#AND SO THE SAGA CONTINUES ── ✦ . RELATIONSHIPS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rottiens · 1 month

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✮ tags. . sub!kamo chōsō + top!reader, canon au, female bodied reader, no use of pronouns, established relationship, part of my 'teaching choso new things' saga, praising, dirty talk, aftercare, finger sucking, first time saying 'I love you', reader becomes self conscious and shy at the end, choso is deeply in love with you. divider creds: cafekitsune. wc: 2.6k

You think you are not worthy of the view you have right now. Your breathing becomes arrhythmic mimicking the odd beats of your heart and you think that if you don't blink enough or if you don't control the amount of oxygen rushing to your brain, you could pass out at any moment.

Your fingers get lost in the darkness of his hair, the texture is smooth and clean and slips easily under your fingers. choso's hair is loose because you had helped him wash it just an hour ago, the long strands which, you mentally note cutting when you are in a not-so-compromising position, obscures his gaze and casts a shadow on his face.

His eyes look at you like those of a puppy begging for the next cue, just like a pet longing to be rewarded. If you think your heart will break your rib cage at any moment, it is at times like this that Choso remembers that he has a heart, and that makes him feel closer to being a human, a heart that beats for something more vile than adrenaline in a fight.

With the help of your hands you guide him to where he wants to go, his dull eyes flee from yours only to catch a brief glimpse of your crotch. Just inches from your pussy he can almost taste you in his mouth, for a moment he closes his eyes and lets himself be rocked by the raw scent of sex.

He licks his dry lips, using his saliva as a lubricant for what he will do next. Through your underwear he places a kiss, just above your aching clit that tenses and throbs with the sudden attention. His eyebrows raise and his eyelashes flutter in your direction checking your actions once more.

Your mouth is open. Choso can see your red lips, punished by your pearly teeth, your upper lip catches the tip of your tongue covering the top two main upper teeth and he feels as if he is short of breath.

"You are ethereal," choso muses over the folds of your sex, unsure of what he is doing and yet certain of the reaction he seeks to detach from you.

Ethereal. He learned that word with you, as well as a hundred others you've taught them in the time you've known each other. From the first time he saw you, Choso knew it was love he felt for you. It's just that he wasn't sure of the word until he asked yuuji. It was love he felt for his brothers, for his family, but he didn't think it could also be called love the feeling you bring with you when you walk into the room, the way there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen and the excessive sweating.

You were intoxicating and addictive and you were as nervous as he was when you heard him say he wanted to taste you… choso forces himself to clench his jaw because he's afraid he'll start drooling when he tosses the elastic aside and finally notices how wet you are. He stops breathing for a moment. You were glistening even under the absence of light, the orange sunset tempera justly illuminating your thighs and bare stomach.

Impatiently, he pulls your panties down. Until they become entangled in your knees and he resumes his place and your fingers return to his: on the crown of his head.

He lowers his face to the middle of your thighs and as if enchanted by witchcraft lets his thumb wander along the edges of your pussy parting it and exposing the changing hues hidden there as he continues to explore. The tip of his thumb grazes your clit and you gasp low.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. Stopping immediately to turn his full attention on you, his eyes coated in a layer of glistening lust.

"I'm fine." Your voice is almost unrecognizable— husky and deep with pleasure. You were aching from how much he had unconsciously delayed your pleasure. "I need you to keep going, you're doing such a good job."

His heart clenches at the praise. "You like it?" he asks, full of eagerness.

"Very much," you reply, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes because that would mean no longer looking at him.

Choso rushes back to explore you again. You manage to escape your underwear by pulling them off of you to place your legs over his strong shoulders, you feel him tense up and push his hips against the bed. Your clit is tucked into his full lips, sucking and tasting it as his hips continue to circle on the mattress of your bed. The action makes you spread your legs wider to give him the space his mouth demands, the pleasure makes you moan louder which catches the attention of Choso who curiously rolls his tongue along your slit tasting you better.

Your body spills over his palate like the sweetest of wines as your body clenches and tenses as he continues the licking and sloppy kissing session. Choso is addicted to the way you react when he sucks that little button so he does it again, pushes his face between your thighs that squeeze around his cheeks; despite this you fail to push him away.

His name rolls out of your mouth like a mantra. Choso hears your compliments, your prayers, between your sobs he manages to decipher the words "please" and "sensitive" however at this point he can't stop to verify what you are meaning or admire your reaction.

This was what he had created. Your wet pussy, dripping over his mouth with each new lick and he wanted… no, he needed more.

The bulge in his pants hurt and the only way to make it better was to rub against the sheets. He's done this before, unsure whether to touch it or not, just rubbed silently against his sheets —his sweaty hair sticking uncomfortably to his face, his sobs muffled by the feathers on the pillow— while he thinks about you, your voice, how your fingers feel around his, your kisses…he can't take it anymore. Choso always ends up ruining his sheets or his pants as soon as that knotted feeling tangles his guts and he knows that if he keeps it up he'll do the same to yours so against his will he pulls his head out of your thighs, as if some unnatural force has done it for him.

You are clearly confused, choso can see it in your face, especially in your eyebrows together and that knot tightens further causing more heat to spill out in the form of a blush on his cheeks.

"What— why?" you ask as you find your voice.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to wet your bed."

It's mortifying the pain and regret on his face. Your stomach contracts and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him and eating his mouth. How could you possibly have turned out to find someone so adorable? Finally, your eyebrows relax along with the muscles in your face and a small smile takes hold of your lips.

"Lie down. Face up," you order him gently.

Choso does it right away, no need for questions or for you to repeat it again. He is across horizontally on the bed, his arms behind his head elevating his neck to take a good view of you and his feet are sticking out slightly from the bed.

When your fingers catch on the elastic band of his underwear, Choso has to take a gasp of air. He forces himself to inflate his lungs which fill with the musky, sweaty smell that pervades the room and he feels so weak in front of you. Exposed, just like the pulp of a fresh fruit you've just bitten into.

You ride on his lap taking it as a seat and his legs tighten as he feels your weight. Choso trembles with need and even though this is the first time he has been this close to you in this way, he feels the urge to pounce on you to feel you closer.

You push him back onto the bed as you see his intentions, the growl that slips out of his throat lets you know how unsatisfied he is as you let out a mischievous chuckle. Choso looks like a caged animal, he gasps like one; and just like an animal in captivity if you provoke him enough he can actually bite.

"I'm going to show you something," you tell him, chasing the flame you see growing in his eyes.

His pupils dilate and widen as he watches you undo your top and finally take his dick in your hand and arrange it in a position where it rests on his stomach. You get distracted by the spiral-shaped hairs you find on his navel line, your fingertips slipping between them and getting lost in the tangle of tangled hairs above his pelvis. It is only then that you improve your posture to lean forward and sit right on his cock; your wet folds embrace his shaft and it is automatic the way choso drops his jaw in unison as he drops his head back.

Darkness is all he can see for a moment. His forearm rushes to his mouth and his teeth dig into the skin almost automatically, the light layer of sweat matting his teeth and the roof of his mouth repeating the same pattern he has been recreating weeks ago in the silence of the night. Choso squeezes his eyes shut, that snake made of electricity tightens on his thighs and he sobs.

"I'm going to make you sticky…" he warns you in a weak voice, melting into the darkness around him seeking refuge from what's really happening and you find it adorable how much he's struggling to maintain control of his body.

"You're going to cum," you explain sweetly, pulling your arm away from his mouth. "Let me listen to you. Your moans are just for me."

"Is that what it's called?" Choso has a theory that if maybe he makes conversation he can distract himself from the fact that you were moving up and down on his dick, so wet, so smooth, it's like you're dancing. The sensation is new and so different, it's not like anything he imagined before. He rolls his eyes unable to keep them open and thrusts his hips upward.

As he loses control, the black mark that crosses over his nose expands and warps and that along with choso with tousled hair, streaked over the purity of the sheets is one of the most sacred images you've ever been able to behold.

"Yes-" you were smiling, addicted to the reaction you got from him. Riding faster as you feel your own orgasm building.

You manage to catch his hands and bring them on top of his head trapping him and leaving him helpless before you as you move with pressure on his cock that continues to drip, rub and throb over your clit with each new rotation of your hips, it was painful to feel him so close and far away at the same time, maybe choso felt the same but you didn't want to push him; you wanted it all to happen when he was ready.

"I want to touch you." More than a request, it sounds like a demand, a need, so you decide to give in and release one of his arms, curious about what he will do next.

To your surprise, his hand goes to your cheek. Large, compared to your face, rough and hard from having fought so many times alongside you and his companions exorcising curses, yet it brings a comfort and security in it that compels you to close your eyes and let yourself be guided by the pleasure and intimacy of the moment. Choso crawls along your cheek bone and rests on your lips, with his thumb he squeezes your lower lip which makes you open your eyes as you watch him part your mouth and land on your tongue.

You moan as you take it around your lips. His brow furrows and his throat vibrates with each new moan that he now doesn't want to disguise, your tongue plays with his finger, your teeth nibble at his skin just to tease him and the raw taste of his flesh floods your mouth.

"I'm going to cum," choso says suddenly, using the new word you've taught him.

Slowly, he moves his thumb out of you, cradling your cheek with his hand. You drop into this one, consumed by the act.

"Are you going to cum?"

"Uh huh," he replies with his lip between his teeth.

"For me?" Choso sucks his lip and closes his eyes again, his cock quivering hard between your folds expelling white ropes that interrupt the harmony of his skin and fall onto his stomach… your orgasm hits you almost instantly, as intense and violent as his.

"Just for you," sighs Choso desperately seeking to breathe normally again.

You drop down next to him, tired and sore. Your muscles are cramped and you are sure that tomorrow you will have a long day trying to accomplish the mission thanks to the pain your limbs will feel. It is in the midst of the dilemma of what might happen tomorrow that you realize that choso's warmth is gone and this makes you involuntarily lift your head to check where he had gone.

"Babe?" You flare up at the realization of what he is doing. Choso returns to the bed and takes a towel in his hands which he silently uses to wipe your crotch. You are embarrassed and uneasy, though perhaps not as much as he who looks as if he will start to let smoke escape from his ears.

You opt not to add anything else, let him lie down next to you and hug you from behind and cling possessively to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, another under your head.

"You're so beautiful." Choso whispers into your hairline after depositing a kiss there.

"Stop it. I'm embarrassed enough."

"I'm sorry," he replies immediately. You both fall silent for a couple of seconds before he adds, "Oh, wait. That means you really like it so I'm not sorry, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Oh wow. You had created a monster. You hide for a second in the warmth of his arm, waiting for the flame burning your cheeks to cease before turning to face him.

"Hi." He chuckles gently at the sight of your face again. Unable to erase the smile that takes hold of him. "You're still embarrassed?"

"Choso," you growl, looking up at him from underneath with eyes full of excitement.

"I'm-just telling the truth. You're really beautiful, I'm so lucky to have you with me."

Maybe if you move away from him you can breathe for a moment and let your thoughts flow again, because being so close in that mixture of his sweat and his perfume you can't think straight, you can barely breathe.

"I love you." You let it out suddenly, without thinking too hard. Your tongue breaks free of your self-control to give voice to a feeling you've known since the moment you met Choso.

Choso kisses your forehead, then your nose. And before too much time passes that makes you think this was a mistake;

"I love you too." He assures you. And he couldn't be more sure of that.

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msgexymunson · 9 months

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Forbidden Fruit Part 3

Description: as you and Eddie's relationship gets more complicated, can you keep it under wraps?

A/N: You guys, seriously. I want to kiss you all with tongues. I'm basking in your love for this Eddie. This has turned into a full blown saga. You blow my mind, I'm so happy you guys like it. I'm waffling here I'm sure, this was going to be a 4 part series but I have too much to say so it's turning into 5 parts!! If you like it, please comment and reblog, it makes my entire year!!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll spank you and not in a nice way, age gap (Eddies 43, reader 21), p in v unprotected sex, male and female oral receiving, edging, I think that's it?

5k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

The room is dimly lit and soaked in the stench of sex, the air so humid you could slice it up and serve it to the hungry, or at least the horny. Entwined in Eddie's lap on his armchair, your sweaty skin is sticking together and ungluing at each roll of your hips. He's gripping you harshly by the thighs, thumbs pushing bruises into the soft flesh. You barely noticed.

He's already released inside you, it's dripping down your cunt and onto his lap, being smeared against his thighs and tight stomach. Your moans are reaching a crescendo as your fourth, or fifth, orgasm of the evening is building from deep within your core.

Nails dragging along his shoulders, you beg for your release.

"Oh Eddie, I'm so close, so fuckin' close, please, talk to me."

Eddie's gone, mouth hanging open, forehead scrunched tight as he tries to focus on what you've said.

"Wha-what d-do you wanna hear?" He battles out, on the verge of drooling.

"Eddie, just, fuck, tell me things, I like it when you talk to me."

Eddie stutters out, "h-hey hot stuff."

Letting out a belly laugh you stop your movements, shaking with your amusement.

"Hey hot stuff?!" You giggle, running a sticky hand through Eddie's salt and pepper hair, "are you from a 50s cartoon?"

"I panicked! You put me on the spot. Fuck, stop laughing your clenching my dick, fuck!"

That only served to make your laughs louder, giggling uncontrollably. It's too much for him, stuttering out a premature release deep inside you.

You're too tickled to care, laugh continuing, making his seed spill out as your squeeze. He laughs too then, pulling you to him in a bone crunching embrace. He breathes in your scent, nose pushing into the crook of your neck.

"I wish you could stay."

The laughter subsides at his confession. You pull away to cradle his cheek, eyes brimming with tears at your outburst, and with something else you weren't prepared to admit just yet.

"So do I, but I've gotta go home."

He looks up into your eyes, hand coming up to cup your cheek, mirroring your movements.

"Just once, I want to wake up with you in my bed, where you belong." Stomach fluttering at his words, you can only sigh in response. You'd both spent the last three months trying to avoid those sorts of words. Three months of sneaking around, of carnal bliss.

Back to reality.

You peel yourself off of him before you both say something you regret.

"Right, I better clean up." He waves his arm at you, gesturing for you to go ahead, though he doesn't look at you.

After a quick shower, you find your clothes all around the house, where you'd flung them a few hours ago.

Returning to the living room, you see Eddie in his underwear, head in his hands.

"You OK baby?"

He lifts up, flashing you a winning grin, eyes crinkling. It looks forced, but you don't push it.

"I'm great sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Sure." You smile back, making your way towards him to give him a quick kiss to his full lips. Walking back to the door frame, about to make your exit through the back door, you turn at the last minute.

"See you later, hot stuff."

Eddie laughs and throws a cushion at you, missing by a hair. "Bye sweetheart."

Sneaking out into the night air, you wipe back an errant tear.

Fuck, this was getting complicated. What the hell am I doing? Catching feelings for this man.

You breathe, steady yourself, and walk silently over to your house.

********************

Excitement bubbling in your chest, you had an idea you knew Eddie was going to love. You spin your car keys in your hand, practically skipping to his back door.

And fling it open.

And see your Dad, sitting on a chair opposite Eddie, drinking a beer.

'Dad!" You squeak, surprise lacing your voice entirely uninvited.

"Hey honey, what are you doing here?" He's smiling, but confused.

Think, you need to think, before he does!

"I was-" you spy your keys in your hand, an idea striking you suddenly, "I was giving my keys to Ed- to Mr Munson. He was going to give my car a once over, weren't you?" Your eyes flash over to Eddie, to plead with him. He owned the auto shop after all. It almost appalled you how quickly the lie had come.

"Of course sweetheart, get it fixed up real nice for you."

He holds his hand up and you toss your keys over to him. He grips them with no issue and shoves them in a pocket without a further glance towards you.

"Well that's mighty sweet of you Eddie." Your father beams at his friend, his best friend.

"No worries, you know I'm here to help." His best smile, his forced one, is flashed at your Dad, not you.

"Thanks Mr Munson!" You chime out and leave swiftly, running back to your house and your room, with a sigh of relief.

Fuck that was close.

You were sick of this. Sick of the tiptoeing around, of the games, the lies. It was becoming more and more tempting to just admit everything, consequences be damned. You're a grown woman after all.

You need to speak with Eddie.

********************

The following evening you're sitting cross legged on your bed, studying.

Familiar boots are clomping up the stairs. Looking up, you hear the softest knock at your door.

"Come in Eddie."

The door swings open. He enters, and shuts it, tossing your keys on the bed.

"I'm sick of this sweetheart."

Looking up at him, he looks defeated. You're dreading the next words you're sure are about to spill from his lips. The lips you had kissed a thousand times, that you want to kiss a thousand times more. But they aren't what you expect.

"Do you want to go away with me this weekend? I've booked a hotel, a nice one. Friday night and Saturday night."

Relief flooding your chest, you grin up at him.

"That sounds real nice Eddie."

"Good. I'll see you soon sweetheart."

He plants a kiss to your lips, a soft one, full of hope and promise. It's a start.

*********************

As you got into your car, you noticed it had been cleaned. Thoroughly. Shaking your head, you start it up, and start to drive to where Eddie had asked to meet you. He'd been awfully mysterious about the whole thing, only serving to peak your curiosity further.

It even drives nicer too.

You're not sure what he'd done, but it didn't surprise you. Mr Fix It. Humming satisfaction, you pull into a parking lot of what looked like a very swish hotel, all gold fixtures and huge glass windows.

Surely he's not booked this place?

You'd almost expected a motel, or at least a chain place. This looked fancy.

When you're exiting your car, grabbing your overnight bag, you spot Eddie's pick up, and a familiar figure leaning against it.

Fuck, he's so handsome.

Every time you see him, it feels like the first time. His hair is a halo around him, glowing in the waning light of the sun. You look at those toned arms, one around his middle, the other holding a cigarette to his lips, and wet your lips.

Almost stumbling towards him, you watch as his face splits into a childlike grin, broad and genuine. As you approach, you spot the deep lines around his eyes, the bags beneath them. It looks like he's not getting enough sleep.

As soon as you're in range he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you into his body close. Stiffening for just a moment, you melt at his words.

"It's OK baby, no one knows us here. I missed you."

"Missed you too. What did you do to my car?"

"Had it cleaned. Changed the oil. Replaced the brake pads."

"Eddie what do I owe-"

"Shut up. You don't owe me a thing."

You break away to touch a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He grabs your bag before you can protest, shouldering it, and holding his bag in the same hand so he can hold your hand in the other.

"Follow my lead, OK?"

You nod, perplexed but trusting, as you reach the grand doorway. Eddie releases your hand briefly to open the door for you, and he ushers you inside.

"Hey, Mr Munson here, checking in?" He nods at the hotel check in staff, arm wrapping around your shoulders.

The check in guy, a skinny guy with tousled blond hair grins at you both.

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Munson! Welcome! I spoke with you on the phone."

Mrs Munson??

Eddie grins and holds you closer.

"Oh yeah, Carl right? We're here to check in."

"Oh course, honeymoon suite eh? Well, here is your key, there's a little surprise waiting for you. It's all paid up, just use the elevator to your left. Thank you for staying with us."

He winks at you both as Eddie takes the key and turns you towards the elevator.

"Mrs-" you begin, but Eddie grips your shoulder, which is enough to silence you.

"Thanks Carl, appreciate it." He throws over his shoulder, steering you.

The elevator ride is silent as Eddie grins at you in the mirror. It even smells fancy, air laced with sweetness and flowers.

Reaching the room, he holds the door open for you. Your breath stops in your throat at the sight, letting out a gasp.

As you walk in, you take in the sheer size of it. This wasn't a room, it was a whole damn apartment.

Fresh flowers sit in a glass vase as you enter, coating the place with the soft fragrance of rose and lily. Once you're in the room proper, you notice the sheer size of the bed, a monstrosity you're sure they must have craned in here, covered in crisp linen sheets and soft rose petals. The carpet feels plush, making you conscious of how dirty your sneakers were. The whole place looked so expensive, you were afraid to touch it.

On a solid wood sideboard by the wall was an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside it. Two fluted glasses sat either side. You pick up the card leaning against it, and read it aloud.

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs Munson, enjoy the champagne, with compliments from the management team. Care to explain, Eddie?"

He looks sheepish, scratching his neck, bags abandoned at his feet.

"I told them we eloped, and had to book a last minute honeymoon, and they were kind enough to give me this suite at the normal room rate."

"Sneaky fucker." You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Thank you, it's gorgeous."

"You're welcome. Hope you don't mind playing the wife when we're downstairs?"

Stomach erupting in butterflies, you reply, "not at all, sounds like fun."

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, curiosity gets the best of you.

"If I was your wife, and this was our honeymoon, what would you do?"

A playful smirk pulls at his lips. "Well, first of all, I would have carried you in here, but I suppose I can start now." He bends suddenly and lifts you up, earning a surprised shriek from you.

"I would put you on the bed, like this," he says in his running commentary, placing you down amongst the rose petals with exaggerated care, "and I would kiss you, like this."

He softly strokes your face as he leans over you, and his lips brush your cheek, so lightly it was as if you'd imagined it. Then a further feather light touch to your jaw, and another at the corner of your mouth. The care he's taking has your heart flip flopping in your chest.

When he envelops you in a sensual kiss, it astonishes you. He's usually so rough and primal, but this is different. You lose yourself in his kiss, in the fantasy. For a moment, you really are his newly wed wife laying in your marital bed.

Opening your mouths to each other, his tongue massages yours ever so slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. Passion is rolling off of that tongue, every word that had been unspoken before this moment flows into you, forcing an errant tear to roll from your eye and down your temple.

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes as they flutter open. If he notices your tear, he doesn't mention it. His hand brushes a couple of straggling hairs away from your face, his soft brown eyes boring into your own.

"Then," he whispers, voice bordering on cracking, you notice, "I would worship your body, exactly the way you deserve sweetheart."

"Eddie," you whisper back. "Show me."

His lips find yours again, just as sweetly, but with an undercurrent of desire burning within it.

A large hand drifts to your shirt, popping open the first button, then the second, then the third. Black lace and satin is displayed as the shirt falls open, the new bra you bought especially for him. Humming his approval, he traces the edge with his finger.

"You get this just for me baby?" He smirks, fingers running back and forth, sending pinpricks of heat across your chest.

"Y-yes" you stammer out, squirming under his gaze.

"Already stuttering? I've not even touched you yet."

Usually you'd bite back at a smug comment like that, instigating the push and pull game you two often played. Not today though. You merely whine as his hand palms your breast over the soft fabric.

Moving down your frame, he leaves gentle kisses to your collarbone, your sternum, the top of each breast.

"Fuck you are so beautiful." Hand tracing the swell of each breast, he moves it lower, traversing your stomach, making muscles flex under his movements. Unbuttoning your jeans with practised actions, he sees the front of your panties peeking out of their denim confines.

"Matching? That's sweet of you."

Just him pressing a kiss to your clothed mound and running his tongue under the hem of your underwear has you wriggling. He laughs softly and gets up to your dismay.

He doesn't go far. Just to the foot of the bed, taking your feet in his hands one by one and removing your shoes and socks. A kiss is even placed delicately on the top of each foot.

"Eddie, my feet are all gross." You half laugh and half cringe.

Looking shocked up at you, he responds, "Sweetheart, they're not gross, they're your feet. I'd suck your toes if you asked me to."

"Eddie!" You shriek, hiding in your hands.

"What? Some people like that kinda thing."

He removes his own boots, socks and shirt, leaving him standing over you in just his jeans. Every time you see his naked torso it has you panting, wanting. The curves of his muscles that react so well under your fingertips. The tattoos that you have kissed a thousand times. The happy trail that you want to run your tongue over, and down, down, down.

He straddles your lap then, pulling you up to take off your shirt, holding you close to unclip your bra and gently drag it down your arms, whispering over your skin.

Stopping for a moment, he looks you in the eyes, hand cupping your chin.

"Eddie, I-" but you never finish your sentence, as his other hand has reached your breast, tweaking your bare nipple suddenly. You breathe out a gasp as he hums in satisfaction.

Pecking a tiny kiss to the end of your nose he says softly, "lie back princess."

Complying, you snuggle into the downy pillows.

He's on you then, mouthing at your breasts, tongue running around your nipples, nipping, sucking.

"Oh God, Eddie!" Reaching to his toned chest he bats your hands away.

"Nuh uh sweetheart, no touching. Just enjoy it."

Huffing, you put your hands to your sides, balling them into tiny fists.

Starting to move lower, he kisses your stomach, and leaves little love bites on your hip bones.

"These are really pretty." Hooking rough fingers into your panties, he starts to pull them down, then looks up at you in surprise.

"You shaved?"

"Yeah, I-I thought- I thought you might like it."

"You went all out for me didn't you princess?" He's flashing you a lazy grin, teeth showing as his tongue licks his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth as if he can't believe his luck.

Then your panties are on the floor and his head is buried between your thighs, tongue lapping, lips kissing, fingers dancing over your skin. Stubble is burning the tops of your thighs but you can't find it in you to care, legs tightening around his head as if you relish the burn.

The coil in your stomach is tightening, about to burst out. Legs quivering around Eddie's head of their own accord.

"You about to come baby?"

You whine, knowing he won't take that, he never does.

"Y-yes Eddie, fuck-" He pulls away at the last minute.

"Eddie what the hell?" You lean up on your elbows, sending him an admonishing glare.

He laughs, a self satisfied smirk plastered over his face that makes your belly warm.

"I'm worshipping you sweetheart. You trust me?"

"Yes." You say, without hesitation, quicker than you would answer anyone with that question. So quickly it shocks you a little.

"Then just enjoy it. I'm gonna build you up sweetheart, ok? Just trust me. Tell me when you're close."

You nod your agreement as he bends in between your spread legs again, kissing you all over.

His tongue is breaching your hole, licking your wetness as his fingers glide over your swollen clit sending sparks of sensation through you.

Your orgasm creeps up impressively fast, rippling through your nerves. It takes a lot to tell him, but you have to.

"Eddie, I'm close- so close, fuck!" You slam your fists into the bed as he pulls away and laughs.

"Oh, poor baby, it's OK, this is gonna feel real good." His mocking tone is everything. It shouldn't turn you on this much but it does.

"Eddie, please, oh please, I need to come, please make me come!" You reach for the back of his head but he swats your hands away again.

"What did I tell you? Behave. Next time I'll have to tie you up."

A guttural moan escapes your throat at the thought of being tied up, at his mercy.

"Oh, you like that idea? Dirty girl."

He looks at you with pride, thick fingers stroking through your wet heat and finding their mark. He slides two fingers in with ease, your dripping arousal slicking his fingers as he curls them up inside and presses his other hand to your lower stomach, forcing you into the bed. Full lips wrap around your clit suckling softly as the pressure mounts inside, harder than you've ever felt.

"Fuck, its too much, I can't-"

He breaks his lips away from you for a second, hot breath on your cunt as his fingers push into that spot that has you reeling.

"You can. You can take it. Let go. Come for me."

The feeling of his fingers is all consuming. An embarrassing full sensation is boiling in your gut beginning to lash out. You moan, fingers clenching onto the bedclothes, white knuckled. Your vision is darkening at the edges as spots dance and swirl over your eyes.

The wetness hits first before the feeling reaches its true crescendo, shooting out of your cunt in a gush of slick, enough to force Eddie's fingers from you. The flat of his tongue still presses harshly on your clit as you ride his mouth shamelessly.

Then it washes over you. Wave after wave of intense pleasure, a hurricane force of ecstasy. Your back arches off the bed as you scream and babble his name over and over in a prayer to his prowess.

Finally collapsing into a sweat soaked, slick covered heap, your entire body relaxes, tension everywhere dissipated. There's nothing, not a thought in your head, except for a slight tingle saying you should really look up and, well, thank him. Not that you can move right now. Your neck feels about as substantial as a soap bubble.

Then, Eddie's hovering over you, wiping tears from your face that you hadn't been aware of until now. Refocusing your vision, you finally take him in.

"What the hell- that was- holy-" words are hard. Breathing is harder.

Eddie chuckles, leaving a light dusting of kisses to your cheek and jaw, like freshly fallen snow.

"You," he says between pecks, "squirted. Hard. Jesus sweetheart, you're perfect."

You'd expect a smug grin, that self satisfied smirk you've seen a hundred times, but he looks almost in awe of you.

"Thank you." It comes out as a croak.

He falls to the side of you, scooping you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest.

"Anytime sweetheart."

********************

An executive decision was made between the two of you; whilst you both appreciated that there was a first class swanky restaurant downstairs, that would mean actually leaving the bed. Neither of you were prepared to do this however, so it would have to wait until tomorrow night.

Right now, room service, soft hotel dressing gowns and pay per view were much more inviting. So, appetites sated, you cosied up to each other, flicking through the options on the TV.

"What you in the mood for, horror, or-"

"Or sci fi, I love both really."

"Really?" He hugs you closer. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Oh, the mind blowing sex is nothing to do with it, huh?" You smirk, poking him in the ribs.

"You wound me sweetheart. Hey, what about Alien? Sci fi and horror."

"I've never actually seen it." You admit.

"Really? It's a classic!"

"Sorry but it came out before I was born, you know!"

"Fuck." He puts the remote to the side and turns to face you.

"Listen, sweetheart. Have you thought about, well, us?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, tilting your head to face him.

"I mean, if we did come clean. Aren't you worried at all what people might think of you? About your reputation?"

Laughing out loud, you swat his chest with your hand, letting it linger there.

"I don't give a damn about my reputation!"

"Alright Joan Jett!" He chuckles, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips. He holds it there as he continues.

"I just don't know if you've thought about us, you know, walking down the street. People looking, asking each other if that old man's her partner or her father."

You look at him then, really look at him. He's frowning, deep lines etched into his brow, eye wrinkles deepened by worry. Reaching to his face, you stroke his salt and pepper stubble, rough against your smooth hand. His hair has the same streaks, though not as prominent. There's no denying he's much older than you, but nothing could stop you being anything other than entirely enamoured with him. He is ruggedly handsome; those deep brown eyes of his bore into your soul, each look making your heart jump and your thighs clench.

"Eddie, I don't care. I lo… I really care about you. So much. I don't give a fuck what people might think. I just- I want you to be mine. Not a doubt in my mind."

The look he's giving you softens and he brings you in for the softest kiss to your lips. He's pulling away, but you're deepening the kiss, climbing into his lap, hands holding his face.

Then, you move lower, planting kisses to his jaw, his chin, and his neck. Sucking a bruise into the side of his throat, your teeth graze him as he hisses at the contact.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" He asks, amused.

"Shh baby, I'm worshipping." You smile into his neck, pulling his dressing gown to the side and sinking your teeth into the join of his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, princess, I'm sure I was more delicate." He huffs a laugh, but his breathing is laboured and his face is flushing.

"Yeah, but I'm catering my worship. I know you like it like this."

Sitting up, you pull his gown open, raking fingernails over his chest.

"Holy hell- sweetheart, you ain't wrong."

The gown you're wearing is slung to the floor, leaving you nude, straddling his hardening cock. Eddie's hands reach out as if on instinct and it gives you great pleasure to swat them away.

"Nuh uh. No touching."

"Rude."

"Fair." You counter, positioning yourself in between his legs. Fingers trace his tattoos, his abs. Your tongue runs along in their wake, stopping to nip and suck. One spot has him flexing his muscles, a rushing groan runs from his throat. You can't help but notice his dick twitching under you.

Moving further, you draw his skin into your mouth once more, leaving hickies on his hip bones, mirroring the marks he left on you.

Hovering over his throbbing member, you breathe over it, hot breath fanning over the tip.

"Fuck, sweetheart!"

He almost looks angry as you look up to him, veins protruding in his neck.

"You OK baby?" You frown, hand reaching down to cup at his balls and squeezing gently.

"Oh my God, yes, just, please."

Smiling, you continue to fondle him, and take the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, tasting salt and flesh and Eddie. Grunting his approval, you feel fingers graze the back of your head, until he remembers and tears them away reluctantly.

Humming amusement at his predicament, you take more and more of him into your mouth, swallowing around his length. Hips buck up a little into you, making you shove him down with your free hand.

Rolling the tip around and around in your mouth, you lick at the slit. Every movement has Eddie making little noises in his mouth, tiny shakes beginning to take over his thighs.

You take him deep again, up and down, spreading your spit around the base as makeshift lube as you hollow your cheeks.

"Sweetheart, that's so good, look at me."

Eyes flash up to meet his, staring up through lashes dewed with tears.

"Fuck, my dirty fucking girl. Can you take a little more?"

Maintaining eye contact, you take him all the way to the base, squeezing a thumb in the palm of your hand to distract you. Even so, you can't help but gag a little around his intimidating length.

"Fuck, sweetheart- that's- oh God" He's stammering, breathing heavy as more pre cum hits the back of your throat.

Continuing to work at his length, tightening your grip on his balls, it's not long until you hear him again.

"I'm gonna cum-"

And you pull away.

"Fuck!" His head thumps against the pillow, fists tight and hard on the bed.

"I guess I fuckin' deserve that, huh?"

You giggle devious, kitten licking at his shaft.

"Poor baby. It's gonna feel real good, promise." Winking at him, he shakes his head, hand coming up to hold his forehead.

Mouth on his tip again, sucking, licking. He's moaning louder, stomach shining with a thin layer of sweat. The deeper it goes, the more he groans, until you feel him twitching in your throat again, his noises becoming urgent, more high pitched.

As you release your grip on him again, he grunts in exasperation.

"Don't try sneaking it out Eddie, I can tell you know."

"I know, just, please, I can't. I- just, please!"

He's never looked so desperate, torso flushed in exertion, hands grasping at the bed sheets urgently, chest heaving with ragged breaths.

You take one of his balls in your mouth, hand working his shaft, a teasing thumb rubbing over the wetness of his head. He's whimpering now, a sound you've never heard from him, but fuck, it's so pretty.

An idea strikes you suddenly. Holding onto his shaft, you stare straight up at him, and spit onto his swollen head, hard. The noise that escapes him is nearly inhuman; a guttural, animal noise. A desperate noise.

You take him once more into your mouth, your lips smearing your spit all over him, and swallow around his length, again and again. That does it. He cries out your name as he releases into you, spurting cum deep in your throat, over and over. The volume is truly tough to take, it just keeps coming.

Swallowing until you can't help but splutter, you pull away, wiping your mouth of what you couldn't take.

Sitting back on your heels, you admire your handiwork.

Fuck I think I broke him.

He's not moved, arms spread in supplication on the bed, eyes unfocused, chest still heaving.

The look on his face as he finally registers you when you're leaning over him is priceless. You want to save it in your head, frame it, immortalise it forever.

"Hey baby, you good?" You ask, giving him soft kisses.

"Hmmm. You- you're so fuckin' special" He manages, a clumsy hand reaching to stroke your face and nearly missing.

Laughs bubble up as you stroke his hair out of his face.

"So, we'll watch Alien, yeah?"

Eddie stares at you like you've grown two heads.

"Just- give me a second, sweetheart." More panting breaths. "I think you just sucked out my soul."

Giggling hysterically, you lay next to him and cradle his head to your chest. The movie can wait a minute.

Tag list (if you want to stay please reblog my sweethearts!)

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @hollster88 @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @daisyridleyyyy @lolalanaie @dandelionnfluff @latedawnsearlysunsets92 @luv-flor7777 @topaz1983 @pixxie2004 @harmfulb1tch @findmeincorneliastreet @eddies-puppet @fertilitygodkiszka @freshsagegarden

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson x younger reader #stranger things fanfic

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 8 months

Text

One Last Lesson

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: okay so there's some switching on both sides but mostly dom!Spence, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is over 21), teasing, pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, praise/minor body worship, yk I love some dirty talk so- that's there, multiple orgasms, riding, marking- I hope I got everything??

Genre: Just fluff, Just smut

Summary: It's been a year, Spencer is yours, but it seems someone just won't back off at the alumni gala

A/N: I wasn't planning on a Pt. 3 for this yall it was a duology lmao- I saw the demand but I had nowhere to take it; so you can thank @shan-yee because their comment inspired the continuation of this saga :)

***

Spencer walks over to you and places his hands on either side of the counter you're sitting on. You're spending the night at his place and right now he's cooking dinner.

"You know, it's been almost a year now." He says kissing your neck.

"Since what exactly?" You ask him.

"Since you graduated is what I meant, but also since we made it official technically." Spencer squeezes your hand and then grabs a spatula from a drawer and walks back over to the stove.

"Oh yeah, we're a few months off from it I suppose." You hum.

"The alumni gala is this weekend. Do you- plan on going?"

"It's this weekend? Really? I didn't even realize."

"Oh." He says, his back is facing you but you're positive he's leading up to something and that answer didn't give him the lead up he was hoping for.

"Why are you asking?" You smile.

"Well I was thinking that if you were planning to go we could go together. I mean I'll be there regardless but like- it'd be nice to go as a couple. If you wanted to do that." He shrugs.

"Do you want me there Spence?" You ask.

"Of course I do. I always want you by my side."

"Then I'll go. We'll go. As a couple."

"You're sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You frown. Spencer turns around to look at you.

"Well you know, I don't want you to be uncomfortable if people say-"

"I don't give a fuck what anyone might have to say. I like you Spencer, I like being with you. Nobody's random opinion is gonna make me stop feeling that way." You shrug. Spencer's eyes soften, adoration shining in them.

"Okay." He smiles.

"Oh, but when we go we should change the timeline a little." You say.

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of telling them we've been together almost a year, tell them it's only been a couple of months." You shrug.

"So if we've only been together a couple of months what's like- the rest of our story?"

"Well we can say we ran into each other at a bar a few months ago, got talking, and realized we had a lot in common- decided to see where things go and it's been great so far."

"Okay." He nods.

"I know you don't particularly like lying but it's for you. I don't want anyone doubting the ethics of our relationship and calling into question your job. So stick to that story and try not to oversell it with details. The more complex the harder it is to keep things straight."

"Well, what if they ask for details?"

"I can't imagine we'll spend a lot of time apart at the gala so chances are I'll be there to handle that for you but if you find yourself alone and they ask you something you don't want to risk complicating- just tell them 'things are still new and you don't wanna risk jinxing anything' and then find a way to change the subject to literally anything else."

"Things are still new and I don't wanna risk jinxing it- okay sure. You're a- good liar."

"I've thought about it before, in case anyone started asking questions- at least for the next few years. After a while, no one will care but you know, for now. I don't want you to lose your job or anything because of me." You shrug. Spencer walks over to you and tilts your head up to look at him. He kisses you sweetly and quickly.

"That's sweet of you to be that concerned about it but you shouldn't stress too much about my job." Spencer says.

"I know, I know, but I care about you, Spence. Of course, I'll worry about that sort of thing."

"You're so cute." He chuckles, returning to the stove to finish cooking dinner.

"Yeah, I know." You say jokingly, making him laugh harder. A few minutes later, dinner is finished and you move from your spot on the counter to the living room to eat and watch TV with him.

~*~*~

When the day of the gala comes around that weekend, you spend more time getting ready than you usually would. Your dress is a gold floor-length number with no sleeves and a dangerously high slit. You pair it with black lace gloves just because you can and your makeup is killer if you do say so yourself. Not that you have to, Spencer's reaction when he comes to pick you up is more than enough confirmation that you look drop dead.

"Woah." He breathes out, his eyes wide.

"Hello to you too Spence." You chuckle stepping into the hall and locking your apartment door.

"I- hey. You look stunning baby."

"Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself love." You wink at him as you loop your arm through his. He's wearing a black dress shirt with gold detailing which you didn't know he was planning on wearing when you picked your dress but how convenient that you match. You notice he's forgone a tie and left the top couple of buttons undone and part of you wants to skip the gala altogether, but you got all pretty so to the gala you will go.

By the time you arrive, it seems the event is already in full swing, the hall is full of familiar and unfamiliar faces between faculty, alumni, and current students- who apparently are welcome and encouraged to attend these things. In fact, you're barely there for 10 minutes before some of your former classmates get a hold of you and drag you away from Spencer. So much for being together most of the night. It's fine, you remind yourself, he's a big boy, plus he's got his script. You focus on the conversation you're part of, a few guys and girls from your department are playing catch up, everyone sharing the most important news from their lives post graduation.

You find yourself in several more of those kinds of conversations with various groups of people over the next hour or so. Side effect of being half part of so many social groups during college you suppose. Every once in a while you steal glances at Spencer, who mostly seems to be enjoying himself with his colleagues. You know Spencer was expecting this night to be a sort of debut for your relationship at his job so you wanted to be with him most of the night but maybe this is fine, him with his people and you catching up with friendly acquaintances you haven't seen in a while.

Just as you're settling with that idea you catch Professor Greene beelining towards Spencer and you can't help the internal eye roll when she walks up to him with a megawatt smile. You split your attention between the conversation you're currently part of and Spencer's interaction with Professor Greene. With things official between you and Spencer, you're much less worried about her honestly but you watch Spencer for signs of discomfort so you can rescue him if needed. You haven't heard much of her from Spencer since your little stunt last year with the hickeys so you're surprised to see her so friendly with Spencer. When you catch her place a hand on Spencer's arm and he awkwardly breaks the contact you decide to step in.

"I am- so sorry to cut this conversation short, I just- it looks like I need to rescue my date from a conversation he absolutely does not want to be part of but I will find you again to finish this before the night ends okay?" You tell Jordan, a friend of yours who you had classes with literally every semester of university.

"Girl don't even worry about it go save your man." He chuckles waving you off.

"Thank you babes, if I don't catch you again tonight, I'll just text you." You rush out before making your way over to Spencer and Professor Greene. You keep your pace light so as to not look vexed but you reach them rather quickly.

"Spencer! There you are! I've been looking for you." You smile, placing your hands on his arm gently. He relaxes with you at his side, matching your smile with one of his own. You turn to Professor Greene, still tucked against Spencer's side. "You're Professor Greene, right? I'm y/n." You stick an arm out to shake her hand and she takes it albeit a little hesitantly.

"Have we met before?" She asks with a curious frown.

"Not formally." You smile.

"I'm- gonna grab a drink. Y/n, do you want anything?" Spencer asks.

"I'll have a mojito if they can make one. If not then I'll just grab champagne from one of the trays floating around the room." You tell him.

"Professor Greene? Would you- like anything?"

"No thanks, Spencer." She says with a tight smile.

"Okay well you two wait here, I'll be back in a sec." He says jogging off. You can't help but smile as you watch him go.

"He's so sweet." You say before you can stop yourself.

"Oh that's cute." Professor Greene says.

"Sorry?" You turn to her.

"Are you one of Spencer's students?"

"No, I've graduated. Almost a year ago now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just- perhaps I'm assuming but it seems like you have a bit of a crush on him." She says and you can't help the surprised chuckle you let out.

"Excuse me?" You ask with a smile.

"I'm not judging or anything. It's cute and totally not unusual! That's why I asked if you were one of his students, I mean- not that anything would come of it but having a crush on your professor and all is pretty common despite the- taboo around it. I one hundred percent get it." She explains.

"Oh, do you? You get it? See- the thing I get is that you have a bit of a crush on that professor but I'm fucking that professor so I'm not sure you one hundred percent get it seeing as we are not in the same boat." You say, your tone deceptively cheery.

"Excuse me?" She blinks at you incredulously.

"I'm not daft Professor Greene and neither is Spencer- it's quite obvious you fancy him which is totally not unusual and not that anything would come of it but I one hundred percent get it. See you don't need to placate to me because I'm the person he came here with. I'm the person he'll be leaving with." You say. Professor Greene's eyes narrow for a moment before widening.

"Wait no you have definitely been a student of his, I remember you. A plucky thing- sat in the front row."

"Surprised I left an impression." You cross your arms.

"Spencer always seemed particularly concerned with you."

"I was his best student." You shrug.

"Oh I'm sure you were. Extra credit will do that." She scoffs.

"I didn't need to suck his dick to be the best in his class I'm just that good. We only started seeing each other a couple of months ago not that it'd really make a difference he still wasn't interested in you at any point. You'd think by now you'd get the hint." You say and she levels you with another glare.

"Did you know they make flavored mojitos? The guy at the bar asked me what flavor you wanted. You didn't mention a flavor but I know you like passionfruit so I hope that's okay." Spencer's arrival doesn't break the tension between you and Professor Greene but you shoot him a sweet smile as you take the drink from him.

"Passionfruit's perfect baby, thank you." You tell him. "I was just telling Professor Greene here about how we got together."

"Yeah, Spencer, I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Professor Greene says with a smile that's too wide to be genuine.

"Oh! Well, yeah things are still pretty new, I haven't made it a point to go around announcing it. Plus it's not like we're close or anything." Spencer shrugs and puts an arm around you casually, pulling you closer to him.

"Well yeah I know I know it's just- well that's kind of a big deal, isn't it? A girlfriend. You've got a bit of a bachelor reputation you know." She says and you let out a sharp disbelieving laugh.

"Do I? That's news to me." Spencer looks at you with a chuckle.

"Oh you know what I mean Spence."

"Not really but I guess it doesn't matter. I'm pretty private about these things, even though I'm obsessed with her."

"Aw you're so cute." You gush with a hand on his chest.

"Well you do make quite an interesting pair. If you'll excuse me, I see Darla and I've been trying to track her down all night so I'll leave you to each other." Professor Greene dismisses herself and rushes off to start another conversation elsewhere.

"'I didn't need to suck his dick to the best in his class'? Are you insane?" Spencer turns to face you with an incredulous smile on his face.

"To be fair it didn't start there!" You say.

"Oh yeah? Give me the breakdown."

"You left and she made a snide comment about me having a crush on my professor that 'wouldn't go anywhere', I got a little snippy with her and then she implied the only reason I was one of your favorite students is because you were screwing me but like I'm smart I don't need to fuck you for an A I already had one before you even touched me so- I was basically just telling her that."

"When you say a little snippy-"

"I honestly don't think you want to know." You shake your head.

"What did you say to her?"

"TLDR, I told her she has a crush on you and I am fucking you so we're not really in the same boat which was- probably escalating but she started it by trying to patronize me." You shrug and Spencer sighs though you can see his shoulders shake in silent laughter.

"You are-" he stops to laugh again. "Incredible."

"Thank you baby." You smile.

"Honestly that was very uncomfortable but I will admit there was something... captivating about that battle of wits you had going on." His head dips to press a kiss to your neck.

"Captivating huh." You hum.

"Yeah, you're hot when you get all territorial." He smiles down at you.

"You're saying that now because this time I didn't take it out on you." You chuckle.

"I mean, I certainly wouldn't have been against walking in tonight covered in hickeys like last time." He mutters.

"Naughty boy. Keep that up and we'll have to leave early you know." You muse.

"I mean I've spoken to everyone here I need to talk to." Spencer's hand slides down over your ass for a moment.

"So worked up so quickly."

"Come on princess, let's get out of here. I owe you one hell of a thank you for dealing with Professor Greene." Spencer mutters in your ear trying to sway you.

"If we're going to leave early, you'd better make it worthwhile professor." You tell him pulling him through the party towards the exit. He stops you just outside the hall to pull you into a kiss.

"Don't I always?" He winks at you and takes the lead then, walking you to his car and helping you into the passenger side. Once he pulls out of the parking lot, you put a hand dangerously high on his leg, rubbing up and down his thigh 'absentmindedly', watching the way his fingers grip the steering wheel tighter with each passing moment. At red lights, you lean over to kiss and nip at different spots on his neck, you didn't mark him up before going out but there's no reason you can't do it now. By the time you're back at Spencer's apartment, you can tell your teasing did exactly what you wanted when he rushes you through the lobby and into the elevator. He hardly lets the elevator doors close before he corners you against one of the walls. Spencer kisses you, rough and hot, his hands gripping your upper arms.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days." He breathes out. The elevator doors open then and you drag your fingertips up his thigh with a dangerous smirk before getting off. You can hear him let out a harsh breath before he follows you to the door. Spencer unlocks the door and lets you in, barely shutting the door before he pulls you against him in another searing kiss. One of your hands tangles in Spencer's hair tugging lightly which he rewards with a grunt and a nip at your lip. Eventually, you pull away from him, grabbing his chin a bit to tilt his head out of the way of his neck.

"Hm- they're not great but- by the end of the night I'll mark you up so well it'll be like a signed my name on you." You hum kissing him again.

"Whatever you want princess. Tonight's about thanking you, any particular way you want me to show my gratitude? Because personally, I'd like to peel this dress off of you and bury my tongue between your folds." Spencer mutters, trailing soft kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"That- that sounds like a great way to start." You say.

"Perfect." Spencer pulls you down the hall into his bedroom. His hands drag down your arms, pushing the sleeves off and subsequently dropping your dress to the ground. He lets one hand grab onto yours to help you step out of the dress and immediately drops to his knees in front of you. Spencer pulls one of your legs onto his shoulders, grips the back of your thighs tightly, and buries his head between them. You jolt forward as his tongue swipes through your folds, catching your clit and you tangle your fingers in his hair to steady yourself.

"Oh god." You gasp as Spencer pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting in and out, caressing your walls all while moaning at the taste of you and the feeling of you pulling his hair. Spencer can feel your legs start to shake and tightens his hold on your thighs when he drags his tongue up to focus on your clit. "Fuck!" You squeak, actually squeak, when Spencer flicks at the bundle of nerves with practiced precision that has you trembling in his hands.

"Spence." You moan his name in warning, your orgasm building quickly. He increases the pressure slightly, just enough to push you over the edge with a cry, your fingers tightening in his hair, holding him against you as you ride out your orgasm against his mouth. As the aftershocks of your release ease, Spencer eagerly laps up the juices flowing from you, his nose brushing your clit with each draw of his tongue. You gasp when Spencer hooks his arm under your leg still draped over his shoulder and presses his hand at the small of your back as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly on the little button. You jerk against his ministrations but his hold is steady- even as he releases your other leg to bury two fingers between your walls. He pumps the digits quickly and you can feel another orgasm building.

"Holy- shit that feels good." You whimper and you feel Spencer smile around your clit for a moment before he continues to suck on it feverishly. Spencer pulls your second orgasm from you so quickly that you don't even realize how close it is until you're screaming from the force of it. Spencer works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping until your walls ease up against them. He gazes up at you as he licks his fingers clean before kissing just below your belly button. He kisses his way up your body, hands trailing over your skin until he's at his full height.

"One hell of a thank you baby." You say breathlessly. Spencer laughs and leans down to kiss you, cupping your face with his clean hand. You use the time to pull his shirt free and undo the buttons, then focus on his pants, tugging off the belt and shoving the slacks down his legs. You let Spencer walk you back towards the bed and lay back when your legs hit the edge of it. You watch as Spencer finishes undressing himself and crawls over you.

"I'm not done thanking you yet princess." Spencer says kissing your neck. He lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in with one thrust. He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. "If I believed in heaven this would be it." He breathes out and you giggle a bit. That is until Spencer cocks his hips back and rocks them into you pulling a moan from your lips effectively ending your giggle fit. Spencer sets a dangerous rhythm of sharp, deep thrusts that have your back arching off the bed.

"So good- Spence, feel so good inside me baby." You moan, your nails marking angry red lines down his back as he takes you.

"I know princess- fuck I know." He grunts reveling in the sting of your fingers clawing at him. Spencer can feel his balls tightening as you drip down his shaft and he leans back to toy with your swollen clit. The sudden extra stimulation has whines and mewls falling freely from you as your third orgasm rushes you. The feel of your walls spasming around him sends Spencer into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. Your mind clears just in time to catch the signs of his impending orgasm and you muster enough strength to flip Spencer onto his back. He blinks at you in shock but only for a moment as you start riding him and his face scrunches up in pleasure. Spencer throws his head back and you lean forward to darken the hickeys you left earlier and add more as promised. He lets out a string of curses and grips the sheets so tightly you think he might tear them as you bounce up and down his length. When you feel his muscles clench beneath your hands you sit up, examining the marks now covering his neck. You're more than satisfied with them. You thread your fingers into Spencer's hair and tug, forcing him to look at you.

"I wanna watch your face when I make you cum Spence. Don't look away." You tell him sharply. Spencer tries to nod but your hand in his hair stops him.

"O-Okay. F-fuck, whatever you want- please just let me cum." He begs.

"Go ahead baby." You tell him and that's all it takes for him to let go, hot ropes painting your inner walls.

"I was supposed to be expressing gratitude here." Spencer says after a few moments of silence, when his breathing is settled.

"I feel plenty thanked don't worry love. It's way more fun having you beg me to cum anyway." You say turning your head where you lay just enough to kiss his chest. Spencer lets out a small disbelieving chuckle and you can feel him shake his head as his hand strokes down your back.

"I love you." He says.

"I love you too." You say with a smile. How lucky you are, to have your crush work out so perfectly. Although if you ask Spencer who the lucky one is he'll surely say it's him. Luck is the only explanation for him to now have the object of his desires for months in his arms like this every night. Thank goodness you called him out that day in his office, or he'd have never gotten this far.

***

Part 2

Tagged Users: @regulus-black-223048, @perkypink19-blog, @p0ssywhippedcream

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Cookies II

Laura Coombs x Reader

Social Media

-- -- --

liked by lauren_hemp, alexgreenwood5 and 20,130 others

lccoombs anniversary baking with my wife ❤️

yourinstagram correction: your wife doing the baking and you stealing the mixture -> lccoombs don't spread lies -> yourinstagram 😝

alexgreenwood5 can I have some if they're going spare??? -> lccoombs get your own wife!!! -> alexgreenwood5 but yours is so much better than any wife I could find

user1 Laura and her wife are so cute

user5 couple goals

like by chloekelly and 3,920 others

yourinstagram my baby coming home to me ❤️

chloekelly her not liking this yet? Could never be... -> yourinstagram she's sleeping 😴😴😴

user3 followed this page for the baking content, did not expect to find Laura Coombs on it -> user2 Laura and y/n have been married for three years now. They're so cute together -> user4 you can sometimes hear Laura in the background of a few of the videos!!!!

liked by lccoombs and 69,395 others

alexgreenwood5 baking with the icon that is @yourinstagram

yourinstagram 💙💙💙

lccoombs stop trying to steal my wife!!!! -> alexgreenwood5 I'm just baking with her🤷‍♀️

user3 the alex/y/n brotp we all want more content of -> yourinstagram there's more content soon!!!

liked by yourinstagram, alexgreenwood5 and 30,402 others

lccoombs lazy days with my favourite girl

yourinstagram I think we need to order in tonight. I don't feel like cooking -> lccoombs you baked three cakes today??? -> yourinstagram and??? -> alexgreenwood5 don't listen to her. Come over to mine and we'll order food 💙

user4 the saga of Miss Alex 'steal-your-wife' Greenwood continues

liked by lccoombs, lauren_hemp, chloekelly and 10,305 others

yourinstagram three years of marriage, here's to many more ❤️

lccoombs can't wait for forever with you ❤️❤️❤️ -> chloekelly not if I take her from you 🙃 -> lccoombs so now I have to worry about you too???

lauren_hemp the best kind of love 💙

user5 my favourite relationship

user4 I love them sooo much

liked by lccoombs, chloekelly and 4,506 others

yourinstagram she didn't want the puppy, now look at her

lccoombs don't lie! I love that puppy

chloekelly I would never lie to you -> lccoombs I need to find teammates who won't try to steal my wife

user3 that's not a puppy!!! -> user3 that's a teddy bear 🧸🧸🧸

liked by yourinstagram, alexgreenwood5 and 40,305 others

lccoombs she took over because I was 'ruining' it 🥺 -> yourinstagram I love you baby but you were absolutely ruining it -> yourinstagram I still love you though ❤️

alexgreenwood5 I would never ruin your baking! Just saying! -> lccoombs go flirt with someone else's wife! Just saying! -> yourinstagram I love my baking buddy!!!

user3 Laura not being able to bake and marrying a baker is actually so cute

user2 get someone who loves you enough to fix your baking -> user1 get a baker who loves you enough to still stay married to you after you ruin the baking -> user2 😂😂😂

#woso x reader #laura coombs x reader #laura coombs #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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aetherdecember · 3 months

Text

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #mordred #flipping the coin #my drabbles #arthurian mythology will always be my jam #you can tear this au from my cold dead hands but it will live on #merthur #for the Merlin not wanting Mordred as a stepson joke the last Mordred he knew turned on them to join Morgana #as far as Merlin is concerned they’re the same person #he’ll come around eventually once Arthur fills him in on everything #btw Arthur’s son Mordred is unaware of all of this #he’s having to process his dad - who has never really been interested in anybody for any reason - is completely besotted with some guy #once he learns this ‘some guy’ used to be his father’s servant it does not make things better #but by then he’ll have learned enough that it does clear things up #he’s actually a big fan of Merlin #he just wasn’t prepared for love sick puppy dog Arthur 24/7 now that Merlin’s back

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 months

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I'll be honest, while Deuxmoi always and still does post a ton of BS, thanks to the development of this never-ending saga...I'm starting to really feel like she's been used intentionally to push this narrative along all the way from the very beginning. Aka 2021.

A very out there theory but hear me out: Early on, the fandom had the general consensus DM was BS. Especially in regards to CE. Because DM was the one that first started spreading his super secret GF nonsense back in 2021, right before the introduction of Soba Saga. Her almost nonsensical rants about her having legit sources on this secret GF - while doing weekly podcasts where she insisted she never got any intel on him because his circle was so tight knit (interesting how that suddenly changed out of nowhere when someone showed up) - just made her seem like crazy cat lady gossip conspiracy Marjorie Taylor Greene on steroids.

She was the first to post that "dating Soba for over a year and everyone in PT/her circle knows about it" in early 2022.

They go public in late 2022. 2023 There's some Sunday Spotted (I could be wrong) vDAY post about CE and "fiancé" being seen in town at dinner (sounds very similar to the most recent vDay sighting). That was about 10 months before the super secret wedding and there had been no announcement of being engaged, minus the Tumblr blogs and random third rate tabloids and troll twitter accounts passing on the rumors. DM starts spreading around the same time some Tumblr blogs get the intel about secret engagement, wedding, rift in the family, people on his side not liking Soba, etc. Eventually it is revealed DM was right all along???? In a complete turn of events her credibility goes from zero to 1 (grudgingly of course, while she continues to spill BS daily)

Meanwhile, DM gets the first RPatz sighting with Scarlett and crew at dinner. Nobody believed it - as Nancy mentioned, it just seemed too farfetched with the way that restaurant was set up.

Then in early 2024 we get an actual RPatz sighting with with Soba/CE, and separately, sightings with Scarlett and Colin. Now there's more "credibility" to that random other sighting even if it still can't be proven.

Now...possible project with RPatz and CE's name circulating. Maybe just gossip fodder, maybe some truth to it. Time will tell. Coincidences once again.

DM gets the sighting of CE in LA with Russos. He actually confirms that one himself a month later.

Simultaneously, DM gets random sightings of CE doing other stuff where soba is not mentioned. Nobody knows really what to believe anymore.

But for every 15 BS things she posts, she actually gets 1-2 right. It starts to completely make her a hit or miss source but enough to get people riled up and worried if/when she gets something related to CE/Soba.

In a way, this strategy, if it were to have any salt to it, is kinda interesting. It also sort of enforces the idea of possible foul play. Because if CE is truly in such a happy, private, loveful relationship, why use somebody as uncouth as DM to throw out breadcrumbs? Especially since, in the past, his fanbase and most Tumblr blogs believed it was only legit if it came from someone like People Mag (his team's go-to). Ironically, Page 6 has been getting most of the exclusive scoops this time around, in addition to weird low rate tabloids that eventually make its way to the top.

I know I sound like crazy qanon conspiracy theorist, but I guess people see what they wanna see. But for the people who believe this relationship isn't as genuine as some want to believe, it kind of tracks that somebody's PR team pushing this out in ways to sort of make you wonder, question, and push back on the validity. Just enough to make you think, maybe, maybe there's something going on BTS that they're not saying but they're kinda telling. But you'll never know what the truth is. At least not for now.

I do find DM’s role since 2023 to be very interesting indeed. You missed nothing. Not one thing. She’s made herself be credible enough during this, but also, she’s questionable. So of course, take everything she says with a grain of salt.

I made this comment a bit ago to someone else, he still uses People. Who got the Jinx articles first. Think about that for a moment. He. Just him.

As far as the last paragraph, what I will say is celebrities need to be talked about. Good or bad, they need the press. They need to be in the front of people’s minds. What better way to have them in people’s minds, and to have fans talk about something long past their expiration date than by playing a game. PR has become such a hot topic word, and I think very few people even understand it. But to me, if you’re having to play so many games, what really is real? Live your life. Isn’t that what we continue to be told they’re doing?

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skz-rin · 29 days

Text

『📜』 ── Her friends (oc version)

RINVY ᡣ𐭩

╰ name — Ivy Jennifer James

╰ friendship timespan — 11 yrs

╰ contact name — ivy (gen's version) 🌱🍵

╰ about ↴

Rin met Ivy in the dance room of JYP, It was late night and because of some system error they had both booked the dance room for the same time so they ended up bumping into eachother as they tried to open the door at the same time. Coincidentally there was another evaluations team who was practicing there and quite frankly the team looked like a mess so these two decided to be gracious and let the team use the practice room with no other available option they went ahead and grabbed a late night snack together and thus ended up becoming fast friends.

Their hangouts mainly consist of dressing up real fancy to take pictured and then going to some nearby convenience store eating snacks and gossiping. They make frequent appearance on each other's instagram stories and captions for photo credits. Rin gives competition to Yeonjun on who is Ivy's biggest fan atp. As soon as Ivy releases new music you know Rin is immediately going live to do a subtle album review (she likes every song all the time).

ROSIELIA ᡣ𐭩

╰ name — Jihye Park

╰ friendship timespan — 5 yrs

╰ contact name — roseraie 🌹🍫

╰ about ↴

Rin's has always been a huge fan of seventeen especially Rosalie and she thought that getting to work with woozi on an I.O.I song was the peak of her fan experience but obviously not. Rosalie heard about Rin after fans left comments under her lives about she has to meet Rin because they're both females in big boy groups and they both lived in France for long periods of time. Rosalie did a bit digging into it and found multiple clips of Rin gushing about her and decided to be a good senior so she had Woozi arrange a meetup in jyp under the pretense of talking something about lyrics and went to surprise Rin, and that is how the two became friends.

These two don't meet all that often since both of their groups are extremely busy all the time so they tend to make do with text conversations and phone calls. They both have writing credits in eachothers solo songs and are constantly talking about featuring with eachother so much so that even the fans are aware now. When they talk, they talk only in french and they love it cause it's like a secret language and their extremely nosey members understand very little of it.

SUNRIN ᡣ𐭩

╰ name — Sunhye Kang (Misun)

╰ friendship timespan — 5 yrs

╰ contact name — sunsun ☀️🐝

╰ about ↴

Rin and Misun originally met in August 2016 when they were both promoting with their respective groups at the same time and they got to talking, but they were merely acquaintances at that time and the two got closer during 2019 when stray kids and nct dream did a collab stage. That was when these two really started talking to and got to know eachother well.

The og astrology girlies fr. They know everything about everyone, literally no one is safe if you think you are safe no you aren't they have your birth chart and every rumour you've ever been a part of stocked away in some file. They have sleepovers and spend the entire nights trying to solve conspiracy theories and rumours that are circulating, they bulletin boards for this and if you enter the room it would look very much like two detectives trying to solve some class crime lmao.

MARIN ᡣ𐭩

╰ name — Madison Kim

╰ friendship timespan — 5 months

╰ contact name — mad kween 🌸🩰

╰ about ↴

Rin has a secret mission to be friends with or atleast get to know all foreign idols so when she found about Maddie she pulled a few strings and had a friend of hers (Soobin from txt) ask his friend (Seunghan from riize) for Maddie's number and then she texted Maddie with the excuse that she had heard Maddie was a former ballet dancer and thought it'd be cool if they could bond over it, then they got to talking and are currently in the process of being friends.

They haven't met in real life as of yet due to schedule clashes and such issues but they text eachother frequently and can spend a long time just conversing with eachother about various topics!

RINWON ᡣ𐭩

╰ name — Jeong Chaewon

╰ friendship timespan — 3.5 weeks

╰ contact name — cinnabon 🦔🍦

╰ about ↴

Rin met Chaewon at paris fashion week for one of the shows. Rin noticed the girl just standing there awkwardly, she recognised her as one of the soloists that she had heard about and also remembered her being significantly young so she decided to approach her. Rin went up to her and just started talking to her as if they were old friends to not make her awkward, they exchanged numbers and decided to stay in touch even after pfw so that's how the friendship started.

Their pics clicked by fans at pfw went viral with many shocked to see the two interacting due to their contrasting energies but Rin's overly energetic behaviour causes Chaewon to get out of here shell a bit more whereas Chaewon helps Rin stop and just enjoy occaisionally.

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general-cyno · 3 months

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Hot take. Luffy does not have blind faith in Zoro because everything that Zoro showed Luffy during the East Blue Saga to their first few days in the Grand Line was proof of his strength, loyalty, and reliability.

When Luffy was caged by the Buggy pirates in Orange Town, Zoro carried him (cage and all) while he was literally bleeding out. This further proves Zoro's fortitude (includes the moment they first met when Zoro was tied up for weeks without food or water).

When Zoro was defeated by Mihawk, the oath he swore even when he was near death proves the strength of his conviction in fulfilling his dream.

Let's not forget the numerous times Zoro defeated everyone who stood in their way the entire time Luffy has known him which proves how strong he is as a swordsman/fighter.

Lastly. Whiskey Peak. I know it's a controversial scene but so much of the fandom took away the wrong thing from it. While Luffy and the others had their guards down (they fell asleep after partying), Zoro was the one who protected them by defeating all the bounty hunters after Luffy's head. Luffy reacted the way he did (getting angry because he thought Zoro hurt the people who fed them) because at that point in the series they hadn't known each other for very long. But as they fought, they tested that their strengths were matched and within that fight they were further able to understand each other. And once everything was explained to Luffy, from then on, he never doubted Zoro's intentions again. THAT'S the event that gave Luffy the absolute assurance that even if he's not there for whatever reason, he can rely on Zoro to protect the crew so he doesn't have to worry about them. And since they operate on a similar wavelength, they didn't need to talk about the Whiskey Peak fight because they understand how each other thought after the misunderstanding was over.

So yeah. Luffy had always seen Zoro's potential and their time together has proven him right every time :)

CHEERS ANON! you've laid it out perfectly, thank you. I don't have much to add other than how amazing it is that everything their relationship is built on (the mutual appreciation, loyalty, faith etc) has been earned throughout the story from beginning to current events, bumps along the way and all. neither is the type to trust or follow someone blindly, luffy's willingness to lend a helping hand or believe in people's strength and potential for goodness notwithstanding.

their bond has this curious underlay of fate but mostly it's just... intentional. purposeful. perhaps if they'd made different choices at some point they wouldn't stand together as they do now, but luffy and zoro have continually proven themselves as individuals and to each other, and that's so good.

#tp #replies #sighs wistfully I'm just a sucker for these two #zolu

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ozzgin · 7 months

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Hello, i’m back 😁.

I’m finaly going to ask you the 3 part of Yautja female reader raised on earth.

So reader had her first heat and she spend it with her yautja male. And suprise !!!! She’s pregnant !

Her mate want to take her to their home planet but reader becomes agressive when he tried and they all know the rule : you don’t fuck with pregnant yautja. No seriously, never do that.

And so the male see the way her family is really happy about this news and they help reader with her pregnancy and they fully support her. Which is suprising for our male yautja because usualy pregnant females yautja go on their pregnancy alone. And if you feel up for it, could you write about active labour : reader is having contractions for hours, she wants support and her mate ( males aren’t suppose to ne here for the labor ) and then the baby is here and everyone love this little buttle of joy.

Hope you have time for this resquest and thanks for reading this, bye.

Welcome back! The third part of the Predator saga has been requested by @avaleigh16 as well, so I’m tagging you as promised! :) Each Predator is written under the assumption that you’ve picked them as a partner with perhaps a little bit of reaction from the other suitors. Sorry for the delay!

Various Predators x Predator! Reader Headcanons: Mating

Featuring the four Predator types and their independent story if you’ve accepted them as your mate. Dealing with pregnancy and birth.

Part 1: Meeting

Part 2: Courting

Part 3: Mating

After a long and exhausting courting process from all these unexpected suitors, you’ve made your decision and chose your mate. Not only that, but consuming the new relationship has left you visibly pregnant. And the father is none other than…

Feral Predator

What a bizarre choice in the eyes of the other suitors. You’ve picked the foreigner of unknown origins, from the deserted plains of the opposing hemisphere. Two different Yautja species meeting and mating. What would the outcome be? Neither the Feral Predator nor you care much about genetics. He is much more interested in planning his new family unit, except you’re not as enthusiastic about leaving your caregivers behind. Surely you can’t expect to raise your children with these frail humans. They have no skill nor value to pass on to your offspring and there are no biological ties holding you back. He notices your increased aggression and would rather not press the matters further and compromise your health, at least for now. And while he is baffled by the strange customs of assisting you throughout your pregnancy, he can’t deny the enjoyment of being included. To your surprise, in your moments of required bed rest, you spot Feral Predator continuing your household tasks for the humans. He doesn’t agree with your choices, but he will respect them nevertheless. If the humans are this important to you, he can make the effort to tolerate them.

Elite Predator

Being on this pathetic planet hasn’t eroded your common sense it seems. You’ve made the right choice. All that’s left is returning to Yautja Prime, preferably before you have to carry a needy newborn around. His patience is running thin upon hearing your obstinate refusals. What could it be this time? Pregnancy hormones? Alas, he’d rather not fight you in this feral state. It’s not optimal, but right now there’s little room for protest. If you so desire, you can have your final stay with the little creatures. Although he’s not happy at all to witness them flocking to your aid whenever something is required. You can spot the Elite Predator sulking from a distance, following his part in the tradition and giving you space. His frown, however, only lasts until the first contractions. The small earthly creatures demand his presence. It is not commonly done, but then again, can he really miss the opportunity of attending the birth of his own offspring? It’s a comical sight, his tall frame towering over the gathered family, and you can’t help but chuckle between the labored breaths. You’ll deal with his moods later.

Fugitive Bad Blood

The Fugitive knew that despite all the disapproving eyes, you’d still pick him as your partner. You have the blood of your parents running through your veins. For how long were you planning on avoiding your nature, your very fate? Thankfully you’ve come to your senses, though he might need to shake the remaining doubt off of you with his own hands. Your attachment to these life forms is frankly annoying and he doesn’t mind making the choices for you. In fact, there’s no decision to make if you only have one option. He has already proven to you that anyone else besides him is a superfluous existence. He is your guarantee to survival and anything else your heart might desire. You have managed to keep him away from your family with distant promises of compliance once the suckling is here. As you approach the moment of birth, you can sense his excitement and anticipation. The tension is the air is thick, almost suffocating. You don’t doubt his loyalty to you. If only you could use it for the safety of your earthly parents instead.

Berserker

You choosing him as your partner was the best for everyone, really. He would’ve had no trouble hunting down his competition. You soon find out just how possessive and territorial the Berserker is when not even your family can approach you. Perhaps the pregnancy has caused him to be extra careful. Not only are you his mate, but the mother of his future sucklings, so he’s not taking any risks of a foreign presence outside his own. After all, why would you need anyone else but him? You can feel anger knotting inside your stomach, but fighting against the Berserker is not the wisest move. Even though he wouldn’t recklessly jeopardize his lineage. Most likely. Probably. You will have to do something soon, because he has expressed his intentions to leave this planet as soon as the birth happens. Naturally you’ll join him. There’s a long life ahead and he’s determined to keep you with him. Just what have you gotten yourself into?

#predator #predator headcanons #predator x reader #yautja #yautja x reader #prey

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

The Thrill | KNJ

The Thrill (An Intersect drabble)

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; fluff; smut

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff; grand romantic gestures; cussing; clit play; breast play; dirty talk; unprotected penetrative sex in a committed and monogamous relationship; soft aftercare

Word count: 2,993 words

Summary: “Nooo...stop it.”

A/N: I guess this is the result of the amalgamation of all the boyfriend/thirsty content that Namjoon has been dropping lately. I really have no excuse when it comes to him. I say this as my BFE!Yoongi WIP pouts in the corner, mid-smut scene--you’re next, I promise!!! 🤪 Thank you, Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading this through and giving me some good notes!

A/N2: The Thrill is one of my favorite Miguel songs. It’s so much better live than the original recording.“We can be the riot in the air tonight/Start the kind of trouble you can taste.” I debated cutting it off right before the smut but then...Joon’s Smoke Sprite verse happened so...you can blame that for the second half of this!

A/N3: You don’t need to read the series to get into this. I included some callbacks but they’re not necessarily crucial to be able to understand this drabble.

“Baby! Have you seen my–”

You giggle to yourself as this neverending saga of Namjoon asking, ‘have you seen this thing that I always use and yet I always forget where I keep it,’ continues.

“Check the first drawer on your left-hand side of the hallway cabinet,” you yell from the bathroom. You hear him let out an audible sigh of relief as he retrieves the item that he needs for your trip.

“Got it, thank you! Never leave me, please,” he calls out when he re-enters your bedroom.

You laugh while reaching for your face wash to begin your bedtime routine. You also had a flight to catch tomorrow.

From your bathroom, you hear Namjoon scuttling around–distant sounds of drawers opening, closet doors sliding on their track, then followed by the rustling sound of things being stuffed into his suitcase.

You press your face oil gently into your skin, the last step in your skincare regimen. Afterward, you double-check your cosmetics case on the counter to make sure that you had all of your travel essentials.

From your peripheral vision, you catch his reflection in the mirror. When you lift your head, you find him leaning against the doorframe, eyeing you intently.

He wore a dorky but affectionate smile on his face while his arms were crossed over his chest.

“Lose something again?” You ask in a teasing tone.

He shook his head slowly. “I found everything I needed.”

“Well, as we always say, if we forget something, we can always buy it out there.”

He nods vaguely, not really caring about anything else. He still stood there, sporting the same grin on his face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs.

“And yet you’re just going to stand there gawking?”

“Nah, I’m just…thinking.”

Your eyebrows lift in curiosity. You lean your hip against the bathroom counter, somewhat mirroring his posture.

“About what?”

“How lucky I am to be with you.”

Your breath hitches and your cheeks flush. “That’s it?”

“And I’m also thinking how glad I am that Celina forced us to work on that contract bid together,” he chuckled.

You laughed in turn and thought back on how your relationship began. His unexpected nostalgia piqued your curiosity.

He gently pushes off the doorframe and saunters toward you. He stopped short, lifted his hand to your cheek, and brushed it with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered.

The sentiment made warmth bloom within your chest. Then, looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a soft chuckle.

“What’s so funny about what I said?” He asks.

“I mean, look at me! I look all funny,” you replied. You still had your spa headband on and looked like a glazed donut since your face oil hadn’t quite set into your skin yet.

“You know I don’t care about that,” he waved you off. “And for the record, I am looking at you. I think you’re beautiful whether you’re all done up, dressed in your sexy power suit; or bare-faced in your flannel pajamas.” He planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Okay, what’s gotten into you?”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’m just really looking forward to our vacation.”

But the way he smiled roused more suspicion in you. “Uh-huh, sure.”

You’d booked this trip a while ago and you had to make sure that you and Namjoon had synchronized your calendars months in advance to have a quiet, uninterrupted week where you both could unwind and reconnect.

Namjoon also insisted on booking a couple of island excursions for you, which was a shock because he didn’t usually like having scheduled activities while on vacation. We go on vacation to get away from schedules, he often said.

He remained tight-lipped about what he has planned. The only hint he’s given you was that it would be totally unexpected and to pack comfortably. It was no help to you at all.

You finally take off your headband and stow it under your skincare drawer. “I’m pretty excited, too. I can’t wait to find out what you have planned for us.”

He bit at his bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “Good. I’m glad you’re looking forward to it!” His arms snake around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Actually, while I stood back there watching you, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek of what I had planned before we leave. It’s nothing huge.” Then he squints one eye and gestures with his thumb and forefinger. “Just this small, tiny thing,” he grins mischievously.

While your mind races about this ‘surprise’, he breaks away from you and sinks his hand into his pocket. As you watch him get down on one knee, you swallow the grapefruit-sized lump in your throat. It takes you a few seconds to realize that he was holding up an open box in his hand. In it was the tell-tale ring that had been burning a hole into your brain since discovering its existence.

Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock at the sight of it. It was anything but small or tiny– judging by the solitaire’s cut.

“YN, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You were completely dumbfounded. You’d thought about this moment; pictured it over and over in your head. What the scenario would be, what he would say to you, and how you would feel. You’d even planned potential outfits!

And now, it was actually happening. You’re standing in your bathroom, barefoot, dressed in a worn-out sleep shirt and your underwear.

You were so utterly overcome with emotion, the first words that come out of your mouth are, “Nooo…stop it…” You whined softly through your trembling fingers as the tears start pushing their way past your eyes.

It was not exactly the reaction nor the response that he envisioned. Confused, he asks, “I’m sorry, what? D-did you just say…‘no’?”

He also looked like he was on the verge of tears, but for a completely different reason.

When your brain cells manage to click again, you laugh through your sniffling. You hastily kneel right in front of him. “Oh, no…baby…” His face crumples at the sound of ‘no.’ Realizing your mistake again, you continue to rectify the situation. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you explain.

Finally, you grab his face in your hands, bring it closer to yours, then plant a lingering kiss on him. You look him right in his eyes, and squeal, “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

He cracks a hesitant smile and in the softest voice possible, he asks, “Really?”

“Yes, Namjoon! I love you!” You kiss him again and apologize. “I was just so…overwhelmed by the moment and ...how,” You took a second to glance down at your pants-less state, “…Uhhh… comfortable, I look.” You babbled and laughed through teary eyes.

“I really didn’t mean to say ‘no’ and scare you. I panicked and it just sort of slipped out,” You were still shaking, feeling as if your heart would burst from so much joy and love for him.

He breaks into a throaty laugh, his chest and shoulders vibrating, much to your relief.

“I seriously didn’t expect this, though,” you remarked in earnest.

“Are you kidding?” He deadpans, thinking back to when you saw the ring’s order confirmation email on his phone. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t expecting this? At all?” his tone is light and teasing.

Since finding out about the ring, you’d been secretly trying to search where he’s hidden it. Your little brother, Jungkook, had been discouraging you from doing so because it would ruin the magic of the moment.

“I mean, I had hoped that it would happen during our trip,” you admit shyly.

“Hah! I gotcha there, didn’t I?” He says smugly. In reality, Namjoon had asked Jungkook to keep the ring hidden at his place after the day you found out to throw you off the scent. It worked out perfectly.

You rolled your eyes, but not in annoyance. He was being playful and you had to hand it to him; he pulled off this surprise successfully.

While still on the floor, he carefully pulls the piece of jewelry out of the box. He takes your left hand and slides the ring up your finger. It was a perfect fit! He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it, making you feel butterflies in response.

The fluttering compels you to kiss him again, celebrating this moment. Unable to stop smiling, your cheeks feel delightfully sore through the rest of the night.

******

When you crawl into bed together later that night, he makes a confession. “You know, I wasn’t actually planning on proposing tonight,” he laughed. “I had a whole thing planned when we got to the hotel. Jungkookie helped me coordinate. Dinner by the beach, flowers, and a ukulele player. He even called one of his buddies to do this wild drone shot…”

You listen as he continues to talk about his original proposal plan. You laugh and shake your head at the extra effort that Jungkook convinced his Namjoonie-hyung to make so you can be completely blown away.

You smile in appreciation as your brother has always been supportive of your relationship from day one. It was only right that you’d still make an effort to act surprised when the dinner happened–if only to hear Jungkook’s elation at the news.

“What’s changed your mind? You don’t usually blow your load early,” you teased. He glared while you cackled then he pinches the ticklish spot on your hip bone, making you yelp and recoil your body.

He’s laughing as you try to defend yourself from another ticklish assault from him.

“I don’t know…” He shrugged. “It’s just that, I saw you standing in the bathroom. While watching you, all of these memories came flooding back. Specifically, the moment I first saw you.”

“On that web conference?” You laughed at his recollection.

He nods wistfully. “I was in denial at first but I unconsciously knew that you had me right then. So I thought–fuck it! I didn’t care about where we were or what we were doing. I just knew that I wanted to be with you…forever.”

You beamed through your happy tears and pepper him with kisses.

*******

You wake the next morning like you’ve woken just about every morning since you’ve been with Namjoon–with him pressed into your back, his lips kissing down your spine slowly and lazily. It’s blissful, mind-numbing. And, as always, your melt under the warmth of his mouth rousing you from your dreams.

The friction of your skin rubbing together takes you from warm to blazing in a snap. The feel of his morning arousal brushing your thighs awakens your senses.

You reach back, pushing your fingers through his morning mess of a hair, sighing your contentment.

“Morning,” he murmurs, peppering soft kisses on your shoulder while rolling his hips into your ass at the same time. His hands creep up from behind you to palm your breasts from underneath your shirt. You gasp softly when he gently pinches a hardened nipple.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Your body responds to his call instinctively. Your need for him is incessant. “Always.”

You reach back between you two and pull on your underwear’s waistband halfway down. Namjoon tugs on it the rest of the way through, lifting your knees up to completely rid yourself of them.

You wriggle toward him to find that he’d already stripped off his shorts. He palms your center, sucking and kissing your neck while his fingertips tease your clit.

You part your legs for him, not just wanting to give him better access but your ache for him has grown into a steady hunger.

You grind your hips into his touch, making him laugh huskily into your ear. “A little impatient, are we?”

“You started this and now you want to pump the brakes?” You sassed.

“There’s my firecracker,” he smirks before his teeth graze the shell of your ear. “Go ahead then. Put me in.”

As much as you loved when Namjoon took command during sex, it thrilled you even more when he relinquished control to you.

You reach between you two and wrap your fingers around his cock. He groans when your hand slides down his length slowly…teasing him until he groans impatiently, making him nip at your flesh. “Okay, you’ve made your point!” His annoyed protest makes you giggle mischievously.

You line him up to your center, brushing the tip against your wet folds, making him curse under his breath.

In one slow, calculated movement, he’s inside you. You grip his hair, crying out in unison once you take him to the hilt.

In an instant, you’re both floating on cloud nine, mere moments after waking. And you know that’s Namjoon’s intention each time— to start your day being reminded of how much he wanted and desired you…how much he loved you.

One look, one word from this man and he has you all worked up in a frenzy. You listen to him whisper sweet nothings in your ear, how good you make him feel, how he wishes he could spend hours and days just like this. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his just-woke-up voice. It was right on par with his bedtime voice, when he says that he wants to fuck you senseless, leaving you completely sated before you drift off for the night—thighs still trembling.

You lean into his touch, tilting your neck backward to offer your mouth to him. He takes it, tongue dipping right in, cupping your jaw whilst he savored you.

Your bodies move in perfect synchronicity like they were made specifically with each other in mind…because they were. You’d never question the sense in that especially when you’re so close and intimate like this.

“You still with me?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you manage to respond.

He pulls out of you and you let out a whine of protest. “On your stomach,” he says gruffly.

Lost in a fucked-out daze, you obey.

He slides over you while you were stretched out on your stomach. His hand pushed between your hip and the mattress, reaching between your legs to cup you in his hand. You were so wet and slick for him. You let out a muffled moan when palmed your clit.

“I want you this way,” He says, brushing his lips across your cheek.

He reaches for his pillow with this free hand and then shoves it underneath you while lifting your hips to the angle that he wanted, preferably one that would let him sink in deeper.

“Joon…” The manner in which you said his name was a plea. He’d left you empty for too long and you were anxious for him to fill you again.

He acknowledges the need in your voice. “I know, baby.” He shifts, urging your legs apart. Then, he gently presses on the small of your back, urging you to bend lower, angling your ass up higher for him.

With his hands on your hips, he slid back into you. You fisted at the sheets on either side of you, relishing the stretch to your center.

“Fuck, yesss,” you dragged out.

He picked up the rhythm, feeling the air seize from your lungs whenever his hips slam against your ass. You pressed your face hard into your pillow, gasping and moaning incoherently while he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

His teeth gritted, barely restraining the growls that surged from his throat. His chest heaved against your back, his ragged breaths ruffling the hairs on the back of your neck.

His hips churned, fucking into you; pushing in further. He could feel your walls around his length. They clench in ripples that make his cock twitch in excitement.

The pressure building up within him was persistent but he was capable of keeping it under control. He wanted to give you all the pleasure he could offer. Your moans of satisfaction are more than enough to set off his own release.

You whimper, helplessly writhing under him while he punishes you with each stroke. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed circles on your pulsing clit, making your cunt tremble then tighten around his cock in a vice-like grip.

Finally, you tip over the edge. Cumming with a loud, lingering moan.

Aroused by your orgasm, he shut his eyes and dropped his forehead to your cheek. He inhaled your scent and let go, coming just as hard, his ass flexing as he filled you.

A few beats later, Namjoon gingerly turns you over on your back, pulling the pillow from underneath you and tossing it to the side. Exhausted, he collapses on you but is careful not to squish you. Although, if you were going to be honest, you loved the feeling of his full weight on top of you.

He was crowding you now, where he will remain for the next few minutes while he snoozes on you, nuzzling and kissing your misted neck. You hold onto him and savor the moment you cherish each morning before you have to get up and head to the airport for your trip.

He rubbed his damp hair against your cheek. “Love you.”

Your head turned, your lips seeking his. Breathing into the kiss, you reply, “Love you, too.”

You sigh into his shoulder as you settle, pressing him tightly against your chest, getting him as close as you possibly can. In your own silent way, you’re telling him that you’re also happy to remain where you are.

Smiling softly, he lifts your left hand up to his lips to kiss the ring he had given you last night. Your heart squeezes, relishing in the promise of forever with him.

You’ll always think back fondly on that magical evening when you said, “No…stop it.”

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Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @yu-justme @joonschocochip @majamarantha @yoongukie-ff @shesoldbutcute

#bts fan fiction #namjoon fan fiction #namjoon x reader #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thekpopuniverse #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #bts fluff #bts smut #knj fluff #knj smut #the thrill x knj #intersect x knj

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satorutini · 2 months

Text

sunday overcast - eren yeager

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

summary: After ruining your potential dream relationship - and spring break plans - with Jean, you retreat to your hometown over break for the first time in years to lick your wounds. But you can mope around for only so long when you're strapped for cash. Luckily, the manager at your usual summer gig has an unconventional shift you can fill on short notice. The only issue - the guy you hooked up with and ghosted last winter is scheduled to work the same shift. Even worse, he's your only ride home.

rating: explicit

wc: 7.8k

read on ao3 | series nav

the chili's au/scummy line cook eren saga continues

“Hey,” you murmur, low and warm in your throat, just barely heard above the rain. “You wanna cheer me up?”

Eren really isn’t sure how the both of you ended up in this situation.

Don’t get him wrong - he had been imagining your return since the day you left. Or rather, the day he found out you left, through Sasha, who had unceremoniously handed the sweater he loaned you over to him by the next dinner shift they worked together. By then, the winter holidays had passed and you were well on your way back to your university.

At first, he figured that in time, you would text him. Your last encounter was intense, and you could hardly look in his direction the whole drive to your apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out first - something told him it’d make things worse before it made anything better. He couldn’t be the only one stuck on that night. Something had to be said, right?

But right now, somehow, you’re reclining in his backseat, studying him with that alluring, low-lidded gaze that pierces through the darkness of his car. And despite all the steps it took to get to this moment, nothing between the two of you has really been properly addressed yet.

It’s this gnawing thought that causes Eren to hesitate at your invitation. Frustration burns through him at the sight of you. Wet hair pasted to the sides of your flush cheeks. Soaked polo rucked up your stomach, the bare skin shining with rainwater what little light gleans inside from the streetlights. The two of you, alone in Eren’s worn-out sedan, camped out in the middle of Pepper’s vacant parking lot, sporting matching red eyes. He observes you, observing him pretending to mull over your question. Silently pleading with him to blur the lines of whatever this was quickly devolving into just a little bit more. Just one more time.

He wonders if you’ll back down, chicken out, if he’s quiet for long enough.

“Eren,” you call for him again and he swallows, throat feeling dry and thick. There it is again. That lofty tone you often use when he fucks up an order or moves a little too slow. Sweet, pitiful, and disdainful all at once.

A joint smolders in his fingers, long forgotten after dodging to avoid the flailing mass of limbs and appendages that was your poor attempt at wiggling into the back from the passenger seat. A pleasant, lethargic fog creeps at the edges of his consciousness. Your next words seem to float through the car to bless his ears, rolling around in his mind with a warm buzz that has him leaning out of his seat before you’re even finished speaking.

“Come make me feel good.”

New Year’s Day came and went, and Eren figured you’d at least reach out before you left your humble hometown for the start of your last spring semester in the big city. His phone would vibrate, and he would flip it, hoping he was masking his anticipation - and then later, disappointment - well enough at the possibility of you calling. His fingers would idle on your chat messages, frowning when he had to scroll farther and farther as he accumulated others—hoping one day to catch even just those three torturous, winking dots. Any sign that you were thinking of him as much as his thoughts turned to you.

This newfound hobby, waiting for you to return, was a nuisance in every sense of the word. You had left like you had every spring, and you would return like you had every summer. This careful, meticulous dance around your academic schedule that dictated your time back home - when you would work, how long you would stay, and who you would come to see. It was the way it had always been, for the past handful of years at least. Even if you were graduating this year, you had to come back - it was the natural order of things, in Eren’s world.

What Eren hadn’t been anticipating was that you would break that routine.

He wouldn’t really consider himself a creature of habit beyond smoking, but there were people who he considered had specific roles in his everyday life. Connie was his work partner-in-crime and designated smoke buddy. Armin was his rock and moral compass. Levi was a hardass dictator moonlighting as a shift supervisor. And you were the uptight waitress girl from work who liked to boss him around and get on his ass just because you had a college degree and he didn’t.

Realistically, nothing had really shifted too far from the norm in his day-to-day. You had always been just coworkers. Now you were just a coworker whom he had eaten out from the back one time.

Eren had been working at Pepper’s for a long time. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had fucked around with one of his coworkers - that was part of the inevitable circle of life in the restaurant service industry. Work a double shift? Check. Train a newbie? Check. Fuck that one coworker who laughs a little too hard at your jokes? Check.

But then he had practically corned you at Sasha’s ugly sweater party last year, and suddenly that reality had been forced to shift.

It was the worst at work. He would receive an order he found stupid - who the fuck puts ranch on their spaghetti? - and itch to somehow poke fun at you about it. Connie would introduce the dinner crew to new music when the restaurant was closed, Levi had retired into the office for the night, and Eren would catch himself considering which tracks you would find funny and which ones you’d probably look up and save for yourself.

Standing over the hot grill, his thoughts would drift, and Eren would imagine you marching through the swinging double doors into the kitchen, busybodied and frazzled as usual, sticking your neck out under the heat lamps like Erwin hasn't already admonished you for doing before, all so Eren can more clearly hear you chide him for half-assing an appetizer. It’s not hard to envision you - tense, jaw clenched, out of breath, flush, and slightly sweaty. Top buttons of your uniform’s polo are undone so he can glimpse the expanse of your collarbones and a bit of your chest when you lean over the counter to glare at him like you could kill him with your thoughts alone. Like you hadn’t ghosted him for months.

And then Connie would hip check him, wordlessly jarring Eren back into focus as another medium-well steak overcooked beneath his spatula.

Never in his right mind, no matter how often he replayed that fateful night with you in his head, no matter how frequently his thoughts drifted back to that cramped bathroom, the unrestrained feeling of your hands in his hair, the rough material of your knit sweater scrunched between his fingers as he fit himself between your thighs, the taste -

Never in his right mind would he have imagined you sitting in his car, smoothing your splayed hands over the expanse of his leather backseat, drenched to the bone yet offering him a small mirthful, inviting smile despite the chill still in the air as you lean back and make yourself comfortable enough to request, “Come make me feel good.”

Fortunately for Eren, when it came to you, his train of thought had been anything but sound of mind in recent weeks.

Now, his hands are full of you. Large palms slip and slide under your wet top as he explores your back, your waist, and your arms, crushing his mouth to yours.

His hand cups your cheek, a gentle guide in contrast to the hungry exploration of his mouth against yours. Urgent fingers slide into your hair as you rake back his own from his face, a strand getting caught in the corner of his lip when you kiss him once, twice. His slides across your lower lip invitingly, and you sigh into the kiss. Let him pry your mouth open with his own. He tastes like smoke and mints. The smell of deep fryer grease clings to his hair.

When Eren turns to pepper kisses down the soft skin of your neck and collarbones, he thinks he tastes salt. Time melts away, the only constant is the frantic rhythm of your breaths and the soft moans that escape your lips. You clutch the loose knot of his hair, guide him back towards you. Your foreheads rest against each other, chests heaving.

Eren’s gaze is low and warm as he takes in your bruised lips, and the ruddiness of your cheeks. HIs fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips. You shift in his lap under the intensity of his stare, causing you both to groan, quickly reminded of your position. Eren had stepped out into the rain only to shove his way into the backseat and situate you onto his lap. Despite your layers of damp denim and cotton, you can feel him growing warm and solid beneath you.

“Is that for me?” you grind down against his hips. Grinning, teasing. He stutters upwards, gripping your waist like a lifeline.

You think he looks so pretty like this, flustered, frowning, and breathless beneath you, like you’re moving quicker than he can catch up. He wraps one arm around your waist, using his free hand to wrench the collar of your polo aside and sink his teeth into the soft juncture of your neck in retaliation. You jolt and wriggle in his hold but Eren keeps you pressed against him, vengeful.

“So full of yourself,” he mutters, pressing a wet kiss where there is surely now a bruise. “Gotta get you full of me instead.”

You sputter and tell him to shut up, but let him take off your shirt anyway.

The thunderstorm that rolled through your small town this morning was relentless. Eren had figured the day would be wet and dreary when it began drizzling on his way to the restaurant, the headlights on his hooptie struggling to penetrate through the early morning fog. But throughout the morning, whenever Eren got a chance to glance out of the to-go order window, it was evident that it would only grow worse.

He had already been dreading this shift all month. He had been slotted to come in on a Sunday - the one day of the week Pepper’s was closed - to deep clean the kitchen and take inventory of the walk-in fridge. This particular shift was only scheduled once a month, always on a Sunday morning, and rotated between him and Connie. The whole ordeal was a long-winded chore but thanks to Levi, the staff hierarchy was a pretty balanced ecosystem. Typically, one other waitress or front-of-house staff would be assigned randomly to help them. That way, none of the kitchen staff could claim they carried the brunt of the work.

(Even if they did.)

However, this Sunday morning was different. As he peered through the to-go order window, the storm's persistence mirrored the internal tempest he felt. The reason? Your return to staff is scheduled for this very shift.

Eren’s heart nearly fell out of his ass upon first glance at the schedule. He asked Levi if it was a typo.

“It’s spring break,” his manager deadpanned, as though this weren’t the first time you were picking up a shift in the middle of the semester. The linecook could only nod, tight-lipped. Historically, you had only worked over the summers and winters, reserving the few days of spring break for actual vacation time. Eren had figured he would have at least another month or two before you would have to confront each other, once he concluded that you wouldn’t reach out on your own.

Deep cleaning duty was always a menial and tedious task, but Eren working in enjoyed the silence of the usually chaotic kitchen. Any other Sunday, he would tie back his hair, don his apron, and steal Connie’s Bluetooth speaker from above the dishwashing sink. He’d blast his music over the chunky gurgle of the draining deep fryers, over the spray of boiling sink water. Rock, maybe R&B - stuff that wasn’t typical “family-friendly dining hours” approved. Maybe smoke a little before he came in, if he had been smart enough to think to roll something the night before.

It was easy to lose himself in the busy work. Sometimes he would exchange pleasantries with accompanying wait staff if they actually decided not to call out at the last minute. Sasha, a night shift waitress and repeat offender, was never a morning person.

You were never much of a morning person either. It’s why he had been waiting all week for you to call out. He’d like to pretend like he wasn’t anticipating your return; like he hadn’t been taking extra time to pour over the schedule for weeks once winter turned to spring, noting where your name was absent among the list of people set to clock in after 4 pm. Like he hasn’t been bugging Sasha to share the barest hint about when you might be coming back. Or stalking your Twitter to see if you’ll post your graduation photos. But that wouldn’t be entirely true.

Still, the shock of seeing you scheduled so soon before he’s prepared had haunted Eren throughout the week.

He insisted to himself he wasn’t nervous…Maybe a little anxious. The last time he had seen you, he had you bent over the toilet seat and crying into your arms at Sasha’s Christmas party before escorting you out in his garish holiday sweater. Blessedly - or dreadfully - he hadn’t heard from you since.

When you had unloaded the sweater onto Sasha, she didn’t even bother to ask why you were in possession of it in the first place - practically the whole night crew played an incredulous audience to your walk of shame. Connie wouldn’t let him hear the end of it; Jean wouldn’t look him in the eyes at their last all-staff meeting.

Eren can’t shake the feeling of expectation as he moves mechanically through the deep cleaning tasks, hoping you won’t call out and that the morning wouldn't be tainted by awkwardness. Hoping that you will call out and the both of you could remain in this silent, anxious limbo. He had been scheduled to clock in an hour before you. It crept by agonizingly slow. The memory of the holiday party, the garish holiday sweater, and the abrupt departure echo in his mind as he scrubs down the skillet of a grill.

You like that Eren never lets you think for too long.

You’ll slow down when you kiss him, and he’ll stuff his fingers in your mouth instead. You’ll get too quiet for his liking, and he’ll seal his lips around your nipple. Suck bruises into the undersides of your breasts. Man handle you out of your uniform. Strip out of his own when you tug on his shirt.

You grind listlessly in his lap, trying to diminish as much space between you as possible, pressed up against his chest so that his arms are forced to wrap around you. Eren’s hands brace your newly bare legs instead, sliding up your limbs with eager fingers.

You bite his ear and his fingers flex over your ass, pressing just very nearly where you want him most. “What do you want? Hm?” He’s so high, he doesn’t care that he’s whining.

You suspect that he likes that you’re bossy if the glazed look in his eyes is anything to go by. He moves to kiss you and you duck with a grimace, jerking him back by the top knot of his hair.

Your mouth is starting to feel like chalk, cotton mouth having set in. You’re afraid that you’ll croak if you try to speak.

As the first hour drags by, Eren’s unease grows. He’s starting to get antsy. Hadn’t even sparked up before starting to take inventory. Yet, when you finally enter the restaurant - rain-soaked, windswept, marching towards the cash register to clock in with a miserable look - the relief he feels is immediate.

So you’re not avoiding him. At least, not completely. Not enough to turn down a paycheck.

You haven’t quite spotted him yet from outside the kitchen, where he’s braced over the grill, elbow-deep in grease and fry oil grime as he scrubs the insides with a sorry excuse for a sponge, but there’s no way you don’t hear his music. The sound of something like country rock leaks from behind the squeaky metal swinging doors that separate the kitchen - so lovingly tokened “the Heart of the House” - from the front. He feels rather than hears you tentatively push through those very same doors, following the source of the noise.

Looking up to greet you, Eren falters at first. His mouth dries at the sight of you, all damp and disgruntled, shifting uncomfortably at the way your uniform polo sticks to your skin. How you managed to look pretty even in the drab waitressing attire and tacky, pepper-printed apron was beyond him.

When your eyes finally do meet his, there’s an unbearable pause as you gape at one another, both seemingly grappling for the right words. Eren waits for you to speak first - it’s only fair, after months of radio silence, but he’s mostly just afraid of scaring you off.

You look as tense as he feels, shoulder locked up to your ears as you round the corner to face him. Your lips part and Eren prays the next words that pass through them will ease the confusing ache in his chest.

“Since when’re you a Luke Bryan fan?”

Oh. Okay.

The disbelief on his face must be more blatant than he thinks because you begin to chuckle behind pursed lips, the corners of your eyes crinkled with mirth and mild embarrassment.

Deflecting. Okay. He can play along.

“Whaddya mean?” He offers an easy grin, leaning back from where he was bent over the lip of the deconstructed grill. Mentally imploring that stupid part of his brain that gets gooey when you’re around to shut the hell up. “You’re telling me this doesn’t make you wanna shake it for me, country girl?”

“Whatever,” you dismiss him not unkindly, but excuse yourself from him, all the same, to slip past him into the kitchen, grumbling something about “accidentally” placing his phone in this dishwasher if he doesn’t change the music to something else soon.

The way his hands look stretching out the back of your panties as he wets his digits along your soaked slit to finger you drives Eren a little insane. From where he’s got his head perched over your shoulder as you tuck into his own to hide little, shuddering sobs, he’s entranced by the sight of the fabric straining to make room for his knuckles as he dips inside where you’re molten and wanting.

He wonders if you’ll let him keep this pair, if he asks. He’ll try not to think of it like a reward.

You sigh at the welcome intrusion, one arm slung around his neck, the other hand fisting the damp hemp of his jeans. Slowly, indulgently, he presses in. And out.

“Yeah? Like that?”

He asks like he genuinely wants to know, not like he’s being cocky about how easily you’re falling apart for him, and it makes you clench a little harder around his fingers. Cry into his shoulder a little louder. You couldn’t even answer if you wanted to.

Eren refuses to be rushed. Takes his time to learn what makes you twitch and moan like you’re not camped out in the middle of a very public parking lot. You’ll have to ask him about his exhibitionist tendencies later. He picks up the pace, cranes his neck to kiss you and you struggle to kiss him back. You’re sloppy, dragging your tongue across the edge of his chin. Spit bubbles at the corner of your lip, and he bites you there.

Distantly, you hear the rain pick up.

Despite your seemingly easygoing demeanor and non-confrontation, the weight of your last encounter and the unspoken acknowledgment of your absence is tangible for the entire shift.

It hovers between the two of you like a dark cloud as you dance around each other throughout the morning, never offering more than a few words between tasks and weak smiles.

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. It should be enough that you even bothered to show up today, despite everything.

But Eren hates how polite you’re being with him. You give a little, cracking a joke here, offering a laugh there. But there’s none of your usual bite. Something passive in your gaze. Distant in an unsettling way he can’t comprehend.

You ask him where the cleaning solution is and he directs you to a recently reorganized (courtesy of Levi) storage closet instead of asking why you’ve never texted him after all that transpired. You seek out his help breaking down empty bulk-order shipping boxes and he spends the better part of an hour snapping cardboard in half instead of interrogating you about Jean, if you told him about what happened as he suspects. If you regret it, like he’s assuming.

You don’t seem to not want to be around him. Rather the opposite - you don’t want to leave him alone for too long. Asking him for help with things he knows you know - you’ve worked here nearly as long as he has. Purposefully keeping him at arm's length, but orbiting him all the same. He waits patiently for you to take that jump you seem to be building up to.

The morning wears on, the two of you working in relative silence. You pay Eren little mind, dutifully going about your tasks yet always hovering within eyesight, occasionally disappearing into the bathroom. You didn’t even reprimand him for the volume of his music like you normally would, or hound him for eating on the job when he makes a sandwich mid-shift.

In his periphery, he watches as you fuss about the kitchen, flitting between tasks, and wonders if you were waiting for him to get angry with you first before broaching the subject.

Eren takes his smoke break standing at the back door. When you notice his absence, he waits for you to admonish him for letting the draft in. Instead, you merely glower in disdain at the rainwater splattered on the tile floor, never meeting his eyes, before turning the corner with a dismissive, “ ‘S’long as you know you’re cleaning that up.”

The storm rages outside. An uneasy feeling festers inside Eren. It eats at his stomach as the end of his shift creeps near. Grits his teeth when you both clock out with little more than a half-assed, “See you later.”

Eren’s ears ring as he hangs his apron and collects his things from the back office. A notable lack of an umbrella, he fits a worn Yankees cap over his hair and fits what he can of his bun through the back, like it’ll do anything against the downpour standing between him and his car.

Say something. He should say something.

He remembers how bold he was that fateful night; teasing you on the couch, ruining your sweater, and rushing to your aid in the bathroom.

“What the hell is with you?” You had muttered, and Eren had wanted to gather your face in his palms and press his forehead to yours hard like it would make you feel all of the years’ worth of want and frustration he couldn’t put into words.

He had pressed his mouth to yours instead, intent on devouring you at the first warm, breathless sound you made. He had always been better at communicating like this.

Say something.

Eren meanders back towards the front of the restaurant, ready to lock up. To his surprise, you haven’t rushed out to greet your ride. Your lack of car ownership had been an amazing feat to watch you work around in your early days of working at Pepper’s. You had long since established a carpooling repertoire with the other wait staff. He can’t remember who usually takes you home. It’s not a parent, that much is for sure. Sasha had totted you around this past winter break due to most of your shifts lining up. And before that - his mind fogs.

The line cook spots you leaning against the glass double doors at the front, tapping idly away at your phone, and sucks his teeth - Levi was definitely going to make him go back and wipe them down tomorrow.

“You’re getting prints on my glass.”

You glance at him pointedly before breathing on the glass and smudging a heart with your thumb where the foggy imprint begins to fade.

Eren wrinkles his nose. “Amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rain fills the silence as you take each other in. It's late afternoon, but from where Eren stands, the sunless weather casts the impression that it is well into the night. You look at him full-on for the first since the start of your shift, eyes unabashedly raking over his form. Save for the emergency lamps, all of the lights in the building have been shut off. The dim light casts shadows beneath your eyes - you look tired.

Eren twirls the keychain in his hands, quizzical. “You…got a ride home?”

He tries not to feel offended at the way your brows spike, unable to hide your surprise. Your reaction is quick, reflexive. Your answering “Yeah!” comes out wince-like and strangled. The forced pitch in your voice makes you both cringe. Clearing your throat to try again, softer this time. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Eren stares at you. The teeth of the key bite into the skin of his fingers in the tightness of his grip.

“Thank you for asking.” You add, a little more sincerely.

“Yeah.” He tugs the hat over his eyes. Tosses the key in your direction and tries not to take too much delight in watching you drop your cool composure to scramble and catch the metal piece. “Lock up when you’re out.”

You don’t know how many times you’ve come. Consciousness comes and goes in waves. Dozed off in his lap with your face tucked into his shoulder after your third orgasm to the thrum of rain and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Eren had fumbled for a condom out of his wallet and sunk into you at your first insistence. What started off as a frenzied, frustrated tangle of limbs somewhere along the way devolved into something much softer. Where you’re still rooted on his thick length becomes a slow, sloppy rut as you come down from your high.

Where you are sleepy, Eren is determined, dead set on accomplishing the task you set before him.

" Hm? Feel good?” He presses his lips to your forehead, presses his thumb to your clit in a slow grind. Grins when you twitch his hold. You gave up trying to maintain any semblance of control a long time ago, boneless and relenting when Eren strongarms you into his embrace.

“This what you wanted?” he pants, gruff and a little desperate, and you have enough energy left to nod, murmuring his name. He scoots down a little in his seat, bracing his legs in a wide stance before pistoning his hips into your warm, wet center. Any other time you would cringe at the way the skin of your bare thighs stick to the tops of his, Eren's work-issued black jeans shoved mid-way down his legs. All he can offer is a breathless moan in response when you wail and wriggle in his hold, hips reflexively jumping away.

“So hot like this,” he breathes into the space behind your ear. “So good, fuck.”

You reach one hand up to brace against the back windshield, palm slipping across the condensation. The playlist Eren put on loops again.

At the end of his Sunday shift, Eren finds himself sitting in his car in the back parking lot at Pepper’s, unearthing a joint from his dash drawer and digging around for his lighter, silently cursing himself.

Parked beneath the restaurant sign - Pepper’s in brilliant white script, a caricatured bell pepper hugging the ‘P’ - the neon red mascot hovers far above the hood of Eren’s hooptie. Seemingly glowering at him through his windshield with a knowing smile. He can spot the cartoonishly wide eyes from where he sits, even through the downpour of rain.

Of course, you found him fucking appalling. The last time he had seen you, he’d practically dropped to his knees at the chance to distract you from the guy you actually liked.

The ringing sound gets a little louder behind his ears. Can I really keep going like nothing happened?

From the start of your career at the restaurant Pepper’s - if you could call it that - you had made it very evident that you and Eren were of two separate worlds.

You were a college student. You had shiny friends and extravagant stories from a bigger city, a vastly different lifestyle than the quiet bubble and hum of suburbia you called home. Eren had seen the Instagram pictures. You had goals. You had ambition. Pepper’s was a pit stop for you. Although you never outright mocked him for it, he could see it in the sneer on your lip sometimes when you interrupted a smoke break or in the aggravated glint in your eye when you had to address him about a dish.

You considered him beneath you.

A gentle rap at his window pulls Eren from his thoughts, and he practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of you standing in the pouring rain, crouched over his window. Face pressed pleadingly into the cold glass. Eren freezes, and then jumps into action, fumbling his newly retrieved lighter and nearly dropping his joint in the process.

“Holy shit?”

He places his things in his pocket and rolls down the window just a crack, the wind already whipping water into the interior of his car. “You good?”

It’s a stupid question - one he expects you to reproach him for. Instead, a rare look crosses your face - you look meek, and nervous, in a way you haven’t since your first day on the job. Arms crossed, lips pursed. Like you’re about to do something you don’t normally do. The rain pelts your flimsy excuse for a rain jacket.

“Could I - Can I get a ride?” He can pick out your agitation even over the rumble of the thunderstorm. “I’ll give you gas money, I just-,”

“Money? What-,” He unlocks his car door, incredulous. “Can you just get in the fucking car please?”

You grimace at his tone when he rolls his window back up, but Eren watches you skirt around the front of his car nonetheless. You plop into the passenger seat, a puddle of rainwater. He can hear your socks squish in your shoes when you shift in your seat.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, looking at your hands. Your jeans feel ten pounds heavier, the denim soaked all the way through. “My ride didn’t-,”

You stop and then start again, and Eren moves to interrupt you. You speak over one another.

“- No, it’s no -,”

“-I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Eren steals a glance at you, seeing what he hopes is just the rain streaking down the sides of your face. He fiddles with his phone and puts on a random playlist to fill the silence.

He notices the tremble in your hands, the way your usually self-assured posture has shrunk into itself. You look small in his passenger seat. At once, all of his annoyance melts away, replaced by a surge of concern.

"Hey," he starts softly, "It’s whatever. Don’t sweat it, seriously." Eren notices you shiver and reaches over to blast the heat in his dinky sedan.

“Fuck, you’re freezing, hold on.”

You watch, pressed against the passenger door to make room as your coworker reaches behind his seat, long limbs momentarily invading your space as he dregs up a dark green hoodie from the depths of his car floor with a flourish. A bright red pepper patch the size of your hand is sewn across the chest. The cartoonish mascot of your place of work smiles mockingly back at you in the dim lighting of Eren’s car with wide, unseeing eyes.

It’s your turn to wrinkle your nose at him, skeptical. “It’s clean I swear, grabbed it on my way here this morning.”

Despite your skepticism, you take it from him anyway, between two pinched fingers for dramatic effect, moaning and groaning as you pull it over your head.

“We can’t let this be a regular thing.”

It’s said so casually, but the jolt of rage and disbelief Eren feels at your reference to last December is tremendous. He scoffs, avoiding your gaze as he reveals the joint and lighter from his pockets once more.

“Oh, so we can joke about it but not talk about it?” It comes out more scathing than he intends to be.

He registers your obvious shock beside him at his words but only pauses to balance the filter of his forgotten joint between his lips, already poised to burn the rolled end with a steady hand as he flicks the lighter on. “Do you mind?”

You shake your head, sinking into his hoodie and wordlessly watching as he inhales, deeply, then exhales, indulgent. A sweet, earthly smell fills the car. “Alright.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Eren studies you a little too hard, more clarity in his gaze than you would prefer. You don’t refuse when he passes you the roll, gently pinched between two fingers. He waits until you’ve inhaled to voice his suggestion, taking a little amusement in how you choke on the smoke. “We could talk about Jean. I think there’s definitely a lot to cover there.”

Eren waits for you to back down from the obvious challenge. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace at the sound of the dayshift manager’s name. “Is that what this is about? Is that who usually picks you up?”

“You never noticed?” You don’t sound mad, just surprised, so Eren figures it's okay to be honest.

“You…no.” He shakes his head and takes a hit. “I could give less of a fuck about what Jean gets up to in his free time, sorry.”

“Ah.”

You’re silent for a little bit after that. When he glances at you again, you’re already handing him the joint and turned to face the passenger window, gazing out at the rain. The size of Eren’s hoodie seems to swallow you.

He doesn’t press you to elaborate, but you do anyway, feeling guilty for your matter-of-fact attitude earlier, when he’s been nothing but accommodating for you so far. You decide to give a little. “We’ve been carpooling together every shift. Every year. He dropped me off today…”

“Said it would be the last time.” You peter off. "We had vacation plans together."

You had planned to go to the beach with mutual friends - Jean's parents owned a beach house on the coast. You were going to meet his parents. You can remember how light you had felt the day after the plans had been made, last summer, practically dancing into work the next shift, and then with a little more clarity, the awful pit that had formed in your stomach when he had broken the news to you on the drive to work this morning.

Eren shifts in his seat, and clears his throat, trying to quell the urge to punch Jean in his. He ashes into a little dish in his cupholder. “Figured somethin’ had happened. Been in such a shitty mood all day.”

“Me? Okay, Mr. I’m gonna mope in the kitchen until somebody notices and takes pity on me. Didn’t you ever go through a goth phase as a kid? I think know a couple of artists you could get into.”

“Tsk,” Eren brushes off your laughter with another hit of his joint, halfway smoldering between his fingertips. “You wouldn’t know a goth phase if it smacked you between the eyes.”

“Mm, no I figured you’d be an expert, with hair like that.”

“Like what?”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles behind your hand, high catching up to you, a balmy and pleasant buzz in your head. The image of Eren rocking an early 2010s-grunge fringe cut clear as day in your mind’s eye. You blame the weed for making you brave enough to lean over and reach across the console to brush the sable fringe that escapes from his bun and spills from under his baseball cap out over his eyes.

Until recently, your relationship had been largely surface-level. This prim and proper versus anything goes repertoire you had both built over the years, banter that exclusively involved work lingo and work references and work friends. You’d come back from college, and Eren was there. You’d leave for another semester, and Eren was still there.

As permanent as a fixture in your mind as the walk-in fridge or the soda dispenser. Always prepared to give you hell on a slow moving shift or crack jokes at your expense. Always there to keep your plates in order or set aside a pasta entree for you during a dinner rush despite his strict “customer-orders-before-employees” edict because he knows you won’t eat otherwise. Always there to cover for you when your bathroom breaks went a little too long.

He’ll tap dance on your last nerve all day, but you care for each other, through that vague sense of solidarity that coworkers share.

Eren blinks back at you, low and slow, eyes caught on your easy smile. The first genuine one you’ve given him all day. He’s entranced, savoring the feeling of your fingers drifting across his brow bone, tracing his jawline, and then sliding back along the nape of his neck to tuck under the strap of his hat.

For a moment, it’s all a little too much for Eren. The gentleness of your touch and tone, your full, undivided attention as you undo the strap. He quietly marvels at the ease with which you do it with one hand, slipping the knot of his hair free. The loose strands freefall over his eyes once more, but you’re quick to push them back. You shift forward further out of your seat to use both hands, and he lets you, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your finger raking gently across his scalp. Distantly, he admonishes himself for somehow ending up allowing you to let you pet him like a dog in his own car.

He’s supposed to be driving you home.

“Did you-,” Eren’s voice cracks, and you don’t bother hiding your laugh. “Would you feel better if you like, talked about it with someone?”

The joint is simmering down to it’s last dregs between Eren’s knuckles. He offers it to you, and you twist his wrist to direct the filter towards your mouth, inhaling with your lips pressed to his fingers.

Eren would blame the heat crawling up his chest on the AC, but it’s at that moment he notices the heater never kicked in. He frowns, turning away from you to restart the car, stomping on the break.

The vehicle lurches and makes an odd shuddering sound before hot, stale air blasts through the vents. You lean away from the one closest to you, fumbling the shutter closed. “The fuck is with your car?”

“‘S old as shit. Whole thing is on its last leg.” Eren gripes, waving off a cloud of dust that seemed to halo around his head. He tries to roll his eyes when he clocks your “no, duh” expression, but the motion feels slow and clunky behind his eyelids. “Doesn’t matter. Fixing up a new one anyway.”

It only stings a little when your brows nearly shoot up to your hairline in surprise, inhibitions lowered, no longer able to hide your indifference to him as well as usual.

“You build cars?” Your lips feel like rubber under the haze of marijuana. The words feel stupid the moment you utter them, but Eren catches what he dares to believe is a hint of awe in your tone. He ribs you for it, preening a little under your attention.

“Yeah, me build cars,” the line cook laughs and mocks you, caveman-like. “Car go fast.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You pout, ignoring his raspy, rumbling laughter and the warm feeling blossoming in your chest. The memory of him smiling up at you, all teeth and impish in Sasha’s bathroom winks across your mind’s eye. Arms crossed, you whip around to face the window again, withdrawing before he can catch the deep color crawling across your cheeks. In all your years of working together, you’d never really considered what Eren did outside of work and hanging out with your circle of colleagues. You feel like you’ve unveiled something vast and unknown.

“That’s cool.” You offer in a whisper, awe poorly hidden in your voice, and it’s Eren’s turn to hide his face.

“Didn’t know you had a hobby.”

“Yeah, well, I do exist outside of all this, y’know,” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the restaurant and you hum, nodding. Feeling silly that this is a realization you’re only just now coming to.

A strange new calm had settled between you. The rain outside continues its relentless assault, but within the car, you feel a fragile connection form. You peek at Eren from the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable in the dim light, yet somehow comforting. Equally lax and low-lidded. He reaches for his glove box to reveal a second preroll and gets to work lighting it as you observe his side profile in silence.

You’re not too prideful to admit he looks handsome like this, hair undone and falling over his shoulders, work polo unbuttoned at the top, features lit up by the dim glow of the lighter in his fist against the overcast gloom of the afternoon.

Then he squints, face twisted like something has been bothering him. “I thought you didn’t smoke.” Or at least, he had assumed so, by how often you got on his ass about lighting up while on the clock.

“At work, dumbass.” Eren exhales, and the car gets hazy again, even with air running through the vents. He sees you twist your fingers into the hem of his hoodie and wishes they were in his hair again. “I am a college student.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

You reluctantly turn to face him again, if only to implore him to continue. “You can be so…I dunno.” He scrambles for the right words through the drug-induced fog in his brain, faltering a little under your scrutiny. “Uptight? Straight-edged? Can’t imagine you reaching for a blunt to wind down.”

“It’s not my first choice of coping mechanism,” you joke, plucking the newly lit roll from his grasp between careful fingers, laughing through your nose when you miss on the first try. You take the opportunity to throw his words back at him, childishly. “I do have a life outside of here, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence descends again, still comfortable in the haze of the car. It’s getting a little harder to breathe. You steal another glance at your colleague, noticing the way his gaze tracks the motion of the joint being brought to your lips, strands of his dark hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. That unexpected warmth grows in your chest, a feeling you can’t bring yourself to name. Not after this morning.

Eren leans closer, over the console that separates you with lidded eyes that flicker between your gaze and your mouth as you slowly expel the smoke from between your lips. Eyes set on you with an unfamiliar softness that makes your heart ache. The distance between your faces shrinks agonizingly slowly. He whispers your name, and suddenly you’re lurching backward, struggling up out of your seat to slip into the crevice that separates the front of the car from the backseat. The moment is broken.

Eren yelps, ducking in time to just nearly miss being clipped by your sneakers as you shimmy into the back seat. You peel his hoodie over your head with exasperated finality.

He twists in his seat to face you, bewildered, but you’re already settling into his back seat with a smile, still trying to keep two steps ahead of him even when you’re stoned.

Eren’s not really sure what he’s trying to prove to himself - prove to you. But that little ache in his chest gets a little gentler when you look at him like that, the confusion about whateverthisis becomes a little less profound, a little quieter.

“Come make me feel good.”

He recognizes the undertone in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice. The young man moves on autopilot, stepping out of the driver’s seat to slide into the backseat beside you, ignoring your indignant shriek with a grin when the rain lashes the car’s interior. Eren is dripping wet when he reaches for you, lips slips slotting against yours with an eager certainty that makes you moan.

He wouldn’t call it a crush, but if anyone could have heard the way his heart kicked up when you beckoned him into his own backseat - they might argue otherwise.

Once again, Eren is dropping you off while you wear something of his. He watches you fiddle with the hem of the Pepper’s hoodie as he pulls into your parents’ driveway, behind one of their cars.

The line cook thinks back to what you revealed to him earlier, how Jean had been your usual carpool to work, and gets angry all over again. “You thinking of getting one of your own?”

He means a car, but you’re too busy avoiding his eyes again, studying his hoodie a little too closely. “Yeah, do you think Erwin has any more? I think this merch is from before even I started, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the pepper drawn like this.”

You pick at the outdated mascot embroidered across the chest of the piece, the cartoon eyes glaring back at him unblinkingly, as if daring him to correct you.

The rain had subsided on the drive to your neighborhood. You look less gaunt in the sunlight. Eren remembers how you let him hold you after your spontaneous round of marathon sex. Sticky and sweaty and damp for a whole new reason. Remembers how you pressed a kiss to his forehead after the fact, how it made him feel warm with a different kind of buzz entirely independent of the bud you had smoked.

He stops you when you move to take off the hoodie again and give it back to him, halfway out of the car.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a lopsided smile. “You can keep this one.”

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