How Eren Would React To You Wearing A Maid Outfit (18+ Smut)

How Eren would react to you wearing a maid outfit (18+ smut)

A/N: I never wrote something like this before so I hope it’s really good and that y’all like it. <3

“Now Eren, are you sure you want to see how I look in this?” You said, taking the piece of your skirt and fumbling it around your fingers nervously.

Your eyes peeked out the corner seeing your boyfriend sitting down, his leg was bouncing, waiting to see how good you would look for him. “Of course babe, why wouldn’t I?”

You took a deep breathe, then walked out. There was a moment of silence in the room, you could’ve sworn to yourself that he wouldn’t like it because of how insecure you were about your body. You didn’t have perfect curves like the other girls do, you weren’t like them yet he made you feel perfect.

“Wow baby- you- you look so gorgeous.” You could hear the steady steps Eren took, taking a finger and gently put it under your chin to lift your face up to look at him.

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation from staring into his emerald green eyes, the eyes that made you fall deeply in love with him.

“Eren I really- don’t-” His lips pressed against your neck, his hands then going down to your hips caressing your mid thighs. You whimpered, gripping his shoulders slightly as he backed you up against the wall.

Eren pushed his lips up to meet yours instantly, he felt so turned on in the moment from seeing you that he wanted to already fuck your pretty brains out.

“Mmm, so fucking sexy for me. So pretty for daddy.” His fingers lifted the skirt up slightly to reveal black panties that hugged your soaking clit already.

“You’re already this wet for me? beg for it babygirl.” He said, dragging a finger between the fabric in slow movements, he knew it would make you more wetter.

Hearing the slick sounds of your sex made you feel so vulnerable yet you loved it endlessly. “Please, I need it Eren.. I need your tongue on me.” In a split second as he moved your panties away, his tongue attached itself between your folds.

He began to lick anywhere he could, holding your thighs and rubbing your ass. He gave it a firm grip, ending up slapping it a few times which he heard a gaspy moan come out of you.

Eren chuckled deeply, he inserted a finger inside you to plump your cunt deep while his tongue fucked you hard and rough.

Your sounds became louder, echoing through the small apartment. Probably the neighbors would hear it and complain the next morning but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted Eren to fuck you and shut you up right now.

“Daddy, fuck- fuck me please.” He brought himself up to face you, his eyes lingering with lust and impatience.

“And why should I fuck you princess?” His mouth got close to your ear, his husky whispering sent shivers down your whole entire body. “Why should I give you my cock?”

You swallowed thickly, you couldn’t wait anymore. Couldn’t hold it anymore. “Because your princess wants to be full, she needs to be full of your cock.. Give it to me. Fuck me rough, let everyone hear. Hear how good I am fucking on your cock.”

That was all Eren needed to hear before slamming into you immediately, pounding into you roughly while leaving bite marks all over your body.

You didn’t even know when he had took his pants off or nothing but yet here y’all were. The feeling of him inside you made you feel so excited , the pleasure and pain you had yearn for from him gave so much ecstasy.

“Does it feel good baby?” His groans became more violent as he pulled his hips back then slamming into you again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt yourself getting close. “Yes, oh my god! it feels so good! so good Eren!”

A quick kiss was planted on your lips, as the thrusts got sloppier by the minute. “i’m getting close..” You felt something warm in your stomach, a edging feeling. “Me too! L- Let’s cum together”

The silent moans from both of you as you kissed deeply and came at the same time together. Eren placed you on the bed, laying down next to you and moving you on top of him.

He pecked your lips before closing his eyes. “Wear that maid outfit more, yeah?” You giggled, nuzzling into his neck and breathed out a sigh.

“Of course, I’ll wear it anyday for you.”

holyyyy shiiiii- i’m in love

roommate!eren who loves to fuck with you. it's so obvious you have a little crush on him. you're always just so nice to him despite his antics. you're always baking cookies when he asks you to, and cleaning the house after he throws a party while you're gone for a night or two. you're just so sweet to him. and, he loves to see his sweet little roommate even the slightest bit annoyed.

god, the way you react when he teases you. you shiver n squirm after he calls you 'pretty girl' or 'sweetheart.' his absolute favorite way to tease you is to bring different girls over late at night and fuck them so good that you hear their squeals and pussy squelches through the thin walls.

he loves it—the thought of making you jealous—ugh, it makes his dick hard. so hard, that for the past month he's brought home a new girl just to make you a little more jealous. he wants to see how far he can push you before your sweet little attitude turns sour. he knows you're listening, and whimpering as you use your little fingers to try to fill your cunt, desperately wishing that they were eren's.

mornings have been about the same, too. you wake up, bags feeling heavier than the day before because of your lack of sleep. you trudge to the kitchen, and surprise surprise whatever girl was getting their back blown by eren the night before would take her little walk of shame with eren slowly trailing behind her to close the door. he always turns and greets you with a sweet, low and raspy, "good morning." from there, you pick your sickeningly sweet attitude out of your seething jealousy, and carry on with your day.

but, today. today, you were tired. eren had been fucking another random girl. the only difference this time from all the other times was that you had asked eren to keep it down because you really need to sleep.

in fact, you walked straight into his bedroom earlier the day before just to ask him in your sugary sweet tone, "hey eren, could you please keep it down tonight? please? I just have class in the morning at like 8:30 and-" He cut you off and chuckled a bit, "ok, ok, i'll try to keep it down, sweetheart." while tapping the side of your waist. you responded with a simple "thank you." and, with that you smiled sweetly and were off to accomplish whatever else you needed to for the day.

you expected him to do what he said, and "try to keep it down." but, to your dismay, he brought another girl over. this time, it sounded like it was even louder. you could hear each and every one of his thrusts and every word he was spewing from his mouth. your blood was boiling. from calling the random bitch underneath him his "good girl" to hearing her scream as he seemingly hit her spot just right, it all made your simmering jealousy finally boil over.

oh, and don't think eren didn't notice. he was a little shocked at first, but was quickly amused when you started snapping at him. all he had to say was a simple "you look tired, sweetheart." and you were already yelling at him, calling him, "a loud, greasy-haired, cheap whore, who can't keep his limp ass dick in his pants." before lecturing him about why he should shut the fuck up.

when you finished your little rant, he stood in silence. not in fear or shock, but in pure amusement. you really looked like you were about to cry, and that made it even better. his lips curled into a smirk as he patronized you. "aww, you 'bout to cry?"

a weak "no" left your lips as big tears blurred your vision. "aww, baby, i think you are." he grabbed your wrist and walked you through his room and to the bathroom. he roughly squished your chubby cheeks together, forcing you to look the reflection of the mirror. "c'mon, honey. you can cry. did i make you jealous?" hot tears burned your cheeks clearing your vision to see his smug smirk in the mirror.

his hands left your cheeks and moved to your waist as your hiccups died down. keeping his eyes on your tear-filled ones in the mirror, he whispered, "let me make it up to you, yeah? I'll make you feel better before you go to class." you slowly nodded, and he turned you around to face him. he kissed your teary cheeks, and moved to kneel before you. you were perfect. just as he’d imagined. your attitude was always sweet but to him your pussy was way sweeter.

Touch (Part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x reader

GIF by milesmoralespilled

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel tries to win you over. It doesn't go as planned.

warnings: pwp!!, light f-dom, praise kink, fem receiving oral, slight m-sub, lots and lots of begging. Miguel is a switchy mess bc i said so. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I am so normal about him!

wc: 2.2k

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

You avoid him like the plague. 

The next day, he wakes up to an empty house with you leaving for work earlier than usual. He traipses around the apartment, looking for you before he realises he is chasing your ghost: the traces of scent left on sheets. And he is shameless when he walks into your shared bedroom, rolling around in your heady perfume and pressing the rumpled bedsheets to his nose. Aching, always. 

His own work takes him out of the apartment for most of the day, but he makes a point to slip away early. Little things, mostly: the bodega down the street for your favourite noodles, fresh lilies from a florist on the way, and some chocolate and sweet things to say sorry. He sets up in the kitchen, putting the flowers in water; hands flying on the chopping board to make dinner in time for when you come home. 

Miguel is a careful man; very particular about the way he lives his life. As such, he hunkers down a plan to apologise, showering you with affection and attention to make up for the past few weeks. He wants to be home when you get back, welcoming and warm before he slips out for his… night shift. His other job, that you are just as important as, a fact he wants you to remember.

He can hear you a couple floors down, the tell-tale click of your heels down the corridor and into the elevator. He scrambles to the front room, lounging on the sofa but ready to take your coat off and ask about your day. To go through the routine you had before all the late nights and lonely evenings. 

"Evening, mi vida." He looks expectantly towards you as you walk in. "How was work?" 

You kick off your shoes and breeze into the bedroom - without so much of a glance at him. Deflating, he watches as you shut the door behind you. Miguel sinks into the sofa cushions, sighing in frustration. 

~~~

And it stays like that for the next couple of days: you make it a point to ignore him. Short curt responses after work; Yes Miguel, No Miguel, I put it on the counter, Miguel. He misses the pout of your lips, the pet names, hell, he'd take it if you shouted and screamed at him to take the edge off. Nary a Miggy in sight. You give him nothing. 

Ever perceptive, he notices the little things. You still make his lunch when you can, and leave out food for him when he has a late night and forgets to eat. Small, gentle reminders that you care for him. Not that he ever doubted it, of course. 

When he clambers in through the back window, the one you always leave open for him, it's late. He clutches his side, groaning at a nasty bruise at his ribs. His mask comes off in the dim light, and he rubs his temples. Sore and exhausted, he pads through to the kitchen. 

Despite the lack of adrenaline, his senses are perfectly attuned. He smells it first: the sticky scent of arousal, so fresh he can taste it in the air. There's rustling, and as he pads closer to the bedroom door, he is almost bowled over by the obscene sounds of your fingers buried in your cunt. The door is slightly ajar, and he watches you on silk sheets with the light of the moon spilling onto your frame. One hand clamped over your mouth, the other curling into your pussy, and your eyes screwed tightly shut. His legs weaken at the knees when he realises you're in one of his sweatshirts, desperately humping your hand for release. 

For the past week, you've barely spoken to him, let alone touched him. He's reminded of that when his cock throbs in his suit. He palms himself absentmindedly, the heel of his hand providing juust the right amount of pressure, before catching himself. He feels like a pervert, watching you get off like this, desperate to bury his tongue between your thighs. Space, you need space, and he is trying his hardest to give it to you. Shaking his head, he tears himself away. 

Until he hears a heart-wrenching moan erupt from beyond the door, that is. You curse quietly, Spanish swear words you've clearly heard from Miguel. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry when you quicken your pace - trying to chase that high. You're frustrated, he can tell, removing the hand at your mouth to squeeze your tits through his sweatshirt. 

With a flash of pink tongue, he wets his lips and gently opens the door wider, leaning on its door frame. You are too occupied to notice him watching, hand on his cock through his suit. And he just waits for a moment, eyes hungry as he matches your speed when he rubs himself through the fabric. Your hips arch slightly, making his cock jump. 

"Mierda, baby." He breathes and your eyes snap open, as you remove your hand with a hiss. 

Miguel stands at your door, windswept hair, beautifully flushed and ruined - all from just watching. He continues to palm himself shamelessly, never breaking eye contact. 

"S'not enough, is it?" He says, shakily. 

He's right and you know it. You can't cum, no matter how hard you try, because it's not the same. Not the same as your boyfriend's long fingers and thick cock pounding into you, persistent. 

He stalks closer and repeats himself. "Not enough for my princesa, hmm?" 

You groan, covering your face. "Miguel-"

"-fuck off, I know, I know." He sinks to his knees in front of you, by your side of the bed. "Let me help you, mi vida."

You hesitate. He looks gorgeous in the half light: hair tousled, looking up at you through heavy eyes. Despite your better judgment, you get closer, legs spread and hanging off the edge of your bed. 

"You want me to beg? Because I will, princesa, I will. Te necesito tanto, tan desesperadamente. I need you so much it hurts. Look, please," He reaches over to paw at your thighs with big, gloved hands. The scent of your cum is overpowering this close - heady and addictive with his enhanced senses. 

"...l-look at what you do to me. Turn me into a mess, can't think about anything else. Solo en ti, princesa. Only you." 

You card your fingers in his hair and he is reverent. Migeul babbles in broken English like a madman, barely taking a breath. You feel the familiar heat of arousal in your gut. He's making you wet, without even trying. 

Cruelly, you jerk his head into your pussy, and he laps you open with a ready tongue. He moans into it, sucking at your clit and lips as you hump his face. His own hips cant at the same pace you've set, rubbing his tented lower half onto the bed frame for some relief. 

Slobbering and messy, he moans into your cunt - hands on your ass to push you further onto his face. He's eating you out like a man starved - and the noises he makes are pornographic. You squeeze your thighs around his head, and he almost cums right then, his hips bucking dramatically upwards with a groan. Watching him unravel is too much to bear, and so you tug at his hair, separated with a wet pop. Head tilted slightly back, chin and mouth glistening with your wetness, he flashes his fangs at you with a lazy grin. You're both panting, breathless from the carnality of it all. 

You clench around nothing; so, so close. 

He wipes his slick mouth with a forearm, before placing his head by your knees. 

"Look how pretty you are, mi sol." He slaps your pussy, watching it pulse in response. "So wet. Is this all for me?" 

Hesitantly, you bite your lip and nod. Miguel rubs circles into the meat of your thigh, sucking hickies into the skin. 

"I can make you feel so good," He whispers into your skin - so tender it makes you shiver. "I just want to make you feel good. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Sé que soy tuyo para siempre, mi niña hermosa. I'm yours… fuck… I-I'm yours…"

You won't be able to wrench him from your cunt; you know that much. When he gets like this, delirious from the heat of your two bodies together in the low light, he turns into something else entirely. Maybe it's to do with his changed DNA, something more than human at the crook of his chest - animalistic and primal. 

You cradle his cheek, so he's forced to look up at you. 

"I want you in me, Miggy. Want it to hurt."

His eyes flutter shut as he nods frantically, moving to stand up. You help him out of his suit, snug around his crotch until his cock springs free. His tip is an angry red and weeping so much precum it spills onto the sheets. His frame is delicious; broad shoulders and strong arms, stocky with the muscle of his thighs and solid middle. Miguel is beautifully tan, with the prettiest cock you think you've ever seen. Long, thick, and curved to the side. You've dreamt about the way he hits your spongy walls in all the right places. 

He helps you out of his sweatshirt, with expert fingers. He practically drools at the swell of your tits, kneading them with one palm as he clambers over you. There's a content sigh as he rubs his cock, sticky with precum, over your slit; head back and hips moving like water. He pulls a moan out of you when he finally - finally - fills you up in one swift movement. 

"Mierda, baby, does that feel good?" He croons, rubbing slow circles into your clit. His answer comes when you clench around his cock, creating a creamy ring around its base. He crouches to nip at your skin with his fangs, rolling his hips into yours. 

He knows your body better than you do, and it feels good. You claw at his back in pleasure, babbling his name into the crook of his neck. But it's not enough. It's like he knows when you're on the edge, about to come, slowing his hips until they simply grind on your clit, rutting against you. It's cruel, and it causes tears well up in your eyes. 

"F-Faster. Please." He just keeps grunting, barely speeding up. A slow, steady, relentless pace, picking up his hips until his cock is almost out of your hole, before filling you in one firm movement. 

He keeps going, and going, until your hips shake and your bodies heave with the effort. His back is red and raw with scratches as your pleas fall on deaf ears. 

"Harder, Miguel. Please, baby, I need it. F-Faster. Want it to hurt." You sob softly, drunk on pleasure.

He kisses up the tears that fall. "I know, mi vida. But it's not what you need right now, hmm?" 

He whispers soft praises into your tits, your collarbone, the fat of your cheeks. Anywhere and everywhere that needs it: so he can tell you how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. He swallows up your moans with his lips on yours, sending you over the edge. That tight string at your gut snaps, and you cum so hard you see stars. 

He doesn't stop, picking up the pace in the aftershock of your spasms. You can tell he's trying hard not to follow, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. When your orgasm subsides, he pulls out with a shaky moan. 

"One more, f'me, baby. Una más para mí, just one more." 

You hum into his kiss, and he hooks his hands under your knees. Placing your legs over his shoulders, he sinks back into you with a satisfied grunt. Now, he pounds into you - the slap-slap of your ass against his hips resounding in your little bedroom. You make a mess, creamy cum spilling where your bodies connect. You force him deeper, harder, with a hand on his neck. 

"M'close, Miggy." You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Good girl, good fucking girl." His hips stutter when he feels you clench at his words. "I want to cum with you, princesa. Can I cum? Please, baby, c-can I cum?" 

Gently nodding, you wrap a hand around his throat and pull him in for a kiss - so consuming and heady it makes you want to sink into his skin. You clamp down on his cock, and his pace slurs; before Miguel spills his warm cum deep into your cunt. His hips still, and he curls into you, deepening the kiss. 

Exhausted, you separate, side by side. Still sticky with his cum, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing shaky kisses to your temple. 

"I love you." He says, gently. 

"Doesn't feel like it, sometimes." You breathe. 

You both lay there, completely still. He furrows his brow, terse with the words he wants to say but can't. All he can do is pull you closer, and envelope you in the warmth of his skin. 

"Miggy?" You say after a while. 

He hums. 

"I love you too." 

_

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_

i am once again thinking about Anakin Skywalker, send help... hes just so beautiful...

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

don't tell me i was the only one picking up on the Miguel / Peter B. vibe...