His deep voice takes on that teaching cadence—patient but firm as he walks through mixing the dough as the first step. Meanwhile, you bounce on your toes beside him until your eyes flicker to chat again and light up—“Ooh! First question—” You tilt the phone screen toward Eren, “‘How did we meet?’”   

A soft smile curls over your lips as nostalgia hits.

“Hm…‘bout five years ago? Back in Baton Rouge…” 

You glance at Eren like you’re sharing a secret—already giggling at the memory,  “‘Ren was an exchange student looking for food outside of the dining hall at LSU.” 

He smirks, but doesn’t deny it.

“I thought he was so mean at first. All eyebrows and grumbles,” —your impression of early days Eren has the chat flooding —“‘Til I dragged him to this lil' Cajun spot off campus—”

Eren interrupts dryly while kneading dough—“She lied ‘bout how far it was.”

Your gasp is tiny—“So dramatic, it was one extra block!” 

His chuckle says otherwise, but when you press closer? His free arm wraps around your waist automatically—like even now? He still needs touch confirmation you're really there. Your fingers pause mid-air as you sprinkle cinnamon, a wistful smile softening your face.

 "Funny thing—back then, English wasn't even my first language," you admit softly, dusting sugar off your hands, “Fresh off the bayou with more Creole in my mouth than proper sentences." 

A quiet hum leaves Eren's throat—his hands never stopping their rhythmic kneading of dough as he listens like he's hearing it for the first time again.

"I didn’t talk to anybody at LSU ‘til this big ol' grumpy German exchange student kept popping up at my study hall—“ you nudge his shoulder playfully— “…’Ren learned Creole just to talk to me.” 

Eren shakes his head but doesn’t deny it—knuckles brushing flour onto the counter with practiced ease. His voice rumbles low when he finally speaks, “You said ‘Ça va?’ to me every damn mornin’. Only thing I understood was that pretty ass voice.”  

You lean toward the camera with a grin, translating for chat—“Ça va? means, How are you? in Creole.”  

A giggle bubbles up as you add, “And I was just being polite!”  

Eren lowly chuckles, “Kept thinkin’ if I learned her language, she’d finally look at me,” he admits—voice gruff but fond, “Took me weeks just to get her to stop dodgin’ my eyes.” 

His thumb brushes your chin in a quick reenactment of that first time he got your full attention—his smirk widening when you instinctively tilt into his touch even now.  

“Then? She agreed to one date and never left after.”   

The teasing glint in his eyes returns as he adds dryly—“I was real scrawny back then though—probably wasn’t even her type.” 

“That’s not true!" Your pout could rival a child's tantrum, “I loved you the same, even when your arms were noodles.”

You huff dramatically before melting against him again, muffling into his shoulder, “‘Sides…you were always pretty."

Eren’s voice drops to that low, rough murmur as he leans in—“You’re pretty.”  

The simple words have your cinnamon-dusted freckles darkening immediately, even as you bite back a smile and turn toward the camera again.  

“Oh—this one asks, ‘Wait, Eren’s German?’” 

You nod, “He is! But ‘difference is—his first language was English since his mom was American. ‘Still fluent in German, though.” 

You shoot him a playful side eye while kneading dough next to him, “He acts like it's not a big deal.” 

The chat erupts instantly with demands.

SAY SOMETHING IN GERMAN, ‘REN!

Eren exhales through his nose like they’re personally inconveniencing him, flicking flour off his hands and leaning toward the mic on impulse— 

“Ihr könnt mich alle mal.’” 

His tone drips with playful arrogance before adding flatly—“Means ‘happy anniversary.’” 

Of course, the chat floods with—

LIAR! THAT MEANS ‘YOU ALL CAN SUCK IT!’ 

Eren's deep voice guides you through the next steps—“Dough needs to rest. Brown sugar filling next." 

But between instructions? His hands grow distracted—cupping your jaw to steal slow, lazy kisses against your flour-dusted lips like he needs the contact more than air. Your murmured Love you’s slip out between each press of mouths—natural as breathing, forgotten mid-sentence when his teeth catch your lower lip just to feel you shiver. 

When you finally peel away to check the chat again, a nervous giggle escapes at the new question.

“First time you had sex? How was it?” 

You scratch idly at Eren’s scalp as he leans into your touch like a contented predator before answering softly—“‘Ren took my virginity. Wasn’t ‘til a year into dating, actually.” 

A sheepish shrug follows—“We weren't always…like this."

Your fingers slow in Eren’s hair as you process the comment—Touchy as y’all are, that’s a shock!

A soft sigh escapes you.

“Yeah…well, it wasn't always like this, either.”

Your thumb strokes absently at his temple while he nuzzles into your shoulder—his arms tightening around your waist in that grounding way of his. Always reading you.  

“Early days? ‘Ren was the clingy one—” You grin when he grunts against your skin—"And I was…the opposite.” 

Your voice quiets slightly, eyes flickering down to where his hands grip you like a vow.

“My family raised me with discipline—traditional values, not much affection. Sometimes even a hug from him made me freeze up."  

The confession sticks briefly in your throat before Eren gently rocks you side-to-side—wordlessly pulling you back to the present just by existing.

You giggle then; wet but warm—“But ‘Ren's family? They shove love right in your face." 

Your thumb swipes over his smirk, “Taught me to crave it.” 

Eren doesn’t say anything, just pressing a kiss below your ear that says everything anyway. 

His voice rumbles against your shoulder in rough German— “Ich liebe dich.”

You don’t need to look at him to know his expression—softened only for you. Your smile blooms instinctively as you translate for chat, fingers still buried in his hair—“He said ‘I love you.’”  

The moment lingers before Eren clears his throat and redirects—all business again. 

“Dough should be ‘proofed by now. Roll it out—stuffin’ goes in the center before sealing.” 

His hands guide yours briefly over the flour-dusted counter, demonstrating the motion with practiced ease.

A new question flashes on screen.

What’s the hardest part of being in the adult industry?

Eren answers before you can even glance up from shaping dough balls —voice sharpening like a blade unsheathed, “Outside of the judgment? The fuckin’ invasion. I can come on here and fuck my girl ‘cause that’s what we enjoy doin’.”

His thumb swipes sugar off your bottom lip possessively — “But that doesn’t change an ounce of respect I have for her. And sure as hell doesn’t mean randoms get to forget it either.”

He leans into the mic deliberately; tone dropping to something dangerously quiet—“Boundaries exist for a reason.” 

The tension breaks when you nonchalantly pop a walnut piece into his scowling mouth — unfazed as ever while kneading another pancake round between sticky fingers.

Comments flood the chat as expected.

TEA?

Your fingers pause mid-knead, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as the memories bubble up—unwanted but unavoidable.  

“Alright, so—there was this one time,” you begin, rolling the dough between your palms, “We took my family to Turks and Caicos—supposed to be all pristine beaches and stiff drinks, yeah?”  

Eren’s jaw tightens beside you before he even hears the rest—already knowing where this is going.  

“Guy recognizes us at dinner.” 

You shrug, voice flat now.

“Now—my folks already side-eye my whole career enough as it is,” a bitter little laugh escapes you—“So we politely declined when the man asked for a photo with us.”  

Your grip on the wooden spoon tightens involuntarily as your tone drops lower, “Then this nig—” 

You cut yourself off briefly before forcing composure back in place—“‘Had the nerve to lean over our food, grinning about how he wanted me to ride him while ‘Ren watched.”

You raise an eyebrow at chat exploding with—

AND WHAT DID EREN DO? 

You flick flour off your fingers nonchalantly before looking dead into the lens—“Baby…what do you think a six-foot-four rage case does when someone disrespects his woman in front of her parents?” 

That silence speaks louder than any graphic retelling ever could.

“Let's just say I’m banned from Turks and Caicos." 

Your response is almost instantaneous— “He's being dramatic. ‘Ren damn near flipped the table when he got up and the man took off—we ended up being escorted from the restaurant ‘cause Hulk wouldn't calm down.”

Eren flexes his biceps with an exaggerated grunt—“He wasn’t ready for all this pure muscle of chicken and keto!" 

He smacks your ass so hard it echoes, making you jolt with a glare.  

“What’s the next step for the hotteok, boy?" 

“You'll never know if you keep up that attitude."

“Y—“ you shoot daggers at him, “Eren Yeager.” 

The way you say his full name makes him chuckle darkly before relenting, explaining the frying process with amusement lacing every word.

Then chat distracts you again.

Favorite thing about each other?

You perk up instantly, batting those anime lashes at him—“Ooh, What's your favorite thing about me?"

His answer comes without hesitation—rough hands gripping your waist as he murmurs against your neck, “‘S how softhearted you stay, even when life tries to steal it from you."

Funny enough, your heart softens in that moment. He didn’t do sentimental well—but when he did? It wrecked you every time.

Eren murmurs low, his voice thick with something tender—“S’your turn, Bunny.” 

Your lashes flutter as you exhale softly. 

“The way you take care of me… I never feel unsafe with you.”  

His expression shifts—eyes darkening with that rare, unfiltered devotion. He leans in to press a slow kiss against the curve of your neck, lips dragging deliberately along your skin like he’s memorizing the taste of you all over again.  

You squirm when his jaw tickles, giggling breathlessly before nudging him— “C’monnn’, we gotta finish these treats or they won’t be ready for dessert!”  

Eren scoops a bit of the cinnamon-brown sugar filling onto the back of his palm, raising it to your lips with a gruff murmur to the camera—  

“Family tradition. Gotta’ make sure it’s sweet enough.”

You don’t just taste it—you indulge. Your tongue drags slowly along his skin before sucking his finger fully into your mouth, lips working around him in a way that has Eren growling low in his chest.  

The second you release him, he yanks you into a searing kiss by your waist—all teeth and possessive hunger until you push against his jaw with a breathless laugh.  

Still flushed, you turn back to chat with faux innocence—reading aloud, “Favorite positions and why?” 

Your shrug is casual, “Mine’s doggy. ‘Let’s me feel…every part of him.” 

Eren doesn’t let that slide for even two seconds before retaliating—voice thick with taunting intent, “I like puttin’ your little ass over my shoulders while I stand up—” He smirks at how instantly your eyes go wide—“But you can’t take that shit. Just whinin’,” —his thumb swipes your bottom lip mockingly— “Squirtin’ all on me ‘til—“

“Okay! Okay! Jesus, sorry.”

Eren smirks as you bury your burning face in his chest, his deep chuckle vibrating through you.  

“Hope that answered the question,” he murmured, “We don’t do it too often ‘cause I don’t wanna hurt her—but when she lets me? Fuck.” 

Then another question pops up—one that makes him pause for a second, then answering with that trademark bluntness. 

What's your favorite thing about not just having sex with her, but sharing it with other people? 

Eren exhales through his nose—not even hesitating. 

“The way people see her.” 

His thumb brushes your chin possessively—“Most watch ‘cause she’s pretty as hell—and yeah, that shit strokes my ego.” 

His grip tightens slightly—“But when they realize how smart she is while we work together? How much control she actually has?” 

A dark smirk curls over his lips—“That’s the shit that makes 'em stay.”

Your freckled face flushes as you bury it against Eren’s bicep—his deep chuckle rumbling through his chest once more as he presses a kiss to the crown of your curls.  

A question you didn’t expect.

Marriage? Kids?

You move to fry the hotteok, but let out a tiny squeak when grease pops against your skin. Instantly, Eren’s hand catches yours, lifting your palm to his mouth so he can press a slow, soothing kiss over the sting. 

“C’mere. Stand behind me.”

You don’t argue—just wrap your arms around his waist and press yourself flush against his back, letting him take over at the stove while you nuzzle into his shoulder blades like they were made for this exact purpose. 

When he picks up where he left off,  his voice is steady with conviction—“A day never went by where I didn't think about marryin' her."

The sizzle of frying dough fills the pause before he continues, “‘Got a big ass family... want that shit passed on for generations. Bunny's an only child—I want her to know what real love feels like."

Your arms tighten around him reflexively at that. 

He doesn’t even stumble under your grip—just keeps flipping golden-brown pancakes effortlessly before finishing with rough-edged sincerity, “She's my fuckin' wife already, paper or not. But she wants us to be devoted in front of God first.”

Eren’s voice softens slightly as he flips another perfectly golden hotteok, clarifying for the viewers—  

“She ‘don’t feel comfortable still doin' this when we got kids runnin' around and our marriage tied to faith. But right now?"

He glances over his shoulder at you still clinging to his back—his smirk warm and private, “She's happy. Travelin’, filmin’ just us and the world."

The admission lingers in the air before he adds quietly—almost too low for the mic to catch— 

“...Can't wait to hold her swollen belly, though." 

His free hand drops briefly to cradle an invisible curve against your stomach before returning to cooking like it was nothing.

Your breath hitches against him as Eren continues gruffly, “Gonna see her cry even more than she already does... ‘Love her harder than I already have."

The words are raw in a way that makes your arms tighten around him even more—like if you squeeze hard enough, this feeling might never fade. And judging by how his palm presses over yours where they're locked at his waist? He doesn't want it to either.

Eren gently pulls you forward as the last hotteok finishes frying, his large hands reaching for toppings—cinnamon dusting, crushed walnuts, a swirl of whipped cream—all while you murmur a sweet, “Thank you, baby." 

You lean back against the counter with a satisfied sigh—“That's all the answers we got for now, guys. Let’s try this hotteok!” 

Taking an exaggerated bite, your giggles bubble up immediately—cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk as you nod enthusiastically, “Mmf—so good!” 

Sugar clings to your fingers as you absentmindedly swipe at them before leaning toward the chat again—heavy tits pressing into the counter’s edge when someone asks about your top. You brighten instantly.

“Oh, I got this from this adorable boutique in Seoul!"

You glance over at Eren just as he takes a bite of the hotteok—but there’s a shift in him. 

That usual cocky ease is gone, replaced by something darker, more intense. You rub his arm gently in silent question, but when your eyes finally meet his?  

That look. 

It hits you like a punch to the ribs—his gaze isn’t just hungry anymore. It’s devouring. Every answer you two gave tonight flashes behind those green eyes—every confession, every tease—and it all condenses into one brutal realization for him. 

He loves you so much it pisses him off.

It’s the little things that make you realize—he swipes cinnamon sugar off the corner of your lip roughly before he exhales through his nose like he’s trying to rein himself back in. But then? You turn away from him entirely—giggling as you hop onto the kitchen island to get closer to the chat.

Your legs cross gently, thighs pressing together as you adjust your top absentmindedly—the fabric tightening over full tits that bounce slightly with each little movement. Eren watches silently from behind while cracking his knuckles once…twice…

Your curls spill over your shoulders as you lean slightly to read another question—What did y'all study in school?  

A playful grin tugs at your lips as you answer, “Eren was a double major—kinesiology and culinary. That’s why he’s the one doing most of the cooking."

You giggle before adding, “Funny enough, I was an English lit major before switching to bioengineering—"

Before you can finish, Eren moves beside you with slow intent. 

His large hands slide around your waist, tugging your small frame flush against him without breaking stride in conversation. Your arm automatically loops around his neck like second nature while your fingers idly toy with the hair at his nape—soothing him absently as you keep talking to chat.

But then his mouth finds your throat.

At first it's just a teasing press of lips that makes you smile mid-sentence…until he drags his tongue along a slow, torturous path up the column of your neck. The second he sucks just below your ear? Your breath stutters visibly and those lashes flutter shut for half-a-second too long. You shiver when he deliberately takes even longer on the next open-mouthed kiss—forcing every nerve under your skin to alight with sensation, the chat remaining none-the-wiser about why words briefly fail you.

“‘Ren…c’monnn, baby.” 

As you try to regain your composure and continue answering questions, Eren’s hands slide under your skirt—slow, deliberate. His thick fingers hook into the waistband of your panties just enough to make you gasp softly before he drags them to the side slightly—just enough to expose the flushed pink beneath.  

Your toes curl against the counter’s edge instinctively—hips shifting as if they can’t decide whether to press into his touch or shy away from it. But Eren doesn't let up; he swipes once through soaked fabric with a roughness that has you biting back a whimper,  clutching at his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your neck—voice all honey-dark promise—“Keep talkin', baby. ‘Ain’t tryna’ bother you.” 

Then comes that gruff murmur against the shell of your ear, “‘Missed your pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

And that?

Your breath hitches as Eren’s fingers glide roughly over your folds through the fabric—squelch—the sound loud enough to make your face burn with embarrassment. Your hips jerk instinctively, a soft squeal escaping as you squirm against his touch.  

Eren’s growl is pure, sinful satisfaction. 

“Oooh, shit—” His fingers press harder, spreading your arousal shamelessly over the lace, “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby.”  

You clutch at his shoulders helplessly, burying your pout against his bicep with a whimpered apology to chat—“‘‘M sorry, guys…” 

But Eren doesn't stop there; he hooks his thumb into the soaked lace of your panties and tugs them fully aside—revealing swollen lips glistening under studio lights.

“Oh fuck.” 

His voice is gravel-deep with awe as he drags two fingers down slowly from clit to entrance, just to watch how easily they slide through dripping heat.

“Look at this shit.” 

Your inner thighs are already glossy when he leans down again—spitting directly onto where you're most sensitive before pressing your foreheads together in some twisted mimicry of intimacy—then, he’s sinking two thick digits inside, so torturously slow. 

“Nngh!” You sob weakly, hands flying to grip his wrist as if that would stop him, doing nothing more than trembling pathetically as those calloused pads rub exactly where it hurts best.

Eren swallows every broken noise in a bruising kiss when he murmurs against lips—“All those eyes on you…” 

A cruel curl of fingers has your back arching off the counter as he finishes darkly, “Give ‘em that show they wanna see."

The moment Eren’s fingers sink even deeper, your body arches—betraying you with a weak little sob as your pussy clenches shamelessly around him. The wet squelch of his thrusts fills the air, messy and loud, and your legs tremble where they’re spread wider against the counter.  

“U—ughnn...!" 

Your plea gets lost in his neck as you nuzzle helplessly against him, palm gripping his bicep like it's the only thing tethering you to reality. But Eren? He just watches, lips curling into that infuriating glare before he turns toward the camera—voice thick with arousal.

“Remember that question earlier?"

His fingers twist inside you cruelly on every word—just to feel how your walls flutter in response, “‘Bout my favorite thing when pleasurin' her?"

A slow pump of his hand has tears gathering at your lashes before he growls—

“This shit right fuckin' here.” 

His thumb swipes over your clit once—just enough to make you jerk with another pitiful noise.

“When she can't even take it..."

Another deep stroke has your back bowing off the counter entirely.

“…But this greedy little cunt's jus’ sobbin', beggin' for me anyway.”

And God help you—the worst part is knowing he's right.

Eren’s gaze burns into the camera, his voice gravel rough with arrogance as his fingers pound into you without mercy—  

“Look at how she just submits to me. Brain fucked stupid.”

His mouth hovers right above yours, lips brushing as he growls—  

“Open m’fuckin' pussy wider." 

Tears spill fat and hot down your cheeks, your legs shaking as you obey instantly—spreading yourself even more for him, every weak gasp punched out of you in time with his brutal thrusts. The obscene slap-wet pfft of your pussy swallowing his fingers fills the air shamelessly.  

He sneers down at you—hot breath mingling between open mouths—“You love me, huh?”   

For a second, all that comes out is airless whimpers until he crooks those fingers hard inside and suddenly— 

“I—I love y—you—” spills out like a broken prayer in between choked gasps. Your body seizes around him violently when your orgasm rips through you completely unprompted —gushing so hard around his knuckles it practically forces them halfway back out while juices dribble messily onto the counter below.

You can't even control it anymore—your voice cracks pathetically under another wave—“Il—loveyou...loveyouloveyou—” each word weaker than last one as if every ounce of sanity got fucked clean from your skull in a matter of seconds. 

Eren’s hand fists in your curls, yanking your head back with a dominance that makes your thighs clench. His other hand shoves his pants down just enough to free his cock—heavy, already glistening at the tip, veins straining as it bobs thick and impatient between you.  

“I give her the control she deserves,” he grunts to the camera, “‘Let her use me however she needs.” 

His grip tightens in your hair until your scalp burns—  

“But sometimes? I want shit my fuckin' way.” 

The moment those words leave his lips, he drags you forward by the roots of your curls until his cockhead bumps against trembling lips—“Come swallow my shit," he commands darkly, voice roughened by lust, “‘Get it wet ‘fore I go in." 

You barely have time to gasp before he rams past your lips—your throat stretching obscenely around him on first thrust as spit dribbles messily down chin within seconds of him pistoning into your mouth. The sounds are fucking filthy — GLRRK!, GLRRK!— each one louder than last as Eren fucks up into weeping heat without pause or mercy. 

And the worst part?

He watches every second through hooded eyes like this isn't even about pleasure anymore; it's about proving a point neither one of you will ever forget.

The chat explodes—messages flooding in too fast to read as they witness you stuffed full, tears pricking at the corners of your swollen eyes while thick curls spill around your face. Your cheeks bulge around Eren's cock, saliva glistening down your chin and onto your heaving chest.  

He drags his cock out just enough for you to choke on a gasp, slick lips clinging desperately as he grunts down at you—

“‘This shit yours, huh?”

Your answer is immediate—fingers trembling but determined as they wrap around the base of him, twisting in time with sloppy sucks at his leaking tip. The drool and spit make lewd shlick-shlick sounds echo through the room between muffled whimpers—your pitiful little nod sending fresh arousal coiling hot in Eren’s gut when paired with how greedily you keep jerking him off between messy swallows.

Eren’s voice is a dark, possessive growl as he watches you struggle around him—  

“‘Shit don’t matter if her throat sore, jaw clenched. She’ll keep goin’ ‘cause I fuckin' said so.” 

His head tilts back with a sharp groan the moment you force yourself deeper—gagging loudly as you swallow him whole like your life depends on it. His hips jerk forward on instinct, nearly knocking against the back of your throat before he sneers down at you cockily—

“‘Never gonna find another dick this fuckin’ big.”

You whimper around him but still manage a wet giggle—your fingers smacking his length playfully against your flushed face before whimpering in desperation and shoving him right back into your drooling mouth. The way your throat flutters, struggling but obediently taking every inch? It makes his jaw clench hard enough to crack.

Because nobody else gets this version of you—desperate, messy, his. 

Eren yanks you back onto the counter with a deep grunt, your legs hoisted effortlessly into the air as he spreads them wider—giving the camera a full, shameless view of your glistening folds. His tongue drags up your soaked slit in one long, filthy stroke before swirling slowly around your clit—lips sealing tight as he sucks and twists in vicious little circles that make you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.  

Your hands scramble for purchase on the counter behind you, nails digging into nothing as his mouth works relentlessly—fucking his tongue against every trembling nerve until all that comes out is a broken whine—“‘R—Ren…fuck…” 

Eren pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, his lips slick with your arousal as he addresses the audience with that signature arrogant drawl—  

“Look at the way she just lets me bury my face in this pussy."

His tongue swipes up your folds again, slurping loudly just to emphasize how wrecked you already are. His gaze locks onto yours as he nods toward your infamous pout—the one that has your lips trembling, eyes pleading—even as you keep holding those legs up for him like the good girl you are. 

“That little pout? Fuckin' lethal." 

And then he buries himself back between your thighs with zero mercy—shaking his head side-to-side against your clit while low grunts vibrate through every stroke of his tongue. The sounds of him feasting on you fill the room, muffled only when he growls directly into soaked skin—  

“‘She loves this shit.”

You can barely process it before he’s circling his head messily again, lapping at everything like a man starved while keeping those thick fingers hooked under knees to hold them open wider.

Your head lolls back helplessly—fingers pinching and tugging at stiffened nipples on instinct as broken sighs spill out—“F—Feels so…so good…!”

Eren moves with predatory intent, climbing onto the wide island counter and caging your smaller body beneath him—his massive frame looming over you like something monstrous, something hungry. You whimper softly beneath him, already missing the cruel heat of his mouth. .  

“‘Must want me to fuck that pout off your face.”

A firm smack lands against your cheek—not enough to truly hurt, but enough for the sting to linger as he growls one simple command, “Fix it." 

Instantly, you relax your expression into something obedient—whispering a shaky, “Sorry…”  even as his cock slides between slick folds below. Your lower body trembles when he nudges at your entrance—your tight warmth fluttering uselessly around just the tip before he grunts in amusement.

“Always fuckin’ complainin’ every time I push in...”

Then with one brutal roll of his hips—he’s sheathing himself inside to the hilt.

Your back arches off the counter immediately at how deep he fills you—your pussy struggling desperately to stretch around him while Eren spreads your thighs wider against cold marble.

His voice is gritted teeth and dark satisfaction when he mutters down at you—

“Actin’ like this shit don't belong t’ me.”

Eren feels your small hands press hesitantly against his lower stomach—trying to ease the overwhelming stretch—but he clicks his tongue and grips your wrists in one rough motion, pinning them against your own chest as he growls—

“Tuck ‘them fuckin’ hands." 

Your breath hitches, fingers curling helplessly against yourself as you nod, eyes rolling back when he finally starts moving, dropping his thick cock into you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. Your pussy clenches around him desperately—greedy even as tears prick at the corners of your squeezed-shut eyes.  

A high-pitched whine escapes you when he bottoms out again, and Eren grins, savoring the way your entire body trembles beneath him like a live wire. You pout up at him pitifully between ragged breaths—voice cracking under the weight of pleasure already threatening to undo you. 

“M—mygod…Eren.”

Eren leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs in German—“Du weißt genau, wo deine Hände sein müssen." 

You know exactly where your hands need to be.

Your body trembles as you obey instantly—fingers uncurling from your chest and instead reaching down to hook around your ankles. You tug yourself into an exposed arch, legs folding at the sides of your head as you give him everything. 

Your mouth falls open in a sloppy gasp—voice slurring with each punishing thrust—“O-oh my g–God…yes…!” 

Eren smacks his palm against your ass cheek beneath you—the sharp clap of skin-on-skin making you jolt. 

He grunts through clenched teeth, “She’ll fight me...” His hips snap forward brutally on the next thrust, “But she’ll take this shit, too.”

Your hand scrambles for his hip weakly—tugging him deeper even as overstimulation makes tears spill over, proving his filthy point. The moment he drops all his weight into you again? Your head lolls back like it's too much to bear...only for you to snap forward seconds later with a shattered whimper as your thighs slap violently against his abdomen without restraint.

Eren’s powerful arms scoop you up effortlessly, his grip bruising as he plants his feet flat on the ground before dragging your legs over his shoulders—forcing you into that deep, arching position you hate.

“‘R—” 

But before you can even whine his name fully, “Shut that shit the fuck up.”

Tears spring to your eyes instantly as strong fingers force your face into the crook of his neck while he sinks back inside without warning. You sob weakly against hot skin as one hand fists in your hair, the other clamping onto your hipbone—controlling every movement with ruthless precision. His strength is terrifying like this; no matter how much you squirm or whimper beneath him, Eren just bounces you harder onto cock like a punishing rhythm...flesh slapping together obscenely under studio lights while drool smears across collarbones from where lips part around silent cries. 

His voice comes out soothing, yet the aggression of fucking you is like no other. 

”So verdammt eng..."

So fucking tight.

“Nicht weinen."

Don't cry.

Eren's gaze snaps up to the camera—eyes blazing with arrogant, possessive pride as chat explodes in real-time, witnessing you utterly wrecked against him. Your face stays hidden, buried in the crook of his neck like a shameful little secret—only muffled sobs and the desperate scrape of nails against his skin giving away just how gone you are.  

But he won’t let you hide.  

A rough hand fists into your curls again and tugs, forcing your head back to expose tear-streaked cheeks, swollen lips parted around hiccuping breaths. His other hand grips the full globes of your ass hard enough to bruise as he bounces you down onto cock with zero mercy—the filthy slap, slap, slap of skin echoing like a metronome gone feral.

“Show ‘em that fuckin’ face,” he snarls against your mouth—sealing lips over yours in brutal kiss meant more suffocate than soothe. And when those brown eyes finally lock onto the lens? There it is.

The perfect broken pout—your expression twisted between overwhelmed pleasure-pain while surrendering completely beneath Eren’s dominance...until your orgasm rips through violently without warning. Your body seizes mid-air before gushing around him messily—gasps dissolving into pathetic whines as thighs quiver uncontrollably from oversensitivity already setting deep under skin.

“F—fuhhhhck…Daddy,” spills out between shuddering breaths followed by another weak sob, “I’m cumming.” 

Eren doesn't give you a second to recover. With one last sharp smack to your ass, he hauls you out the air and onto his lap on a chair nearby—his cock still buried deep as your legs tremble around him. 

“Finish me off,” he growls, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks, “Hurry the fuck up.” 

You whimper weakly but obey—toes curling against his thick thighs for leverage as you start bouncing yourself on him with shaky desperation. Your hands grip the plush flesh of your own asscheeks, spreading them wider just to feel him deeper, while Eren watches you through hooded eyes—not lifting a finger except as you do all work chasing his release.  

“She’ll bounce on my dick ‘til I fuckin’ cum.”

A particularly rough drop of hips has you choking out a high-pitched moan—“‘Cause I own her.”

Tears drip down flushed cheeks, yet you still find yourself mewling pathetically between gasps—you’re spanking your own ass a few times more in a needy, sultry rhythm—tits jiggling close to his face as you swirl your hips down.

Eren's palms slide up the curve of your back as he begins to control your movements, forcing you down harder onto his cock with each punishing tug. His voice is rough with possession—  

"Always gonna take care of her. Fed. Fucked. Loved." 

Each word punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin as you ride him desperately, “That's what keeps her suckin' me dry like this."

Your eyes flicker back toward the camera—cheeks flushed, but a sweet smile plays at swollen lips while your ass twerks shamelessly above him, each downward grind drawing a guttural groan from his chest. You spank yourself lightly once more—an arrogant little show just for him before giggling through a slurred whisper—  

“'M yours, baby..."

Eren snarls, fingers clawing into your hips as his head knocks back against the chair with pleasure bordering pain. The possessive fire in his gut ignites completely when he hears those words spill past trembling lips—hands flying to grip your waist tighter while slamming upward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum stripe across your asscheeks messily—your giggles turning breathless when large palms smear it even lower, rubbing sticky warmth between already ruined folds just prove how thoroughly his you are.

Eren’s hands instantly shift from rough to gentle, his calloused fingers tilting your chin up as he searches your face with a tenderness that contradicts everything primal just moments before.  

“‘I smacked too hard anywhere?”

His voice is low—almost hesitant—as thumbs brush over tear-stained cheeks, checking for even the faintest sign of real discomfort. You melt beneath his touch, shaking your head with a smile so sweet it makes his chest ache. 

“‘‘M perfect,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before giggling softly—  

“Best anniversary I could’ve asked for.”  

The tension in Eren's shoulders collapses at that—his usual arrogance dissolving into something vulnerable as he buries his face against where your neck meets shoulder, like he’s the one overwhelmed now. Your fingers card through dark strands gently while your other hand lifts toward camera lazily with a playful wave—

“Hi, sweet babies…”

Eren tucks his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his usual cocky bravado replaced with a rare shyness—body still thrumming from the intensity of it all. His palms slide slowly up and down your back in quiet reassurance, though he refuses to lift his head for the camera just yet.  

You grin at the screen as comments flood in, giggling softly before murmuring—  

“They have one more question for us…” 

His only response is a low hum against your skin, but those warm hands continue tracing soothing circles between shoulder blades—telling you silently that he’s listening. 

What does love mean to both of you?

Eren finally shifts just enough to press a kiss below your ear before settling back into hiding like an overgrown cat, seeking comfort after being too loud earlier. You smile, tilting toward the lens with a softening gaze, fingers combing through disheveled strands behind him lovingly. 

“Love means…getting fed scrambled eggs at three in the morning because someone heard my stomach growl.” 

A pause.

A muffled grumble from where Eren’s face stays stubbornly buried, “…Means she steals all my hoodies but I buy ‘em bigger anyway so they drown her.” 

Another pause—before both voices overlap without thinking—

“‘Means mine.” 

And really? That sums it up better than anything else ever could.

You nuzzle your nose gently against Eren’s, feeling his breathing steady as he curls even deeper into you—his body molding against yours like two perfect pieces finally clicked together. You can feel the goosebumps rising on his skin beneath your fingertips, his usual arrogance softened into something tender and raw in this quiet aftermath.

With a contented sigh, you turn just enough to flash the camera one last smile—eyes sparkling with unshakable certainty as you murmur—

“We’re gonna go, guys. We’ll see you after we leave Seoul, okay?” 

The livestream flickers for a second—just long enough for the world to catch your final whisper before it cuts off completely. 

“Biggest advice for today? Wait for your person.” 

A beat. A breath.

Your fingers lace through Eren's hair without looking down—already knowing every scar, every freckle, every hidden corner of him by heart.

“They're at the ends of the earth searching for you, too.”

Then, darkness swallows the screen whole—leaving behind nothing but silence, and the sound of two heartbeats finally syncing up after lifetimes spent chasing each other.

[6slux]

my lorddd my brain chemistry changed after this one

[6slux]

wait i might throw smthin on the grill you guys 🚬🤏🏽

[starspenxcie]

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

18+ MDNI, light smut - telling older!toji that the sheets are too wet

“toji.”

you whisper it like you’re on a secret mission, even though your mouth is basically pressed to his neck. he grunts in response, heavy arm slung over your waist, the sheets tangled around both your legs. his voice is deep and groggy and half-dead.

“what.”

you shift a little. wriggle.

he tightens his hold on you immediately, like a warning. “don’t start. ‘s not even been an hour.”

you blink in the dark. “i can’t sleep.”

“why not.”

“…the bed’s wet.”

he groans, dragging a hand over his face. “baby. yeah. that’s your fault.”

“i know,” you pout, nudging your forehead against his shoulder. “but it’s cold now.”

he cracks one eye open. stares at the ceiling like he’s re-evaluating every choice that led him here.

“you’ve got the whole bed and you’re laying right in it.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble. “i keep rolling into it.”

you try to turn over again and make a noise like a distressed cat. the sheets are damp. your thighs are sticky and you can still feel his cum deep inside you. everything smells like sweat and sex and his cologne. it’s too warm and too cold at the same time. you feel like a soggy, ruined princess and you just want to cry about it.

“toji,” you whisper again.

he growls under his breath. “you’re lucky i love you.”

he rolls over, arm flexing around your waist, and you squeak as he shifts your whole body on top of his chest like you weigh nothing. you sprawl over him like a starfish. immediately better.

“you’re comfy,” you murmur, smushing your cheek against his collarbone.

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re obsessed with me.”

he doesn’t reply. just runs a slow hand down your back, over your ass, fingers trailing lazily between your bare thighs.

his thumb presses up against your slit where he can now feel some of his seed, thick and hot, begin to trickle out from the sudden movement.

“you’re still dripping,” he says softly.

you whimper.

his finger presses just a little against your clit. “can feel it. messy girl.”

“’s not my fault,” you mumble, already halfway to sleep again. “you put it there.”

“and i’ll do it again,” he mutters, kissing your hair.

you hum, dozing off on top of him, warm and full and finally not laying in the puddle you made.

[6slux]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. THREE’S A CROWD!—poly!bfs! geto suguru & gojo satoru

.ᐟ +18, established poly, cunnilingus, comfort smut

you absolutely hated your job. you hated the way that place made you feel, you hated the way your body ached on the way to clock out. from your know-it-all colleagues to a rigid schedule that didn’t even allow you to catch a breath. you could go on and on about what you despised at work. the only problem was that their asses would owe you overtime by the end.

stumbling into your shared apartment, you’d slammed the front door particularly harsh one evening. the frame rattled behind you as you sashayed past the living room-right where your two boyfriends slouched off the couch.

it seemed each evening you got in later and later. the echos of your steps only becoming harsher against the floorpanels. what was once their overjoyous girl who used to leap into their arms and greet them with kisses became—this.

despite being in the next room, your movements are noisy and turbulent. one might’ve mistaken them for a fire evacuee collecting her belongings. what could’ve possibly taken your position from bad to worse?

two voices transcended into one as they called out to you. “what does she got going on?”, day questioned night, gojo then scratching at the side of his ruffled locs.

geto was the more assertive of the two. his fingertips long frozen over the pads of his black controller. rhetorical questions weren’t taken lightly around these parts, the dark-haired male already standing from a flattened cushion.

geto excused himself as he traced the hot trail you blazed throughout their home a couple seconds earlier. no more than five minutes later he returned with his baby in his arms.

he had to practically herd you back out to the couch. by time as your tired body curled up on top of his...you were sobbing into his chest.

“rough day, huh? let it out, sweetheart. we’re right here for ya. whenever you’re ready to talk about it…”, gojo idly sat by your side, now rubbing your back along with your other boyfriend as you wheezed up gibberish. clearly, a tsunami of emotions hit you at your most vulnerable. all it took was one soft ‘are you okay’ to release the floodgates.

nodding vigorously into a now damp crew neck, “thin ice. i’ve been working my butt off for three years now! then- that bitch had the audacity to just pop a head in and tell me- i’m on thin fucking ice”, like a record player your manager’s words were recited through a muffled cry.

“they should be lucky we don’t burn that place to the ground”

“fuck all of those assholes in that lame establishment. ive been telling you to just stay your ass in the house”

a string of passionate encouragement followed your words in shock. at this point your mind was blurry- you couldn’t quite distinguish who said what and which hand belonged to which. geto’s heavy chest whispered sweet nothings beneath the shell of your ear. thump, thump, thump—each heartbeat serenadingly calm against your tensed body. he had long wrapped you up in a wool throw, palm running along the flat of your back.

several silent moments passed, but it was clear that you were still deep in overthought. one sob too many led gojo to parting his soft pout, again.

“gonna cry ya’self into a freakin’ puddle, baby. c’monn, look at me,” two slender digits snaked around your chin, the calloused padding then wiped away runoff tears. “let us help you, m’kay? just wanna help our pretty girl out…stressing over a job she doesn’t even need”, geto chimed in beneath you, already peeling the covers off of your frame. it was as if the two were fused by the brain- the darker-haired man lifting your hips as gojo dragged your bottoms to your feet. the fabric is discarded into a pile on the carpet.

fat tears stilled at the brim of your waterline, allowing the two to adjust you until you were just in a pair of panties. geto helped ball up your shirt past your navel while his best friend thumbed at the wet spot between your thighs.

“satoru, it’s embarrassing,” you attempted to paw at his wrist which only earned you an icy-cold stare from below. “you know better than that, sweetheart. you’re way too sexy to be getting shy on us now,” the vibrations from the chest pressed against your back forces you to gulp up a groan. his wide palms slip down the backside of your thighs; right until he’s behind your knees. strong hold then pulling them up and apart to give gojo unabashed access.

your cheeks swell with warmth as the white-haired man peeled a corner of your center free. the thin fabric stuck to you like glue, a couple seconds of prying finally allowing him to drag it past your hips. “pretty ass pussy needs me just as bad as i need her”, a pointer and a middle finger spread your sticky lips apart. strings of syrupy arousal barricaded your slit.

gojo’s head eagerly ducks as his tongue flattened to swipe through the mess—right until he’s latching onto your swollen clit with suction. that’s when your limbs grow antsy, geto acted as an unfazed restraint. gojo was so unbelievably greedy when it came to eating pussy—your pussy. his thick tongue goes from swirling into a figure 8 to pistoning in and out of your clenching hole. he’s firmed the muscle up to penetrate past your weeping walls. then he’s softening the blow by pressing kisses all along your sensitive cunt.

geto, on the other hand, is so content with having your pretty face all to himself. his head cranes yours into his long neck. his wide lips repeatedly pressed peck after peck into your hot face. “satoru’s got our pretty girl squirming. let it out for us, pretty girl. fucking his tongue like that…chase that fucking nut, baby,”

he doesn’t have to tell you twice, a helpless croak came from your throat as you messily bucked your core to the textured friction. atlast that stubborn knot in the pit of your belly released down the sides of gojo’s dripping face. he laps and laps only asking for more as geto pressed down on your torso.

the air grew stuffy and muggy—all three of you now breathing hard as an attempt to calm down. your boys knew when their sensitive girl was exhausted,“you did such a good job for us. now let suguru go run us a nice hot bath-”

“wait why do i-”

“wit’ my lavender epsom?”

“with your lavender epsom, baby,” gojo added on, still pressing loving kisses into your supple inner thighs.

“i love you both so freaking much”.

[6slux]

the urge to remix this or make a part 2 bccc i miss them😣😣😣

[6slux]

grumpy!toji + spoiled!reader + photobooth = trouble (18+) ｡𖦹°‧

a shopping mall hates to see you coming—but no more than your boyfriend toji fushiguro. you were prancing through the tiled building for what felt like the 1000th time—your clingy arm acting as a leash to the shadow behind you. that’s when your big, shiny eyes spotted a life-sized periwinkle box.

“look, toji! it’s a photobooth!,” you eagerly point at the makeshift cubicle with your freshly-filled french tip.

his deafening silence is your admission—so a straight-faced toji is dragged in that direction, too. you waste no time drawing back the velvet curtain and stepping your bedazzled pumps inside.

“see it’s only $12”, your brightened face lights up from the flashy display of consumerism. toji sits behind your bent knees with crossed arms. his fingers throbbed, the creases bruised crimson from hauling around the shopping bags parked at his feet. his bicep is sore as he raises his arm for the billionth time to hand over his credit card.

“should’ve known better than to let you drag me in here,” toji grumbles, his cynical voice rough around the edges, much like his demeanor. there was a quiet surrender in the way his hands smoothed over your curves, fingers pressing with possessiveness.

you’re the opposite of the exhausted man behind you. he’s dressed head-to-toe in monochrome charcoal. a frilly bubblegum-pink tank top clings to your poorly covered chest while the thin fabric of your mini skirt flared around the intimate warmth you and toji share. the crotch of your cheeky panties sit directly on top of his soft bulge.

toji’s scowl deepens as your hips involuntarily stir around the growing outline in his jeans. you always got like this when you were overly-concentrated on something that excites you. with each clack of a button you select the vignette filter that darkens the border of the camera’s lens. you choose the calligraphic font that scribbles out ‘i love you’ beneath your curious face.

when you back away from the black dot, a dark-haired toji makes his bleak first appearance over your shoulder. his low-lidded gaze, on the other hand, is downwards where the evidence of your excitement presses at his zipper’s seams.

“oh come on, toji. behave yourself for once, old man,” your center presses into his covered cockhead—the twitch beneath your slit undeniable. he’s so pussydrunk and emotionally-deprived that your happiness gets him hard.

reluctantly he manages to straighten up his stiff body and comply as you two eagerly pose for a series of photos. the first is a simple one—your frizzy head tilting towards his as your lips spread slightly further than a grinning toji’s. that might’ve been the first genuine smile he’s flashed all day. for the next photo your sharp nails poke from behind his ruffled hair to form bunny ears—it’s innocent, yet goofy…toji playfully crosses his eyes to his nose’s sharp tip. you quickly stand for the third photo and your arms wrap around toji’s neck. only for him to playfully bare his teeth next to your right tit. it’s for the fourth and final photo where you dip your head and nip his reddened cheeks with a litter of wet kisses.

through gritted teeth toji groans into your glossed lips— glittery gloss coats his chiseled jaw. his palm fists at the hard-on that was bordering blue balls at this point. “sit back down,” he’ll guide you back to your previous position by the hips. only this time when you sit down, beneath you is toji’s cock—veins prettily decorating each side. right up to his creamy cockhead that slips past your hungry folds. he doesn’t even bother to discard your slick-soaked panties—they’re simply pushed to the side as he splits you open on his shaft.

his cock bullies it’s way to the pit of your stomach—your eyes squeezed shut as you drag your head along the booth’s screen. it’s when toji thrusts into you particularly mean and hard your puffy cheek bumps into a big, white button. that’s when a loud *snap* sounds out in the cramped up box—immediately followed by a whiny “wan’…want more, toji”. so the first *real* shot is the blurry center of your head, toji’s hidden behind you—his darkened eyes down where you two messily connect.

it’s a chaos of movement, blurring the line between where you end and toji begins. all he’s worried about is the slick, lewd sounds your pussy makes as it eats him. he paints himself in your shiny cum over and over—back hunched over and palm digging into your neck’s nape.

the second photo caught the unexpected turn of toji’s lips—a rare, softened curve—as he bends to whisper heated words against the shell of your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “so dumb for cock ya didn’t even start the damn thing, princess”, his breathing picks up as your cunt squeezes around his base. you’ve made a dirty, filthy mess of yourself as well as his heavy balls that spill past his zipper.

the last few shots capture the essence of your entire dynamic— perfectly imperfect. toji stills his rutting hips and presses you down as his cum oozes down the sides of your cunt. he gets up, tucks his flaccid cock back in his pants, and wears the mysterious stain on his front with pride. it’s an honor to be your human bank and personal cumrag. the ruins of your underwear corks the remaining cum that threatens to run down your wobbly legs.

toji carefully smoothes the front of your wrinkled skirt down and helps you step down from the booth’s stair. the little slot outside contains photographic evidence of your little detour. his rough hands snatch and stuff the flimsy prints into his pockets.

it’s the only thing he gets in return for the troubles of your shopping spree and it’s…arguably the best apology for dragging him to this shitty mall for all these hours.

[6slux]

‘if you hatin' you just need some pussy,

she fucked up when she gave me some pussy’

“i-is it always this…we-t?”, eren has the deluded audacity to blurt, his chin positioned atop your left shoulder. his two pistoning digits freeze knuckles deep inside of you. unabashed, he watches as your pussy bears down on him.

“jesus…shit’s so responsive it makes no fucking sense…,” another sly comment escapes his pursed lips, in disbelief that he has his best friend sprawled out on his meaty lap. your shuddering body is trying to process the foreign sensation, too. his opposite arm is wrapped beneath your knee to press a thumb to your clit.

eren gets it now. how you’ve managed to have every guy wrapped around your finger. he sees why he’s had to ward off your pesky boyfriends in the past. you’re warm, wet, slick—“yeah…just like that, ren. keep fucking me li-ke that”. the nasty noises that fall from your pout? even your fucking moans are angelic. those pretty little sounds you make are everything that you are—unapologetic and loud.

don’t get him started on that soft dominance shit. you’re like that in bed, too. it’s not just an overbearing quirk you’ve used throughout your friendship. now he’s had the firsthand opportunity to confirm it. not that this was the original plan for your weekly sleepover.

one question led to another and before you knew it you were allowing your best friend to examine your pussy.

he knows your close again because your nails are buried into his wrist. that doesn’t falter the steady pace in which his thick fingers fuck you. his green eyes marble with the reflection of your wetness. a ring of iridescent cream sits at the base of his fingers. he doesn’t care, though. he’s too concentrated on making you feel better than any of your shitty exes ever could. his wide pupils flicker upwards and they watch as you bite down on the cuff of his your oversized sweater. the very sweater you’d stolen from him the last time you came over. he’s already addicted, hungry eyes taking in everything that is you on the verge of a climax. from your clammy, shaky hands to the tilt of your empty head.

that coil in your stomach snaps—right as he nudges the underside of your swollen clit. “Oo-ooh, this is a big one, huh? only your best friend can make you feel this good, huh?,” he teases, lips pressed to the shell of your overheated ear. his touch sends you into overdrive, your curled legs thrashing against your heaving chest as you try to break free from him. “jesus…no more! no fuckin’ more, Eren,” he knows you mean it because you’ve called him by his government. his strong arm lets your knees buckle inwards—this time he doesn’t use his strength to keep you wide open. no, his drenched palm’s already raised to his lips. without hesitation your best friend laps up your arousal. a feral groan approves of your sweetness—the taste matching the scent.

“you’re gross…,” you waste no time returning to your smart-mouthed self. which earns you a playful snarl from the man behind you. yet, your fingers lift to stroke his flustered cheek as you come down. “you love it,” he grumbles, your taste on his breath. says the one with his hard-on jabbing into your lower back…

18+, fingering, best friend!eren, fem!reader, overuse of ‘fucking’

[86jodeci]

[6slux]

cut the cameras | 2.2k

pairing; onyankopon x BLACK!INFLUENCER!READER

synopsis; you try and fail to record for your channel but a surprise visitor distracts you.

cw! 18+, black!fem!reader, plug!onyankopon, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), p in v sex, consensual filming, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, fiancé!onyankopon, rimming

“welcome back, pixies”, you pause slightly, voice syrupy-sweet, “…to another get ready with me!”, curved acrylics wave at the camera’s lens.

sunday evenings were reserved for you and onyankopon’s date nights. no matter how hectic your schedules get- time was made.

“today i’m jus’ doing a quick light beat. a lil’ something for my man and i’s bowling date”, draped behind you is a lavender-padded backdrop. the plush material lines a corner of your shared bedroom.

opposite of that sits a pink Sony ZV-1, with the motion-tracking tripod to match. the very one you swooned over to onyankopon after watching numerous reviews. that very same Christmas the heavy box sat underneath the tree with a sparkly bow attached.

nerves still manage to swell in the pit of your belly, despite this being your tenth video for your channel. there were only going to be 20,000 eyes on you, after all. while getting dolled-up was second nature, showcasing it to the digital world required transparency.

“as always I’m startin’ with my Mac Studio Radiance Primer. y’all when i tell you this thing acts like a barrier on my skin”, you swear by the white bottle in the palm of your hand.

*squirt*- the milky substance spurts out on your left cheekbone. fingertips then massaging it into the copper freckles that splatter across your skin.

a leopard-print robe clings onto your body’s grooves. this newfound hobby of yours is a therapeutic one. something that helps the time passes when your fiancé is outside.

it’s comical just how soon the golden doorknob spins in your peripheral. the camera merely picks up step two as a shadow overcasts the leftside of the frame.

you don’t bat an eye in the man’s direction. onyankopon was keen on greetings no matter how short the distance. having already made several guest appearances on the channel thus far.

“‘m filmin’, ony,” you whine, lips betraying you as they spread into a soft grin. a deep chuckle rolls off of his pink tongue. thick digits already wrapping around your chin to bring your spacey eyes upwards. a tinge of weed lingers on him. the subtle scent wafting in with his rich, musky cologne.

the look you share makes your brush crumble to your lap. onyankopon’s pupils are filled with adornment each time they find you. after a long day of serving the block he gets to come home to you, who’s barely lifted a french tip. he leads a life of chaos to afford your luxurious one. to assure his baby can simply sit before a camera and look pretty. It’s the soft life you deserve; the least he can provide for someone so selfless.

“i know, ma. jus’ wanted to see if you was straight. to apologize for dipping out before you was up s’all,” he jests with sincerity, despite the amusement of his southern twang. it’s almost enough for you to believe him, yet his hold lingers on your tilted chin.

onyankopon will never get over how much your lash tech loves you. how each wispy strand highlights the shape of your doe eyes.

a nod is returned, not a hair misplaced in your slickback bun as you purse your lips together. the telling gesture causes him to swoop down and plant a kiss with his full ones.

he leaves—with nothing but the sheen from your lip balm with him. straight to the connected en suite onyankopon goes. the sound of water trickles softly a couple seconds later.

communication isn’t needy with you two. he makes his presence known, acknowledges your feelings, and then his sweatpant-clad thighs are out of the frame. soon, you’re peering back at that red dot. it picks up every single thing, except for the makeup look it’s intended to catch.

a soft sigh escapes your disheveled head as you duck underneath the vanity to find a lost brush. distractions gloss over as you apply foundation into the pores of your prepped skin. you speak fluently as your wrist works in the layers of your velvety base. viewers are assured that you’re using your go-to products; Fenty, Mac, and various other brands scattered messily.

somewhere between placing down your dark-cocoa liner and reaching for clear gloss—the bathroom door swings open. not just a creak, but the wood is forcefully pushed against. this causes your neck to snap towards the side of the camera. low and behold heavy steps knock against the acacia floor panels.

onyankopon’s rich skin glistens with wet droplets. his broad stature is bare with the exception of it’s intricate ink. a bushy happy trail leads to the fuzzy towel around his waist. he’s intentional as he makes his way to the spongy mattress. knowing movements pretend as if a gaze isn’t fixated on his flexing back muscles. curse how you melt beneath yourself- ogling at his back as he pays you no mind. at least that’s what your fiancé wants you to believe. teasingly he sorts through a pile of shirts in search for tonight’s contender. simultaneously, your passionate narration dies into a deafening silence.

“thought filmin’ was so damn important, ‘member, baby?”, he speaks deliberate and sarcastic. you can almost hear the smirk stretched across his face.

abruptly a needless reminder bounces off the bedroom wall. yet onyankopon’s shaded back is still turned towards you.

you snarl, “well it’s kinda hard with all the noise in my background”, covered arms now rest against your rising chest. a pregnant pause floods the space right before he’s completely turned and facing you. a lump settles in your throat as the giant paces the room to your side. annoyance has taken over his features, brows now furrowed to crease his nose bridge.

“aye, quit all that whining,” he retorts, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his playful intent. as if the towel-ridden man wasn’t trying to get you all riled up in your seat. that previous hold on your chin is returned. this time onyankopon’s opposite palm goes to drop his towel. “make me,” your counterattack is the final one that leaves your two-tone lips, eyes flickering between his challenging stare and the impending peril as the towel loosens its grip around his waist.

there’s no time to recount how you’ve gotten here. with the weight of onyankopon’s size drooping his engorged tip in your face. now an eucalyptus soap fills your nostrils, left hand already wrapped around his thick base. up and down—you drag along the ridges of his veins up and down. your torso is already twisted to face him. peach bottom pressing into your soles as you turn towards him-thighs flattening beneath you. the velvet bench to your vanity was now being used as a prop.

teasingly, your lips part an inch apart. just wide enough to press open-mouthed kisses onto the slit of onyankopon’s tip. pre-cum oozes out only to be lapped up by your hungry tongue. “w-what’s all this teasing? you was just big n’ bad a minute ago,” his fist wraps around himself, the other pressed your head closer. a soft shriek escapes before onyankopon clogs the back of your throat. his chiseled hips thrust, giving you no time to prepare yourself. he sets a pace that’s mean and ruthless—it has your saliva foaming around his deep veins like a fountain.

in a teary-eyed blink, your mouth is stuffed full. he’s so relentless as he drags your wetness along his shaft. wet, slick noises erupting as you hollow your cheeks and cup his balls. a familiar spaciness fogs your head as you bob against his shallow thrusts. “right there-fuck, this throat so damn tight...”

he holds you against him, half of his dick disappearing as your muscles convulse around his girth. and you stay there for what feels like forever- a gagging fit forcing onyankopon to lazily pull you off. “ony…need you”, tone now softened by lust, you look up with big, shiny eyes. spit dribbles down your chin as you use a palm to massage the moisture into onyankopon‘s length. his own chest is rising and falling- animating your italicized name that resides over his heart.

beneath your breathless plea is the sight of your robe unraveling on its own. how could ony resist the way your cleavage spills out of the silk. the way your naked thighs stick together from your honey. with a curious grin, he dips down and latches his forearm around your midsection. gently your fiancé picks you up until your heels can wrap around his torso. his hold is strong and protective—bringing you a couple feet away to lay flat on the edge of the mattress.

now, the forgotten camera hones in on onyankopon’s perfect ass while he rids you of the sheer coverup. you’re helpless beneath him as he towers over you, knees to your chest. “nah, don’t do all that cryin’. act like you run shit for ya lil’ fans,” your soft groans earn you an eye roll, his darkened pupils now taking in every inch of glowy skin. all you can do is look up at the spinning ceiling, his tip taps against your fat folds.

“need to feel all of you, bae…please need my husband,” that little nickname of yours. husband—one that reminded the man of what was to come in a couple months. all the blood, sweat, teary nights and fucking money to make your big day special. countless of long meetings and bridal arrangements. cake tastings and floral pickings. all to officially marry the man of your fairytales. the very same one who swore he didn’t believe in marriages. he’d seen the concept as a scam up until he met you. now as whipped as can be; he strictly referred to you as his wife, his heart, his everything.

onyankopon‘s dick sinks into you like the final piece to a tedious puzzle. his head presses into your velvet walls as you mewl against your pursed lips. “like that? you feel that? feel what you do to me?,” one palm’s wingspan spreads behind your knees to keep them pinned. it gives him sight of the way your walls flutter around his thick dick. “jesus, ma. s’only half of it…need you to loosen up for me. i know she greedy as can be,” the stretch burns, your restrained legs weakly defend with a slight twitch. “fuc-k, ony you so deep can’t- can’t take anymo…,” both of your fists grip either sides of the sheet, head thudding back into a pile of freshly washed polos.

it’s like the masochist feeds off of your cries. onyankopon‘s other palm guides him through your wetness. a permanent furrow stays with him as he tries to make sense of the tightness. he’ll never get over how unforgiving your body is—like a wave of amnesia washes over the cunt he’s been buried in countless of times. “there you go, knew you could do it. take it, take it,” he repeats, a hand finding your waist now that your mound presses to his coarse pubes. onyankopon stills for all of several seconds. he snorts as your distorted expression tries to turn to the wrinkled duvet. the way the camera frames the sight of you coming undone off of stillness—silence, is amusing.

“what you pushing me away fo? we’re jus’ getting started, ma”, your nails shove beneath his navel, “we can always turn this shit into onlyfans whenever…,” that’s when it dawns upon you. you’re so fucked out that your fuzzy head shoots up and meets the tiny, red dot. onyankopon takes the epiphany as he’s not doing enough. he suddenly snaps his hips all the way back—leaving you with the trace of fullness. then, he thrusts back in with one, fluid motion. “mmh-ph!”, the wind is gutted from your deflated chest. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve came, but the puddle beneath your ass grows damper.

“shit…shit’s so…ugh,” the figure above you is soon reduced to incoherent whimpers. onyankopon lazily thumbs your second hole as he tries to keep up with his slowed pace. the way you clench and weep around him is going to be the death of him—he’s certain of it. when your eyes flutter open you’re met with his bobbing adam’s apple. his neck is blindly held back and his strokes are by the grace of God. “goddamn, ma. ‘m nutting, fuck i‘m nutting,” he huffs in twos, feet grounded into the tan rug beneath and knees locked. his base kisses your pussy one last time before you feel that dewy sensation. like a ragdoll your knees drop to the side. onyankopon gets ahold of your waist when he pulls out. a mixture of release seeps to your folds and down the side of the bed.

“hold up, peach. gonna get you cleaned so we can head out,” his raspy voice is drained and raw. for a moment you let him believe you two are stepping foot out of the house. he turns to head to the bathroom, but a grip around his wrist stops him. “again,” your canting blinks betray your eagerness, each one slower than the last. deep laughter erupts from onyankopon‘s inked sternum; only to resume his movement. his footsteps gyrate the entire, humid bedroom. instead of continuing to the bathroom, ony stops at the rolling device. with the click of a button the lens fades and retracts inwards. “i can’t give away all my best shots wit’ my woman”.

[6slux]

cut the cameras | 2.2k

pairing; onyankopon x BLACK!INFLUENCER!READER

synopsis; you try and fail to record for your channel but a surprise visitor distracts you.

cw! 18+, black!fem!reader, plug!onyankopon, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), p in v sex, consensual filming, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, fiancé!onyankopon, rimming

“welcome back, pixies”, you pause slightly, voice syrupy-sweet, “…to another get ready with me!”, curved acrylics wave at the camera’s lens.

sunday evenings were reserved for you and onyankopon’s date nights. no matter how hectic your schedules get- time was made.

“today i’m jus’ doing a quick light beat. a lil’ something for my man and i’s bowling date”, draped behind you is a lavender-padded backdrop. the plush material lines a corner of your shared bedroom.

opposite of that sits a pink Sony ZV-1, with the motion-tracking tripod to match. the very one you swooned over to onyankopon after watching numerous reviews. that very same Christmas the heavy box sat underneath the tree with a sparkly bow attached.

nerves still manage to swell in the pit of your belly, despite this being your tenth video for your channel. there were only going to be 20,000 eyes on you, after all. while getting dolled-up was second nature, showcasing it to the digital world required transparency.

“as always I’m startin’ with my Mac Studio Radiance Primer. y’all when i tell you this thing acts like a barrier on my skin”, you swear by the white bottle in the palm of your hand.

*squirt*- the milky substance spurts out on your left cheekbone. fingertips then massaging it into the copper freckles that splatter across your skin.

a leopard-print robe clings onto your body’s grooves. this newfound hobby of yours is a therapeutic one. something that helps the time passes when your fiancé is outside.

it’s comical just how soon the golden doorknob spins in your peripheral. the camera merely picks up step two as a shadow overcasts the leftside of the frame.

you don’t bat an eye in the man’s direction. onyankopon was keen on greetings no matter how short the distance. having already made several guest appearances on the channel thus far.

“‘m filmin’, ony,” you whine, lips betraying you as they spread into a soft grin. a deep chuckle rolls off of his pink tongue. thick digits already wrapping around your chin to bring your spacey eyes upwards. a tinge of weed lingers on him. the subtle scent wafting in with his rich, musky cologne.

the look you share makes your brush crumble to your lap. onyankopon’s pupils are filled with adornment each time they find you. after a long day of serving the block he gets to come home to you, who’s barely lifted a french tip. he leads a life of chaos to afford your luxurious one. to assure his baby can simply sit before a camera and look pretty. It’s the soft life you deserve; the least he can provide for someone so selfless.

“i know, ma. jus’ wanted to see if you was straight. to apologize for dipping out before you was up s’all,” he jests with sincerity, despite the amusement of his southern twang. it’s almost enough for you to believe him, yet his hold lingers on your tilted chin.

onyankopon will never get over how much your lash tech loves you. how each wispy strand highlights the shape of your doe eyes.

a nod is returned, not a hair misplaced in your slickback bun as you purse your lips together. the telling gesture causes him to swoop down and plant a kiss with his full ones.

he leaves—with nothing but the sheen from your lip balm with him. straight to the connected en suite onyankopon goes. the sound of water trickles softly a couple seconds later.

communication isn’t needy with you two. he makes his presence known, acknowledges your feelings, and then his sweatpant-clad thighs are out of the frame. soon, you’re peering back at that red dot. it picks up every single thing, except for the makeup look it’s intended to catch.

a soft sigh escapes your disheveled head as you duck underneath the vanity to find a lost brush. distractions gloss over as you apply foundation into the pores of your prepped skin. you speak fluently as your wrist works in the layers of your velvety base. viewers are assured that you’re using your go-to products; Fenty, Mac, and various other brands scattered messily.

somewhere between placing down your dark-cocoa liner and reaching for clear gloss—the bathroom door swings open. not just a creak, but the wood is forcefully pushed against. this causes your neck to snap towards the side of the camera. low and behold heavy steps knock against the acacia floor panels.

onyankopon’s rich skin glistens with wet droplets. his broad stature is bare with the exception of it’s intricate ink. a bushy happy trail leads to the fuzzy towel around his waist. he’s intentional as he makes his way to the spongy mattress. knowing movements pretend as if a gaze isn’t fixated on his flexing back muscles. curse how you melt beneath yourself- ogling at his back as he pays you no mind. at least that’s what your fiancé wants you to believe. teasingly he sorts through a pile of shirts in search for tonight’s contender. simultaneously, your passionate narration dies into a deafening silence.

“thought filmin’ was so damn important, ‘member, baby?”, he speaks deliberate and sarcastic. you can almost hear the smirk stretched across his face.

abruptly a needless reminder bounces off the bedroom wall. yet onyankopon’s shaded back is still turned towards you.

you snarl, “well it’s kinda hard with all the noise in my background”, covered arms now rest against your rising chest. a pregnant pause floods the space right before he’s completely turned and facing you. a lump settles in your throat as the giant paces the room to your side. annoyance has taken over his features, brows now furrowed to crease his nose bridge.

“aye, quit all that whining,” he retorts, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his playful intent. as if the towel-ridden man wasn’t trying to get you all riled up in your seat. that previous hold on your chin is returned. this time onyankopon’s opposite palm goes to drop his towel. “make me,” your counterattack is the final one that leaves your two-tone lips, eyes flickering between his challenging stare and the impending peril as the towel loosens its grip around his waist.

there’s no time to recount how you’ve gotten here. with the weight of onyankopon’s size drooping his engorged tip in your face. now an eucalyptus soap fills your nostrils, left hand already wrapped around his thick base. up and down—you drag along the ridges of his veins up and down. your torso is already twisted to face him. peach bottom pressing into your soles as you turn towards him-thighs flattening beneath you. the velvet bench to your vanity was now being used as a prop.

teasingly, your lips part an inch apart. just wide enough to press open-mouthed kisses onto the slit of onyankopon’s tip. pre-cum oozes out only to be lapped up by your hungry tongue. “w-what’s all this teasing? you was just big n’ bad a minute ago,” his fist wraps around himself, the other pressed your head closer. a soft shriek escapes before onyankopon clogs the back of your throat. his chiseled hips thrust, giving you no time to prepare yourself. he sets a pace that’s mean and ruthless—it has your saliva foaming around his deep veins like a fountain.

in a teary-eyed blink, your mouth is stuffed full. he’s so relentless as he drags your wetness along his shaft. wet, slick noises erupting as you hollow your cheeks and cup his balls. a familiar spaciness fogs your head as you bob against his shallow thrusts. “right there-fuck, this throat so damn tight...”

he holds you against him, half of his dick disappearing as your muscles convulse around his girth. and you stay there for what feels like forever- a gagging fit forcing onyankopon to lazily pull you off. “ony…need you”, tone now softened by lust, you look up with big, shiny eyes. spit dribbles down your chin as you use a palm to massage the moisture into onyankopon‘s length. his own chest is rising and falling- animating your italicized name that resides over his heart.

beneath your breathless plea is the sight of your robe unraveling on its own. how could ony resist the way your cleavage spills out of the silk. the way your naked thighs stick together from your honey. with a curious grin, he dips down and latches his forearm around your midsection. gently your fiancé picks you up until your heels can wrap around his torso. his hold is strong and protective—bringing you a couple feet away to lay flat on the edge of the mattress.

now, the forgotten camera hones in on onyankopon’s perfect ass while he rids you of the sheer coverup. you’re helpless beneath him as he towers over you, knees to your chest. “nah, don’t do all that cryin’. act like you run shit for ya lil’ fans,” your soft groans earn you an eye roll, his darkened pupils now taking in every inch of glowy skin. all you can do is look up at the spinning ceiling, his tip taps against your fat folds.

“need to feel all of you, bae…please need my husband,” that little nickname of yours. husband—one that reminded the man of what was to come in a couple months. all the blood, sweat, teary nights and fucking money to make your big day special. countless of long meetings and bridal arrangements. cake tastings and floral pickings. all to officially marry the man of your fairytales. the very same one who swore he didn’t believe in marriages. he’d seen the concept as a scam up until he met you. now as whipped as can be; he strictly referred to you as his wife, his heart, his everything.

onyankopon‘s dick sinks into you like the final piece to a tedious puzzle. his head presses into your velvet walls as you mewl against your pursed lips. “like that? you feel that? feel what you do to me?,” one palm’s wingspan spreads behind your knees to keep them pinned. it gives him sight of the way your walls flutter around his thick dick. “jesus, ma. s’only half of it…need you to loosen up for me. i know she greedy as can be,” the stretch burns, your restrained legs weakly defend with a slight twitch. “fuc-k, ony you so deep can’t- can’t take anymo…,” both of your fists grip either sides of the sheet, head thudding back into a pile of freshly washed polos.

it’s like the masochist feeds off of your cries. onyankopon‘s other palm guides him through your wetness. a permanent furrow stays with him as he tries to make sense of the tightness. he’ll never get over how unforgiving your body is—like a wave of amnesia washes over the cunt he’s been buried in countless of times. “there you go, knew you could do it. take it, take it,” he repeats, a hand finding your waist now that your mound presses to his coarse pubes. onyankopon stills for all of several seconds. he snorts as your distorted expression tries to turn to the wrinkled duvet. the way the camera frames the sight of you coming undone off of stillness—silence, is amusing.

“what you pushing me away fo? we’re jus’ getting started, ma”, your nails shove beneath his navel, “we can always turn this shit into onlyfans whenever…,” that’s when it dawns upon you. you’re so fucked out that your fuzzy head shoots up and meets the tiny, red dot. onyankopon takes the epiphany as he’s not doing enough. he suddenly snaps his hips all the way back—leaving you with the trace of fullness. then, he thrusts back in with one, fluid motion. “mmh-ph!”, the wind is gutted from your deflated chest. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve came, but the puddle beneath your ass grows damper.

“shit…shit’s so…ugh,” the figure above you is soon reduced to incoherent whimpers. onyankopon lazily thumbs your second hole as he tries to keep up with his slowed pace. the way you clench and weep around him is going to be the death of him—he’s certain of it. when your eyes flutter open you’re met with his bobbing adam’s apple. his neck is blindly held back and his strokes are by the grace of God. “goddamn, ma. ‘m nutting, fuck i‘m nutting,” he huffs in twos, feet grounded into the tan rug beneath and knees locked. his base kisses your pussy one last time before you feel that dewy sensation. like a ragdoll your knees drop to the side. onyankopon gets ahold of your waist when he pulls out. a mixture of release seeps to your folds and down the side of the bed.

“hold up, peach. gonna get you cleaned so we can head out,” his raspy voice is drained and raw. for a moment you let him believe you two are stepping foot out of the house. he turns to head to the bathroom, but a grip around his wrist stops him. “again,” your canting blinks betray your eagerness, each one slower than the last. deep laughter erupts from onyankopon‘s inked sternum; only to resume his movement. his footsteps gyrate the entire, humid bedroom. instead of continuing to the bathroom, ony stops at the rolling device. with the click of a button the lens fades and retracts inwards. “i can’t give away all my best shots wit’ my woman”.

[cedeslux]

INFLUENCER!READER introduction ↻ masterlist

ꨄ

cut the cameras — coming soon . . . 5.28.25

ꨄ

{ Bentayga cloth blanket, take a nap on a jet

cash in my duffel, got a bad bitch possessed

spill, make a mess

have a threesome on ecstasy

bag talk, everything else irrelevant

show dedication, never show you desperate }

[shawtuzi]

STICKY! STICKY! STICKY! FT. EREN YEAGER & SUGURU GETO

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ paring: bfs!suguru and eren x black coded fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ cw include: reader is ovulating jus like me, eren gets left out for a little bit but they make it up to him <3, needy!reader, whiny!sugu, some fondling, unprotected sex, they get caught by eren :0, sleepy eren, eren fucks you while you jerk off sugu, eren and sugu share a kiss, three way kiss, creampie, sugu cums on your pussy, oral f!receiving, a wee bit of aftercare. wc: 2.6k (this is not proofread so sorry bout that) mdni boarder credit: @/cafekitsune

‘suguru….? wake up, please’ *hiccup*

suguru let out a low hum, his thick brows scrunching as he cracked one eye open. you were practically touching noses with him, your lips turned into a deep pout. the faint smell of your peach scented body wash wafted into his nose, stirring him awake even more.

“what’s wrong princess?” he grumbled, blindly reaching out for your soft body. you cuddle more into his side, your lips immediately attaching to his jaw to pepper it in kisses. suguru’s lashes fluttered, his eyes now open completely. “i need you sugu, m’hurting down there,” your voice was still raspy with sleep, a whimper bubbling in your throat.

suguru’s hips jumped forward when you pressed your bottom half into his thigh, the heat from your pussy had his dick stirring in his sweats. “mmph, can’t you wait till the morning when eren is awake? you know he doesn’t like to be left out,” suguru whispered into your neck, squeezing the plushness of your hips.

he had a point—eren did not like to be left out when it came to being intimate with one another. it’s not like he got angry—on the contrary he’d be very pouty about it.

“but i’m ovulatinggg, don’t you feel how wet i am sugu?” you ground you pussy into his thigh the tiniest bit, your slick seeping through your panties and onto his thigh. suguru sucked in a breath through his nose, his eyes flitting over to eren’s sleeping figure. he’ll be quick. he’ll make you cum on his fingers real fast and put you back to sleep. easy.

“come with me,” he whispered, swiftly scooting out of bed, careful to not wake eren. you crawled off the bed, immediately latching to suguru’s side. he guided you to the bathroom, quick to hush your whines once you made it.

suguru lifted you with ease, setting you on the sink. his lips smushed into yours when he heard you squeak, “s-sorry it’s—ah, cold.”

he ran his warm hands over the tops of your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your panty clad pussy. “f-fuck, so wet, baby. what’s got you so worked up honey?” suguru cooed, his finger pulling the crotch of your panties forward before letting it snap back into place. a dewy wet sound echoed throughout the bathroom, making you whimper.

your lips trembled, your clammy hands wrapping around his wrists. “i had a dream about you n’ ren a-and then i woke up all wet. renny had such a long day at work i *sniffle* didn’t wanna disturb him,” before you knew it tears began to fill your lash line. you were always a crybaby when you were this needy.

suguru hummed, his thumb rubbing up and down over your slit, the soft cotton of your panties now rubbing deliciously over your swollen nub. “m’gonna make you cum on my fingers then we gotta go back to sleep, okay?” suguru whispered into your ear, his thumb now rubbing slowww circles over your clit.

your bottom half bucked into suguru’s touch, a dribble of your essence seeping into your already beyond soaked panties. suguru pulled your panties to the side, a gasp catching in his throat at how puffy n’ swollen your pussy was. your clit stood out from between your lips, practically begging him to wrap his lips around the bud. “t-touch me sugu,” you whined, a stray tear falling from your eye and onto your cheek that was still puffy from sleep.

geto kissed the tear away, two of his fingers now pushing between your slippery folds. you preened into his touch, burying your face in his warm, naked chest. suguru rubbed sloppy circles over your clit, his teeth clamping onto his bottom lip so hard it almost drew blood. just a taste won’t hurt right?

no, no, he had to focus. this wasn’t about him it was about you, and getting you back to sleep as soon as possible.

“s’not enough sugu, n-need your mouth or dick pleaseee.” suguru’s dick throbbed in his sweats, the leaky tip smearing against the soft fabric—he always slept commando. he sucked in a sharp breath when he felt your warm tongue wrap around his nipple, swirling around the bud until his forehead fell pitifully against the crown of your head. “b-but what about ren? i already feel bad en—”

“we’ll make it up to him,” you cut suguru off, cradling his face in your soft hands, “you know he can’t stay mad at us for too long.” you did have a point….

suguru whimpered, his hips bucking forward when you pawed at his clothed erection. “feels so hot, even over your sweats sugu,” you licked at your lips, squeezing his dick. “mmph! o-okay okay, take it p-please,” geto hissed, his heart beating faster once you finally pulled his dick out of its confinements.

“o-oh shit!” suguru gasped rather violently, your hand quickly slapping over his mouth at his sudden outburst. he mewled into your hand, his eyes apologetic. you were just so fucking wet. the second he slipped into your warmth it was as if he was having an out of body experience. your pussy throbbed around his tip, a drizzle of your essence trickling down the base.

you slowly removed your hand from suguru’s mouth, his lips smashing into yours seconds after. he whimpered into your mouth, his hips pushing forward a couple inches. “gotta be quiet sugu,” you moaned softly, your fingers threading into his hair, messing up his bun more than it already was. “i know, i know m’sorry baby,” he pushed in the final inches of his dick, his rough hands gripping onto your thighs for stability.

each time geto pulled out a dewy, squelching sound followed. your wetness dripped onto the counter and the floor but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care about the mess. suguru looked down to where your bodies connected, his eyes turning into hearts watching how greedily your pussy sucked him back in.

“f-faster sugu, faster,” you mewled, your lips latching onto his chest once more. suguru shook his head rapidly, a groan bubbling in his throat when you started to suck on his nipple. “i can’tttt baby, i-it wasn’t even supposed to go this far.”

“what are you guys doing?”

you and suguru both froze, his dick still fully sheathed inside you. you heard footsteps get closer until they stopped at the bathroom door.

“sugu?”

suguru turned his head to lock eyes with eren. his hair was a mess, hair sticking out in all directions from his bun. his eyes were still puffy with sleep, a deep pout etched onto his lips.

“you’re fooling around without me?” eren rasped, stepping closer to the both of you. your hand immediately went forward to tuck his hair behind his ear, his cheek nuzzling into your palm. “m’sorry ren, it was an emergency and you were so sleepy i didn’t wanna wake you,” your voice was as sweet as honey as you spoke to him, your thumb caressing the apple of his cheek.

“l-look at how swollen she is renny,” suguru pulled out just the tiniest bit to show eren how puffy your pussy was. eren hummed, his hand reaching between your bodies to rub at your clit. suguru’s hips stuttered forward when you clenched around him making eren let out a deep chuckle. “keep going.”

suguru didn’t waste another second, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward. your hands gripped onto the porcelain counter, eyes flitting to the growing bulge in eren’s boxers. suguru followed your eyes, his heart feeling heavy when he saw how hard eren was.

“h-here ren, you take over. got her all nice n’ stretched out for ya,” suguru pressed a quick peck to eren’s neck before slowly pulling out, a whine bubbling in his throat at the loss of warmth.

eren yanked down his boxers with a grunt, a tired smirk coming onto his face at the obscene wet sounds your pussy made just from him slapping his tip against it. “jerk him off for me princess,” eren hummed, finally slipping into your tight heat. his forehead fell against your shoulder, baby hairs tickling the side of your face. your head tilted back, thudding softly against the mirror behind you.

“c-c’mere sugu,” you blindly reached out for him, gasping when you felt how hard he was in your hand. he dick was still wet from previously being inside you, but eren being the sweet bf he was pulled his face out of your neck and turned his head to let a glob of spit fall onto suguru’s base. suguru whimpered, his hips thrusting into your hand. “thank you ren.”

“no problem babe,” eren grunted, his cheeks flaming hot at the sudden nickname he called suguru. suguru bit down a smile, his cheeks turning the same shade of pink as eren’s. “you guys are so cute—ah!” your toes curled when eren gave you a particularly harsh thrust, his dick bumping into that special spongy spot deep inside you.

the sloshing of your soaked pussy echoed throughout the entire bathroom, a thick sheen of your cream coating the base of eren’s dick. “f-fuck so wet baby, you shoulda woke me up,” eren grunted into your neck, licking and sucking at the sweaty skin. you nodded, tears brimming your eyes once again, “i know, i know, i-i’m sorry renny. we both are,” you cried out, your hand tightening around suguru’s dick.

suguru felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs when you squeezed his tip rather roughly, his head falling forward. “is that true sugu? you just as sorry as she is?” eren turned his head slightly to look at suguru, his hand running gently down his toned back, goosebumps rising in their wake.

suguru nodded his head rapidly, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried his absolute best not to bust all over your hand. “y-yes eren, i knew better m’sorry.”

“awww heh it’s okay sugu, i know the only thing you’re good at thinking with is your dick—hah! especially when it comes to her,” eren chuckled, gripping your jaw between his fingers. “give her a kiss, make it messy.”

suguru leant forward, smashing his swollen lips against yours. you parted your lips allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. you ran your thumb over his slit and that’s what had suguru moaning loudly into your mouth, a stray shot of his cum landing on your palm. “don’t you dare fucking finish, not until i say so,” eren growled, tightening his grip on your jaw. even when he was so so sleepy he still remained his dominant self.

“s-sorry ren,” suguru panted against your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut to stop himself from cumming anymore. his lower half felt as if it was gonna combust into pieces, his leaky tip smearing pre all over the tips of your fingers. “good boy,” eren grunted, pulling his hips all the way back before slamming forward.

his strokes were fast, yet precise, bumping into your special spot with each brutal thrust. “f—huck ren!” your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head when eren forced his way into you and sugu’s kiss, his tongue entangling with yours. sure, it was messy, but it was also one of the hottest kisses you or suguru ever experienced.

“eren please i-i, fuck, i can’t h-hold it much longer. please lemme cummm, i don’t wanna disappoint you,” suguru cried into the kiss, tears brimming his eyes. eren felt his balls tighten as the sound of suguru’s pathetic whines, a deep growl rumbling in his chest.

“j-just a little bit longer. y/n? you still with us baby?” eren tapped on your cheek, his thumb slipping into your drooling mouth. you nodded dumbly, sucking softly on eren’s thumb. your hand picked up the pace stroking suguru’s dick, the veins on the underside throbbing against your fingers.

your thighs trembled, hand slapping against eren’s back as you came with a squeal. “f-fuck, okay, okay cum now sugu. cum all over her pussy like a good boy,” eren growled, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. his thrusts were never ending, wave after wave of your cum hitting his lower abdomen.

suguru’s abs tensed, his mouth dropping open to let out a pornographic moan. his hips continued to shakily thrust into your hand, little ‘ah! ah! ah!’s slipping past his puffy lips. streaks of his cum landed messily on your mound, some dribbling onto eren’s dick, making it extra wet as he fucked into you.

eren was the last to finish, his hips slamming into yours one last time before he shot his load into you with a whine. his hips circled, milking his orgasm as much as possible before he pulled out of you abruptly with a loud squelch.

eren’s chest heaved up and down, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “clean it up sugu,” he hummed, stepping to the side, tucking his dick back in his boxers. with shaky legs suguru knelt down, his tongue immediately latching onto your swollen clit. “a-ah! c-careful sugu m’so sensitive,” you sniffled, tugging on his dark locs.

“don’t. matter of fact, make her cum again. she needs to be punished for convincing you to fool around without me,” eren smirked, crossing his arms as he leant against the doorframe. suguru hummed against your pussy, his big hands coming up to part your thighs wider. his tongue lolled out of his mouth, collecting yours and eren’s cum on his tongue. your feet kicked against his back when he shoved his tongue in your clenching hole, the muscle swiping against your gummy walls.

suguru hissed when he was suddenly tugged back roughly by his hair, his eyes flitting to eren who was standing over him. for such a big man he’d never felt so tiny under eren’s intense stare. “don’t think you’re off the hook either, m’just too tired to deal with the both of you. now make her cum.”

suguru sniffled, silently nodding his head before going back to work on your cunt. he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth, his tongue cupping your clit. his tongue gently, yet swiftly caressed your throbbing clit.

it wasn’t long before you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching, your thighs trembling around his head. with one last suck you were cumming in suguru’s mouth, waves of your essence hitting his awaiting mouth. suguru pulled away from your pussy with a lewd pop! his hand coming up to wipe his mouth.

once suguru was standing eren pulled him in for a kiss, humming at the taste of your cum on his tongue. he pulled away, a line of spit connecting their lips, “go lay down. m’gonna clean her up real quick ‘kay?” suguru nodded, letting out a yawn himself before making his way back to the bedroom.

eren retrieved a washcloth, running it under warm water before gently running it over the insides of your thighs. you whined once he reached your pussy, his lips pressing against your forehead as a silent apology. “did so good for us baby,” eren whispered against your forehead, his praise had you smiling, burying your face in his chest out of shyness.

eren chuckled, setting the washcloth aside before scooping you in his arms. you were already halfway asleep when he made it to the bedroom. suguru was passed out as well, his chest rising and falling slowly. eren laid you next to suguru, your arms absentmindedly wrapping around his sleeping form.

eren smiled to himself, quietly reaching over for his phone. he just couldn’t resist himself.

he snapped a picture of the two of you before getting into bed himself, his arm draping over your waist.

you and suguru were some of the most whiny, sex crazed people he’s ever encountered but he wouldn’t trade you both for anything in this world :((

[6slux]

thinking ab this again 😵‍💫

[perfectyeager-deactivated202509]

|| WHO..?; Eren Yeager

|| SYNOPSIS..?; Plug!Eren fucks his innocent girlfriend.

|| WARNINGS..?; 18+ MDNI. Smut.

EREN YEAGER was a well-known dealer in the area. a tall, mysterious, often hot-headed drug dealer — someone you definitely wouldn’t wanna mess with unless you planned on getting shot.

so, when you, a perfect little pink princess angel was seen with eren’s tattooed arm around your shoulders and your bag in his hand — everyone was shocked to say the least.

you were pretty, quiet, intelligent, came from a good family background, never missed a day of college or any homework, never smoked or did drugs, and the only alcohol you’d ever had was a sip of your mother’s gin & tonic and you hated it.

you were the complete opposite to eren.

you were innocent.

but somehow you were drawn to him.

you had met at a party your friend mikasa dragged you too — someone he’d known from childhood and you bonded over your mutual friend. eren knew he liked you from the moment he set eyes on your uncomfortable frame amongst your drunk and high friends at the party. you got on very well much to eren’s surprise and he vowed from that moment on to protect you no matter what.

so, you hung out more & more and you grew to love each other. eren asked you to be his girlfriend at a fancy dinner — a pretty bracelet in a velvet box being accompanied by the sweet words, bringing tears to your eyes as you couldn’t help but kiss his face as you cried against him, whispering ‘yes’ a thousand times as you covered him in your lipstick.

you cherished eren and treated him with the utmost kindness and respect a man deserved. you always put him first and devoted your life to making sure he was happy. and eren protected you with his life — literally. he would take a bullet to the brain for you, not caring that he’d never wake up again, if only you were happy and safe. you were the only woman he’d ever truly loved, and therefore he never wanted anything bad to ever happen to you. n he spoilt you like a princess, his drug money making sure your nails were never bare, as long as he could pick the design here and there, and your hair looked freshly done and perfect and any outfit or meal you wanted was paid for by him.

eren never pushed you into anything, he knew where you stood with his life and what he did, but he knew you’d never stop him from making his money the way he did. he knew you hated that he sold & did drugs but he reassured you with his life that he would never ever put you in danger or make you unhappy. he’d give it up if you were genuinely upset about it — but he knew you weren’t that petty to make him change his life that much just for you.

he also never pushed you to like his friends — who had the same values as him. so, when you met them all for the first time, you could tell you were definitely the elephant in the room, as a little princess like you stood out amongst all the drugs user thugs themselves.

“ guys, this my girl i’ve been tellin’ you ‘bout.” eren introduced, a sweet smirk on his face, as he smiled down at you, arm around your waist as you stood before a few of his friends.

smoke filled the air as they all smoked their individual joints, all in similar dress to eren and all tatted up — you, in a short, pretty pink dress, frilly socks and comfy trainers and your hair in a high ponytail held together by a pink scrunchie.

“ hi, nice to meet you.” you smiled sweetly, waving your manicured hand, eren smiling as he caught a glimpse of the initial ‘E’ on your ring finger.

one day he’d convince you to get it tatted — not yet though.

connie was the first to speak, standing up, brushing the ash off his jeans to force his hand into yours in a handshake, “nice to meet ya, pretty, ‘m connie. we’ve heard a lotta ‘bout you.”

“watch it” eren warned, shooting connie a glare at the compliment he weaved into his words.

connie only chuckled, retreating back to his seat as you giggled quietly at eren’s possessiveness.

next to greet you was a tall, mullet-headed man named jean who only offered a nod and a quiet hello — someone you knew eren had had issues with in the past and knew not to overstep the line when it came to his girl. after jean came reiner, a muscular blonde who was the sweetest of the bunch.

“nice to meet you — i hear you’re making our eren very happy.” he smiled, blowing smoke from between his pink lips.

“i hope so.” you mumbled nervously, “i love him a lot.”

eren could’ve fallen to his knees and cried at the way you looked up at him with such pure adoration and devotion in your eyes after saying the sweetest words any girl had ever said about him.

“y’know you do, baby.” eren spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you’re not his usual type so i am surprised.”

“shut ya fucking mouth, kirstein.” you nearly flinched at the pure hatred in eren’s voice as his head snapped towards jean who only smirked evilly.

“what? a man’s not allowed to speak the truth anymore, or ‘sum?” jean laughed, “no offence, sweetheart, but yeager usually goes for more..experienced bitches, y’know?”

connie kissed his teeth loudly as reiner sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. a frown appeared on your face as jean’s words hit your ears, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at jean’s insinuation.

“so, just don’t get too comfortable, darlin’, cuz he’s likely to leave ya for some other bitch that actually knows how ta act her age.”

“i’d shut up, kirstein.” connie warned, a knowing smile on his face as if he was enjoying this.

you could feel eren was tense from how his hand gripped your waist and how you could hear him grinding his teeth together in anger.

you hated seeing eren like that. you just wanted him to be happy.

“well i’m sorry, jean, b-but eren loves me and me only just as i am and that’s not going to change so you’ll just h-have to get used to it.”

your heart hammered in your chest as adrenaline flowed through your veins — swallowing thickly as the words left your dry throat. your hand flew to eren’s against your waist as you gripped his fingers, reminding him that you were there with him.

jean’s face dropped as he expected eren to give him a piece of his mind — he wasn’t expecting your shaky voice to greet his ears.

eren, though, could’ve cum on the spot. you, defending him against horse-face…? jeeeesus that was fucking good to hear.

“daaaaaamn, kirstein, get told you asshole.” connie laughed, slapping his knee as reiner smiled against the joint between his lips.

jean kissed his teeth, “man fuck you.”

“nah fuck you, bro” connie fought back, “bein’ nasty to eren’s girl for no damn reason, fuckin’ cunt.”

“oh shut ya fuckin’ mouth, springer — “

“go wait in the car for me, sweetheart.” eren whispered down at you, his voice taking over your brain from the boys argument, his large hand cupping your cheek lovingly as he slid his car keys into your petite hand.

you nodded and did as he asked, blocking out the argument as you retreated out the room, offering reiner a polite, yet awkward smile. you knew trouble was underway as eren’s name being called in desperation muffled through the walls of connie’s apartment as you hurried down the stairs.

eren often got like that if you were disrespected by anyone. didn’t matter if he was in the room, if he knew them or not, if the person who said it was online or if they were 1000 miles away — eren had to fuck them up until they were on the brink of death for upsetting his perfect girl.

you had waited in his obnoxiously big mercedes for what felt like half an hour as you anxiously picked at your nails, your eyes glancing down at his initial — worry filling your tummy. but, alas, your boyfriend emerged from the apartment complex in a state you weren’t surprised at.

sweaty, flushed cheeks, strands of hair flying from his bun, bruised and bloody knuckles and chest heaving angrily.

“‘rennie.” you whispered as he flung himself into the car, slamming the door. your sweet, loving hands coming to touch his cheek.

if it were anyone else, eren would’ve flipped his lid at anyone touching him. but you? no. he craved your touch right now. more than anything. i mean he was practically melting at the touch of your small palm on his face.

he turned his head to press a long, loving kiss to the palm of your hand, eyes closed as if to savour the feeling of your skin on his lips.

“‘m sorry for keepin’ you, baby.” eren whispered, quickly turning on the ignition and pulling out of the parking space, “let’s go home, yeah?”

you merely nodded, offering him a reassuring smile as he drove away, slightly more erratic than normal due to his heightened mood — but he knew not to take it too far as you were in the car with him. as you know, he’d never ever put you in danger.

eren remained in a mood for the rest of the day. never showing it fully to you as to not upset you, but you could tell he was still bothered by what jean had said.

“eren?”

“wassup, beautiful” eren’s monotone voice filled your ears as you watched him from across the dinner table in his dining room. he even looked perfect eating the chinese takeout he’d bought you both.

“what happened earlier?”

eren tensed up again. the memories of the afternoon crept up his brain, “why, baby?”

“please, honey.” you pouted, instantly breaking down his guard at your perfect face, “i wanna know.”

eren sighed, reaching over to tug at your jutted out bottom lip, “can’t ever say no to you, mama, jesus.”

you smiled slightly against his finger, watching as he let his fork drop into the cardboard box full of noodles, running a hand through his hair.

“well i beat the shit outta him. broke his nose or ‘sum i think, i really don’t care.”

“eren!”

eren kissed his teeth, leaning back in his chair, “what? he fuckin’ deserved it.”

“eren yeager.” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, frowning, not knowing eren secretly enjoyed the way you got so protective of him.

“shiiit, full name n’ all, now ‘m in trouble, ma, huh?” he smirked, his golden grills flashing at you.

“yes, ‘ren, he’s your friend.” you whined, feeling to blame for your boyfriends antics.

“nah he’s not.” eren scowled, returning to his food nonchalantly despite the topic of conversation, “especially not if he talks ‘bout you like that.”

you sighed, pushing at your food with your fork, pouting slightly, still feeling guilty.

“baby, ‘m sorry i’m not like the other girls you’ve dated.”

uh oh! shouldn’t have said that!

eren threw his fork to the table, startling you slightly as he slid his chair quickly towards you — forcing you into a feverish kiss, taking you by surprise. eren’s large hands grasped desperately at your face, his lips moulding against yours as he kissed you with the most passion and love you’d ever experienced.

“—‘nngh’ — ‘rennie!—giggle—stop!—hah!” your words struggled to come out as eren kissed from your lips to your nose to your cheeks, eyes forehead and chin.

“don’t you ever say that again, ma, i mean it.” eren warned, suddenly serious as he finally pulled away looking you dead in the eyes, “you. are perfect. and nothin’ like those bitches thank fucking jesus lord. they ruined me, made me half the fuckin’ man i am. you changed me you fixed me you are the one for me because you are you, baby, y’get me?”

you couldn’t help but smile against his hands, your cheeks squishing slightly against him as you couldn’t contain your grin, “‘rennie, you mean that?”

“more than anything in th’fuckin’ world.”

and he sure as hell proved that!

“..nnngh—ugnnnh! fuuuck, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed loudly, pulling back from between your thighs at the sound of his name being called, slick covering his lips and chin, as you sat up on your elbows, arms shaking.

currently, he had you on your back on his bed, completely butt ass naked like the day you were born, and his tongue working wonders on your clit. you’d already cum twice and he was trying to force a third out of you.

“‘wassup, baby?”

“— ‘ren, hah — no-no more — nnhuuugh.” your whines of pleasure and fatigue only stirring him on as he jutted against the bed frame in his boxers, now feeling awfully tight against his throbbing cock.

“please, mama, one more for ‘rennie, please? y’were such a good girl for me today baby. standing up to that fuckin’ prick — makin’ ‘rennie s’proud of you. gotta reward m’ baby, yeah?”

you whined once more, his words hitting you straight in the core as you fell back onto your back, chest heaving.

eren took that as a yes — his tongue resuming its mission your aching clit, his ring clad hands gripping at your pudgy thighs as you cried out, your legs instinctively clamping around his head at the over stimulation.

eren flicked the tip of his tongue continuously over your clit, pleasuring the swollen nub, occasionally licking long strips or sucking on it, earning louder moans of intense pleasure from your plump lips. eren ate pussy good — that was one of the first things you learnt about him, feeling excited you had him all to yourself but secretly annoyed other girls got to enjoy this before you.

but he was yours now so it didn’t matter.

eren didn’t have to wait long until you were cumming again, legs nearly crushing his skull as you shook against him, tongue lapping at your clit at record speed as you whined his name loudly, bucking your hips up to reach your third orgasm.

“fuck fuck fuck, ‘rennie — cummin’, ‘m cummin’, baby, fuck!”

“yeah, that’s it, princess, give it to me. give it to ‘rennie, fuckin’ cum for me.” eren whispered, his fingers rubbing swift circles on your nub as your third orgasm ripped through you.

eren grew harder and harder in his uncomfortably tight boxers as you creamed all over his tongue, whining and panting as the overstimulation grew. as you came down from your high, you kicked eren away from your pulsating sex as he lapped up the cum that dribbled out of you, fatigue washing over you.

but eren wasn’t done with you just yet.

kneeling on the bed, eren slotted himself between your open legs as he pulled his achingly hard cock free from his briefs, both of you watching as it bobbed between your thighs lewdly. eren wasn’t small at all — a humble 8 inches and girth always made your ability to walk be ripped away from you.

“gonna fuck you so good, mama. ya such a good girl f’me, deserve to take this big dick, hm?”

you could only whine as words failed your sex-drunk mind, clit twitching as eren’s mushroom-shaped tip nudged the abused nub. he gathered your ever-increasing slick over his hot length, heart pounding as he pushed a leg further up to his shoulder.

“ya ready, sweetheart?”

this wasn’t a question, this was a warning. eren did this to make sure you knew his desperate monster of a cock was about to destroy your insides.

“mmm.” you nodded, biting your lip, anticipation eating you alive.

eren bit back a moan as he pushed the tip past your drooling lips into your tight gummy walls — a loud whine leaving your lips, only stirring eren on.

“jeeeesus, fuck, baby.” eren groaned, throwing his head back as he pushed further inside you, the sheer girth of his fat cock stretching you open more n more with each inch.

eren was only getting harder n harder as you panted and whined beneath him, your pretty chest clad in a white lacy bra rising and falling quickly as he filled you up.

eren loved lookin at you while he fucked you. sure he loved seeing your ass clap back onto his dick while he fucked you from behind — but watching your gorgeous face contort into expressions of pleasure while he fucked you dumb made him feral.

eren wasted no time — wanting nothing more than for you to feel good for your amazing act of service to him today. he dragged himself slowly from your wet cunt, hissing at the tightness that was your pussy that engulfed him, only leaving his throbbing tip inside.

“please ‘rennie.”

that was enough for eren. one hand gripped your hip and the other on your levitated thigh as he began an unholy pace. your back arched off the bed as eren’s cock slammed in and out of your sloppy pussy — the sound of your wetness filling the air like a dirty porn video, only stirring eren on as his mouth fell open at the feeling of your clenching hole squeezing him just the way he liked. your legs were tensed as your eyes squeezed shut; pleasure consuming your body as eren fucked you senseless, grunting to himself as he thoroughly enjoyed you.

“such a good girl f’me, aren’t ya, princess?” eren panted, turning to plant hot, open mouthed kisses against your ankle as he fucked you open — chest heaving in arousal as you cried out louder at his praise.

“e-eren!” you cried, eyes shooting open as his fingers landed on your overstimulated clit, rubbing circles on his twitching nub, coaxing another orgasm outta you, shooting up from the bed.

eren’s large hand landed from your waist to your neck — grasping your throat in a chokehold and shoving you back down onto the bed, knocking the wind out of your lungs, “don’t you fuckin’ dare try and stop me.” he warned “you’ve been such a good girl all day baby don’t ruin it now. let rennie make ya cum one more time yeah?”

“rennieeee, can’t. i can’t, b-baby, can’t cum anymore. ‘s-sensitive.” you whined, trying to ignore how good it felt as his cock bullied your g-spot and thumb rubbing dangerously slow circles on your clit.

eren laughed darkly, his pornographic pace never faltering as his blown out, fucked out eyes flicked from your bodies connecting to your lewd face, “you wanna cum with rennie though, right?”

you nodded quickly — loving nothing more than feeling him stuff you full of cum while you orgasmed around him.

“then shut ya bitch mouth n take it.”

with a squeak of agreement, eren’s hand slipped from your throat to your tits — pulling one out manhandling it, earning himself some pretty moans as he rolled your nipple between his fingers.

“fuckin’ c’mere, mama.” eren spoke, tossing another leg over his shoulder, practically folding you in half as he pushed you further onto the bed, now leaning over your fucked out body.

“aaaahnnng! fuck, fuck fuck! eren — eren, fuck, eren!”

your whines only granted eren all the confirmation he needed that he was doin you good as he pushed his cock further into you — his tip kissing your cervix.

“jeeeeesus,” eren panted, throwing his head back at the new angle, “fuckin’ takin this dick so good, mama”

“yeah, yeah, yeahhnhhggh!” you were practically brainless by the time eren had even started his new pace, his cock bullying its way into you as your eyes practiced hardcore R.E.M as they rolled back and all over the place.

eren’s hips snapped back and forth against the plush of your ass and gripped your waist — forcing you down onto his cock harder as he fucked you. his bun was falling loose as strands stuck to the sweat on his forehead, bottom lip between his teeth flashin his grills as his eyebrows twitched.

eren pushed his cock deeper as you whined with every thrust, blabbering his name as tears slipped from your eyes at the pure pleasure your eren was bringing you — big bad eren making you feel so good behind closed doors!

eren’s hand resumed its tortuous work against your clit as he grunted against you, flicking your nub back forth.

“doin’ so good, babygirl, fuckin’ can’t wait to nut in this good girl pussy.”

“oouuuugh ‘rennieeeeuuugg!”

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it mama, feels good, yea?” eren teased, slamming his now twitching cock into your slobbering pussy — his dick throbbing in arousal at the way you’d clench around him and then a milky white ring of your cream would form around the base of his cock, “ya like it when rennie talks you through it, hm? dirty girl.”

“yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed darkly as he watched your eyes nearly turn towards each other as you blabbered loudly, drool now falling from your lips — he just loves fuckin’ you dumb!

“fuck, baby, gunna cum,” eren mumbled, hips twitching slightly as he neared his finish, “where y’want me, sweetheart?”

“inside!”

“oh, fuck.”

eren didn’t need much more to be said before his hips stilled as he spilled his load inside you. the feeling of eren fucking his cum back inside you as his hips twitched forwards as he came, sent you the edge as well, manicured toes curling and a loud cry of pleasure being released as you came around him. eren’s head fell forward against your chest as you clamped down on his sensitive cock — forcing another spurt of cum to shoot inside you along with his fat load.

you both laid in silence for a few more seconds before eren slowly sat up, letting his softening cock slip out of your warm heaven — smirking proudly as a dollop of his cum dripped from your pussy which clenched around nothing.

“did so good f’me, beautiful.” eren whispered, reaching down to rub gentle, apologetic circles to your bruised hips and a sweet, loving kiss to your temple, his heart hammering in his chest from your adorably tired face.

“i love you, ‘rennie.” you mumbled, curling up in his sweaty sheets — which you knew he’d be changing for you in a few minutes as he retreated towards the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you with.

“i love you more, princess.”

hey sorry i’m back babies !

i had awful writers block but i think ive found my style now YAY

i <3 eren

[6slux]

🎀🎀🎀

[6slux]

.ᐟ+18, pregnancy, lactation kink, nsfw-ish??, husband! onyankopon

clingy men with oral fixations >>>

thinking thoughts about onyankopon who can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

for the most part it starts innocent—a harmless obsession with his addicting wife and her comforting pecks. but then his love develops as does your marriage and pregnancy.

say he comes in from a lonely day out. maybe he was chilling with his homeboys, maybe he’s coming in from running a bunch of errands. regardless, it was too many hours without you on his tongue. too many hours of not being able to check in with you. he’s not the most expressive when it comes to voicing his feelings, so he would rarely outright declare, “i miss you”. as if the plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks on his arm doesn’t speak volumes.

instead, he creeps into your dark bedroom to find you snuggled up in your padded duvet. at this hour of the night it’s often illuminated by a ceramic side-lamp. you’re either tuned in to your favorite series or your neck is in a New York Times bestseller. he comes in without a word and strips himself of his outside attire. his chiseled body soon bare with the exception of its never-ending ink and boxer briefs. you both don’t officially acknowledge each other until a dip weighs down the empty side of the bed.

onyankopon is a gentle giant— upper body leaning over until he catches your puckered lips. a sweet kiss or two is placed against the plump skin before he settles in. that means dominating the remote control and shifting the channel to something more…his speed. like ‘BMF’ or ESPN highlights. somehow, each low chuckle he belts out brings him closer and closer to your side. before you know it, he’s bridging that drift in the center of your mattress with his wide body.

it’s nothing you’re not used to—captivated by a fantasy the story in your lap tells, yet tilting your neck to give your husband access. a heavy palm rests on your breastbone while onyankopon nips at your neck. his plump lips swirl and suckle softly; only applying enough pressure to elicit soft moans from you. it’s not enough to break neither of you two’s concentration; his darkened pupils still side-eyeing the mounted flatscreen. this type of need can go on for hours and hours if you allow it to.

eventually, his tastebuds grow insatiable. he notices the way your nurturing palm nestles your raised belly every flip of a page. he knows this whole first-time pregnancy thing has been everything but easy on you. he acknowledges how your hormones run wild one half of the time, and your growing body aches the other. you find your little time-passers and hobbies on your own, though. and when onyankopon finally gets back home from providing, you’re always willing to let him consume you.

he mumbles against your skin, “hope my son ain’t give you no issues today”. his head then picks up to find your glassy gaze. your features read tired, yet a small grin weakly tugs at your plump lips. you never fully confirm or deny, unless you felt overtly ill. onyankopon will then pick up the hand that lays on the raised skin, and bring it to his face. he places ghastly pecks into the back of it—along your knuckles and over that big, shiny rock on your ring finger.

he’s so proud to call you his wife, and he’s even prouder that you’re bearing his child. in return, you’ve got this new, radiant glow to you and a confidence to match. this lengthy journey only strengthening your patience and domesticity. it was the next step in building the big, happy family you both desired and deserved.

onyankopon makes it to your wrist—and then he stops. a pregnant pause meaning mischief is brewing in that mind of his. he gently drops your palm and his digits trail to the collar of your shirt. bypassing the small stammer of his name, he tugs until your breasts spill out.

“these givin’ you any pain? they done got a little bigger on me,” your chest is swollen, breasts sitting a little bit lower than the last time. his calloused palms take ahold of both of them to massage you beneath his fingertips. the heaviness from your upper half is relieved as he kneads into the doughy surface. his bottom lip sucked in by his pearly whites as he works out those knots. until—a sudden dampness pauses onyankopon‘s touch. he swears this was meant to be a simple gesture. a way to check on his lady and then head to the shower. onyankopon hesitantly retracts to watch as the eggshell liquid rolls down your mound. he can’t just let it go to waste, so the tip of his tongue laps the drop upwards. right back to your sore nipple that is immediately enveloped by his lips. vibrations buzz around the sensitive skin as he sucks and drinks—your body miraculously seeping out milk the more he encourages the supply.

“you taste like heaven”, he groans out an incoherent phrase, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you lay your head back onto the headboard. your hand abandons the downturned book in your lap, and you drag your nails over onyankopon‘s waves. it’s an intense combination of pain and pleasure as he sloshes your nipple around his wet mouth. he’s careful not to neglect your other nipple—ping ponging back and forth between the two. the man’s got a large appetite and just when you think it’s enough, his palm slides further down past your hump. “what ‘bout right here? i need to taste all of you…,” he stops at your covered center, unlatching from your nipple.

[rafesbimbo-deactivated20260602]

would love to see how any!rafe handles reader w/ an oral fixation. she’s so clingy 24/7 and in constant need to be near or on him <33

mean!rafe x reader

warnings: 18+, degradation, rough oral (m receiving), facefucking, possessiveness, dom!rafe, mean!rafe, oral fixation kink, brat!reader, spit, drool, tears, gagging, light choking, hair pulling, dumbification, objectification, pet names (e.g. toy, brat, parasite), subspace-ish behavior, power dynamics, size kink,slight dacryphilia

rafe’s mean. always has been.

he talks shit like it’s his first language, throws punches when he’s bored, and looks at people like they’re beneath him—because most of them are.

but you? you’re something else.

you’re always on him. curled up in his lap when he’s trying to roll, wrapped around his arm in public like a leash, lips pressed to his neck, jaw, fingers, anything you can get in your mouth. it’s like your body doesn’t know how to exist without him under your tongue.

he acts annoyed—grits his teeth, mutters shit like “you’re so fucking needy”—but he never stops you.

until tonight.

you’re kneeling between his legs on the couch, hands already tugging at the waistband of his sweats, mouthing at the sharp line of his hipbone like you’ve been starving.

he lets out this low, frustrated noise, one hand going straight to your hair.

“you seriously can’t keep your mouth off me for five fucking minutes?”

you just look up at him with that desperate little pout, lips already wet. “need you, rafe.”

he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, slow.

“yeah? that little mouth is desperate to be full, huh?”

you nod, sucking his thumb into your mouth immediately. you moan, tongue curling around it, and he groans.

“jesus. you’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, shifting in his seat as you grind your thighs together. “mouth always open, always whining. might as well put it to use.”

he pushes you back down, palms on your cheeks, not even pretending to be gentle. and when he pulls his cock out and presses it against your lips, you open without hesitation.

“that’s what i thought,” he mutters, slipping in slow, then all at once. “go ahead. shut yourself up.”

your throat tightens, spit pooling, but you don’t care. he’s rough—hand in your hair, hips rolling forward, groaning when your eyes start to water.

“you love this shit,” he growls, looking down at you. “love being my dumb little toy. can’t even think unless you’ve got my cock down your throat, huh?”

you moan around him, tears slipping down your cheeks, fingers digging into his thighs like you need this. like you’ll fall apart if he stops.

he finishes with a curse, pulling out and dragging you into his lap like you weigh nothing. your legs are shaking, lips swollen, still mouthing at his hoodie string like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

he watches you, chest rising and falling, then smirks.

“your like a fuckin' parasite,” he mutters, hand gripping your thigh possessively.

“lucky i like it.”

[6slux]

🏹🤎