thinking about eren helping you out with your of/twt
when you finally want to switch up your content and abide by what your subscribers have been asking for you ask eren.
you've been making and posting a particular set of salacious videos to your twt to promote your of. you fondling your fat tits and rubbing body oil all them. circling your pretty clit while fully spread of course, in your signature purple mask, moaning sweetly to your eager audience. stuffing a variety of big monster/alien dildos inside you— sticking it to the wall for a good shot, from below, of you fucking yourself on it, quivering because its too much to take while your cum drips down onto the camera. or your favourite the dildo stuck to the floor the camera capturing your arse sinking down on a big purple cock, hearing, more salaciously— watching you take it then satisfying have it all inside your legs crossed inward at an angle for the feet fanatics while bouncing on it.
Jealous!Benito story idea: reader is backstage at one of his concerts and one of the dancers comes up needing help fixing his outfit. She helps a bit, but Benito sees it and we knowww he don’t play that 🌚
MMMHHHH i luh that
18+ , mdni - jealous!bf!benito x black!fem!reader
The roar of the crowd still echoed through the walls backstage, even after Benito had wrapped up his set. Sweat glistened on his skin under the dim lights, his white tank top clinging to his chest as he made his way through the chaos of crew members and dancers cooling down. You were there, leaning against a makeup table, scrolling through your phone while waiting for him to finish up. Being his girl meant these nights were routine—loud, electric, and always ending with you two stealing a quiet moment amid the frenzy.
One of the dancers, Marco, jogged over, his breath heavy from the performance. He was shirtless, his outfit—a pair of tight black pants with intricate straps—looking a little off. One of the buckles had come loose during the choreography, and he fiddled with it, cursing under his breath in Spanish.
"Oye, chica," he said, glancing at you with a quick smile. "You got a second? This thing's killing me."
You looked up, setting your phone down. Marco was harmless, just focused on getting back to form for the next show. "Yeah, sure. What happened?"
He turned, pointing to the side where the strap dangled. "It popped open mid-spin. Can't get it tight enough without help."
You stepped closer, your fingers brushing the leather as you tugged it into place. It was nothing—just a quick fix, your hands steady from years of helping with wardrobe malfunctions at events like this. Marco chuckled. 'Gracias, you're a lifesaver. Benito's lucky to have you around.'
From across the room, Benito's eyes locked on the scene. He paused mid-conversation with his manager, his jaw tightening. You were bent slightly, your curls falling over your shoulder as you worked the buckle, your brown skin was shiny from the body oil you applied hours before and Marco's hand grazed your arm in thanks. It was innocent, but to Benito? Nah. He didn't play that shit. Not with his girl.
He crossed the space in a few long strides, his presence cutting through the chatter like a knife. "¿Qué pasa aquí?" he asked, voice low but edged with that possessive heat you knew too well. (what's happening here ?)
You straightened up, wiping your hands on your jeans. "Just helping Marco with his—"
Marco backed off immediately, hands up. "All good, boss. She fixed it. I'm out." He shot you a nod and vanished into the crowd.
Benito's gaze didn't leave you. He stepped closer, crowding your space, his cologne mixing with the faint scent of his sweat. "You don't need to be touching nobody else, mami. Not like that."
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "It was a buckle, Benito. Chill."
But he wasn't chilling. His hand slid to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to pull you against him. "Chill? I see some dude getting too close to what's mine. You know how that looks." His voice dropped, breath hot against your ear. "Ven conmigo. Now." (come with me-)
Before you could protest, he was steering you toward the dressing room, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was small—mirrors on one wall, a couch shoved in the corner, his tour jacket tossed over a chair. The bass from the after-party thumped faintly through the walls, but in here, it was just you two.
He backed you against the door, his body pressing flush. "You think I like seeing that?" he murmured, lips brushing your neck. "Mi princessa hermosa, helping another man when you should be all over me." (my beautiful princess-)
Your pulse quickened, heat pooling low in your belly. His jealousy was a fire you loved stoking sometimes—it always led to this, raw and urgent. "You're ridiculous," you breathed, but your hands were already sliding up his arms, feeling the flex of muscle.
"Ridiculous?" He nipped at your jaw, then captured your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, demanding. His hands roamed, one cupping your ass, the other tangling in your curls to tilt your head back. "Te voy a mostrar who's ridiculous." (I'm gonna show you-)
He spun you around, pressing your front to the door, his hips grinding against your ass. You could feel him hardening through his pants, thick and insistent. "These jeans," he growled, popping the button open with ease. "Off. Now."
You complied, shimmying them down your thighs, kicking them aside. His fingers hooked into your panties next, yanking them down roughly. Cool air hit your skin, but his body heat chased it away as he dropped to his knees behind you.
"Benito—" Your words cut off in a gasp as his hands spread your cheeks, his tongue diving in without warning. He licked a slow, firm stripe up your pussy, tasting you like he was starved. "Fuuuck," you moaned, palms flat against the wood.
He hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. His mouth worked you over—sucking on your clit, tongue thrusting inside, lapping at your wetness like it was the best thing he'd tasted all night. "This is mine," he said between licks, voice muffled. "Solo mía." (only mine)
Your legs trembled, knees buckling as pleasure built fast. He knew exactly how to unravel you, alternating between soft flicks and hard sucks until you were grinding back against his face. "Benito, please…"
He stood abruptly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You heard the zipper of his pants, then the rustle of fabric. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy as he notched it at your entrance. "You want it? Beg for it, baby."
You arched your back, pushing against him. "Fuck me. Make me yours."
With a grunt, he thrust in, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cried out, the stretch burning sweet as he filled you completely. He didn't give you time to adjust—his hips snapped forward, pounding into you with jealous rhythm, each slap of skin echoing in the room.
"That's it," he panted, one hand gripping your hip, the other reaching around to rub your clit. "Take this dick. Feel how much I need you." His thrusts were deep, relentless, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.
You braced against the door, moans spilling free as he fucked you harder. Sweat slicked your skin, your breasts bouncing with every drive. "Benito… oh god, yes."
He leaned over you, chest to your back, lips at your ear. "Dime que eres mía." (tell me that you're mine)
"I'm yours," you gasped, clenching around him. "All yours."
His pace faltered for a second, a low groan escaping as he chased his release. "Good girl. Cum for me, mami. Let me feel it."
The pressure snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You shuddered, walls pulsing around his cock, milking him as you came with a broken cry. He followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling hot inside you with a curse in Spanish—"Joder, sí."
He stayed buried for a moment, both of you breathing ragged, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you up. Then he pulled out slowly, turning you to face him. His eyes softened, thumb brushing your cheek. "No more helping dancers, yeah?"
You laughed breathlessly, pulling him down for a kiss. "Only if you say please."
He smirked, that possessive glint still there. "Deal. But next time, it's my outfit you fix."
I genuinely can not stand when there’s a black character in a TV show, especially if it’s a black woman character and she’s shipped with a well-known (male) character that’s beloved by the fandom, but the fandom treats her horribly.
I’ve seen this with every fandom I have been in, and each time it aggressively gets worse. For example, Damon and Bonnie from The Vampire Diaries. I have not read the books, but I have been told they did get together in them, and if I am not mistaken, I believe Ian was at least interested in the idea of Bonnie and Damon being together. When watching the show, you can see the chemistry; it just rubs off on each other. Yes, everyone knows Damon is a problematic character, but when he cares, he cares hard, and that especially goes for Bonnie. I wish the writers (Julie Plec) weren’t cowards and allowed us as an audience to see that side of their relationship blossom.
you were like a vixen straight out of a 80’s porno. always had curtain bangs, hair black with streaks of blonde or pink. lips puckered with a dark brown lip liner and nude pink in the middle glossed up. eyeshadow always sparkled with glitter, body always sparkled in glitter. and Jesus you smelled so good.
looked even better with your black lace bralette and black lace panty, thong so skinny it almost looked like you had nothing on if it wasn’t for what’s between your legs getting hidden by that exact lace. top and bottom belly pierced with a tattoo that reached the top of your ribs all the way to your ankle.
gosh, to say onyankapon was infatuated would be an understatement.
“so you the birthday boy?” you questioned, walking up to him where he was seated in the private room. “friends out there hollering about you, how you deserve this cause you just won a football game, what? last thursday?” you smirk at him, you tease him.
exboyfriend!bakugowho still has your contact saved exactly how it was. same nickname. same emoji. never opened the edit screen once.
exboyfriend!bakugo who tells himself he’s “over it.” says it out loud. believes it for maybe ten minutes at a time.
exboyfriend!bakugo who mutes your social media… then checks it anyway. never likes. never comments. knows exactly when you cut your hair or get new nails.
exboyfriend!bakugo who hates that the breakup wasn’t loud. no screaming. just two stubborn people who didn’t know how to stop hurting each other. the quiet makes it worse.
exboyfriend!bakugo who still remembers the way you say his name when you’re tired. it plays in his head at the worst times. grocery store. gym. 2 a.m.
exboyfriend!bakugo who stiffens when someone mentions you. jaw tight before he can stop it. “don’t talk about her like that.” doesn’t explain.
exboyfriend!bakugowho despises whoever you date next without even meeting them. already decided they aren’t good enough.
exboyfriend!bakugowho keeps the hoodie you borrowed and never gave back. refuses to wash it. folds it carefully like it’s fragile.
exboyfriend!bakugo who is one drink away from texting you something dumb like u eat yet then deleting it. then typing it again. then throwing his phone across the room.
exboyfriend!bakugowho still steps in front of you instinctively when something loud happens. body reacts before his brain catches up.
exboyfriend!bakugowho shows up if you ever need help. no questions. doesn’t matter how long it’s been. “i said i’d have your back. i meant it.”
exboyfriend!bakugo who argues quieter now. longer pauses. looks that linger. both of you pretending you don’t know what the other wants to say.
exboyfriend!bakugo who tells himself loving you is just a habit he’ll break eventually. even though habits don’t hurt like this.
exboyfriend!bakugo who waits without admitting it. not hopeful. just resigned. like part of him never left you.
exboyfriend!bakugo who would fold instantly if you came back and said his name the way you used to. no pride. no hesitation.
exboyfriend!bakugo who doesn’t love you loudly anymore.
exboyfriend!bakugowho loves you quietly. constantly. and lets it ruin him a little every day.
