#he is. um. not above playing with his food | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

https-florals · 1 month

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daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck.

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.”

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside.

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!”

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three).

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it.

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing.

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that.

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,”

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water.

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line.

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp.

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support.

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds.

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it.

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands.

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger.

It’s probably his favorite possession.

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand.

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue.

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his.

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash.

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand.

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine.

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head.

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut

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orchidsangel · 7 months

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CAPABLE OF LOVE (JASON TODD) - "and i think i need a picture 'cause it's never enough, to see you smilin in my mind when i lay still in the dark"

note/cw ~ GN!reader, fluff, angst, suggestive (if you squint), if the ending seems rushed it's because it was

“So, I was cleaning out my camera roll recently, and I realized we don’t really have that many pictures of us” you say from behind the menu in your hands, pretending to casually browse through.

He shows no reaction besides a short hum of acknowledgement, instead opting to continue perusing the multitude of diner food options in front of him.

“Like, we’ve been together for months, and I don’t think we’ve ever taken any pictures to um- commemorate anything you know?” Your eyes move up, peeking over the menu trying to see if this information garnered any kind of reaction from him.

It didn’t.

“And the few we do have, your face is super blurry in them…Probably because every time I pull out a camera, you turn away.”

He looks up for a second, but very soon turns his attention back to the menu, showing no other signs of interest.

A small sigh escapes your lips, and you lean back against the booth chair, now addressing the hunger in your stomach instead of the stubborn man in front of you refusing to acknowledge the very serious issue you’ve presented him.

Your hands flip through the worn pages, and you weigh your options, eventually deciding on a seasonal pancake stack listed in the way back that piqued your interest. Closing your menu and placing it down in front of you, you cross your arms and try to look anywhere but him.

“I have pictures of you.”

Your eyes dart to Jason, whose nose is still buried in between pages of burgers and omelets.

“Lots of them, actually.” He says, raising his eyes to look at you.

His full attention is on your face now, and no longer the menu.

“Some of you smiling, some of you laughing, some when you’re not looking…” His eyes go back down to the laminated paper in front of him.

“Some of you naked…” He trails off, and you recede even farther back into the seat, a heat creeping up your neck and towards your cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

A stupid smile sits on his face, and he closes the menu, sliding it off to the side.

“Not sure what you’re talking about sweetheart.”

“Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you get to play dumb.” You say, sitting up, regaining your composure. “Look, I know you’re not very fond of cameras but a few pictures of us together on my phone isn’t gonna blow your cover.” Sympathy laces your words, and you look at him with a softened gaze.

He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward slightly, teal eyes boring into you with a light playfulness but you can tell how badly he wants you to drop the topic.

“I just want a picture, one picture.” It comes out quietly, barely above a whisper; something only you two can hear. “For when you’re gone, and if you don’t come back…”

The smile drops from his face when he notices the shift in your tone, “I’m not-”

“You can’t guarantee that.” You say, holding back something threatening to break through. “Just one, for the nights when I’m alone and my memory isn’t enough. Please.”

He clenches his jaw and tilts his head down before sliding to the edge of the seat, and out of the booth.

Your eyes follow him as he stands up, and you’re sure he’s gonna leave. You shouldn’t have pushed him; it wasn’t your place.

But instead, he slides into the seat beside you, and turns in your direction as much as he possibly can. Gently taking your head in his hands, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, right below your hairline.

A single tear spills down your cheek and he swipes it away with his thumb, caressing the spot where it was.

Leaning in, he presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss you’re eager to reciprocate. It serves as a mutual apology, an ‘I’m sorry’ from the both of you.

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to you.” He says between breaths, hands still cradling your face. “But if it really is that important then we can take the picture.”

“Yeah?”

“We can take a million pictures if you want.”

A giddy laugh escapes your lips, “you mean that?”

“Mhm, some of us smiling, some of us laughing, some of us-”

“Naked?”

A grin spreads across his face, “hey, you said it not me.” And he leans in to kiss you one more time before sticking his hand in your pocket and pulling out your phone.

“Wanna do the honors?” He says, holding the device out for you to grab.

You take it into your hand and swipe to open the camera, situating your arms in front of you to get your faces in frame.

“Okay now look into the lens,” you say, pointing to the small black dot and maneuvering yourself to be close to him. Your head is tilted, tucked into the crook of his neck, and he has a fond smile on his face.

“3…2…1.” Your finger taps the white button, capturing the moment; and you wait a split second before opening it up in your camera roll.

It’s a sweet picture, the two of you nestled next to each other with the tufted red leather of the booth seat serving as a background, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face upon seeing your first real picture together.

“Oh, sorry.” Jason mumbles, “I wasn’t looking at the camera…we can retake it if you want-”

“No!” you cut him off quickly, “I love it. It’s perfect.”

And you meant that, because he may not have been looking at the camera, but he was looking at you with so much love in his eyes that any other picture you might take would never come close to this one.

#divider by cafekitsune #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd i’ll love you forever

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carolmunson · 2 years

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fixin' dinner. (sadist!eddie x f!masochist!reader)

back again with a mean sadist!eddie (also technically mechanic!eddie) and his hot masochist gf. let's explore the one time they played 'mean 50s husband and hot 50s housewife who can't get her shit together.

warnings include: smut, minors dni. established dom/sub sadist/masochist relationship, all aspects of the scene being written are consented to between these fictional parties, belting, spanking with belt, general threats, degradation, humiliation, emotional sadism, physical sadism, mean names (bitch), pet names (baby, honey, darling, etc.), face slapping, slight breeding kink, p in v sex (unprotected), teasing, rough sex, food mention, the works. eddie is MEAN in this, as a reminder. this doesn't feature aftercare but it sort of doesn't need it in a way. ---

When the phone rings in the trailer, you know it's him.

"Hi," you chirp.

"Hi sweet thing," his voice is warm and crackly, tired. Like it was this morning when you woke him up for breakfast.

"What's goin' on, you okay? Staying late?" you ask, leaning against the wall in the kitchen.

"No, babe, I'm about to leave -- just wanted to know if dinner was gonna be ready by the time I got home," he smirks when he asks, your eyes linger at front door's frame -- his leather belt hung on a nail next to it. You gulped.

"Uh, um..." you stammer, heart starting to pound.

"You better hope dinner's ready by the time I get in the door," his voice is menacing, "Or you're gonna be in for a world'a hurt, you understand me?"

"Y-yes, sir," your mouth runs dry but your lower half can't say the same. He'd brought up this scenario weeks ago -- 'Like those 50s housewives baby, how their husbands would get home from work and they burned dinner. We could do it like that? You were just saying how I haven't used my belt in a while. It could be fun, huh?'

He ran you through it this morning, going through your normal 'do you trust me?' routine before he left for work so you didn't have to do it before starting. 'If you decide you don't wanna play anymore, just say 'I ordered pizza' when I ask if dinner's gonna be ready, okay? I love you either way. Gonna fuck you on that counter either way, too.'

He was insatiable.

"Don't disappoint me," his voice takes on darkness so easily. You bite your lip to hold back the whimper in your throat.

"I won't," you whisper, "I promise."

"See you in twenty," he says, "Love you." He hangs up before you can tell him you love him, too. Eager. You take the time you have to freshen up before her arrives -- you had already burnt dinner, it sat on the stove blackened and crisped on purpose. He'll love the extra effort you put in to make it authentic.

The green tinged light of the bathroom mirror isn't doing you any favors, but you glide on some Dr. Pepper lip smackers and a little blush for good measure. Pouty and flushed, just how he liked it.

You put on a flouncy dress with flutter sleeves, the kind of dress that buttons all down the middle. Frabric that flounces with you when you walk, hitting just above your knee. A spare apron from an old French maid costume completed the look along with a pair of fake pearl earrings, and heels that made Eddie fall to his knees. You smoothed over the apron, hearing his van pull in noisily, the slam of the driver side door. Normally you're so ready for these interactions, for his harshness, for his angry stare. Today felt different, you were in the headspace, you were a little afraid.

It was exciting.

You plaster on a smile when he comes through the door. His grin meets yours, and so does the scent of gasoline and oil blended together with his sweat. His hair is tied back today, tendrils and bangs crowding his face, showing off his jaw -- the stubble left on it from this morning.

"There's my girl," he's gruff, pulling you by the waist to kiss you -- it's passionate, like he hadn't seen you in years.

"Hi honey," you flush, trying your hardest to stay in character and not just bend over the couch, "Good day at work?" "Better when I know I have you to come home to," he smiles and winks, taking off his work shirt all the while revealing his oil stained wife beater and the two silver chains he wore around his neck. His steps are broad and deliberate on his way to the kitchen, scraping one of the metal chairs away from the table before collapsing into it like a brute.

"Get me a beer, sweet thing," he demands, tutting while you get one from the fridge with dainty and graceful movements -- his pretty little thing, "Shouldn't have to ask you, should just have it when I come in." "Sorry, dear," you respond, watching him open the bottle on the edge of the table. He takes a swig, licking his lips while he looks you over.

Please just fuck me, you're so hot right now, you try to send him the message telepathically but he's not getting it.

"It's okay," he says, taking another sip and setting the beer down, "What's for dinner, angel?"

Your eyebrows raise, but you shake the fear off, forcing another smile, "Darling, I'm so sorry. I accidentally burned dinner. I can make something else if you'd like! Anything you want!"

"So dinner isn't ready?" he asks, surprised.

"It...well, it was. It burned," your voice was meek, he salivated over it.

"So you burned dinner?" his brows furrowed, standing up slowly from the kitchen chair.

"You burned dinner?" he asked again, his face stained in anger, "Am I hearing you right?"

"Baby, I'm sorry -- I was just trying to get it done on time and the oven was on too high. I'm sorry," your lower lip wobbles, he rolls his eyes before they end up in a hard glare down at you. "I work all fuckin' day, every day, to keep a roof over your head," he takes a step forward while you step back, "I break my fuckin' back so you don't have to lift a fuckin' finger. And you can't even manage to make me fuckin' dinner?"

"I...I did -- it just -- it burned -- I'm -- " you sputtered, taking careful steps while backing away from him. You shook in your heels, his eyes menacing and shining with rage.

"So what is it, huh? You too stupid? Too lazy?" he spits while he stomps forward in his combat boots, the floor shaking while he cracks an open palm hard against your cheek, "You a fuckin' idiot, is that it?"

The force sends you reeling, hands immediately reaching for your stinging face -- certain there'd be a mark left behind later. Tears prick your eyes but you don't want to cry yet, opting to swallow the air pocket flying up from your chest -- desperate to steady your breathing.

"No, I -- it was an accident," your back hits the wall and he takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it out the same way like a bull ready to strike. You can feel a pulse in your cheek where he hit you, the places where his rings hit starting to swell. You make a run for it, checking his shoulder while you do, smearing oil on your dress's flutter sleeve.

"Oh, no, no, no," he taunts, turning at his waist and catching your forearm in a vice grip to pull you back to him, "Don't you run away from me when I'm talking to you."

"Don't you have any manners?" he asks, slamming you against the wall to cage you in with a hand resting by your shoulders. You nod, tears pouring hot down your cheeks, mascara streaking over your rouge.

"Answer me!" he growls, you wince -- your eyes shut tight.

"I h-have manners," you stammer out, eyes still closed.

"Look at me," he huffs, "You know better." You do know better than to not look at him when he's speaking but you just can't. You hang your head instead.

"Oh, you don't wanna listen? Go get my belt," he sighs, pushing his curly bangs away from his forhead, "Gonna have to teach you, aren't I?" "No, I -- please no," you plead, eyes popping open, but it gets you nothing but fingers digging into your jaw.

"If I hear another sound come outta that mouth that isn't you cryin' and apologizing to me, m'gonna make you sleep outside in the van," his threat feels real and your heart hammers, "Do I make myself clear?" "Cr-crystal," you nod. "Now," he mutters through gritted teeth, peering down at you with his jaw forward, "Go. Get. My. Belt."

You sulk, walking the short distance to where his belt hung by the doorframe -- a reminder every time you left his trailer, best behavior. You lift it off, running the length through your hands -- thick and wide, he never wore it, it was only for play.

"You think I got all day?" he calls. You shuffle into the kitchen, your heels scraping against the linoleum leaving scuff marks in their wake.

"And you've been leaving marks all over my floor," he spits, wrenching the belt out of your hand and wrapping some of the length around his knuckles. He shoves you roughly over the kitchen table where you obediently assume your position, shoulders shuddering while you lift your dress up.

Eddie takes the casserole dish with the charred dinner and tosses it in front of you, "Baby, I don't like having to do this, you gotta stop giving me reasons to. What is it, huh? You gotta go back to school and take home ec or somethin'?"

"No, sir," you barely squeak out.

"Like I said earlier," he says gruffly, bringing the belt down hard across your ass, "You're in for a world'a hurt, tonight." It doesn't help that you like the belt. You like how he looks in the kitchen light while the shadows from the florecents enhance the muscles in his arms. His sneer when he rears his arm back, his smile -- almost relief when he hears the loud crack of the leather hitting your skin. Your release and his.

The act happens in slow motion, your heart beat in your ears while he brings the belt down on you again. You falter in your heels a little, your knees buckling a bit at the force.

"Get up and take it," he harshly demads, "Get that ass back up."

"Yes, sir," you whisper, fixing your posture. He sounds like he's underwater, your eyes start to glaze over outside of the tears. His belt meets your thighs, your sit points. He always took extra measure on those so he could watch you wince and whine later on a hard chair or in the van. The burn and sizzle on your backside started earlier than normal, but he wasn't starting off light. With his belt, he never did.

"Always gotta.." thwap, "..tell the guys.." thwap, "..what a fuckin'.." thwap, "..disappointment you are." THWAP. You can't help but start crying out, trying to muffle it with your hand so the neighbors don't start asking questions. You're standing on your toes in your heels to meet the intensity of his whips on your backside.

"And they always say.." thwap, "..just gotta.." thwap, "..show her whose boss.." THWAP.

"But you know who the boss is, don't you baby?" he coos while you cry into the hand covering your mouth. Body stinging and burning.

"Yes, sir," you whimper.

"Whose the boss, hm?" he asks, his hand smoothing over your back. "You're the boss," you sniffle, putting both hands back down on the table. "That's right, baby," he says back, his voice back to soothing honey, "That's a good girl."

"You need some more?" he asks gently.

"Please," you breathe out, "I need t-to learn my p-place."

"Fuck..." he mutters under his breath, your eyes peer down to see the perfect outline of hard cock against his dark wash jeans. His hand gripping the belt tight, veins pulsing from his hand up his forearm -- his tattoos dancing with them. He'd been thinking about this all day.

"Say it again," his voice his ragged while he brings the belt back down on you. "I need to l-learn my place, s-sir," you repeat, wincing while he continues, blow after blow. Your skin was raw, the cooling end of summer air outside doing nothing to soothe you through the screens of the open windows.

"Yeah you do," he says to himself, grunting with each come down of the leather. He bit his lip at the jump in your hips, watching you start to get weak under the repeated smacks, your knees buckling more often -- fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Eddie drops the belt with a clang and you jump to attention, turning around to face him.

"I'm sorry baby, I -- I can't," Eddie starts, "I'm callin' it I gotta -- oh fuck, I gotta fuck you right now."

You nod, ugh finally, taking a step toward the hall to get to the bedroom but his hands come up to roughly shove you back on the table -- beer bottle and casserole falling to the ground, shattered glass and mess to be dealt with later.

"This fuckin' body -- this dress? You know what you're doin' to me, don't you," he smirks, shoving your dress up to your waist and pushing your thighs up against your chest.

"That's why you wore these heels, hm?" he grabs your ankle, leaving a sloppy kiss on your calf, "Wanted to make me bust in my fuckin' work jeans?"

You giggle, his stained hands leaving oil marks on your legs. The same fingers undoing the buttons on your dress with nimble finesse.

"I could just rip it but I like this on you," his mumbles, "Don't wanna ruin it."

You simply nod, wanting to say 'thank you,' or 'appreciate it', but your tongue is too big for you mouth. You feel stupid and faded, just wanting to feel his touch and hear the low roll of his voice. He unbuttoned until your lace enclaved chest was full exposed, eyes feasting on you laying on the table for him -- way better than dinner.

Eddie works quickly on his jeans, the stiff fabric being shoved hard down to his thighs, his boxers coming down just enough for his balls to hang down over the band before he lines himself up with your entrance.

He pushes in with ease, slick so intense that it had already started moving down your thighs, shining in the light. His face relaxes, head falling back while he gets a rhythm going hands finding the smallest part of your waist for leverage.

"Oh shit, baby," he grunts, head falling back forward, hair falling out of the elastic and crowding his face, "Fuckin' -- nnmff -- needed this."

You gasp at his pace. No matter how wet or how ready you were it was always just a little too big -- stretching you in just the right way. Even when he was loving you he was punishing you with the size of his cock -- a little reminder every time, pain always reaps pleasure.

His picks up one of your hands and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently, warm brown eyes meeting yours. You feel the warmth before you realize that your three fingers are in his mouth, soaking them in spit before guiding them to your clit.

"Show me," he moans, "Make yourself feel good for me."

"You're already -mm!- making me feel good," you smile, slowly rubbing circles over your clit. His eyes nearly get stuck rolling back in his head at the sight, biting his lip while he drives harder into you. Eddie grunts, bending at the waist and caging you in on the table, hands finding you hair.

"Kiss me," he breathes, his mouth hot and wet on yours. His thrusts quicken while he chases his orgasm, the feeling of your hand working between you making his cock twitch. Eddie's brows furrow while he deepens his kiss, groaning hard into your mouth when your tongue brushes his.

"So fuckin' good, sweet thing," he whispers against your lips, "You're so good."

His plush lips crash into yours again while he pulls your hand from between them, "Can feel you gettin' close, you close?"

You nod feverishly, the tight binding in your belly getting tighter with each thrust of his cock between your thighs. He pushes up, back to standing over you, a glob of spit sent falling between your legs onto your clit -- making you jolt. Eddie's thumb works like magic over your, your thighs twitching with the sensation of his rough but lubricated finger pad and the stretch of his cock pumping in and out of you.

"Oh you're gonna cum, huh?" he nods while he asks, and you nod to answer.

"Yeah, you gonna cum for me?" he mocks. His eyebrows raise while you bite your lip, hips moving back and forth to fuck back on him, "You gonna be a good girl and cum?"

"Y-YES, sir," you cry out, your pussy spasming over him, thighs snapping tight together over his wrist -- just making it tighter over his dick still fucking you relentlessly. He coaxes you through it, praising you over and over, "Oh, good girl. That's my girl. That's it. Love when you moan for me like that..."

"Fuck, FUCK, Ed, Eddie," you whimper while he continues.

"Almost th-there, angel," he grunts, fucking into you with fervor.

"W-wanna cum inside," he says, but you know he's asking for permission. You nod at him, breathy 'it's okay..s'kay..'s pouring out of your mouth as your second orgasm builds in your tummy.

"Yeah?" he asks, cocky grin building while he leans in again to press flush against you, "Want me to c-cum inside you?" "Make you my little housewife f-foreal?" he dips his head to your neck, sucking and biting until you bruise, "Get you knocked up and st-stuck here?"

"Yes, yes, Eddie -- wanna be your -- ah, shit, shit," you whine, the second orgasm comes on quicker and harder than the first, your nails digging into his tank top and exposed flesh.

"Gonna make you my pr-pretty fuckin' housewife -- fuck, oh fuck, shit," he groans in your ear, nipping at your earlobe hard enough that you yelp. You can feel the hot spurts of his seed filling you, it stings in a good way, warming you from the inside out -- biting at the stretched skin while it oozes out of you.

When Eddie comes to, he leans up on his forearms, pressing a kiss against your lips. His eyes meet yours, gentle and heavy lidded, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you smile, offering a second peck. The pain settles in on your thighs and ass, you almost forgot you'd been belted.

"S'starting to hurt, honey," you confess quietly.

"I know, m'sorry," he mumbles, he kisses your cheek, then your other cheek, your forehead, your nose, "You need help in the shower? I was gonna clean up in here."

"I'm okay," you smirk, "You've done way worse damage before."

He gets up, rolling his eyes playfully, "Don't tempt me."

You sit up slowly on the kitchen table, which had shifted so much it was almost entirely against fridge. After Eddie pulls up his boxers and jeans, he helps take off your heels and hoists you down so you don't have to slide off the edge.

"Be careful of the glass, please," he warns, setting you down on the ground. You tip toe to the bathroom, hearing him sigh as he gets to his knees to clean up -- your sweet little domestic boy.

"Hey, c'mere, before you go get cleaned up," he calls out. You pad back to the kitchenette, stopping just before the linoleum. From the floor he turns back to you, "What do you want on your pizza? I'm gonna put in an order when I'm done cleaning up."

"Just cheese for me is fine, but I'm not picky. Get whatever you want," you shrug.

"I'm getting anchovies," he says.

"Anything but anchovies," you say, annoyed.

"That's why you shouldn't say get whatever you want if that's not what you mean," he smiles, "Just saying."

"Why don't you do one cheese and one meat lovers since that's what we always get?" you suggest.

He considers it, for a minute, "I think I'm gonna get three pies babe, I'm fuckin' starving."

#sadist!eddie munson #sadist!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #dark!eddie munson #dark!eddie #dom eddie munson #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut

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suzukiblu · 8 months

Note

For wip Wednesday Love the vibes of “weird Kryptonian bonding rituals” especially if it’s superfam

. . . I am just gonna blame the fact that I haven't really worked on this WIP in a minute for how "write you three sentences" turned into "write you 1k", cough cough.

Clark gets into Superman's suit and leaves the Daily Planet building at inadvisable speed, probably, but manages not to break the sound barrier anywhere too obvious, he thinks. He follows the sound of that thrumming heartbeat and voice, and finds himself blocks and blocks away, hovering in the air a few hundred feet above a food truck being operated by a woman with dark skin and bright pink hair in her mid-twenties, and the single customer standing on the sidewalk in front of it as assorted civilians pass by in one's and two's.

The single customer is the thrumming heartbeat's owner, and he's about fifteen or sixteen, with pale skin and dark curly hair and bright and eager and inhumanly blue eyes behind a pair of round sunglasses. He's wearing a loose-fitting black leather jacket and heavy black boots and a tight bodysuit, all blue and black and red and yellow and with the exact same "S" on its chest as the one Clark's wearing himself.

The kid looks up, takes one look at Clark, and absolutely lights up.

Clark feels several very new and strange feelings, then charges straight down into the kid and sends them both skidding into the empty street. Hitting him, touching him, is like . . .

Clark barely even remembers to be careful, but the instinct is ingrained too deep to ignore even as they crash into the pavement together.

And then the kid laughs delightedly and throws him off.

Actually throws him.

Clark comes to a stop twenty feet up in the air, blinks down at the kid still beaming up at him, and then bolts back down and smashes him into the pavement again.

"Shit!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!"

Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from said kid that he is currently pinning into the street as he struggles underneath him.

"'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer.

. . . um.

Whoops.

"Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin.

"Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before, except maybe, like, Ivo in the fullest and most vicious version of his Parasite suit while trying to crush him to death. It's . . . kind of adorable. Although also Clark can't really breathe very well now. "I found you! Hi, hi, I totally found you!"

"You did," Clark agrees reflexively and slightly out-of-breath-ly, patting the kid's back as he shoots the food truck worker and the several other staring civilians back on the sidewalk all an apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to worry you. We're just playing."

"Oh my god so there was this lab and these doctors and they were all such jerks so I maybe kinda just broke everything and I guess maybe that was bad but they all sucked and they deserved it, I promise, I hope they all lost all their data and their personal files and their customization settings when I smashed up their stupid computers and stuff," the kid half-rants, hanging off Clark like a super-strong but also undeniably floating koala, and Clark straightens up and pats his back again as he listens to his excited and also-adorable ramblings. The way the kid talks actually reminds him of a much younger kid, oddly–even younger than Flip and the rest of the newskids, despite his appearance–but that doesn't exactly hurt the "adorable" impression. "Also there were some really annoying guys who were bothering the way cool chick in the truck over there so I threw them in a dumpster but did you know chili fries were a thing because they are so good, seriously, you should get some!"

"Are you asking me to buy you more chili fries, kid?" Clark asks wryly, and the kid somehow finds a way to perk up even more.

"I mean, no, but if you wanna . . ." he mentions, grinning hopefully.

"Two orders of chili fries please, ma'am?" Clark requests, sparing the food truck worker another smile. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Yesssss," the kid cackles delightedly, hanging heavier off his neck again as he somehow actually manages to hug him tighter. The food truck worker stares at them both for a moment, then reaches for an empty fry basket.

"Uh, sure," she says slowly. "No problem. Uh. Sorry, Superman, but do you . . . have a kid? Is that, like . . . what's happening here?"

"Yes," Clark replies reflexively, patting the kid's head.

. . . wait, that's not–

Then the kid beams at him again and nope, never mind, apparently that is right, he guesses he's just a dad now. Oh no, he and Jimmy are gonna need a bigger apartment, and Clark really hates apartment-hunting and doesn't even know how he's gonna afford his half of a bigger apartment, though at least he knows Jimmy can after selling Flamebird so he guesses that's something, and besides, what, is he gonna make his kid sleep on the couch? No way. The kid can have his bunk, heck, he'll sleep on the couch 'til they can sign a new lease or something. At least he's not an intern anymore, that's been a bit of a financial improvement, so that'll help.

". . . well okay then," the food truck worker says. "How do you even age, are you–um. I'm just . . . gonna make those both double orders, then. No charge. Congrats on, uh . . . congrats? Like, fifteen years late, apparently, but congrats."

"Thank you," Clark replies politely, smiling at her again as he walks over to her truck, the kid still happily hanging/floating off him. "We can pay, though, that's really not necessary."

"Dude. My dad would literally fire me if I ever made Superman pay for freaking chili fries," she says feelingly. "Like. Fire me so hard. Unto our family's next three generations, would he fire me."

"Thank you," Clark repeats, still smiling at her, then pulls a couple of twenties out of his belt and tucks them into her tip jar. Only seems decent, he thinks.

"Oh my god how are you even real," the food truck worker mumbles under her breath as she drops both double-orders of fries into the fryer.

#clark kent #kon el #superman #superboy #my adventures with superman #merryrogue #rinfic #wip: weird kryptonian bonding rituals

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am-i-interrupting · 2 months

Text

Perfect Little Vixen | Vox x Fox!Reader— OATSH

Summary: You go into heat around Vox for the first time.

Warnings: 18+

You didn’t even notice when it began happening. Usually, you were much better at keeping track than this but things had been changing so much, it slipped your mind.

You’d just finished moving into a tower with Vox. You’d been unpacking and decorating and rearranging and collaborating to make this a home. You hadn’t even realized that what you’d been feeling and doing were signs of something else.

You had never lived with a romantic partner. You could barely remember the last time you’d moved. You didn’t have a lot of basis for what was and wasn’t normal in this context so perhaps that’s why it came up on you suddenly.

“You feel hot,�� Vox said as he used the hand wrapped around your shoulders to touch your forehead.

He was normally cool to the touch when he wasn’t strung up into knots over something but now you felt a shiver come to you as you nestled closer to him. You placed your head in the crook of his neck and inhaled.

He smelled. . . so good. Mint and citrus, the same as always. Yet your teeth almost ached with the need to bite down on him.

Your mind went hazy. You pressed closer to him. You needed him. You needed to consume him, have him inside. . . Fuck.

The constant hands on him, the way you’d led him on the past couple days with teasing only to back out the last minute, the fucking nesting.

The bed was covered in blankets and pillows. You’d even sprayed a spritz of his cologne above the bed yesterday because it didn’t smell enough like him.

You’d never had a partner for this. Not one you cared about not killing in the process.

You jerked away from him and shook your head. His arms stayed in the air from where you’d pushed them off him. His fingers flexed, like he was about to reach for you. Then his arms fell to his side and he propped himself up.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Should I call Rosie? A doctor?”

You shook your head. “I’ll, um, I’ll be fine,” you told him as you got up. “I just— would you trust Starlight to take care of Vark for a few days?”

He immediately went ramrod straight with tension. “What’s going on?”

You walked out the bedroom door. He got up to follow.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said.

Vark jumped up, hitting you right above the hip and you bit your lip to stop a groan of discomfort from escaping you as you guided his paws off you. Subconsciously you noted he needed to get his claws filed. They nearly cut you through your clothing.

“I can handle it myself,” you told him, “but I either need you to leave and take Vark or someone to come pick him up if you decide to stay.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him. You took a sharp inhale and immediately wished you hadn’t as you felt a different kind of heat begin to come to you than the heat radiating off your skin.

A small squeak left your throat. You closed your eyes as embarrassment came to you. You hardly ever lacked so much composure.

You bowed your head and let it fall against his chest.

“I’m going into heat,” you muttered.

“What?”

“I’m—“

“No, no, I heard you,” he said. “Demons can do that?”

“No, I’m just playing a prank on you,” you said in a deadpanned tone. Then in one almost yelling, you added, “Of course they can! You’re just a tech demon. You got lucky.”

“Uh-huh, sure I did,” he said. He brushed your hair out of your face and scratched at the base of your ears causing your legs to buckle. “You can call Starlight and have her pick him up. How long is this going to last?”

“Mmm, about three days.” You gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling it into a fist. “Stop teasing me, Vox. I can’t take it right now.”

He laughed softly. “I’m barely doing anything.”

“You—“

You threw your head back with a groan and pushed away from him. You walked over to the refrigerator where some meat had been left out overnight to thaw. You quickly opened the box and dumped it into Vark’s food bowl. Then you grabbed Vox’s shirt and pulled him back into the bedroom, locking the door behind you.

“Hello.”

“Shut up.”

You pulled him down into a kiss. Kissing him was like kissing static, constant shocks in your mouth. They were cool, it was nice. His tongue was smooth and ran across the ridges of your mouth so nicely.

Fabric bunched between your hands.

“Off. Off. I need this off,” you said as you tugged at his shirt.

“Alright, alright, slow down for a second, baby,” he said.

You snarled and backed away from him as he undid the buttons of his sleep shirt. You quickly discarded your clothes with not even half as much care as he had for his own.

When your hands touched the exposed skin of his shoulders you moaned. He was so cool in contrast to you even as he was beginning to heat up.

You pulled him close to you, relishing in the feeling of his chest against yours, your hands on his back, his own on your waist, his claws brushing against the end of your spine and therefore the base of your tail.

You wanted to have him wrap his hands around it, see his deep blue contrast the lighter color of your tail. You wanted him to pull it. Tug on it as he. . .

You needed him.

You locked lips again. His teeth ran over your lips causing a tingling sensation. You fell back onto the bed, him atop you.

Your hands ran up and down his chest. You needed to feel every part of him. You needed to consume his very being.

“Aw, look at you,” he said with a chuckle as he palmed your breast. “So desperate.”

“Vox,” you said in warning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lack this much discipline,” he said.

“Vox,” your voice came out a bit more whiney. He leaned down and licked your nipple, a small shock coming with his tongue. “Oh, fuck me,” you said, completely breathless.

“Say you need me.”

“I— I need, mmm, fuck!” You threw your head back against the pillow as his claws scratched against your inner thigh.”

“I know you need to be fucked,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a harder scratch upwards that ended with his claws just barely ghosting your clit, “but who do you need to fuck you?”

“You.”

“Who?”

“Vox!”

“Yes?”

“Fuck me! Please! I need it! I need you!” you begged.

“Oh, baby—“ you moaned as you felt his tip drag through your folds and briefly linger at your clit, rubbing against it— “all you had to do was ask.”

He pounded into you. A quick, sharp movement of his hips that caused him to fill you quickly, instantly. It was your turn to scratch him. Blood began to bead down the trail of your own claws.

“Oh, fuck, Vox,” you said, eyes closed but seeing static.

“That’s it, doll.” His palm cupped your face. “Look at me. Come on, you can do it. Just look at me.”

You opened your eyes to see his face. He was blushing, a brightness to his screen that wasn’t usually there and static between his antennas which showed his fast heart rate before it ended in a heart.

“You’re so,” his voice trailed off. “Tell me you need me.”

“I need you,” you told him.

“Again.”

“I need you.”

“Fuck.”

He paused his thrusting to bury his head in the pillow above your head. His hands on your waist gripping you tightly.

When he pulled back there was a trail of red coming from his lips and his eye was spiraling without any power behind it. His heartbeat still fully on displace above his head.

His hands trailed down, causing your skin to twitch as a static path was made, from your waist to the bend of your knee.

“Spread for me,” he said with a small nudge. “Wider. Wider. So good for me, my precious little vixen.”

He moved so the bend of your knee aligned with his elbow. His hands grasped hold of yours. He thrust deeply inside you as he moved to kiss you. His mouth finding yours and he filled you entirely.

He started a deep, slow pace. He would drag out of you, letting you feel his cock pull against your inner walls as he left you empty. Then he’d piston back inside of you. He’d let you just get used to the feeling of him stretching your walls, his tip resting just at the wall of your cervix, before he’d start the process all over again, leaving you empty.

You squeezed his hands tight. Your head tilted back but you focused on him the entire time, even as your gaze with hazed.

“Mmm, Vox,” you said his name like a prayer as your legs wrapped around him. “You’re so good, so perfect. Just what I need. Fuck. You’re just what I need.”

“Say you’re mine,” he said.

“I’m yours.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

He closed his eyes with a grunt that ended with a whine as he opened them again. “Please.”

“I’m yours.”

“Fuck.”

He rolled his hips against you. He came, filling you with what you needed. You felt the warmth spread inside you.

That feeling, that fullness, the twitch of him even after he’d given everything, the strain in your legs from their position, the sparks on his finger tips against your skin, the look on his face is what did you in.

You pulled him as close as you could. Your legs shook. Your vision went black. You were sure you screamed.

You were both spent.

Vox let your legs fall. His head went between your breasts as he panted, as you both did. His hands let go of your own and petted at your sides. He licked at your nipples causing you to whine.

He relented when you shoved him away.

He summoned a phone and punched in Starlight’s number.

“Come and get Vark. We’ll be occupied for the next three days,” he said before he hung up and pressed in a different number. “I’ll need the next three days off. I’ve been assigned a very special task from a very influential individual. I understand it’s last minute but—“

“Don’t move,” you said, voice nearly at a sob as he had shifted his torso to better grip the phone and therefore shifted inside you. You could feel some of his seed slip out of you and the thought alone nearly made you weep.

He grabbed your hand as he finished talking, “Its of the utmost importance.”

He hung up the phone and kissed you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said as he began massaging the base of your ears. Which had, for once, turned back fully able to admit submission.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #one author two show hosts

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satorutini · 5 months

Text

"caution! this could get ugly" - eren yeager

Pairing: eren x reader

Summary: It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you work through winter break. But when you attend your coworker's annual ugly sweater party in an attempt to get into the holiday spirit, a certain green-eyed line cook is determined to make that a challenge.

Or;

The Chili's!AU Christmas party one-shot no one asked for

wc: 6.6k

Tags: enemies to lovers, coworkers!au

Content warnings: smut, oral ( f receiving), spit play, drug references, eren has big ass hands, minors dni

my first fic in an anime fandom, pls be gentle! you can't tell me eren doesn't give off headass-but-secretly-softie line cook vibes... you can't tell me he doesn't look like that one guy you wanted to smash that one time at work!

um...happy holidays, y'all!

read on ao3 | masterlist | twt

The lady at table six doesn’t deserve about half of the attitude that she’s getting from you tonight. Besides, it’s not her fault all of the sides to each meal she ordered were wrong. It’s not her fault her appetizer had to be recalled two times because there were onions in the guacamole on both instances when her chips and dip platter arrived at the table. She’s not the one who cooked her husband’s steak well-done instead of medium-rare. Of course not, because as she oh-so considerably informs you over the distressed screams of her high-chair-bound toddler, she would never cook a New York strip steak like that.

But between the chaos of the dinner rush and the mishaps of a particular line cook who seems hell-bent on making your night as difficult as possible, table six and her husband are lucky that you are even able to flash them a drawn smile before stalking off.

The double doors to the kitchen – so lovingly called the heart of the house - are a thin veil between utter mayhem and the generally calm atmosphere of the dining area, never staying for longer than a second as waiters rush to tend to their tables. Stepping into the chaos, several obstacles stand between you and the culprit of your terrible night. Fellow employees swarm the narrow walking space, and you slip by with practiced ease and the occasional apology. You’re almost a little envious as you take note of them – no one else looks as half as pressed as you do tonight. As they should be, it’s only a Tuesday night. Not even the weekend yet. And yet, as you shimmy your way through the back of the house, you can’t help but feel a similar fatigue and exasperation that typically follows a Friday night shift. This only serves to further solidify your resolve as you duck past a team of waiters off to serve a business party. A long, stainless-steel counter runs the length of the kitchen space, with shelves that reach the ceiling, effectively separating the servers from the cooking staff. Waiters and line cooks take turns sliding completed and returned orders beneath the shelving, and heat lamps attached to the bottom of the last shelf to preserve the food. It is within this space that you all but shove your head beneath the heat lamps to give Eren Jaeger a piece of your mind.

“Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eren, standing idly over the stove top adjacent to you whips around at the sound of your voice. He makes a wry face at the sight of you, hunched over the countertop and under the warm hutch, forced to cram your neck in a certain direction to give Eren the full force of your scowl. For all his nonchalance, there’s a glint in his eyes. “You haven’t come to talk to me since you started your shift.”

You blink once, twice, before all but slamming your head into the shelf above you in an attempt to swipe at Eren across the counter. “Are you – are you fucking joking right now? Are you actually fucking messing with my table’s orders because I didn’t say ‘hi’ when I walked in?” Eren sucks his teeth, pretending to rearrange some condiments in front of him. “You’ve been here for two hours already. It’s polite to greet your seniors. Seems you’ve lost all your manners while you were away at college.”

Right eye twitching at the condescending note in his tone, you rear back, ready to straight up drag him into the walk-in and show him just how polite your fists could be. That thought is quickly sidetracked as a broom handle to the back of the knees sends you stumbling back from the countertop. Your manager stands behind you, arms akimbo, broom in one hand. He pointedly offers you a serving tray.

“Your steak is getting cold.” Stern, curt, and orderly, your night manager is infamous for running a tight ship. But even he, for all his methodology and patience, gets run ragged by the customer service industry. If you thought you were over tonight, Levi looks just about ready to turn in his two weeks.

“What about-,”

“I’ll handle him. Now get back to your other tables before I make you clean the bathrooms.” The night shift manager threatens to strike you with the broom handle again before passing off the tray and pushing you in the right direction.

You spare an accusatory glare at Eren, who watches on in bemusement. Rude bitch, he mouths, wiggling his fingers in a girlish wave.

The rest of the night goes on fairly smoothly. The dinner rush subsides just as quickly as it came. No one asks you to sing the Happy Birthday song. The incident at table six lands you a meager tip, but you grin and bear it. Better than nothing at all. Or worse, change. This seems to be the case for Sasha, a regular dinner shift waitress. She marches through the double doors with a fist full of nickels and dimes courteous of her last table of the night – a group of college students. Cursing under her breath, it’s obvious your coworker is ready to call it a night hide in the back with a basket of rolls until close.

There’s an obvious shift in mood as your team transitions to its closing routine. As Levi thanks the last customers for the night and locks the door behind them, the tension from the day seems to almost melt away instantaneously. Connie, a back-of-the-house member who ends up stuck by the dishwasher most nights, takes the opportunity to hijack the restaurant’s stereo system to blast trap music you only know the chorus to.

Closing, believe it or not, is your favorite part of the job. You take pride in how dutifully you restock, fold cutlery, wipe tables, and somehow always manage to avoid being assigned the task of sweeping the dining areas. You’d rather be caught dead before you struggle with that insolent, brittle plastic broom against an entire night’s worth of grime and dropped food. Instead, when Levi wordlessly hands it off to you this time, you make your way to the back of the house, prepared to bestow this lovely gift to the main antagonist of your shift.

You discover Eren lounging outside the storage shed behind the restaurant, the tell-tale sign of the flicker of a lighter giving him away. And the smell. The heady burn of a Backwood climbs its way up your nostrils as you approach him, languidly smoking half a blunt on the clock.

“Y’know the longer you sit out here, the longer it’s gonna take for us to get the fuck out, right?” Eren greets your matter-of-fact tone with a cloud of smoke, thick and distinct in the crisp winter night air. You shoot Eren a disapproving look as you approach plastic broom in hand, fully prepared to guilt trip your coworker into taking on your least favorite closing duty. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, aren’t you? You’re so lucky it’s too cold for Levi to come out here and bust your ass himself.”

This isn’t the first time the heart-of-the-house worker had snuck off to light up before joining the clean-up routine. Connie and Eren regularly covered for each other’s smoke breaks, so often that even Levi began to turn a blind eye as long as everyone clocked out on time. The line cooks' routine typically didn’t affect much on your end unless it was a night like this – a night when everyone had plans afterward.

Tonight, there was a holiday party at stake.

“Levi’s got a soft spot for me, you know,” Eren scoffs, taking another drag from the half-smoked blunt. He still has yet to fully face you, perched on a stack of discarded crates and angled away from the kitchen’s back entrance. Tucked away in the shadow of the storage shed, Eren ashes off the corner of the small building. “Besides, even he can’t resist my charm.”

Rolling your eyes, you wave the plastic broom in front of him, threatening to poke him in the ribs when he begins to protest. “Charm won’t save you from sweeping duty tonight. After what your petty ass put me through tonight – here, take it.”

Eren raises an eyebrow, throwing his hands up in protest when you move to toss the broom handle at him carelessly. He gripes, “I’ve got better things to do than clean up after you.” The blunt in his hand smolders near his fingertips. You pluck it from his hands with little resistance and take a hit, brow crinkling at the taste. Your lungs ache and warm at the sensation.

“Yeah? Yeah, like this?” You wheeze and hope he attributes the water gathering at the corners of your eyes to the cold. “Just get it done, and let’s finish this so we can all get to the party on time.” Eren watches in dismay as you stomp out the remains of his roach.

“Someone’s in a hurry…A Grinch like you, it can’t possibly be the Christmas spirit?” Eren narrowly avoids being jabbed in the ribs again, jumping from his hiding spot when you lunge. He eyes your tense shoulders, nearly hiked up to your ears, and the impatience in your stance. In the years you’ve worked together, your general disdainful demeanor towards him is nothing new, but there’s something else. Something else that leads Eren to believe that the dark flush of your cheeks has little to do with the winter air. He swipes the broom from your grasp, approaching you with a wolfish grin. You instinctively take a step back, a little less confident now with the broom no longer as your barrier. Confronting Eren over kitchen counters, between restaurant booths, and across busy back-of-the-house spaces in the presence of your other coworkers was one thing. But as the young man towers over you, gaze shadowed in the dim glow of the moon and the weak holiday lights haphazardly strewn about the awning around the restaurant, you can’t help but shrink a little under his direct attention.

After a tense moment of silence, Eren relents. “Alright, alright. I’ll get it done. But you owe me a dance later at the party.”

Your stupor was broken, you sputter and gawk up at him, at his audacity. “I- Me? Dance for you? Dream on, slacker. Now, move it. I’ve got tables to wipe down, and I’m not waiting for you to finish sweeping.”

Working at Pepper’s had only meant to be a summertime gig, at first. Looking for a quick way to make some cash before the start of your first year in college, the local Tex-Mex chain restaurant was your least enthusiastic option. A popular location in your small town, it was one of a few dining options that didn’t require you to drive out into the city to enjoy. The idea of running into one of your former high school classmates while donning the company apron and signature red visor, toting a serving tray - or worse, working with one of them - mortified you. But chain restaurants were always hiring, and you needed money fast. Eventually, working the evening shift as a waitress during breaks from school became the norm - until now. Now, as the start of the final spring semester of your undergraduate program approaches, you're left to consider what the next summer will really look like for you once you graduate. Besides, it wasn’t like this was going to be your career, right?

Right?

In your years on staff, Sasha’s ugly sweater party had become an unofficial team bonding event of sorts. No matter how new someone was to the staff or how frequently they were on shift, everyone came to Sasha’s. And everyone came dressed accordingly, or you were turned away at the door. A night of ugly sweaters, spiked eggnog, and best of all, Secret Santa. Since your freshman year of college, Sasha’s holiday party was always something you could look forward to.

You anxiously eye a little red gift bag from across your coworker’s living room, trying to hide your grimace behind your second glass of wine.

“You look like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.” The hostess of the night is pretty quick to clock your demeanor. Sasha slides onto the couch next to you, her sweater an egregious display of flashing multicolored lights, silver tinsel, and a giant patch of Rudolph the red nose reindeer sledding down a mountain in sunglasses stitched to her chest.

You force a smile, attempting to play off your nerves. “No bomb, just…Secret Santa jitters, you know?”

“Ah, the classic Secret Santa anxiety.” Your companion watches as your nervous gaze flickers from the gift table to a certain couple in matching argyle sweaters with tiny Christmas trees sewn in between the jacquard diamonds, huddled in the doorway into the kitchen. Sasha’s eyes widen in understanding. “Can I take a wild guess at who you got?”

You realize you’re not-so-subtly glaring at Jean, who’s laughing with his uninvited guest across the room. Jean, your coworker, and former daytime shift waiter. Jean, your friend whom you’ve admired from afar for his kindness and tenacity. Jean, who got promoted to manager at some point while you were away finishing your last fall semester at college and didn’t tell you. Jean, whom you have the worst, most horrendous crush on. You take another sip from your drink to avoid the pitiful look you know is on Sasha’s face. “I just hope he likes what I got him. I mean, we’re not exactly best buddies or anything...”

If Sasha catches the sour note in your voice, she says nothing to acknowledge it. “I’m sure you know him better than you think.”

You can’t help but huff in exasperation. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Ever since I switched from dayshift in the fall, ever since I went back to campus, he’s been so distant. I could’ve sworn we were getting somewhere over the summer, but now…” You tip your glass listlessly in the direction of the object of your ire, whose arm is wrapped around none other than Mikasa, a waitress who quit last year but still hangs around some of your coworkers. Apparently.

Everyone comes to Sasha’s Christmas party.

It goes without saying that Jean is with Mikasa now, but your eyes can’t help but linger in his direction anyway. After all, the last time you saw him…

The pool party. That pool house. The surprise that colored his eyes and flushed his cheeks when you kissed him.

You shake off the memory, scowl deepening. The hostess herself leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, spill. What’d you get him?”

You glance around for any eavesdroppers before revealing, “A leather-bound journal. He’s always jotting things down, and I thought it might come in handy.”

Sasha squeezes the hand on your lap not balancing a drink and offers you an encouraging smile. “Not bad! Thoughtful and practical. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

You nod, a bit more reassured. “I hope so. It’s just…I really wanted to get him something he’d like, you know?” You watch as Jean presses a doting kiss to Mikasa’s forehead, smiling into her hairline. He has yet to look your way once, except for at your arrival.

Sasha pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. It’s the thought that counts.”

The thought. You scoff. You think you might need a third glass of wine.

As Sasha wanders off to mingle with the other guests, a mix of cashiers and kitchen staff amused with seeing one another outside of shift schedules, your attention is drawn to Eren, who seats himself in the spot that Sasha once occupied with all the languor of someone who didn’t show up to the party sober. It doesn’t take much for him to reveal that he heard most of your previous exchange.

“Secret Santa jitters, huh?” he teases, propping himself up against one arm of the sofa. The line cook wears a dark blue cable knit sweater, with what you think is some horrific reimagining of Bob Ross knitted across his chest. Tiny, tinkling silver bells adorn the hem, glittering as he shifts in his seat. His hair, typically tied up and away from his face during shifts, spills loosely over his shoulders and shags over his eyes. You recall the way he looked at you earlier in the night behind the storage shed and remember his insistence that you dance with him at this party. In the warm lighting from the barrage of Christmas lights that line Sasha’s living room ceiling, he almost looks pretty like this.

You shoot him a look. “What’s it to you, Eren?”

“Just wondering if I made the nice list,” he quips, winking playfully. You make note of the lack of red rimming his eyes. Maybe he is sober then?

“Cute,” you scoff, trying to dismiss the way heat rises to your cheeks at the comment. Maybe you’re the one that needs to sober up. “Now go sweep something or whatever is it you do when you’re not getting high and crashing parties.”

Eren smirks but doesn’t leave. Instead, he nods in the direction of the gift table, of the little red disaster bag that haunts the corner of your eye. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of your generosity?”

You sigh, giving in to the conversation. “Well, the point of Secret Santa is that it’s a secret-,”

“Jean, huh? That’s interesting.” While you sputter at his presumptuousness, Eren’s expression tightens for a moment, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Before you can question his tone – or how the hell he had even overheard you and Sasha, for that matter – Sasha calls for attention announcing the start of the gift exchange.

You leave Eren on the couch to grab your present, eager to get away from whatever that was. You have enough to be anxious about tonight without Eren Jeager getting into the mix. Unsure how Jean will react to your carefully chosen present, you grip the little red bag a little tighter.

In the end, you don’t even get to witness Jean’s reaction to your gift. All of that tension, all of your worries on the drive here, all of your anxiety leading up to this moment is all for naught. Eren Jeager makes sure of that.

He doesn’t even try to sound remorseful once he spills his wine down the front of your sweater just as you’re about to hand off your gift to your should-be-former crush. You had mustered up the courage to approach Jean, who had finally wrenched himself from Mikasa’s grasp for a brief moment to collect a wrapped parcel of his own. But as soon as you reach out to catch the day shift manager’s attention, your entire body is shifted off-center. Eren collides into your right side, tipping his glass into your chest with little more than a half-assed, “Whoops, my bad.”

You gasp, the force of Eren’s weight and a mix of shock and horror sending you reeling back from Jean. The surrounding partygoers come to a halt, Jean included as he turns to finally take in the sight of you for the first time tonight, mortified and doused in red wine that bleeds through the front of your white cashmere sweater like an open wound. The little red gift bag hangs limply in your hands.

Jean calls your name, voice colored with surprise and concern, but you’re already marching towards the bathroom, eyes stinging, hands shaking, dropping the gift bag somewhere on the way between pushing through little clusters of your coworkers all squeezed into Sasha’s homey apartment.

Much to your relief, the bathroom to the guest bedroom is already unlocked and unoccupied, a temporary haven for you to gather your bearings.

Or so you thought.

It’s not long before Eren finds you, gently knocking on the door with a soft call of your name. You’ve spent the past few minutes fruitlessly dabbing at the stain blossoming on your chest with paper towels and cold water, only succeeding in smearing it into a much larger mess. The snowflakes carefully stitched into the pattern of your sweater begin to take on a faint salmon color, the sight in the mirror only serving to fuel your frustration. Tears well up in your eyes as mortification over the night’s events threaten to overwhelm you, but Eren’s voice startles you into a sense of annoyance. In your panic and haste, you had forgotten to lock the door behind you.

The bathroom door swings open, and you glance up in time to see Eren duck inside, his expression softened with a hint of something you’re too bewildered to decipher. Your heart sinks when you realize Jean doesn’t file in behind him.

“Need some help?” Eren offers, an uncharacteristically sincere tone to his voice.

You shoot him a skeptical look, “Are you being serious right now?”

Rather than back off when met with your icy demeanor, Eren closes the door behind him. And rather than tell him off when he turns you to face him, nearly bumping heads in the cramped guest bathroom, you both set to work with damp paper towels.

You work in silence, under the harsh fluorescent lighting, the sounds of the party raging on outside. Eren’s touch is gentle, and purposeful as he braces your shoulder with one hand and dabs just under your neckline with the other. A pensive look falls over his face. You wait for an apology that doesn’t come.

Distantly, you hear the Christmas music switch to something with a little more bass and know that Connie has hijacked the speaker. As you dab at the hem of your sweater, convinced that the stain would be a permanent fixture in your sweater at this point, you glance up to notice a smile playing on your intruder’s lips.

You shoot him a withering look, “You think this is funny?”

Eren breaks out into a full-on smirk, impish even, looking a bit more like the line cook you’ve known to antagonize you. He tosses his paper towel in the trash and leans against the bathroom counter, his green eyes fixed on you. For a brief moment, they simmer with spitefulness. “I think it’s a hell of a lot less depressing than watching you openly moon over horse face.”

“Horse face?” You blanch. “You mean Jean-,”

“-Besides, I did you a favor. Now you don’t have to go and be disappointed him.”

Your frustration grows, but beneath it, there’s a spark of defiance. You snap at him, “What does it even matter to you, Eren? All night you’ve been on my case; at work, at this party! Whatever I give to Jean – whatever I have or don't have going with Jean is none of your business.”

You feel the tension between you, thick and charged, but the satisfied look on Eren’s face never wavers. He’s lax, head tilted back as he observes you over the bridge of his nose with a gaze that meets yours that could almost be described as bored if not for the hungry something lurking in them. That same look from your closing shift, passing him the broom. He’s not high anymore, you determine, hasn’t been for a while if the intense look expression, and the clarity of his gaze is anything to go by, so you can’t chalk it up to insobriety. You distantly wonder how much more often he’s looked at you like that. For how long? How have you never noticed? It seems so much more apparent like this, outside of work. So much harder to ignore with no metal counters to divide you, and no uniforms to keep up to code.

In your anger, you’ve stepped closer, balling the used towel in one fist and bracing against the counter with the other, half caging in the much taller man against the sink. You don’t realize how close you are, face to face like this, drawn in by the intensity of his eyes. The bathroom feels smaller, the air heavier, and you’re acutely aware of every beat of your heart.

You mutter, “What the hell is with you?” and he huffs a laugh through his nose, a real smile on his lips as you draw near.

“If only you fucking knew.”

Eren leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a bold move that leaves you momentarily stunned. For a moment, you forget about the chaos of the party outside. When he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a slow kiss laced with arrogance, a statement of intent. And despite your annoyance, you can’t help the feeling of warmth that floods you. Hands seek each other out in a flurry of movement. The paper towels and spilled wine are forgotten as Eren’s hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer. Eren lets you cage him fully against the bathroom sink, if only to fit one leg between yours and slot his fingers from around your waist to the back of your neck, into your hair with the free hand not holding himself up against the counter.

The kiss is a collision of emotions – frustration, surprise, and an underlying current of something you hadn’t quite acknowledged before and aren’t entirely sure if you’re ready to either. Unhurried and messy, you can feel the groan that reverberates through Eren’s chest against your own as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. He tastes like smoke and red wine and metal. There’s no urgency behind his moments, languid with the way explores your mouth, as if a crowd of people you’ve worked with throughout some of the more formative years of your life aren’t separated from you by a singular door. As if the man you’d sworn you’d come back to try to commit to wasn’t a brisk walking distance away. He kisses you like a lover, and not like a man who has made it his mission to spend every waking moment you’ve had together grating your nerves.

Surprise shocks you at the swipe of his tongue ring against your lower lip. His thumb at your neck strokes along your chin, and your jaw with a touch that’s borderline reverent. A balmy, pleasant feeling unfurls in your chest, thrums in your veins as you allow him to tilt your head back and deepen the kiss. Eren’s lips are warm and insistent, and despite the bizarre circumstances, you feel right at home in his grasp.

The sounds of the party outside fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thud of your heart in your ears.

You’re surprised at how gentle he is. Firm, unrelenting in his touch, sure, but with none of the simmering aggression you’d come to associate him with. Strong, sure hands, slide encircle your hips under your sweater, thumbs dragging across your hip bones at the hem of your jeans. Stoking that smoldering feeling in your chest, a simmering in your low belly. The sensation earns him a gasp, interrupted by his lips. It takes little convincing for you to remove the sweater altogether, discarding the article of clothing along with it.

You’re rewarded with a pained groan as Eren breaks the kiss long enough to admire you like this, all flush and disheveled from the neck up. His doing. Not Jean’s. He can’t help but feel smug satisfaction, finally having quelled that ugly, nagging feeling that had built up in his chest once he had realized just why you had been so anxious to get to the party tonight. None of that matters now. Eren is too focused on chasing the press of your hips against his. Too focused on the feeling of your lips and the little gasps you make each time he moves to tuck into the crook of your neck instead, teeth finding their way to the pliable skin at the juncture of your bare neck. Too enamored by the way the lust and wine make your eyes hazy and soft on him in a way he wishes you’d look at him during the daytime.

Breaking your gaze, Eren rearranges your legs so that you’re nearly seated on his lap with the way you lean over him against the counter. Eren’s fingertips find their way beneath the hem of your bra, sliding over the seams of your ribcage to trace and then squeeze at the expanse of bare skin there. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, content to rock in his lap and suck on his tongue until the rough pads of his thumbs swipe over your nipples, rendering you just a little more desperate.

“Oh – oh. Eren, please-,” The little silver bells sewn into the collar of his sweater jingle with every rock of your hips, and you can’t help but snicker against his lips once you notice the sound.

“Let me – here, let me take this shit off.” Eren gives you just enough room to swipe the festive sweater over his head, just enough time to toss it somewhere on the floor before he’s on you again. One large hand palms your rear, the other resting against your collarbones, fingers encircling your throat to guide you back into one more heated kiss, prying your mouth open with his teeth and tongue, rolling yours over his.

Your own wandering hands tangle in his hair as it curtains your face, trace the sinewy lines of his back as you silently wonder if he’s always been this strong.

Eren doesn’t let you wonder for long, managing to scoop up you inside the broom closet-sized confines of the spare bathroom and place you on the closed lid of the toilet, skirt fluttering up to the tops of your thighs with a swift motion.

“Wait, woah-,” You’re so caught off guard by the sudden motion, that you nearly miss Eren stooping down to kneel in front of your place on the toilet, large hands bracketing each of your knees. He leans in, a secret smile gracing his features, green eyes bright with mischief under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“I figured, this is the least I can do after ruining your night, right?” As he speaks, his hands hook around the backs of your knees, helping him make room for a space between them. He takes a second to gauge your reaction, and you belatedly put the pieces together of what he’s asking with a slight shiver. His smile ie earnest, eyes unexpectedly sincere.

You think of putting back on your sweater and going back out there to face Jean. You think of fishing your gift out of whatever unfortunate corner of the room it fell into. Of returning home having achieved little other than embarrassing yourself in front of coworkers and friends.

Your thumb traces Eren’s lower lip, and you realize you’re taking too long to answer. Eren. Line cook Eren. Eren the bane-of-every-night-shift-ever Jeager. After all you’ve said and done, after years of working together, can you come back from something like this?

Eren sits back on his heels and presses a kiss to the soft skin of the inside of your knee. Well, you sigh, stroking a hand through his dark tresses, almost lovingly. The hungry, impish grin you receive when you can only respond with a half-choked “please,” is enough to make your heart stutter in your chest. A win is a win.

Unfortunately for you, there reaches a point where you’re not even sure who’s really winning. Eren eats pussy like he was made for it.

He starts slow, tracing his nose up and down the gusset of your panties like you’re not cramped together in the guest bathroom at your mutual friend’s party. Like he’s got all the time in the world. Gentle touches across the backs of your thighs, the plane of your stomach.

When you start to wiggle with impatience, he bites into the crease between your sex and upper thigh, deep and indulgent enough to make you cry out. He doesn’t care much for your choice in panties – they’re quick to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor anyway.

Eren switches your position again, turning you face forward and bent over the toilet so that your hands brace the lid. You fold your arms, pressing your cheek into the bends of your elbows when he encourages you to arch your back further, palm large and warm and sliding down your spine. From where he kneels, he locks one arm around your hips, the other hand bracketing the crease at your asscheek, just at the top of your thigh. You are rendered immobile, vulnerable as he spreads you open to his gaze and laves once between your folds.

“Fuck-!” The exclamation comes out warbled, almost tearful into the crook of your arms. You wiggle your hips in search of more contact, but the touch never comes. Eren’s mouth remains frustratingly out of reach, instead tracing your folds with his thumb. Of course, he doesn’t start right away. Indulges in the way you squirm, half out of impatience, half apprehension.

Complaints earn you a sharp smack! where you’re left wet and wanting. Your knees bow, legs trembling from the shock of the sudden assault on such sensitive nerves.

“Eren,” you bite back a moan. Your antagonist shushes and coos at your anguish, only pausing in his condescension to sink his teeth into the cheek not held in his grasp. The whine that works its way out of you in response is loud enough for him to relent after a moment, playfully admonishing you.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be this fuckin’ noisy?” He mutters, lips ghosting over where you need him most. “So damn uptight and quiet at work until it’s time to chew me out, right? Now look at you.” Embarrassment colors your cheeks at his words, feeling the slick wetness between your thighs you know he must have a plain view of, and you distantly wonder how you allowed this to escalate so quickly.

From your bent position, you think you hear him swallow, mouth working over something that’s decidedly not you until you feel something liquid and warm spatter over your mound. Biting back another moan, you silence the small, nagging part of your brain that seethes at the possibility of him holding this moment over your head in the future. Taking note of the litter of bruises that mark the backs of your thighs, you know the decision you both are making will literally come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow. Tomorrow, when you have to inevitably face him at work again, along with the rest of your coworkers who are no doubt wondering where you’ve been at this point. Eren uses the pads of his thumbs to spread your lips again, brushing a gentle, teasing kiss across your clit and you decide you’ll reconcile with yourself on the matter in the morning.

“Oh fuck, oh god,” you mumble, unable to work up the energy to be irritated when you feel the way he smiles against you.

When Eren finally decides to give in, it comes with a price. His lips seal over the span of your sex, sucking on one fold, then the other before gracing you with a broad stroke across your slit, and you’re a goner.

“Mm-oh! Oh.”

That price is your sanity and your resolve to stay as quiet as possible.

He devours you, seemingly unable to decide between one pace and another as he eagerly works his tongue into your molten core. He’s mean. Deliberate. Worst of all, he seems to be enjoying himself. Starting slow, savoring all of your heat and taste on his tongue. Then fast and relentless, flicking devastating strokes across your clit in a motion that leaves you gripping the lid beneath you. Chest heaving in exertion as you attempt to hold back your cries.

Your legs ache and tremble, knees biting into the cool lip of the toilet lid each time Eren presses you forward in his insistence. Eren dips the tip of his tongue into your slit, nose pressed between your folds with a self-satisfied moan, causing you to jerk and keen in his grasp. Your arms squeak across the porcelain when you jostle a little too far out of grasp. The angle he has you bent at presses you up onto your toes. Eren tightens his grasp around your waist. He presses one long digit into your core and you cry out into your elbows.

“Fuck, just-just a little longer, okay? Just gimme a little more, yeah,” he mumbles, deep, raspy, fucked out, and sounding more like an assurance for himself than you.

The finger inside you and the hand at your thigh disappear momentarily, and you wonder if he’s touching himself. The position he has you in means you’d have to crane your neck backward just to catch a glimpse of his lower half. The thought fuels the searing heat in your veins, as does the slick sound of wet skin and the resounding whimper breathed against your core, confirming your suspicions.

“Eren,” you gasp, whimper, locking up at the sight of his free hand palming at the profuse bulge in his jeans, veins popping in his arms at the effort. “Fuck, wait, fuck-!”

You come hard and fast, blood roaring in your ears, fingers gripping the lid with a white-knuckle grip as you squirm in Eren’s grasp. Coming together and falling apart in an overwhelming wave of pleasure that catches you off guard. Eren is quick to catch on, both hands returning to your hips to lock you in an embrace, face pressed into your sex in earnest. You twitch and writhe in his grasp, unable to escape from his relentless assault on your senses. He talks you through it when he can bear to detach his mouth from you, murmuring praises into the heated skin of your thighs. Bliss crackles up your spine and warms you inside out from head to toe.

“Eren, god, please,” you simper, dizzy with your fading arousal, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. To stop? To keep going?

Eren decides for you, pressing one last parting kiss to your mound before getting to his feet. The moments following go about in relative silence. Despite him having been between your legs just seconds ago, you’re quick to feel awkward and aren’t exactly sure what to say. Surprisingly ever the gentleman, Eren helps you rise off the lid and redress and clean on shaky legs. You are slow to stand upright. Unable to meet his eyes as you try to reconstruct your thoughts from mush. He slides your panties back over your hips and trades your ruined sweater for his own.

Eren stops you before you can protest the offer, vehemently against him commuting home at night, in the cold shirtless. “I’ll just take Armin’s jacket,” he reassures you, adjusting the collar of the horrendous Bob Ross fabrication at your neck. The tiny silver bells jingle at his touch, sounding akin to tinkling laughter

Over his shoulder, you take in your appearance in the mirror. You had done your best to right your disheveled makeup and hair, but the bruises on your neck and the obvious wardrobe change were a lost cause. Even if you dipped out of the party now, there was no avoiding being seen. You were going to have some questions to answer in the morning.

Eren catches your contemplative expression and matches one with his own, a little guarded now. Before now, neither of you had been on the best of terms. A history of annoyance and resentment that lasted years brewed between the two of you. But now…

Now as you consider how terrible the night had gone and the embarrassment you’ll face when Jean inevitably picks up that little red bag with his name on it, now as watch Eren wipe leftover slick off the corner of his lip before sucking the offending finger clean, you figure that’s something you can sort out another day.

5 New Messages

hey! I saw what happened w Eren, u alr??

hello??

I got ur present! Txt me when you get home!

hey!!

can we talk?

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren aot #aot smut #aot fluff #jean kirstein #jean x reader #pepper's!au #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #jean kirschtein x reader #ctcgu

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princessaxoxo · 7 months

Text

Thanksgiving

August Walker x Reader

Summary: August has you over for thanksgiving.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), pet names, some food play, fluff, age gap, vulgar language

Wordcount: 930

A/N: Had this in mind for weeks but things got a bit chaotic in my personal life so it is a bit rushed. So sorry. 😣

A spread of Thanksgiving delicacies and candlelight covered August's dining table as you were squirming in your seat across from him. Although you had been alone with him before, this was the first time he had asked you to his place with such boldness.

“Which one do you prefer?” He pointed at the turkey and ham. “Oh, um, the turkey,” you awkwardly replied. Internally, you were scolding yourself.

August took your plate and placed a turkey slice on it. When your plate was placed in front of you again, part of the food was on the edges since you didn't want to be impolite and refuse any of the food he had prepared. “It looks delicious, August."

As you began eating your food, halfway, you noticed August hadn’t touched his. “Why aren’t you eating?"

August took notice of your nervous mannerisms since the beginning of the night. “Why are you fidgeting?” You looked away from his eyes and dropped your utensil. He leaned across the table and raised your face so you would look at him. “Tell me.” His light-hearted question has now turned into a demand.

“Well, we’ve never done this.” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What do you mean?"

“This is intimate. Well, we have been intimate before, but this is a different type of intimacy. It’s romantic. This is different for us.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. August sat back in his chair and chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” You huffed and crossed your arms.

“Oh, I don't think it's humorous, baby. I simply don't understand why you withheld your concerns from me. I am aware that this is unusual for us because we haven't been able to go on the kind of date that I had hoped for. However, the fact that it will be our first Thanksgiving spent together makes it more special.”

Suddenly, all the nerves you held floated away.

August took a few steps around the table before bringing out the chair beside you. He kissed your hand after grasping it.

"This is really special, and I'm glad it's with you. Thank you for doing all of this." You said before giving him a kiss that started out as affectionate but quickly turned hungry. "Suddenly, none of this food appeals to me."

“But you made all of it. It shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded his head, and you could tell he had an idea. “It won’t go to waste, princess.”

You watched as he brought the bowl filled with mashed potatoes closer. It suddenly became clear to you what he was intending to do. “You’re going to eat the food off of me?"

August started to take your dress off your body, and you allowed him to. "Indeed, I am. After all, it's Thanksgiving. We must be grateful and eat until we put on ten pounds." He paused to give you a kiss on the inside of your thigh. "This is what I'm thankful for—this wonderful food. And above all, you."

As you bit your lip, you saw him apply mashed potatoes to both sides of your inner thighs before starting to eat them off of you. When you felt him sucking and twirling his tongue around, pleasure took over you.

Moans effortlessly left you as you grasped your breasts and pinched your nipples. He applied another sheer coat of mashed potatoes to your cunt, and you soon felt the feel of his tongue pressing against your clit.

His formerly brilliant blue eyes were bursting with desire as you gazed down at him. His tongue lapsed and sucked until you were a wailing mess that was coming apart. “God, August.”

He kissed his way up to your mouth. “Get undressed now,” you demanded of him. He tore his clothes off in a rush. And, thoughtlessly lifted you and placed you down on the table. August lifted the cranberry sauce and poured it over your breasts. When he began to suck and twirl his tongue over your nipples, groans fell from his lips.

“August, I need you inside me.”

His face held a wicked smile. “You want me inside of you, princess? Want to feel all of me?"

“Yes, please.”

With rapidity, he lunged inside you, and your legs encircled his waist. His sac struck your ass with each push. As you bent in to give him a kiss, you noticed how his muscles strained with every thrust.

You encircled his neck firmly with your arms, and he enveloped his powerful arms beneath your thighs. When he pressed you against the wall and invaded you, you were able to feel him more deeply. With every push, his cock grazed your g-spot.

Your come covered his cock. “My good girl, covering me with her come.”

With your mouth hanging open and your eyes shut, you became mute as the pounding intensified. He gripped your face tightly. "Look at me; I must see that stunning face of yours as I come into you."

His body began to jerk as his seed filled you.

August's head rested on the bend of your neck while you both tried to breathe again. Once he was breathing normally again, he took a look at you and let out a little laugh. “What is it?” you questioned him.

"There's food in your hair," he said, moving your hair away from your face.

You chuckled hysterically and touched his face before speaking. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."

"Honey, happy Thanksgiving." He kissed you several times over your face after giving you a quick peck on the lips.

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @chloe92 @identity2212 @juliaorpll78 @armystay89

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sugusoneandonly · 20 days

Text

Quixotic - STSG - ch 3

mb for the long long wait finals r eating me up😞 chapters should be coming sooner after this week maybe. hopefully.

cw: jealous!gojo ,, gojo/mc lore drop ,, thats it i think ,, swearing (but it js me) ,, gojo breaks the 4th wall

i didnt edit for shit smd

Eventually the three of you had reached the elevator of Suguru’s studio that led down to the main lobby. The elevator doors had closed, and your arrangement of positions left you standing in between Geto and Gojo. Their expensive colognes were radiating off of them and making home into your senses. You blink around, avoiding any accidental eye contact.

The elevator halted a couple floors down, there was at least four more before you would reach the lobby. The doors opened, revealing an all too familiar dark haired man with a scar on his nose. He made eye contact with you, a soft smile contrasting the rest of his features. You smiled back, which didn’t go unnoticed by the two men at your sides.

“Y/N,” the man spoke out while getting into the elevator. “Hi, Cho!” you replied with bubbles in your tone. Gojo held back a scoff, Geto set the eyebrow he raised back down before it could get up.

what a downgrade - geto

how come he gets an exclamation point?- gojo

“How are you, what are you doing here?” Choso mumbled out, unaware of your connection to the other two.

“I’m good. I’m actua-” before you could finish, Gojo cut you off.

“She’s actually here on an internship, with us”

Choso finally paid mind to the other occupants, “Oh, Geto and Gojo, my apologies. I hope I didn’t bother you too much Y/N.” The slight wind of embarrassment over his face squeezed your heart.

“oh, no! not at all.” You frantically responded, however the elevator had reached Choso’s stop, which was still two floors above yours. curse this big building

Choso waved goodbye and exited the elevator, once again leaving you isolated with Geto and Gojo.

Gojo hummed, yet this time it was Geto who spoke up. “You, know him??”

You nodded in response, a slight pout playing at your lips at the cut off interaction with him. “He’s my neighbor, kinda. He lives a floor down from me.”

Gojo could only think of stopping his eye from twitching. “Really? I don’t remember him being there.” He grimaced out.

“Yeah, I moved??” you responded, eyebrow raised in confusion.

The doors opened and you all walked out, this didn’t stop Gojo from carrying on the conversation though. “What? When?” The white-haired man was appalled, bewildered if you will.

“Quite a while ago, actually. You didn’t know?” What was all this fuss about?

Gojo let out a dry chuckle, “How would I, since someone blocked me on everything to exist, even though we agreed that we were on good terms.” His voice raised a pitched at the end, noting his sarcasm.

Ah, you’ve been caught red handed. Your mouth dropped into a small circle. Your faced burned and tensed up at the acknowledgment. “Um, my bad?” a sheepish grin played on your mouth in attempt to cover and brush it off. The two watched you like a pair of hawks while you unblocked him. Gojo had calmed down, and even felt bad a bit. Yet he wouldn’t show that, yet.

Geto cleared his throat, “Is there a particular reason why?”

“fifteen hundred per month gets hard to handle, especially as a student who get’s bombed with the news their roommate’s dipping asap.” You sent a well-deserved glare to Gojo, who looked away. Geto had a wave of shock on his face, he hadn’t heard that part yet.

———

By now, you’ve reached your food destination. Which happened to be the restaurant you’ve been eyeing every since you’ve moved into the area, yet the place was way out of your tax bracket. You stood there for a second, awing at the building unsure of what you were doing there. You remember telling a whole tale of this restaurant to Gojo, back when you were both broke.

Unsure, you glanced around at Geto and Gojo. In response, Gojo had only lightly held the tips of your fingers and guided you through the entrance, mumbling a small “let’s go”. Your heart grew frantic, he shouldn’t be doing that. Matter of fact, why was he doing that?

Before your thoughts could weight you back outside the door, Geto’s hand had feathered itself along the small of your back, ushering you forward. Savory scents of tteokbokki, fancy ramen, and kimchi flooded your senses. The aura and promising food of the restaurant wafted away any of your worries.

The waitress had ushered the three of you into a secluded area of the place, with a warm overhead lamp lighting the area. The mood was down to earth, yet intimate. You glanced back at Gojo and Geto, large figures accentuated with luxurious clothing that made them stand out like sore thumbs. You hardly suppressed a giggle. The two slid into the two seats set in front of you, across the table. This arrangement made you feel both their gazes, setting you as the center of attention now.

tag list !! : @ladytamayolover @akemiixx01

i hope i didn’t miss someone 😭

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number1mingyustan · 1 year

Text

Habit (part ii.) —k.sy

GIF by chogiwapadada

fuckboy!hoshi x fem!reader

Genre: fwb au, college au, fuckboy au, angst, smut

Warnings: kissing, cursing, oral (m.), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (doggystyle),explicit smut

Word Count: 3.3k

part i. part iii. part iv.

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i was gonna wait like a week to post this but i got impatient 😊)

"Shorty," Soonyoung nudges you.

You, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Nai, and another one of your friends, Joshua, are all out for lunch together. You're all engaged in conversation and enjoying your food when he nudges you.

"Hmm?" you turn your head toward him.

"Can I come to your dorm tomorrow night?" he asks.

"What?" you question.

"Nai and Seokmin have plans involving her coming to our dorm and they're definitely going to kick me out. I thought it would be cool if you and I could hang. If you're busy it's fine though, I'll just ask Akari if–"

"You can come over," you cut him off.

He smiles and thanks you before picking up the conversation with the rest of the group happily. There's a million thoughts lingering in your mind but you choose to push them away.

The next night Soonyoug comes over and you end up in the same position you were in four days prior. You're underneath him, only half dressed and panting.

You made it halfway through some stupid movie before he kissed you. The tension had been high since the moment he entered your dorm room. You were only wearing a tank top and some shorts and his eyes had been on you since he stepped through the door. Neither of you was truly paying attention to the movie and it was only a waiting game before his lips were on yours. You kissed him back, of course. Pretty soon your back hit the mattress and the rest is history.

You've tuned out the voices playing on your computer, however the lights in whatever is going on in the movie are illuminating the room. His hands wander as he kisses you, cupping your breasts, playing with the hem of your shorts. His touch is so delicate yet needy.

He hooks his fingers into your shorts and pulls them off, tossing the fabric onto the floor. You decide to push back onto the mattress, flipping the switch and climbing on top of him. He doesn't resist even though he's much stronger than you. You crawl up his body, using one hand to shut your laptop before your lips find his again. You're grinding down on him, the absence of your shorts creating a thin layer between your bodies.

You nudge your noses together before planting a quick kiss on his lips. He reaches his head up for more in hopes of kissing you again, but you have other plans. You allow your nose to brush against his once more, but your lips don't touch. Before he knows it, your head is just above his crotch, hands fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants.

"Wait," he stops you.

You completely freeze, looking up at him. "What?"

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asks.

A beat.

No way this fucker thinks you don't know how to suck a dick.

"Soonyoung, who do you think I am?" you question.

"Shorty, it's not like that. I just wasn't sure how much um... experience you've had with this," he explains.

You glare at him. "You should know by now I’m not some sort of virgin Soonyoung," you reach your hand into his sweatpants. "I told you my problem was that the guys couldn't make me finish, not the other way around."

Matter of fact, you've given head more times than you've actually had sex. Guys tend to be pretty selfish, but in this moment it's actually kind of working in your favor. And oh, were you about to prove him wrong.

You pull off his sweats and his underwear together. He’s already half hard and you waste no time getting to work. You spit on his cock before stroking him in your hand. You start of slow, progressively getting faster as you turn your hand along his length.

You feel his body relax and sink into bed sheets as he sighs out of satisfaction. Bingo.

Seconds later, half his length is down your throat and you continue stroking him. You thrust his cock into your throat with each bob of your head, taking a little bit more of him with each movement.

“Holy fuck Shorty,” he gasps.

You’re moving quickly, allowing his cockhead to nudge against the back of your throat each time you bob your head. His cock is coated with your saliva, easily slipping in and out of your mouth and down your throat.

His body starts to grow tense again.

You’re still stroking his length with what you can’t fit in your mouth. You allow your tongue to run along the underside of his cock every time you bob your head. His breathing grows shaky.

“Shit-yeah that’s good,” he moans as he places his hand on your head and pushes it down.

There’s tears prickling the corners of your eyes as his cock gags you, but you can take it. Your eyes peak up, admiring how beautiful he looks right now, His body is sinking into the bedsheets and his eyes are screwed shut. His lips are parted and you can hear him moaning.

You like it when he makes noise. When he talks to you, moans because of you. He's so responsive, it sends tingles through your body. Fills you up with warmth in more ways than one.

His hand guides you as he continues to push down on your head. Usually, you hate it when guys are selfish and push your head, but with Soonyoung, his hand guiding your head has you completely soaking your panties. You press your thighs together as you take him deeper into your throat to ease the tension. You feel his thighs grow tense and he suddenly pulls your head up. You look up at him with confusion.

He’s panting softly. “Fuck, I was so close. Didn’t wanna cum in your mouth.”

You pout. “I wanted you to.”

He pulls your body back on top of his and kisses your forehead. “Maybe next time Shorty, gotta fuck you properly now for treating me so good.”

He pins you underneath him.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Yeah,” he flips you onto your stomach. “Best fucking head of my life.”

Your ego swells when he confirms what you already knew.

You were only wearing a tank top and panties, making everything much easier for him. He slides the thick clothing over your head and pulls it off. He leaves a trail of kisses down your back until he reaches your ass. He slides your panties down slowly.

“This wet just from sucking me off huh?” he tosses the soaked fabric onto the floor.

“Shut up Soonyoung,” you breathe out.

You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smirking right now. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor.

You feel his bare cock press against your ass.

“Soonyoung,” you say.

“Hmm?”

“You’re forgetting something,�� you remind him.

“No I’m not,” he presses a kiss on your shoulder.

“Soonyoung,” you warn.

“Shorty you told me you’d let me cum inside next time so I didn’t even bring any condoms,” he lies.

"Soonyoung you always have condoms on you," you remind him.

He sighs. "Okay fine you got me, but you said I could."

He begins peppering your back with gentle kisses. "Please," he whines.

You really shouldn't be considering this. Yes, you told him he could but that was in the heat of the moment. You didn't think he'd actually remember it. You know you trust him and you both know that you're on the pill. And you're really really considering it.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “You’re lucky I’m on the pill.”

It’s all the permission he needs before he’s sliding his cock into you from behind. You both moan out loud at the feeling. You're so wet, he slides in with ease, filling you up inch by inch.

He regrets not making you cum beforehand because he fears he might not last long. You feel so fucking good, he’s losing his mind.

His hands hold your hips in place as he slams his hips into your backside. He’s mesmerized by the way your ass recoils with each thrust.

His hips pick up in speed, fucking you rougher and faster. Your moans are echoing off the walls and filling the space.

“Holy shit Soonyoung,” you cry out.

You may never want to go back to protected sex. It’s an entirely new feeling, having him stretch you open raw. It feels so fucking good and so very intimate.

He snakes his hand between your though, rubbing quick circles on your clit. He needs you to cum before him, needs to feel you throb around him while he can really feel you.

You’re crying out in pleasure, moaning his name like a chant. He pushes your head into your pillow, muffling your sounds, but giving him better access. With you bent over more, he can pound into you better.

His cock is hitting deep inside of you, dragging out and pushing in at a fast pace. He’s grunting in your head, fingers circling faster as his hips grow erratic.

Your warning is muffled, but he’s close enough to hear you tell him you’re cumming. Your whole body spasms when you cum. Your tears have started to stain your pillow and your legs grow shaky and wobbly.

The throbbing of your cunt sends Soonyoung into overdrive when he cums. He's so caught up in how good you feel, he nearly forgets to pull out. Thankfully he does, slipping his cock out of you and stroking himself quickly until his cum coats your ass.

He lets out a curse before his body collapses on your bed. He runs his hand through his damp hair before placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks.

You lay on your bed, face sinking into the soft sheets. “Yeah,” you breathe out.

“Okay good,” he sits up. “Need to get you washed up.”

He disappears into your bathroom, turning on the shower before returning. “C’mon Shorty.”

Huh? He wants to shower with you? Does that mean he’s staying the night?

He helps you out of bed and into the shower where he joins you. He helps to wash your hair and body, sure to get in his few sneaky touches.

“Shorty,” he says, scrubbing into your scalp.

“Hmm?” you hum.

“I want you to come to my show,” he says.

“What show?”

“My dance performance,” he lathers his hands with more shampoo. “It’s a month from tomorrow in the Fallin' Flower Theater and I want you there.”

Soonyoung was a dance major. Dance has been a passion of his since he was little and being able to pursue it in college felt like a dream to him. He even claims that he danced before he walked as a baby.

Why he was in your Economics class while you were a Business major? Simple, his parents.

He told you about it once over lunch. His parents saw dance as a hobby and not something to be taken seriously, especially not as a career path. They signed him up for dance classes when he was 3, and he'd been doing it since then. Jazz, hip-hop, contemporary, and even a little bit of tap. Soonyoung did it all, and he loved it. But they thought he’d grow out of it after high school, and were mortified when he told them he wanted to pursue dance in college.

They told him they wouldn’t pay for his education if he was going to be throwing it away for some ‘stupid hobby.’ Told him he should be studying something that would bring money and value into his life.

But he was able to convince them, as long as he minored in something business-related and maintained at least a 3.5, his parents would support him.

He still hated how they viewed his passion, but remained grateful for the opportunity nonetheless.

“It’s gonna be a really big showcase and an important night for me,” he explains. “So will you come? It’s at 7.”

“Yeah I’ll be there,” you assure him. “I don’t think I’m doing anything anyway. And if something comes up, I’ll cancel.”

“Really?” he beams. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Once he finishes washing you up, he insists that it’s his turn and crouches so you can wash his hair for him.

“I like the blonde on you,” you say as you scrub his hair.

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Akari told me she liked the sliver I had a little while back, was thinking of doing that again.”

Oh.

Akari.

Your heart sinks at the mention of her name. You feel like such an idiot. Of course, he’s still sleeping with her and God knows who. You don’t know how you let yourself forget.

You’re not the only one.

You just let him fuck you raw and now he’s talking about another one of the girls he’s sleeping with. You started to feel special because he stayed and showered with you, but he probably does this with everyone.

How dumb of you.

It's not his fault he's so likable. You don't think he's doing it on purpose, you really hope not. It's your own fault really, you shouldn't get your hopes up so much.

You finish washing up in silence and tell him you’re tired. He takes it at his cue to leave and redresses himself. He even helps to tuck you in and you hate that it makes your heart race.

He promises to text you when he’s home safe even if you’re asleep when he does. It bothers you that you have to hold back a smile at the gesture.

He sees himself out silently and your heart and your mind struggle to understand if you wanted him to leave or to stay.

You can't help but wonder if he's always been good at this. It's been two days since you last slept with Soonyoung, yet here is is sitting next to you in Economics telling you about some video game he and Seokmin have been obsessed with recently.

He’s been coming over more often. Just about any time Seokmin and Nai are together, he ends up in your dorm. And you open the door every time.

He usually stays after too, playing board games, watching movies, or just talking to you. He orders food and cuddles with you when you have the time, but it’s so hard for you to read him. You can’t quite figure out what’s going on in his head.

There’s days where he leaves too, cleans you ups and puts his clothes on and leaves after only a few words. It doesn’t happen often, but it hurts more each time it does.

He treats you so well in the bedroom, fucks you good too. He tends to be touchy too, playing with your hair or simply running his fingers along your skin. It drives you crazy, that he can treat you like his girl in the bedroom and like you’re just a friend in class.

It’s infuriating how good he is at this. There’s a million questions running through your mind, but you bite your tongue. Figure you’ll spare yourself the embarrassment.

It’s been about a week since the last time you saw Soonyoung outside of class. And now Nai has dragged you to a frat party so she can see her boyfriend. And you know if Seokmin is here, Soonyoung will be too.

Nai disappeared about 30 minutes ago with Seokmin, leaving you to fend for yourself. The music is loud and there’s not enough alcohol in your system to drown it out. You haven’t seen Soonyoung anywhere and you don’t want to be here anymore.

If he is here, he’s probably upstairs fucking someone without you as so much as a thought on his mind. You hate to admit that the only reason Nai was able to convince you to come was because you thought he’d be here.

Oh.

“Shorty!” his voice calls.

You turn around, seeing Soonyoung make his way down the stairs. Leina follows close behind him and you bite back a frown.

You’ve got a good idea of what they were doing upstairs a few short moments ago. You feel your heart twist and tighten at the sight.

This shouldn’t bother you. You and Soonyoung are just friends, and just because you’ve been hooking up, you shouldn’t be getting any ideas. You’re not his, and he’s sure as hell not yours.

He completely ditches her and makes his way toward you. He very drunkenly pulls you in for a hug. He doesn’t let go as quickly as you thought he would, he hold you for a moment and your body grows warm.

“Hi Soonyoung,” you greet him.

“I had no idea you were here,” he frowns, finally releasing you from the hug.

“Yeah, I was just on my way out though,” you tell him.

“What?” he shouts. “You can’t leave!”

“Nai dragged me here and then disappeared with Seokmin like 30 minutes ago and I don’t know anyone else here,” you tell him. “And I have an exam tomorrow and I can’t say I’m in the mood to meet new people.”

He frowns. “I’m here though.”

“True,” you smile. “But you’re also very drunk.”

He huffs. There was no denying that.

“Fine, I’ll walk you home,” he says.

“Oh no—you don’t have to-“

He’s already disappearing back upstairs before you can finish. “Just let me get my jacket!”

He comes back downstairs a few moments later with his jacket and leads you outside. You tell him again that he didn’t have to do this, but he assures you that he doesn’t mind.

The two of you walk at your own pace, engaging in drunken conversation. It’s pleasant, talking to him. Even though you’re both intoxicated, you still have really meaningful talks with him.

"Wait," he stops suddenly, causing you to stand still.

He pulls his jacket off his body and wraps it around your body. "You looked cold."

"I was," you smile at him. "Thank you."

"Of course," he beams at you drunkenly.

"So, Soonyoung," you start.

"Nah Shorty," he interrupts. "Hoshi, call me Hoshi."

"Hoshi?"

Hoshi. It's a nickname that he's had since he was young. He doesn't really remember where it came from, probably his mom. But he rarely lets anyone call him that. It's a nickname that only his family and really close loved ones used.

The people he really cared about and loved.

"Yeah, Hoshi," he smiles. “It’s only fair since I always call you Shorty.”

"What's your show about?" you ask.

"What show?" he questions rather drunkenly.

"Your dance performance?"

"OH!" he giggles to himself. "It's like... a guy who's been shielded pretty much all his life. And so he runs away from home and ends up in this huuuge city. And at first he's scared and he feels out of place, but then he meets like a bunch of other people and goes through this whole journey of self discovery and love and stuff."

"You're telling that story entirely through dance?" you ask.

He nods. "Yeah it's kinda like the nutcracker where you have to rely only on the movement and the music to understand because there's no words."

"Hoshi that's amazing," you beam.

"Thank you Shorty," he grins.

"Is it one of those one man shows?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "No, there's other people in it. It's mostly me though, and I choreographed everything."

"That's so impressive, I can't wait to see it," you tell him.

Your walk has come to an end as you two approach your dorm. You start to slide his jacket off your body, but he stops you. "Keep it, I'll get it back another time." he yawns. "It looks cute on you."

Why is your heart beating so fast right now? Fuck, you really need to get inside. "Thank you for walking me home" you smile.

"Of course, you're good company Shorty," he winks at you.

"Are you sure you'll make it to your dorm okay?" You ask.

He nods, assuring you that the alcohol is starting to wear off and that he's fine. You trust him.

"Goodnight Hoshi."

"Goodnight Shorty."

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #hoshi kwon #hoshi seventeen #hoshi fanfic #hoshi smut #seventeen hoshi #svt hoshi #kpop

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shayasay · 3 months

Text

How they kiss you!

Tbhk males! Ft. Hanako, Kou and Mitsuba!

Note: all characters are aged up (which means 18+!) don’t worry and I’m not gonna tell minors to not read because let’s be honest, it doesn’t stop them. So enjoy!

Hanako!

- Hanako is a perv let’s be honest.

- If Hanako wants a kiss but you guys are in public he’ll drag you somewhere and make out with you

- Hanako likes puts both his hands on your waist while kissing you for some reason

- He also likes when you two have a steamy make out session with tongue, especially when there’s a string of saliva that connects your tongues together

- Will smile after he kisses you watching you as your hands are on his chest and tears pearl in the corner of your eyes from the lack of air during the kiss

- If you’re the shy kind of get flustered easily he’ll tease you for it

“Hm? You look so cute when you blush darling!~”

- Sometimes he’ll try kissing you in front of the others to try and make you flustered

- If you’re eating something sweet like candy for example, he’ll kiss you and move the candy inside his mouth instead!

- Sometimes he’ll just play with the candy in your mouth for a bit n put it back inside your mouth leaving you a blushing squirming mess

“Hehe! You’re so cute darling! Come here I want a kiss!~”

Kou!

- Loves to kiss with tongue as well but also likes to bite your bottom lip with his teeth

- Loves making out with you in private

- If you two do it in public or in front of his brother, he’ll be a flustered, nervous reck

- Kou loves to have his hands on your cheeks while kissing you

- Kou loves when you kiss him after a battle, it makes him happy to know you’re still alive even if you’re both sweaty

- Sometimes you guys cook together in his home and get carried away making out

- You guys got caught but Teru who just stared at you shocked before walking away leaving both of you flustered with Kou running behind him to explain while you check up on the food

“U-Um-… W-Wait it’s not what it l-looks like T-Teru!-“

“But it was though….”

“Babe I love you but you’re not helping the situation. *sigh*”

- If Kou wants a kiss he’ll ask you and if you say yes YIPPEE! But if you say no he’ll pout till you give in and give him one

“Please Babyyyy I want a kisssss~” *he whines*

Mitsuba!

- The first time you tried kissing him he called you a pervert but soon kissed you back

- Mitsuba loves making out with you but if you two get caught he’ll become flustered and say you started it

- He loves when you put your hands on his chest while his are on your waist and cheek

- If you drag him off to somewhere private he’ll joke around and say something like “what are you gonna do to a cute ghost like me you pervert!”

- When he wants a kiss he’ll say things like “I wish someone would kiss me..”

- He’ll stare at you as you stare back confused and he’s like

“I’m talking about you dumbass! Come kiss me already!”

- Even tho Mitsuba might call you every name under the sun he loves you sm

- If you’re the sensitive type and get hurt by what he says, he’ll kiss you and tell you he doesn’t mean anything that he says

“W-Wait I didn’t mean that-… I was just k-kidding! C-Come here…”

- loves when you sit on his lap to make out with him, this is when he’ll deepen the kiss by adding tongue and holding your hips

As mentioned above all characters are 18+ so don’t attack me ty and don’t be afraid to request a character from a fandom! I’ll write it as long as Ik it! Like for example from me to you, mob psycho 100 etc!

Mwah! <3

#mitsuba sousuke x reader #tbhk x reader #kou x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #hanako x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk hanako #mitsuba sousuke #tbhk mitsuba #kou minamoto #tbhk kou

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bouncybongfairy · 3 months

Note

was wondering if you could write a morty smith x reader where you both get high after studying together?

Study Date

Morty Smith x Fem Reader

Summary: Morty musters up the courage and asks you over for a study date. Who knew studying human biology could have such interactive hands on lessons.

Word Count: 1.5k

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Smut, Fingering, Squirting, Nipple Play.

(Aged up)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was lunch and you were sitting at one of the tables in the quad. Your friends were fixing up their hair and make-up as they picked at their food. Talking shit about girls they either didn’t know and/or don’t like. The conversation was starting to shift, them talking about how Morty came up to you before class. He’d invited you to come over after school and study. A lot of your friends think he’s weird or odd. That was one of the things you liked most about him. Most guys tried acting all big and confident when trying to pursue you. Puffing their shoulders out and bragging about all the illegal activities they partake in. Morty was quite nervous when he spoke with you, like he was savoring every second he could be near you. Him being so flustered and shy made you feel flattered.

“Are you really going to his house after school?” Trisha asked.

“Yeah, why not?” you asked, stabbing at your salad.

“I don’t know he’s just kinda… like strange?” she asked, which made the entire table laugh.

“Not as strange as Brad going back and forth between you and Jessica like he’s test driving a car he might wanna buy. Even once he picks the one he wants, we all know he’ll run it into the ground,” you said, packing your lunch and bag.

They were idiots and you didn’t appreciate the little jab towards Morty. You could tell that it took a lot of him to muster up the courage to talk to you. As someone who also struggled with shyness and social anxiety, it hurt you to see people poke fun at that. You ended up going home early, too worked up to go back to class. Even though you had nerves, that didn’t take away from how excited you were. There were two classes where you sat behind him, at times you wouldn’t pay attention to what was going on. Watching all his nervous little mannerisms, the way he picked at his nails. Or scratched the back of his neck when we were given an assignment he didn’t understand.

Sometimes he’d come to school with a gash above his eyebrow, or a purple tinted bruise under his eye. You liked how he kinda looked sad and tired all the time. It was weird, you weren’t really sure why. It didn’t take long for you to get home. Letting yourself in because your mom and dad were both at work. This worked out great for you, it meant you could take hits of your pen out in the open. Also allowing you to use all the makeup on your moms vanity without her fussing. Time was flying by a lot faster now that you weren’t on campus. This may sound vain but you really want to impress him with your physical beauty.

Ensuring to pay attention to the smallest details, making sure your eyelash glue wasn’t visible. That your concealer wasn’t caking under your eyes. After staring at yourself in the mirror for a while, you drove over. His house was really nice, furnished like a 90’s family movie. Pictures of family and inspirational quotes, very cozy. Morty’s room was nice. He could normally keep it very tidy but, you’d like to think he cleaned it because you were coming over. Different posters scattered about his room, a rug in the middle of the room; made to look like the solar system.

“Have you always been into science?” you asked.

“Uh, no my grandpa is the one who made me into it,” he said, pulling out the chair for you to sit at his desk.

“Oh yeah, Trish was telling me about that. What’s like the craziest thing you guys ever did in space?” you asked, emptying your bag.

“One time Rick was selling this-” he started but you interrupted.

“No, no I meant like you. Not Rick, I wanna know what’s the craziest thing you’ve done,” you clarified.

“I- um well. This one time Rick had to do some business on the citadel, I couldn’t come for w-what ever reason. There’s this, like club/bar thing called the Creepy Morty. It was the first time I snorted kalaxian c-crystals and some crazy shit w-went down,” he said, chuckling a little.

“Oh my god, that sounds like a lot of fun,” you said, opening up your biology book. Pulling out the notes you’d written during class.

“Your writing is so nice,” he said, watching you bend down to get your pink pencil box.

“Thank you, I feel like those were pretty sloppy,” you said, opening the plastic box and revealing a plethora of weed paraphernalia, “Will we get in trouble for smoking here?” you asked, licking the grape flavored wrap.

“B-be my guest,” he said, laughing nervously, “Can you even r-roll with nails?” he asked.

Instead of verbally responding, you just finished rolling. He pointed out how you made the mouthpiece slightly tighter than the rest of it. The fact that he noticed this small detail made you blush. Putting the blunt between your lips, gesturing from him to light it. His hand shook a little as he brought the flame to you. It was surprising to you, watching him take ghost inhales without coughing. The two of you began talking back and forth, just about life and whatever came to mind. Eventually the conversation began to shift, you asking if he had a girlfriend.

“No, w-why would I invite you over if I did,” he laughed.

“Oh so you invited me over for romantic reasons?” you asked, tilting your head up and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling.

“What? No Absolutely- I just…” he began slightly panicking.

“No? Aww that’s too bad,” you said.

“Really?” he asked.

“I mean yeah, I think you’re really cool. I like you alot, I can’t deny that when you asked me to come over I was really excited,” you said, handing him the blunt.

“Holy shit, honestly you don’t understand how good that is to hear,” he said.

“Well now that we both can admit we never really intended on studying, maybe we can watch a movie on my laptop?” you asked.

He of course agreed, now laying on your stomachs. His twin size bed only made for your bodies to be pressed against each other. Watching a horror movie that he suggested. Already 15 minutes in, you were waiting for him to make a move. He was laying on his side, back facing the wall and his elbow was supporting his head . Rubbing your back but keeping a respectful distance from your ass. Eventually he started to wander down, making your back arch involuntarily. You could have sworn he chuckled, to be fair most of your focus was trying to act like it isn't affecting you. Going down past your skirt, his fingertips now against your skin. At first he was just feeling you up, squeezing and groping after a while.

You were happy to be wearing makeup because your face was getting hot. He started to make things more intense, now rubbing the fabric of your panties. You had to bite back a gasp as he traced your slit with his fingers. He curls his leg around yours, spreading your thighs apart. Pulling your panties down and slightly, giving his hand room to spread your wetness around. Pushing his middle and ring finger into you. At first he maintained a slow place, giving you time to stretch around him. Starting to get more desperate, you arch and push yourself down onto his fingers. You were no longer regulating how loud you were being, letting pants and moans out without any shame. Morty noticed this and changed his position. Flipping you from your stomach to your back, pulling your shirt above your chest. He became animalistic once he saw your chest.

Taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Sucking and flicking his tongue as he fucked his finger back into you. Becoming rougher, biting and nipping at your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair, not pulling through. Just caressing him, your mind becoming more and more foggy with pleasure. Your legs were trembling and you could feel your orgasm approaching. So could he, prompting him to pull his fingers out and play with your clit. It wasn’t long until you were coming, squirting on his hand. This took him off guard but made him cum in his boxers. Spreading your juices to your chest and slapping your breasts. Splashing the liquid around until you were squirming and reddened. The two of you laid there for a while until you broke the silence.

“Can I do you back?” you asked and he shook his head.

“No I came in my pants,” he said so casually that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, started mimicking the way you were moaning. Making both of you giggle yourselves to sleep.

#rick and morty fanfiction #morty x reader #morty c137 x reader #rick and morty #rick and morty fanfic #rick and morty smut #rick sanchez #morty c137 #rick and morty fanfic request #fanfic request #morty x you #evil morty imagine #evil morty x you #evil morty x reader

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pix3lplays · 11 months

Note

This blog is going to single-handedly make me baby crazy I stg. I am omnomnoming on the amount of food you have provided from that pregnant!reader series. Uuuuhhh oh um maybe HSR men reacting when reader actually goes into labor/during the delivery?

Alternatively how they would handle reader going into labor when they’re stranded somewhere with no way to make it to the hospital in time, and so the boys are gonna have to roll up their sleeves and figure it out themselves (and hopefully not panic. Luocha has it on easy mode compared to the others lmao)

Side note: guess who just accidentally melted part of their hair with bleach while typing this lmfaooo

Thank you so much I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying the pregnancy stuff, I’ve been enjoying writing it! And I am so so sorry about your hair oh my gosh!!

Here’s Hsr men when you go into labor!

And here they are after the baby is born!

The shenanigans I’m about to put these men through oh my gosh >:)

And you are absolutely right about Luocha playing on easy mode haha, good for him, good for him

Cw! Violence for Blade’s part, pregnancy

-Reader goes into labor, but the men are stranded!-

Dan Heng: Dan Heng is completely panicked. You two have been taking precautions as the baby approaches, and you were currently staying in Belobog, waiting for the baby to be born. He was on a mission when he got the call. He was waaaay out in the snowfields with March 7th and the Trailblazer. Oh gosh the way they all RAN back to Belobog as fast as their legs could carry them, Dan Heng leading the group by a longshot, desperate to make it back in time for the birth. Poor March and Trailblazer couldn’t keep up. Thankfully (for him and him only) it was one of those horrible 24 hour births, so he made it with plenty of time to spare.

Jing Yuan: I’m losing my mind imagining the cool and calm and collected Jing Yuan suddenly losing his cool when he realizes the baby is coming while he’s out on an assignment. Imagine him frantically running through the streets trying to flag down a starskiff while shouting “the baby’s coming!” Of course people recognize him. You know…as THE GENERAL of the Xianzhou Luofu. So it doesn’t take long for a starskiff out of pure curiosity to stop for him and offer the General a ride to the local hospital. Oh he’s so, so thankful. He won’t shut up the entire ride, at the expense of the poor driver, about how excited he is to meet his child. He makes it just in time!

Sampo Koski: Sampo Koski’s busy making a shady business deal when he gets the call you’re having the baby. The only problem? He’s alllll the way above ground while you’re down in Natasha’s clinic. It’s not like he has much choice…he just has to SPRINT as fast as he can to the underground. And of course every little thing is going wrong. Of course it’s one of the ONLY times there’s a Huge crowd trying to get into and out of the underground today, and he has to wade through all those people in his attempt to make it to the birth. He, unfortunately doesn’t make it in time for the birth, but he makes it JUST after it, so…good enough, right?

Blade: Blade doesn’t usually…freak out or talk unnecessarily or do any sort of panicking. Imagine him holding his sword in one hand and cutting down his enemies while answering his phone with the other. Only to receive the call that you were going into labor! “Kafka! It’s time,” he calls to his partner, and she nods in understanding before pointing out they’re going to have to do something desperate if he wants to make it to the hospital on time. So the two of them team up again, and steal a starskiff so they can make it. Blade is actually nervous. He’s flexing his fingers on the ride over to the hospital. Kafka has to tell him to Relax, they’re going to make it in time. Thankfully, due to the power of stealing and speeding, Blade makes it to the hospital on time for the birth.

Luocha: Luocha is still able to stay calm and collected, even while far from the hospital after receiving the call you were going into labor. His merchant contacts means it’s easy enough for him to find a ride to the hospital to be honest. So he doesn’t have much trouble making it in time, even given how far away he was. He makes it just in time for the birth, thankfully. And he’s so glad he did, I can’t imagine he would forgive himself if he missed being there for you when you needed him the most.

Gepard Landau: Gepard Landau is busy on the frontlines when he gets the call. He’s panicked. He’s so far away from the hospital. He has no choice but to use the most desperate measure he knows. He gives himself essentially a Guard escort to the hospital. Which is…a little bit embarrassing, but also a lot faster than trying to get there on his own. And it’s so worth it. He makes it juuust in time. And thank goodness haha. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d do if he missed the birth of his child.

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 6 months

Text

Galletita ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

part of a small fic exchange with random mutuals :)

This is for you, my dearest Beefro! Hope you enjoy!

| GALLETITA | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): chubby Javi P x fem!reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5.2k | CONTENT: big boi Javi P is hungry and a little cranky, you like to bake and Javi likes to eat, belly kink, feeding kink, probably bad Spanish, we’re playing fast and loose with timelines, canon, and everything in general, so just forget about timey wimey boo boo wah wah and enjoy the story lmao

| SYNOPSIS: Your sister and brother-in-law have enlisted your help with their small business while they await the birth of their first baby. You help with the cafe and find yourself face to face with a new customer whose appetite might have met its match in you.

It had been a rush to open up on your own at the last minute, but your sister couldn’t exactly be blamed for going into labor in the middle of the night. You’d anticipated this eventuality, but manning the entire store on your own for the next couple of hours felt as daunting as if it’d never been considered at all. She and your brother-in-law had brought you down here almost a month ago to help out with their small cafe before the baby arrived, and you had spent most of your time helping out with anything to shoulder the more physically demanding tasks, leaving her with things like manning the register so she could rest on a stool for most of the day.

They only had two other part-time employees, and only one of them was available to come in today around noon, which left you on your own for what felt like an eternity. Thankfully the rain provided a deterrent for many customers, and you held out hope that nobody showed up until someone who actually worked here was able to come help out. You hadn’t heard any updates about your sister’s labor, but there were plenty of things to do to keep your attention until something came through.

The little bell above the shop door rang out the announcement of a customer’s arrival. You quickly smooth over your apron, pat down your wet weather frizzy hair, and walk towards the front counter.

“Good morning! What can I get for you today?” you offer up in a rushed, pleasant voice.

The smooth, deep tone that replies aligns with the gorgeous man it belongs to. Brown hair mussed every which way, a neatly trimmed mustache that frames a pair of plump lips, broad shoulders balanced out with a soft middle pouching out against a light blue button up. Thick thighs stretching the denim of his worn jeans. By the time your eyes travel back to his face, he’s looking at you expectantly with a hint of a smirk. Heat floods your face when you realize he said something you missed entirely because you were too busy ogling.

“Sorry,” you stutter out in a nervous laugh. “O-One more time?”

The handsome customer almost renders your brain into complete mush yet again when his big brown eyes soften into something patient and, hopefully, flattered instead of annoyed with your distractedness. “I asked if you had any kind of dessert type foods. Bakery down past the corner lost power. Saw your cafe sign on when I was driving back and figured I’d give it a shot,” he explains simply with an easygoing sort of confidence that made your knees feel jittery.

“Oh. Right. Yes, we have power,” you assure him. His eyebrow ticks up in amusement as you both take in the overhead lights and sound of machinery running. His lips twitch as though he’s holding back a wide smile - and probably a laugh at your expense.

“What I mean is, uh, yes. We have a few options, but we mostly focus on coffee based drinks.” You wave broadly at the barely stocked glass case. “I, um, I didn’t quite get it all filled up. Busy morning.”

“Busy, huh? Figured the rain might keep people away,” he observes as he looks over the sparse offerings in the case.

“Yeah,” you agree in a breathy sort of hum. Why on earth could you not stop staring at this man like you’d never seen a male human before? You give yourself a little grace by insisting the hectic night and busy morning have made your brain a little fried. He stays still except for his eyes, which flick over to you with that sparkly sort of warmth you feel you could get used to very quickly.

“See anything you’d like?” you ask, trying desperately to get yourself back on track.

His grin breaks free completely and makes little crinkles around his eyes. “I’m open for whatever you recommend, sweetheart,” he shoots back, smooth and heavy like molasses.

Your face goes from slight confusion to embarrassment when you realize your choice of wording probably sounded incredibly forward, and it goes into full-fledged mortification when you realize his reply was even more so. He only smiles back warmer, and you feel frozen to your spot, only released when he breaks eye contact to look at the case again.

He chuckles low to himself, but you only catch something that sounds like “linda.”

“My name’s not Linda,” you correct in some sort of autopilot reply. When he bites his bottom lip down in a quiet laugh, you very nearly excuse yourself to the back.

“My apologies, sweetheart. Rude of me to not make proper introductions. I’m Javier. Javi, if you like.”

Your hand floats up of its own accord to meet his, and you think you give him your name in return. You’re not really sure anymore. Maybe you were more exhausted than you thought. You manage to get through enough conversation to direct him to the cookies you’d made yesterday as well as a few pieces of banana bread. He picked a random assortment, and you began to box it up when he held a hand up.

“Just gonna sit here for a bit and try a few if that’s alright,” he smiles. “Not in too much of a rush to get back out into all that mess.”

You say of course and stay as long as you like and try to make yourself busy with things around the shop so you don’t embarrass yourself anymore than you already have. You watch as inconspicuously as you can from the corner of your eye as Javier downs two cookies, half a slice of banana bread, and a few sips of his black coffee like it was nothing. Your chest felt light and jumpy watching him dive into your baked goods. You were far from a professional, having just heavily dabbled in cooking and baking as hobbies when you had the time or the money, but you’d taken to prepping baked goods for the food case since you arrived to help out.

Javier seemed to appreciate your efforts in full as he munched quickly on each bite. You could see the soft bugle of his tummy over his belt while he sat eating. You wanted to reach out and touch it so badly, to see if it was as soft as it looked or as sensitive as you imagined it would be. It was noticeably rounder the longer he sat and ate.

The already snug pull of his shirt buttons was more pronounced each time he bent forward slightly to sip on his coffee. His waistband sat lower than he was probably used to because he kept fidgeting with it. You wish he’d just undo his belt if it was pressing into his stomach and making him uncomfortable. Frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he undid it all and let his body bow out and breathe easy while he ate and got more of a curved, satisfied middle.

You jump at the sound of your phone going off in your back pocket, and you hastily answer when you see your brother-in-law’s picture fill up the screen. “Hello? Is everything alright? How’s she doing? Is the baby here yet?” You do a little jumpy dance when your brother-in-law shares the news of the latest member of the family making their debut. Baby and mom were both happy and healthy. You shoot Javier an apologetic look when you notice him watching you curiously. He grins and waves you off as he tucks into whatever sweet treat was lined up next.

You pace around the cafe and try to retain all the information being relayed, but between the rain and the busy hospital it was a bit difficult to hear. You were so focused on listening to your call that you hadn’t heard another customer enter the shop. In fact, you didn’t even realize anyone else had come in until a firm, annoyed tap landed on your shoulder. You jerk away in surprise and motion to the phone. “I’m so sorry, my sister just had a baby. I’m getting the update about it. I’ll be with you in just a second,” you promise in a whisper to the impatient customer. He’s tall and thin with a clean-cut suit and haircut to match. Your entreating smile has no effect whatsoever as his face remains cold and annoyed.

“Half the block is out of power, and the only coffee place I can find in this fucking storm won’t even serve people? Fucking typical,” he bites out, gripping his hips with large, tense hands. “Hurry it up, will you?”

You’re so caught off guard by the rude interaction that you’re stunned into silence. Just as you get your thoughts together enough to tell this guy to fuck off, he rounds on you again. “My boss is going to wring my neck if I don’t bring him some fucking coffee, and some of us have real jobs that we care about. Can you get off your stupid personal call and sell me a cup of coffee?”

When you don’t answer quickly enough for his liking, he plucks your phone out of your hand and hits the button to end the call. He snaps it back into your hand and holds his arms open to his sides. “Was that so fucking hard? You got enough brain cells to rub together to ring up a few cups of coffee, sweetheart?” he sneers.

The scrape of a chair across the cafe is all the warning this harassing asshole got before Javier roughly shoves him into a table, knocking said asshole as well as a couple of chairs onto the ground.

“Get the fuck outta this shop. If you step foot in here again, I will personally see to it that you are arrested for trespassing, harassment, stalking, assault, and whatever else I can think to put on the charges. You understand me?” Javier’s back and shoulders are puffed out and ebbing with heaving pulls of angry air.

The rude customer scrambles onto his knees and feet, reddening quickly from embarrassment. “You can’t just put your hands on people, man!” he squalls. Despite the challenging demeanor, the man slowly takes several steps backwards and away from you, edging closer to the entrance. “Maybe I should have you fucking arrested for putting hands on me, huh? How about that? You think your girlfriend is gonna be impressed when you’re sitting in county? All because you wanted to impress her? You fucked with the wrong guy—”

Javier takes a measured step forward and swings an uppercut into the man’s gut. He doubles over with a groan and grabs at the entrance to hold himself up. He sputters and coughs, bug-eyed with alarm, before scurrying out of the shop.

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath. It had been a while since you’d been in a retail environment, and you’d forgotten how awful the general public could be, especially towards service workers.

Javier turns to you once he’s sure the man has left for good and gives you a quick inspection, satisfied with your unscathed state, but still asks if you’re okay. You give a quick nod and thanks.

“You know that guy? He ever been here before and given you trouble?” he presses.

His voice is so stern and pointed, you answer immediately that as far you knew it was the first time the asshole had ever graced the walls of the shop. He dips his head a few times in acknowledgement. “How long are you here alone?” he probes. You don’t stop to consider how he’s so confident that you’re in the shop alone. Instead, you reply quickly to his commanding voice and words. He glances at his watch and makes a sort of grimace. “That’s still some time between now and then,” he muses aloud. He puckers his lips in thought and relaxes a hand onto his hip, leaning casually to one side and somehow still maintaining that confident control of the room.

“If it’s alright with you and wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, I’d like to hang around until it’s more than just you holdin’ down the fort.” His eyes are softer now, like they’d been earlier before the belligerent customer had come and disrupted everything, but you can see the imploring weight behind them. Please just say you don’t mind that I stay for a while so you’re not left here alone.

“No, of course not. Of course I don’t mind,” you half laugh at the idea of not wanting him around. “Just don’t feel obligated or anything. I think you got the message across to that jerk loud and clear.”

You grin a little, and Javier mirrors the expression with a lopsided one of his own. “Well, alright then.

I’ll keep outta your way until cavalry arrives.”

True to his word, Javier settled back into his seat after righting the chair and table he’d knocked over during the scuffle, and you might forget anyone else was here with you in the shop if it had been someone who wasn’t so devastatingly handsome, broad, and protective. You kept stealing quick glances his way and offering up more treats “on the house” for his help if you noticed his plate was empty. After the fourth round of treats, he sighed and rubbed his ever protruding belly. “I’m fit to pop, sweetheart,” he groans.

“Oh, come on. One more cookie,” you appeal. You shoot him a bright, encouraging smile as you extend the plate of cookies to him. He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head but still accepts one last cookie.

“Damn things taste so good. Everything tastes so good. I’m really in for it now that I know about this place,” he laughs.

You chuckle and shrug as you absentmindedly sink down into the chair opposite him. “Well if you have anything in particular you like, I can try to find a recipe and make it. The regulars would probably like something new in the rotation,” you reason.

“Chase off one asshole and you get preferential treatment, huh? Not a bad deal,” he teases.

You giggle and clench your hands where they lay resting in your lap. It’s part giddy nerves at the way his crinkly smile and flirtatious demeanor make your belly feel warm and tingly. It’s also partly getting flustered once you realize that you’d invited yourself to sit down at his table and started pressing him for menu ideas. He seemed like a nice guy, and that’s probably all this was: just a nice guy doing a nice thing. He hadn’t signed up for all of this when he stumbled upon your sister’s little cafe.

“You really make all the food yourself?” he asks. He looks thoughtful and maybe even a little impressed.

You wave off his unspoken compliments and explain that you’ve taken up the task from your brother-in-law since you came to stay and help out. You admit that it wasn’t very hard to convince him as it wasn’t usually in his wheelhouse to prep any of the food. That had always been your sister, who shared an affinity for baking and cooking with you.

“So, got any ideas for me?” you ask in a hope to get the conversation away from yourself.

The line of his mouth curves until a soft, shallow dimple forms on his cheek. “You’re really gonna make somethin’ just for me?” His voice dripped in a deeper, honeyed drawl that made warmth spark and erupt between your thighs.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

He laughs to himself and rubs a thumb along his lower lip, which isn’t helping with how badly you want to throw yourself across the table and nip at it. After a moment in thought, he nods his head once and says, “Biscochitos.”

You blink a few times, completely dumbfounded at what word just left his mouth. “Biscuit Cheetos?” you repeat in confused whisper.

Javier snorts and covers part of his laugh with a cough. “I’m sure you could make a hell of a ‘Biscuit Cheeto’, but I’m talking about the cookie I grew up eating a lot of. Biscochitos.” He pronounced it slower this time, and you parrot it back correctly. He gives an appreciative hum at your efforts. “Sound real pretty sayin’ that.”

Your face heats again at the center of attention circling back to you. You wave him off again and look away. “I’ll agree it’s a lot better than ‘Biscuit Cheetos’,” you snort. You sit in a charged silence, fidgeting and squirming under Javier’s steady, calm gaze. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms lazily. His air of confidence was warm and firm in a way that made you feel at ease and electrified all at once. He studies you for a moment and grins again.

You feel like you’re trapped in his charming web, but you’re not exactly a fly struggling to escape. You might not mind being up next on the menu. He certainly looks like he enjoys a good meal. You excuse yourself to get back to work and pack up some cookies to go once he leaves. All too soon the other employee shows, and your quiet time together is over. Just as you resign yourself to some internal pouting that this handsome stranger turned knight in shining armor was probably never to be seen again, he slips you a piece of paper with his number scribbled on it. With a wink and a “gimme a call once those biscochitos are out in the case, mi galletita” he strolls out the door.

You immediately take your 15 minute break and start scouring the web for recipes.

Javier didn’t know which was harder to give up: smoking, booze, or women. All of his past indulgences felt a little heavy handed now that he was mainly doing consultation work for police and government agencies. He’d settled back in Texas to be closer to his family, closer to the home he’d gone away from with dreams of making the world a better, safer place. While he doesn’t much feel that he’s made a difference, he still tries to politely skirt the heaps of praise and compliments most shower him with instead of shutting them down with the truth of just how fucked up each and every facet of the law was in its own way.

Still, he had bills to pay. He had a spitfire mind and drive that needed quelling. The first thing he’d given up was smoking. It hadn’t been the uphill battle he’d heard about from so many others. Then again, he really only craved a smoke after he’d been in the company of a beautiful woman. That had sorted itself out as he was no longer hitting the pavement day in and day out, and the pick of female coworkers was an HR nightmare on top of slim pickings.

He wasn’t meeting up with informants and tipsters down at random bars or restaurants or wherever else, and all his fountain of vices seemed to naturally dry up - at least in terms of what triggered his attention to them in the first place.

However, Javier had found himself a new hobby that he didn’t have to worry about hiding, scheduling, or monitoring. Food. He could eat at his desk, little snacks tucked into his drawers. His car was good for a quick bite any time he got into it. The guys around the office went out for lunch more often than not, and there were plenty of places to eat around here. It’s how he’d found his favorite bakery. That is, until the storm had knocked their power out and led him straight into your sister’s quaint little cafe. You’d struck him in a way he hadn’t seen coming. He hadn’t found himself too concerned with women or fucking something warm and wet for a while now. Much too enamored with his latest adventures in becoming a “foodie” or whatever it was that the secretary had called it.

He hadn’t gone back to that former favorite bakery since he’d happened upon you. A comfortable, familiar smile crept onto his face when you’d called him a few days later after that fateful firth meeting. You sounded flustered and excited to let him know “his cookies” were ready.

It’s no wonder his mouth had formed the nickname for you as he left the shop that first day. Mi galletita, my little cookie. God, you were such a sweet thing. When he went to see you first thing after work, you beamed at him and looked all the brighter when he legitimately moaned into his first bite of the biscochitos you’d made. He was almost embarrassed about it until he saw how much you took it as a compliment. He liked making you feel good about yourself. After visiting you week after week - sometimes more than once a week - he’d begun to hope that he might be able to make you feel good in other ways, too.

Your sister and brother-in-law were back into the mix now, and he was starting to worry how much longer he’d be able to just walk in and see you. You’d lit something inside him that had him coming back to see you again and again, like a magnet inching too close to another and having no choice but to be propelled together. He didn’t care too much for how you were closing a lot at night by yourself, no matter how many times you assured him it was safe.

Just like that first day you’d met, he felt a need to look after you and make sure you were taken care of. After all, you’d been doing the same thing in your own way. He’d put on more weight since you started plying him with all sorts of confectionary treats. His pants dug into his waist by lunchtime every day, but he couldn’t keep from gorging himself on all the delicious things you made with him in mind. He’d been fit and active once upon a time, but between the desk job and your baking, the seams of his clothing were hanging on by a weak thread in some places.

But, just like your delectable offerings, Javier just couldn’t get enough of you.

The shop had been closed for almost 45 minutes now, and you hated to think of all the ways you were holding Javi up while he waited for you to finish shutting everything down and prepping for the morning shift. He’d taken to sitting with you on nights that you closed, quietly reading something to himself as he patiently waited for you to complete the tasks around the shop. It had been a hectic day that put you behind, but the sight of Javi eating cookie after cookie and rubbing his expanding belly appreciatively made it all worth it.

When you tell him you just have a little bit of paperwork left in the back, he’s slouched down into the chair to ease the bend of his waist into his tight pants. He doesn’t turn you down when you offer for him to keep you company in the back. He sighs as he settles into the couch in the back office. You eye the pouching bits of his stomach that have spilled over his jeans and lick your lips. You love that something you’d made for him - something you’d put so much time and care into - had resulted in a satisfied tummy.

The couch huffs and puffs as much as Javi does as he tries to find a comfortable position. You turn to look at him, and his expression morphs into a somewhat embarrassed face.

“Ate too many cookies, and now my fat ass can’t even sit comfortably,” he grumbles.

You fight internally over whether or not to suggest the obvious: undo your belt and pants. Instead, you opt for the softer lob of a suggestion. “Here, lie down and stretch out a bit. That should help.” You get his head propped comfortably and slide his jacket away from him. He looks more at ease, but you know what would make him feel really good. Your hands travel down his chest slowly. “And, um, I think that…. this could help, too.”

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are gently unfastening his belt and jeans, and his stomach bulges out when it’s finally free from the confines of his constricting clothing. He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, and his entire body slackens a bit. “See? Told you it would help,” you say quietly. You trail your fingertips through the thatch of brown hairs at the top of his underwear. His eyes snap open and find yours, pinning you with a searching, fiery look.

You gently curve the palm of your hand over the taut swell of his stomach, and he groans when you rub soothing motions across it. “Poor belly is so full, Javi. Feels so tight. Does it feel good when I rub it like this?”

He whimpers and nods when you apply firmer pressure, and you continue rubbing for a few minutes. “Makes me so happy to see you eat all the cookies I make you. I bake them just for you, Javi.”

His tongue slips over his lower lip when he groans again. “Know you do. Too fucking good to me.”

“I just wanna make you feel good, Javi,” you breathe. Your hand starts to travel lower. “Can I do that? Make you feel good?”

He watches you with fixed adoration and nods. You drag his pants down to mid thigh and gasp at the sight of him. Belly rounded and protruding from stuffing himself with your cookies. Thighs thick and strong. Cock half hard and dribbling from the tip. Your head is between his legs before your nerves have a chance to distract you. The sound you draw from Javi with a few kitten licks across the underside of his cock makes your head spin. You vacuum your lips around the tip and rub his stuffed belly as you start sucking.

He lets out a pained moan and guides your head faster, bobbing up and down on as much of him as you can take. He pulls you off with a loud grunt. “Hermosa, my stomach,” he hisses. You pushed too hard against his sensitive belly while you worked him with your mouth.

“Sorry, Javi,” you apologize in a soft hush. You lean forward and press soft kisses to his belly in a show of contrition.

His chest vibrates with a low, approving hum. ‘That’s okay, galletita. Let me have a turn, yeah?”

Despite his bloated middle, Javi moves with relative ease now that it’s not cinched beneath a waistband. He stands and bends you over the desk. He’s freed you from your lower garments in what feels like seconds. You know he’s on his knees between your legs, but your hips still jerk in surprise into the cool edge of the desk when you feel his damp breath fanning over your bare pussy. “Still hungry for you, galletita.” A gripping hitch of breath lodges in your throat when he starts licking into you.

Javi’s appetite for your confections paled in comparison to the famished frenzy happening between your thighs. Strings of warm wet something slide down your legs as your climax quickly approaches. His large hands spread you open for his devouring, and the next sharp suck on your clit has you shaking against the desk. Your lax body is pulled backward, head turned to the side to meet Javi’s mouth. He eats into you again, tongue and spit and the taste of yourself spreading.

You reach blindly behind you and around Javi’s belly to guide his cock into you. He lowers you onto the desk once more to adjust himself deeper into you. You moan when he props his belly onto the curve of your ass. It frees up the space he needs to drive himself to the hilt, and you sputter and squeak at the size of him.

“Yeah, you like my big belly, huh? Got somethin’ else that’s big I think you’ll like,” he chuckles.

Your mouth juts open in a silent yell when he grips onto your hips and fucks into you. Your hands fly backwards to clench onto his as he cleaves you in two.

“Breathe, hermosa, breathe,” he reminds you. You instantly gasp and heave out the breath you’d been holding. “You like all of your man to be nice and fat, huh? Big fat belly and a big fat cock, too, huh?”

Every stroke wiggles his belly on top of your ass, and there’s no sense in denying how much you love it. “YES, JAVI,” you cry out. “WANT YOU SO BIG. YOU FEEL SO BIG FOR ME.”

He pants with the effort of his thrusts. “Can feel you tightening up again. You gonna come again for me? You gonna come on this fat cock? Gonna come on this fat cock while your ass is trying to hold up this fat belly?”

Your eyes slide into the back of your skull as your whole body seizes up. Javi drives himself sloppily into the pitches of your cunt, gripping and choking him with your orgasm. His frenzied question of where? lets you know he’s close. So close that he doesn’t hesitate at all when you tell him to come inside you. He groans like he’s in pain at the desperate plea for him to fill you up.

“Aahhhh–fuck— my little—aahhh fuck!–galletita wants to be a mommy just like her sister, huh? Want me to come in you and put a baby in there, hm?”

You’re too strung out on your high to coherently answer, and it’s extended by the guttural moan of Javi as he starts to spill inside of you. So often a smooth talker, the transition of Javi’s dirty talk to this vocal, unhinged symphony is a pleasant surprise. You soak in every hiss and groan and whimper. He doesn’t quiet until he’s caught his breath, although the slump of him against your back leaves very little room for him to take a deep breath.

You stumble when he pulls out of you and turns you around with your ass half hanging off the desk. He scoops his fingers through your spent pussy and gathers up the remnants of him leaking out. He brings it to your face, and you obey when he tells you to open up. He slips his cum covered fingers into your mouth and groans. He retrieves another scoop of himself from you and smears it across your waiting tongue.

“You feed me so good, galletita, I gotta make sure I feed you, too,” he grunts.

You swallow all of it down until you’re left with nothing but his bare fingers to tongue and lick and suck on. He lets his wet hand wander down to your stomach where he pauses. “Maybe I like the idea of you having a big round belly because of me, too,” he jokes. Warmth floods your face at the thought of it: Javi with a big round belly stuffed full of your cooking, and you by his side, the swell of your middle filled with the two of you.

I tried my best for you, @beefrobeefcal 💜

Here's the "pic" of Javi in the cafe (aka the edit I made for this fic lmao):

Merry Christmas, ♥Puddles♥

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #chubby boi #chubby!javier pena

112 notes · View notes

thebiggerbear · 5 months

Text

Jason Teague x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: When another student makes an unwanted move on you, Jason's not above flexing his assistant coach authority muscle a little to get the guy to leave you alone and send a message.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I absolutely adore early s4 Jason Teague. He's such a cutie. I always loved him and Lana together until the dark turn happened & he chose to keep seeking the stones for his mom. This was something that just popped into my head for the prompt line. Hope it's okay.

Reader is 18 (similar dynamic setup to him and Lana in the show). This is meant to take place during s4.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Jason Teague x Female!Reader; Jason Teague x Student!Female!Reader

Warnings: guy gets a little too close for Reader's comfort and he gets handsy for a second

Word Count: 4725

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Jason Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

You closed your locker only to jump as an undesired face appeared beside you. Said face of the unwanted senior broke into a wide grin.

“Derek,” you chuckled nervously. “You scared me.”

He gave you what he seemed to think was his most dazzling smile. “Sorry.” He seemed anything but. “So, I was just wondering if you were going to Trav’s party later?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” you offered as you rearranged the books in your arms, gesturing towards them. “Gotta study.”

His smile faded a little. “That sucks. Wait… Today’s Friday…”

You could see him working it out in his head and you hurried to find another excuse. “Plus, you have the big game later.”

“But Trav’s party is after the game.”

You nodded, internally rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it is.” Why couldn’t this guy just take no for an answer? He’d been after you for most of the semester and you wanted nothing to do with him. You never flirted, never gave any signals or showed even a sliver of interest in return, so why was he so persistent? You’d turned him down and made excuses time and time again.

You might feel bad if Derek was a genuinely nice guy, but he wasn’t. He’d bullied you all throughout most of your middle school years — knocking books out of your hands, purposely tripping you in the hallways, calling you horrible names, and even shoving you into lockers as he passed you by. He’d even smashed a tray of food into your clothes once in the cafeteria; he and all of his buddies laughed as mashed potatoes and gravy dripped off of your sweater. Lana would always ask if you’d tell your parents or the principal, but you refused; your parents were dealing with enough thanks to their divorce, and the principal would only make it worse.

Lana would then give you a hug and be there for you as much as she could. Chloe offered to handle it for you, but you begged her not to, swearing her and Lana to secrecy. By the time Clark joined your friend group in freshman year, Derek had moved on, giving you a reprieve for a few blissful years. Before then, however, there were many days you went home and sobbed into your pillow, hoping beyond hope that the next day he’d just decide to act like you didn’t exist instead of continuing to torment you. Thanks to him, you learned how to become invisible and you were good at it… Until you grew up and became a Smallville High senior. Now, all of a sudden, Derek was dogging your every step for some reason.

“You can come watch me play and then join me at the after-party.” Derek actually looked as if he had given you the solution you had been hoping for. “No test tomorrow,” he added proudly.

“Actually, I have plans later, so I’m sorry, but I can’t make it. Good luck at the game, though.” You went to turn to leave when he grabbed your books from you and tossed them behind him with a grin, not caring in the least that a passing student had to duck to prevent a possible head injury.

Derek boxed you in against a locker, both arms on the sides of your head. He leaned in and your heart began racing, half in fear and half in anger. You usually tried to keep things civil so that his bullying wouldn’t start up again before you could graduate and get out of this godforsaken high school, but this jerk was getting on your last nerve.

“You don’t have any plans now,” he said in what he must have thought was in some sort of sexy tone. All it did was cause a knot to form in your stomach and increase your anger. “Come on, Y/N, come to the game and then we can head to the party together. Whaddya say?” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you and you reached your limit.

You took a deep breath, looked him square in the eyes, and stated firmly, “No.”

That took him aback for a moment. “No?”

“No.” You went to move under his arm when he stopped you.

“What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what it sounds like: no. As in nope, nein, nyet, negative. As in never going to happen.”

“But…” You could see him trying to understand how you could turn him down. “Why?”

“Why?” You laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Why won’t you go out with me? I’ve been asking and asking.”

You had to restrain yourself from asking him again if he was really serious. Apparently he was and, while you had so many potshots you wanted to take at his ego and so many horrible things you wanted to say, you decided against the alluring idea of being petty and just gave it to him straight. “I hate you.”

His jaw dropped. After a moment, however, he gave you that creepy smile again. “You have a weird way of showing that, though. Seems to me you like playing hard to get. I can dig it.” He went to move closer to try and kiss you when you quickly slid out from under his arms. You swiftly picked up the books he had thrown and you were about to start down the hallway when Derek’s voice stopped you.

“So I’ll see you at the game later? Then you and me, we can go to the party together.”

You knew you should ignore it but you’d had enough. You’d been dealing with this for weeks and in your bid not to stir the waters, it had only gotten worse. Time to pull the pin on that grenade and hit him with the cold hard truth that no one else in Smallville was aware of.

You blew a wayward strand of hair out of your face and took a deep breath, spinning on your heel to face him. “I don’t know how you keep missing the fact that I’m not going with you, that I will never go out with you, but that’s your problem. As it so happens, I’m already seeing someone.”

He stiffened at that. “Who?”

“Someone and that’s all you need to know. And even if I wasn’t, let me just make this perfectly clear: there is no way in hell I would ever go out with you, especially not after all you did to me back in middle school. You’d have to be crazy to think I would.”

Derek waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, I was just playing around with you back then, not to mention it was like a million years ago. You don’t need to make such a big deal about it.”

Your eyes widened. Wow, this guy was even more of a jackass than you imagined. If you didn’t despise him so much, you might actually feel bad for him, or at least you’d feel bad for the future girl who did decide to give him a chance one day. It was a real mystery to you why any girl in this school, cheerleader or not, would ever date him for anything other than his football jock status. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay now, you’re just overreacting. So we played a couple of pranks on you when we were kids, big deal. They weren’t that bad. Just get over it and get under me already.” He smirked at you and waggled his eyebrow again. You began to feel nauseous, disgusted and in disbelief; did he really just say that? Did he really say something that crass and suggestive after telling you that you were overreacting and needed to get over his bullying you?

“Wow.” You blinked. “Derek, you are…something.”

“Don’t I know it, babe.” Derek stepped closer to you, instinctively making you hold your books in front of your chest as if they were some form of shield. “Come with me to the party tonight and you could know it, too. See why they call me the D-train, on and off the field.”

If your heart wasn’t pounding in a mix of fear and anger right now, you would have laughed right in his face. For someone involved in sports, he sure didn’t have any game. You really couldn’t believe this was happening. And to think, when you woke up this morning, you thought it was going to be a halfway decent Friday, especially when you got a sweet good morning text from a certain someone.

“Not happening,” you seethed.

“You say that now,” he said in a throaty murmur. “But you’ll be saying something different later, trust me.”

Your jaw tightened and you turned to leave when he grabbed your arm. “Let me go!” You yanked your arm out of his grip just as Clark appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stepped between you.

“Derek, leave her alone. She said she doesn’t want to go with you so just let it be, alright?”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Kent?” Derek bit out, not one bit happy about the interruption. A crowd had started to gather and you could hear the whispers and feel everyone’s eyes on you — which was exactly what you didn’t want. You nervously buried a hand in the back of Clark’s t-shirt and tried to tug on it to get his attention so he could walk away with you. He didn’t budge and continued to stare down Derek, unperturbed.

“Alright, break it up. Break it up.” Assistant Coach Teague suddenly appeared and he quickly glanced between Clark and Derek. “What’s the problem, fellas?”

“Nothing, Coach,” Derek answered. “Just a little misunderstanding between me, Kent, and my girl.” He glared over at Clark.

“Oh my God, I’m not your girl,” you snapped. “Get it through your thick head already!” You leaned into Clark a little, asking “Are you sure there’s enough padding in those football helmets you guys wear? Because I’m going to start worrying about you if this,” you gestured towards Derek, ”is the end result.”

A hint of a smirk played on Clark’s face, but he tamped it down and immediately echoed you. “She’s not your girl, Derek. She never has been. Just leave her alone and we’ll be cool.”

“It’s not your business, Kent,” Derek hissed, yet his cheeks had darkened a shade in embarrassment, having become aware that more people than Coach Teague were carefully watching the scene.

“No,” the coach agreed. “But it is mine.” Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up a little at that. Still, you did your best to hide your reaction from the student populace currently congregating in the hallway. “And I gotta tell you,” the blond took in Clark’s determined expression and protective stance in front of you. His green eyes roved over you and landed on your fingers buried in the tail of Clark’s t-shirt before looking back over at Derek. “This doesn’t look like nothing. I pretty much already have an idea of what’s going on, but because I like to be fair, I’m gonna give you one chance to tell me what’s really going on here, Deakins. And you better make it good.” The coach had his arms crossed and he stared down his player, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Look, Coach, it’s nothing. Y/N and I were just talking when Kent—”

“Derek was having trouble with the word ‘no’ and what it meant so I stepped in to make sure he understood it loud and clear,” Clark interrupted. Coach Teague’s eyes widened and snapped over to you. You subtly nodded, biting into your bottom lip and hoping he recognized the nervous gesture for what it was: that you wanted this to stop and go away already. You’d been through enough over the years where Derek was concerned; you’d be damned if the idiot was going to ruin your senior year for you, too.

The coach’s jaw tightened and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod in return before glancing between his two players once more. “Okay, that paints a pretty clear picture. Deakins, you’re going to head straight to Quigley’s office right now and tell him why you’re not playing tonight.”

“Coach, that’s not—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Coach Teague growled. “As a matter of fact — Hopkins!” Another player emerged from the growing crowd. “Escort Deakins to see Coach Quigley. Right now.”

Hopkins nodded. “Yes, Coach.” He moved next to Derek who was glaring at you over Clark’s shoulder.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “Not worth my time.” Clark tensed against you and you noticed Coach Teague’s hand clench underneath his crossed arms.

“Get going,” the latter spat. “Or I’ll see that you’re benched the rest of the season.”

Derek spared you one more heated glare, but turned at Hopkins’ urging and began walking away. Clark relaxed slightly and you let go of his shirt, letting out a small breath of relief. Thank God a fight hadn’t happened. You were grateful that your friend stepped in and had your back, but you didn’t want him getting hurt on your account and you really didn’t want a huge dramatic scene. Of course, the small crowd that had gathered around you might prove you wrong on that last account. You snuck a glance in Coach Teague’s direction to find his green gaze already intent on you. You quickly snapped your eyes back to Clark, the one person you were allowed to be looking at without drawing too much attention.

“Alright, show’s over. Everyone, get to class!” The coach urged. People began to disperse, talking loudly once more as they milled the hallway. Great, what happened between you and Derek was now bound to be the talk of the school for the next week at least.

Clark spun around to face you. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Thanks for having my back like you did.”

He returned the smile. “Of course. What are friends for?”

Coach Teague appeared and clapped a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Alright, Kent, I appreciate what you did and I’m sure Y/N does, too, but you need to get to class. I can take it from here,” he assured the younger man.

Clark nodded, glancing back and forth between the two of you, and adjusted the strap of his backpack. “Sure. Call you later?” He asked you, suddenly seeming unsure which was strange for your usually confident friend.

You didn’t know why he appeared to be so uncertain all of a sudden, but you nodded, your smile as kind and as reassuring as you could make it. “Yeah, definitely.”

He gave you a nod and turned to head in the opposite direction. Confusion furrowed your brow as you watched him go.

“Miss Y/L/N.” Coach Teague’s voice right next to you snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see his gaze burning into you once more. Unlike Derek’s leering stare, these eyes were warm and made you feel safe. “If you want to report Deakins to the Principal, I can escort you. Or if you want to go to the nurse’s office first to get looked at…”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What? No, no, I’m fine. No need for the nurse.”

He arched a brow over at you. “The principal then?”

You pressed your lips together and rearranged the books in your arms. “No. No need,” you answered quietly. Honestly, you just wanted this whole thing to go away, especially Derek himself. You’d like him to go away most of all.

Coach Teague’s jaw tightened and he gently took your books from you and indicated for you to start slowly walking down the hall. He kept an even pace with you. “What Kent said sounded serious.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t. Derek was just being a jerk like usual.”

The coach thought on it for a moment and then licked his lips. “What class do you have now?”

“I don’t. I have a free period. I was just about to head out actually.”

He nodded in approval. “Early Friday. Not bad. Perks of being a senior.” He shot a grin over at you.

You couldn’t help but return it. “Something like that.”

He came to a stop and handed you back your books. “Well, before you go, would you mind helping me out with something?”

You slipped the books into your bag and dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Gee, I don’t know,” you teased. “I’m supposed to be meeting this guy I’m seeing for a quick lunch before he has class in about an hour. And I need to swing by my house first, so that might be kind of cutting it close.”

Coach Teague furrowed his brows as he considered your words. “You’re right, that is kind of cutting it close. Any chance that this guy that you’re seeing is good-looking? You know, to make it worth the trouble?”

You pretended to think over it for a moment and then shrugged a shoulder. ”He’s…fairly handsome, I guess.”

His jaw dropped. “Fairly? Really? That’s—” Jason quickly glanced around as you snickered behind your hand. He saw that there were still a couple of students in the hallway. He quietly cleared his throat and Coach Teague was immediately back in place. “Well, be that as it may, I only need a moment of your time and then you’re free to go meet this guy who sounds way more good-looking than you’re giving him credit for.” He ignored your grin and gestured over your shoulder. You turned to see the door to his office. He opened it and held out a hand towards the office in open invitation. “After you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” you quipped. You stepped inside, hearing him mutter under his breath, “fairly handsome” followed by a scoff as you passed right by him. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Once you heard the door close, you spun on your heel to face him. “So, what is it you need my help wi—”

He was already on you, cupping your face and kissing you. Once you needed to breathe, he laid his forehead against yours. “What Clark said… Did Deakins put his hands on you?” He panted out. “Tell me.”

Still dazed from the kiss, you fought to answer his question. “Only for a minute.” Whoops, that hadn’t been what you’d meant to tell him. Damn Jason and his talented kissing… not that you’d ever admit that to him. His ego didn’t need to become any larger.

Sure enough, Jason’s eyes went wide. “Only for a minute? What the hell does that even mean, Y/N?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back into another kiss, but he resisted. He wanted answers and he wasn’t going to give in until he got them. You were quick to assure him, “He grabbed my arm for a second, but I immediately pulled away and then Clark was there. It was barely half a second, I promise.”

His jaw clenched and he stared into your eyes. “Did he hurt you?” His tone took you aback for a moment. You’d heard him irritated before, but you’d never heard something so…menacing. It actually made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “If he hurt you…”

“No, no,” you reassured him, stroking his cheek. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The unfamiliar fire in his eyes began to dim a bit and his jaw unclenched. Jason was usually a pretty easygoing guy and you rarely saw him get angry, if ever. Even in the few arguments you’d had, he never got mad, not really. While you understood his justifiable reaction, something told you that if Derek had had his hands on you for one more second or if he had seriously hurt you — and if Clark hadn’t intervened — you may have seen a new side of Jason that you hadn’t seen before. You weren’t sure why your instincts were screaming this at you, but they were. This was definitely something you filed away to discuss with him later, choosing instead to focus on reassuring him for now.

“That creep better think twice before coming near my girl again,” he murmured, tenderly pushing your hair out of your face.

“I think you and Clark made that pretty clear,” you soothed. Because he certainly wasn’t listening to me. Talk about dense.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. “Gonna make it a lot clearer.”

Again, you felt a little perturbed but you quickly pushed the feeling back down and decided to recalibrate the situation. You tightened your embrace around his neck and moved into him more, giving him one of those smirks. “So, do you really have to go to class or do you think you can skip just this once?”

His smile brightened and you knew you had been successful in changing his thought track. “Look at you trying to be a bad influence, trying to persuade me to ignore the call of higher education.”

You leaned in and brushed your lips against his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you whispered huskily. You felt him shiver slightly against you and you pressed your lips together to keep the triumphant smile off of your face. He was practically putty in your hands now and you knew it.

“When you say worth my while…”

You moved his collar away and placed your lips on that spot of his neck.

“Oh, you mean that,” he chuckled quietly. He briefly closed his eyes as you began to apply pressure and added your tongue into the mix. “You know,” he murmured, biting his lip as his hands glided down your back. “I really shouldn’t skip class.”

You lifted up to his jawline to plant kisses there. “True. So, how about we skip that lunch instead?”

Jason pulled back to grin at you. “Now we’re talking.” He kissed you and when you both needed air, he placed his forehead up against yours. “But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made my girlfriend go hungry just so we can make out under the bleachers?”

You snorted a laugh. “We are not going under the bleachers again.”

“Why not? You know it’s my favorite spot.” Seeing his adorable pout made you want to give in, to give him everything he wanted to make him happy since he made you so happy, but you couldn’t forget that you both had almost been caught the other day. The junior gym class had been running the required annual mile for their fitness tests. He had to pretend he had caught you smoking a cigarette under there just to cover up what you had really been doing. The stern talking to he gave you was beyond ridiculous, but you’d had to go along with it to keep up the charade. It was too risky and you didn’t want him to lose his job. You knew how much he needed it to be able to afford staying in college.

You decided to dig your teeth into your bottom lip and tease him. “We could go to another one of your favorite spots,” you enticed. His eyebrows shot up and your smirk grew. When he realized which one you were talking about, his face brightened and his smile was so wide it had to hurt his cheeks. He looked like an excited overgrown kid who just learned he could open his Christmas presents early.

“Really?”

You held up a finger. “But no skinnydipping this time.”

He immediately deflated and you fully expected to hear another cute whine. Instead, he mumbled, “Okay.” You giggled at his reaction under your breath and he gave you his charming smile once more. There had been skinnydipping (all him though he didn’t realize it) but it had been dark and definitely nothing was seen. The water had been cold as hell and it had been a quick swim, the chill in the night air dashing Jason’s romantic plan for the evening.

“And then after the game tonight,” you continued, kissing his chin. “We can go back to your dorm,” You then kissed near the corner of his mouth. “And play your Xbox,” you hummed.

“I really hope that’s code for something else,” he whispered teasingly to your lips.

Instead of answering, you just smiled. Truthfully, your relationship hadn’t reached that point yet. You’d only been dating since the summer when you two had met at a party where you both spent the whole night talking after hitting it off well. He was planning on traveling to Europe in the next week to spend some time in ol’ Paris on the advice of his mom since he was still hurting over losing the prospect of a football career due to his injury. However, he ended up changing his mind and instead spent all of his time with you. He enrolled at CKU once he got a job — funnily enough as an assistant coach at your high school (so he could still see you in between classes and be able to make money while also doing something he actually liked) — and he continued his relationship with you. Grand romantic gestures, stolen kisses during working hours… And throughout it all, he’d never pushed you for more than you were comfortable with. He’d been patient and understanding, even telling you “I’m good with where we are as long as you are, too.” And of course you were, how could you not be? He was an amazing guy who made you laugh, texted you every morning and night, insisted on taking you out and spending his free time with you, whose kisses made your knees turn to jello and your heart race. You could talk to him about anything; he was good and kind and everything you could ever want in a guy. Everything jerks like Derek weren’t. You loved everything about Jason (though you hadn’t exactly told him that yet). He was everything you wanted and somehow also everything you didn’t know you needed. You were beyond happy.

Jason cupped your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. When he pulled back, he whispered. “Hey, are you really okay?” All traces of humor and flirtation from a moment ago were gone; he was now completely serious.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I promise.”

He studied you for a minute, most likely trying to determine if you were being completely truthful (you were), and then he tenderly rubbed his nose against yours. “Okay,” he conceded. “But you just say the word and he’s out the rest of the season. I mean it. He will be riding the pine pony so long he’ll be getting splinters in places one really doesn’t want to get any splinters.”

You shook your head and gave him a warm smile. “Thanks, but I’m okay,” you hummed as you brushed your lips against his.

His eyes were still closed when you moved back. “How do you do that?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

“That.” Jason opened his eyes and he looked genuinely awe-struck which took you aback slightly. “You kiss me and my brain goes to mush.”

Chuckling, you shrugged and ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I could ask you the same thing since every time you kiss me, it also happens to me.”

A familiar warmth began to light up his eyes and a hint of a grin played upon his lips. “Well, that can’t be good for either of our studies. Maybe I should stop kissing you. You know, since we seem to have special kissing powers that have bad effects and all. You’re pretty bad, but me? You won’t have a single brain cell left if we keep going like this for another month or so.”

You lifted up in his arms and murmured to his lips, “Maybe you should stop talking instead.” He snickered into your mouth and tightened his embrace around you. You were on a timeclock, after all, and you intended on making good use of the time you had together.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

#jason teague x reader #jason teague x female reader #jason teague x you #jason teague x y/n #jason teague #smallville fanfiction #smallville #prompt response #smallville fandom #jason teague fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #thebiggerbear writing

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