"Without Consciousness Nothing Exists - Actually Nothing At All In This World. Everything, Truly Everything

@stayingupreading

FREE USE WITH MIGUEL? LIKE ANYWHERE ANYTIME?

a/n: YES NONNIE, ANY--FUCKING--TIME. AND HERES ONE OF THOSE TIMES :^) idk if this is free-use or feral!reader or both. anyway, just enjoy it lol. like every time, this got away from me

special thanks to mona (@whatthefishh) for letting me scream this shit to her over discord + for helping me figure out exactly what 'free use' is lol

cw: smut (18+), free use kink, small very small bit of somnophilia (CAN'T ESCAPE IT), non-explicit oral (m-receiving), afab!reader, mentions of ovulation (+ period) horniness, fingering, cockwarming, fucking w/ multiple orgasms, the same Spanish pet name used over and over, reader is basically a bothersome cat, writer is so all over the place it's confusing.

wc: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a quick thot but wtvr)

---

miguel is a gracious boyfriend, he practically lives to please you. so when you approach him in the middle of the day with nothing but his shirt draped over your figure, he has a hard time rejecting your advances.

sure, he tries, but every time he gives you what he wants.

you're spoiled, really.

miguel works at home as much as possible. he hates having to leave you before the sun rises, walking away from a perfectly cozy bed and wet cunt (😳).

miguel convinces himself that Spider HQ can survive a day or two without him on site. he has several capable Spiders that do most of the heavy lifting for him and LYLA isn't afraid to take charge, sitting her holographic ass in the boss' chair.

he can set up mission plans and keep track of everything from his laptop, and he's always on call if he is needed for anything. the only issue is that working remotely doesn't work when he can't get anything done.

he's trying to go over notes from a meeting that was held earlier this morning.

he was supposed to be there, but you physically wouldn't let him out of bed. he swears you're a Spider yourself with the strength you have when you're especially needy and sleepy.

he smelled it when he woke up in the middle of the night to you mouthing over his boxers, that decadent sweetness that indicates you're ovulating.

you were desperate to get a taste of him, to fill that unbearable emptiness inside of you, whimpering with relief when you finally feel his fingers bury themselves in your hair to push your further against his bulge.

he learned early in your relationship that your insatiable appetite for him increases tenfold during your window of fertility (don't even mention your period). and so does your need for sleep. so he caters to your needs accordingly.

you passed out after convincing him to fuck the heat out of you, to snuff out the fire until your neediness recedes. apparently, the only time you aren't horny is when you're sleeping (though that isn't true... you wake up horny all the time??).

you've been sleeping soundly ever since, utterly exhausted by his thorough support, but he knows that once you wake up, you'll be crying for him again.

he crawled back into bed with you after telling LYLA to take over for the day, but after a few hours of almost suffocating because of the way you curl up on his chest like a cat, he got up to get some coffee and finish some computer work.

as soon as his warmth left you, you fussed. eyes still closed as you whined and moaned for his body. he shushed you, gently smoothing down your bedhead until you settled.

it didn't last for long.

you padded out of bed with bleary eyes, clearly looking for him when you walked into the living room. he offered you a quick "morning, cariño." before focusing back on his computer. he had to limit as much contact with you as possible if he wanted to finish his work.

just a few more pages and a couple of emails, and then he can give you all the attention you need.

his shirt brushes against your thigh like a summer dress as you make your way through the room.

he looked adorable with his loose white long sleeve on and black dad-glasses. his hair is still curly and fluffed, telling you he wasn't planning on leaving you anytime soon.

you shuffle over to the couch, sitting next to him with a sigh.

he doesn't react.

somehow, the minimal recognition that you're there, his adamant refusal to look at you, turns you on as much as it irritates you.

he's really trying his best to be a good boss, hm? trying to resist a temptation that's barely a foot away from him.

it makes you feel dirty and deprived. you blatantly rub your legs together, urging him to look. your gaze washes over his sharp jawline watching as it clenches at your soft coos.

"...baby."

"'m working, amor." his voice is still soft, despite the efforts he's taking to ignore you.

you huff.

"but--"

"not right now."

you scoot closer to him, strategically allowing the hem of his shirt to ride up on your thighs. so he's really going to make you do it...

you tug at his sleeve, taking his arm away from his work (though it doesn't look like he was working on much at all, he's been sitting on that exact page for 5 minutes now).

"not right now, mi vida..." he protests lightly, but he doesn't move away. he's not even trying, you think.

you smirk at his empty words. you can see the way he's looking at you: your messy hair, bare legs, the shadow of his shirt hiding away your most sensitive spot. his breathing grows heavier and so does his stare.

"i have work--" miguel is always so soft and sweet to you, melting in your hand though he has all the power to stop it.

"please, miguel? just one, for me?" his lips part as you place his hand against your bare thigh, slowly dragging it upwards until it meets your center.

he doesn't take his hand away, doesn't even pull back a single inch, instead, he instantly complies, cupping his warm hand over its entirety. he chokes out a low groan. you're not wearing anything underneath.

"ok, i guess if it's only once..." he whispers, already breathy. he's leaning over you, almost on top of you, forcing your legs to spread impossibly wide.

he watches as his finger rubs against your slick center, spreading your wetness until you're glistening for him under the late morning light. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, eyes flicking up to your face to witness the small o your mouth makes as he presses in deeper.

his mouth waters as he fingers you, he wishes he had enough time to go down on you, and taste your slick straight from the source. he knows how much you love it when he fucks you with his tongue and suckles on your clit. but no, he has work to do. he needs to get you off so he can finally focus.

"this what you needed, cariño?" it's all but growled into your space, his voice low and taunting. all you can do is nod with bleary eyes as your hands grip onto his thick bicep for support.

he adds another finger and thrusts them into you quicker, angling them just so his palm can gently nudge at your clit. he can feel you tightening around him already, fluttering with each pass that he makes against your g spot. he presses harder, drinking in your choked gasp and shaking thighs.

you're so wet, spilling over his fingers and dripping against his hand. the noises between you are deafening. a mixture of sopping thrusts, heavy breathing, and quiet mewls fill the still silence of the living room.

he's so good at this, too good at this.

how can he make you fall apart with just his hands, caress every sensitive nerve with a single stroke?

you're at the cusp of euphoria. your body, filled to the brim with pleasure, urges you to let go, to take what you want. but you don't want to. you want to stay at the edge forever with his hands on you, to be at the center of his affections, always just one breath away from transcendence.

you're not ready for him to stop touching you anytime soon, you realize. you still need it and after you'll need it again. you need him.

his glasses start sliding as he looks down at you, dropping until they're barely at the tip of his nose. he's focused, eyes locked on how he fills you again and again.

his fingers speed up, expertly aiming against that special spot inside of you. your hips rise from the couch, needing him as deep as possible. then it all falls apart.

you cry out, back arching and eyes rolling. your body is barely touching the couch under you and it feels like you're being lifted up by unknown forces as you reach your climax. white fills your vision and heat thrums through your limbs. you can't hide your one orgasm from him, it's too intense.

before you could recover, he slips his fingers out of you.

"alright, honey, we're done." he casually sucks your essence off of his fingers before propping his glasses back to the arch of his nose.

"ok, ok, i get it. you're busy." you pant, still pulsing from your high. and...he's already back to work. he wasn't kidding when he said he had stuff to do. "i'll just...be sitting here."

so you watch him get back to work, or you try to. the incessant scrolling, typing, reading, and muttering thoughts that accompany his work is usually enough to put you to sleep. it's an unusual lullaby that's attached to him. one that brings you the comfort of knowing he's near.

but he's hard.

he seems so relaxed, so content to work, but his erection presses so desperately against his sweats, outlined perfectly by the grey fabric.

so how could you not touch him? he clearly needs your help... and if he doesn't, then you need it.

you want to be good, you do, but when he types so effortlessly like that with the fingers that were just stuffed in your cunt, or when he looks over his dad-glasses to look at something like a hot fucking nerd, you can't help it.

it's been, what, 12 minutes? that's enough work for the day in your opinion.

you start slow, hesitantly, watching to make sure he's not looking at you (though he can clearly see you from his peripheral vision). you stand up on the couch right next to him. you're a bit unstable on the squishy cushions so you use his shoulder for support.

he looks over at you, confused as to why you decided to walk all over the furniture like a toddler.

you carefully maneuver over his arms to settle yourself on his lap. you're a koala around him, holding your torso to his, looping your arms around his neck and sharing your shimmering lustful body heat. he grunts when you scoot even closer to him, your bare pussy pressing entirely against his covered cock.

but he ignores it.

he doesn't say anything, barely even moves, and just continues to work. you pout a bit, but let him. you convince yourself that you're content with just sitting here and enjoying his company (despite the large distraction that pulses against your pussy, pressing so sweetly under your needy clit).

you listen to his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, the occasional sound of tapping keys. you nuzzle against the soft shirt that stretches over his chest. you're fine.

it's not like you're leaking all over his sweatpants, leaving a puddle at the apex of the fabric. you're not crying on the inside, so empty and fluttering around nothing. you're fine.

until you arent.

you lazily lift your hips above his, nearly head-butting his chin in the process. his arms lift to help you get settled, hands resting on your waist, as patient as ever.

you reach below you and he stiffens. he wasn't expecting you to--

your hand buries itself under his sweats, delicate fingers brushing over his erection. he breathes out your name when you squeeze him teasingly before pulling him out.

"what did i say?" he grunts, hand swiftly wrapping around your wrist. the words are lost on your ears as you caress the silky steel in your fist. it pulses at your touch. he needs this.

he says your name once more.

"you're working."

"then why are you trying to fuck me?!"

"i'm only going to sit on it." you give him an innocent look. you slowly lower yourself so your dripping center meets his before sliding your glistening lips over his hardness. "won't move or say a thing, promise!"

"cariño..."

"just wanna warm you, baby." you position him right against your entrance. "is that so wrong?" you lower yourself before he can say anything else.

you take him easily with how wet you are, and he fills you perfectly. he sucks in a breath at the feeling then growls out, "don't move."

well, you do move (is anyone surprised). you move a lot. but he moves too. harsher and more competitive. who the hell fucks competitively?

you moan over him, bouncing on his cock eagerly. his hands hold your waist, guiding your movements just how he likes it: fast and hard. his laptop, somewhere on the other side of the couch, is forgotten and probably long dead by now. so much for working at home.

you've cum at least four times already, but who's keeping count (you're not. you're so fucked out, you have to manually breathe now.)

he won't let up anymore. you asked for it and you're getting it.

"do i gotta fuck you to sleep, hm? is that the only way you'll leave me the fuck alone and let me work?"

you only admit now that you're eyes were definitely bigger than your stomach. you're practically drooling as he takes control once again, snapping his hips from under you, harsh and punishing. as if this is a punishment.

he has to carry you back to bed that afternoon. he couldn't just leave you on the couch, naked and shivering. plus you'd be a distraction with your bruised hips and fucked out cunt.

you murmur adorably in your sleep as your body unconsciously nuzzles further into his arms. he places you lovingly on the bed and you immediately curl up. he sighs, brushing your hair out of your face because he knows how much you hate it when it gets in your eyes or tickles at your nose during the night.

you look so cozy and comfortable. but so alone in this huge bed.

he debates laying down with you, only until you're in a deeper sleep.

maybe just a few minutes?

LYLA had a few choice words when he woke up in the morning....

six days

head masterlist —♥︎—bnha masterlist

It’s been 6 days since you’ve seen your boyfriend.

—hurt/comfort. fem! reader x 3rd year katsuki.

♥︎ : 😔 i’m an addict, okay. leave me alone. manga spoilers!!

“You can’t be mad at me for cying.” You pout up at him with wet lashes, “I’ve been missing you.”

“You’re such a brat,” Katsuki decides, finally, after two full minutes of gazing down at you gently paw at him.

“You already knew that,” you counter, voice alluringly soft as you bat your eyes up at him, chin tucked against his chest.

Keep reading

Once again, Satoru as Ghostface 🔪

More on X ➡️✨ Spicy here!

Inst @ettrumtill

     welcome in a new month ♡

set goals for self development

plan brunch & dinner dates with friends

read 5-10 books

indulge yourself more in your hobbies. do what you love unapologetically.

have more rest days without guilt

reflect on last month. what can you do differently that’ll help your overall state of being? physically, mentally & spiritually

stay off social media

do the butterfly hug method for bilateral stimulation. tell yourself all the things you wish you were/are told. ♡

make slight adjustments to your morning and night routine. keep it interesting.

schedule routine appointments (health, pamper)

get on top of deadlines.

say affirmations every morning & night

be more kind to yourself

stay firm on your boundaries, make adjustments as needed.

stand up and show up for yourself.

walk with your head held up high and shoulders back. don’t cower.

prepare for any upcoming events

learn a new skill

try a new recipe

journal often

explore new places. meet new people and make friends.

keep your thoughts in check. what you focus on grows.

daily walks

meditate, stretch.

declutter your environment (digital, physical space, social circle)

be safe.

ききふく; kikifuku

warning; minors dni, f!oral, food, fingering

you would most definitely be satoru’s nara smith. knowing his love for sweets you would take time to prep things overnight, take mental notes of the times he wanted sweets in middle of the night and waking up extra early to make them for him. as annoying as he was sometimes, you loved your man and you loved to show it in little ways.

spending your day off attempting to make one of his favorites, kikifuku. flour dusting your apron and fingers as you kneeded the delicate rice dough. or when you were meal prepping his food for the week you would surprise him with a new sweet treat each week. - for my handsome sugar monster <3

“pssst. wake up toruuuu!” you poked his cheeks as you straddled him, littering kisses on his bare chest.

his pretty lashes fluttered as his cerulean eyes adjusted to the light around him. his nose catching a whiff of the breakfast you made for him, a lazy smile painting his face.

“mmm, what smells so good?” his voice raspy with sleep, a lazy hand cupping your waist.

“your favorite, but you can have it in bed if you want.” you said pointing to the plate you made for him on the nightstand.

he stretched under you, his toned body flexing in the sheets, before reluctantly pushing himself up on the headboard. “you spoil me, you know that?” he murmured as his fingers lazily traced the lace of your panties.

“somebody has to do it,” you teased as you extended your arm to grab the plate but he stopped you, “not yet,” he mumbled, those pretty eyes playfully stalking your figure.

you tilt your head and raise a brow at him , “not yet? toru, your breakfast is gonna get cold—“

“let me enjoy you first,” he interrupted , his grin turning mischievous as his hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer. “i mean, you went through all this trouble just to wake me up like this. it’d be rude if i didn’t say thank you properly.”

you huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but the way his hands roamed your waist and his lips grazed the edge of your jaw made your resolve crumble.

“ughhhhhh your so irritating,” you muttered, though your voice was already softer

“you don’t believe that ,” he teased, his grin widening as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. the plate of breakfast long forgotten and his focus was solely on you. his hands sliding under his shirt that you were wearing, fingertips grazing your nipples with his cold hands making you shiver.

“i spent all morning making that, you know,” you moaned between kisses, though you made no move to stop him.

“and i’ll eat it… later,” he promised, his voice low, lips brushing against the sensitive spot below your ear. “right now, i need dessert first.”

in one swift movement he had you on your back, plush thighs between his face as his thumb drew lazy circles against your clit through your damp panties.

you squirmed under him, already sensitive from the way his lips and tongue trailed over your body, but the glint in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“stop squirmin,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot as it fanned over your inner thigh. “lemme eat this pretty pussy.”

your hands gripped the sheets as his lips pressed teasing kisses along the sensitive skin, inching closer but deliberately avoiding where you needed him most.

“toruu i hate when you tease,” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face, trying to hide how needy you were.

“be patient sweetheart ,” he teased, his voice muffled as his lips pressed against the damp fabric of your panties.

his fingers hooked the lace, sliding it down and tossing it aside without a second thought. he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of your dripping cunt he knew all too well. tongue gliding over his bottom lip seeing your cute mound stare back at him.

“god, you’re perfect,” he muttered, and the heat in his voice made your toes curl.

before you could respond, his mouth was on you, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes against your clit that made your back arch.

“toru!” your voice came out in a breathless moan, your fingers threading through his hair as he buried himself deeper.

his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue worked you over, the occasional bump of his nose making you jolt.

“you taste better than anything I’ve ever had,” he murmured between strokes, his voice low as it send vibrations through your core.

the coil in your stomach tightened with every flick of his tongue, and when he slid his finger into you, the loud moan that tore through your throat was music to his ears.

“toru—”

“that’s my name don’t wear it out.” he groaned, as he added another finger, stretching you in ways that made you see stars.

your body trembled and the buildup was too much to handle. and when he latched onto that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently, you came undone with a cry of his name.

he didn’t stop, tongue lapping at your sweet nectar until your body was twitching from overstimulation and your breaths came in short, desperate pants.

“breakfast can wait,” he said crawling up to kiss you, his lips glistening with the evidence of his work. “you’re all I need right now.”

shoutout to queen elizabeth for dying! i pray that the colonialist empire she led gets sucked into hell w her🫶🏽