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paperultra · 8 months

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back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

#opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #this one's for the girlies who burn water #look i came into opla thinking i'd be a 100% zoro stan but something abt opla sanji got me all <3 #like bro. who gave u the right to smile like that ;(#so i made a reader who adores him just as much as he adores them :)

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softlyspector · 1 year

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Offer

Summary: Din is absolutely sure that you know that he’s courting you. He wants to makes the offer formally anyways.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, Din thinking he's being so obvious while not showing a single emotion, self doubt and insecurity (Din), lil angst, probably incorrect lore, fluff, Mando'a (translations at the end)

A/N: This is the prequel to Significant! It's not necessary to read Significant first, though I do, of course, recommend it. You can read them in either order, or one and not the other. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Din examines the blade closely, shifting it one way and then another.

The gleaming metal catches the light of the sun, reflecting back into the visor. He waits for a moment, until the clouds drifting through the sky obscure the rays again and he can more easily see the symbols engraved along the edge of it.

“So?” The man across from him asks. “Obviously it’s no beskar,” he says, eyeing Din when he glances up. “But good enough, I hope?”

“Beskar is not used for weapons,” he says. “Only for protection.” When the man bows his head in acknowledgement, Din slides the necessary credits across the table. “And the sheath?”

The credits are collected in gnarled hands before the smith slides the leather sheath across the table. It’s soft and well oiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mando,” he says, sitting back in his chair as Din stands. “I hope your, ah, partner, enjoys it.”

Din glances down at the blade and then back at the man. “It will be sufficient.”

He hopes so, at least.

The man is correct that it isn’t beskar, and so not as good of a gift as he could have hoped. But you are precariously and curiously weapon deficient for a person who’d spent years traveling the galaxy alone before joining him on the Crest.

Probably because you’re disarmingly charming. You can talk your way out of practically anything.

Din sticks the blade into its holster and then tucks it against his back, the cloak falling forward to conceal it. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” his contact says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands against his stomach.

The sun emerges from behind the clouds again as he searches the market for you and the child. It’s not a particularly dangerous planet, but you have a knack for trouble, not that you don’t also have a particular way of wriggling out of it.

He sighs when he rounds a corner and finds you chatting with two people at a stall selling food. You’re focused on the woman in front of you, actively listening even as your hand sneaks food to the little green hand that pops out of the woven bag at your hip every few seconds.

Din approaches and stops a few paces away, leaning against the corner of a wall and folding his hands in front of him to wait until you’re done.

He’s content enough to indulge you in this, to wait until you’re done chatting. Though, as he’s come to realize recently, he’s content to indulge you in most things. He sometimes feels guilty that you’re often trapped with only him and the child in the Crest for days on end when you so clearly enjoy talking with people. You’re outgoing and talkative to his stoic and reserved.

Your eyes flick to him, the grin on your face tugging a bit wider before you glance back to the people next to you. Though he would have waited there for you all day if that was what you required, he’ll be glad to have you back by his side.

As Din watches you say your goodbyes to your temporary friends, that word flits through his mind again.

Riduur.

Dangerous, hope laden.

He tramps the thought down as he always does, buries the possessive twinge that the word works through his heart.

You wave and turn away to approach him, your hand pushing back the blanket you’d layered over the top of the bag on your hip. To keep the sun off the baby, and keep prying eyes away from him.

Long green ears poke up above the rim of the bag, suspicious chewing sounds echoing from within.

“Find what you need?” You ask as Grogu finally pokes his head out, cooing up at him. Din settles a hand on the kid’s head for a moment before nodding at you.

You tip your head to the side. “Well, I think we’re all done. The baby might be hungry-,”

Grogu burps then, before he makes a sound that Din supposes must be a giggle. “I saw you feeding him,” he shares.

You huff, “Well, he’s always hungry. Besides, that was just a snack.”

Din doesn’t respond. A smile tugs at his mouth as you pass another neon blue cracker down to the little waiting hand from the sleeve of them inside the shopping bag on your shoulder. He waits until the cracker has been taken from your fingers before subtly offering his arm to you as you begin your trek back to the ship.

As always, a peel of anxiety settles in the pit of his gut as he waits for you to take it. And, as always, you take it without hesitation.

Your hand settles firm and warm in the crook of his elbow. You tighten your grip and lean into him and he’s left to wonder if it's conscious on your part, if you might be as drawn to him as he is to you.

Either way, your weight is comfortable against him, your hand warm. The scent of you drifts up to him, your soap mixed with market scents, ash from cookfires, sun warmed leather, the breath of this humid world’s sweet air.

There’s a curious hope that’s beginning to take shape in his chest. One that feels wrong almost, in its intensity.

This is not something he could have ever hoped for, should have ever hoped for.

And yet -

First, the kid.

Then you, tempering his initial meeting with Peli on Tatooine, protecting the child in his stead. He remembers Peli’s assurance when you accepted his offer to travel with him, of your penchant for job hopping. Never stays anywhere more than a couple months, had been her exact words, only been here a couple weeks. He had been assured that you’d be off on another adventure, with another person, on another world, within weeks.

And, at the time, he hadn’t needed anything more than that. Temporary help.

But years have passed, and you’re still by his side.

Or, rather, he’s still by your side. If you decided to suddenly remove yourself from the Crest, he’s not sure what he’d do. He’s not sure how they’d fill the hole you would leave behind.

You wouldn’t though. You are a part of the tiny clan he calls home.

It’s unthinkable, the prospect, the notion, of you leaving him, them.

What he intends to do next, then, is harder.

Offering you the blade is only the first step of many. It’s an overdue one. He should have presented you with a weapon of your own long ago. He should have given you a courting gift long ago. Before he kissed you, shared a bed with you, let your fingers trace over the planes of his face, even if your eyes remained firmly shut.

“So what did you need so urgently to pick up?” You ask as you emerge from the market and take a turn out of the center of the small town, still feeding pieces of the crackers to the child with your free hand.

The world is a lush one, verdant with green undergrowth and prone to bouts of driving rain and humidity. The sun is still working its way through the sky as you cross out of the village and into the surrounding forest.

“I never said it was urgent,” Din replies dryly, steadying you when you nearly trip over an exposed root.

You smile and squeeze his elbow in thanks. “And that did not answer my question.”

Din doesn’t answer immediately, instead watching the curve of your cheek, the way the sunlight catches in the feathering of your lashes.

Din is always glad of the helmet. It provides safety. It lets him uphold his creed. But he’s none more grateful for it than recently. It allows him to watch you without fear of being caught, with the knowledge that you can’t see the way you make him blush and smile.

“No,” he agrees.

You roll your eyes at him, nudging your shoulder into his. “Cryptic,” you hum, your voice amused.

When the ship comes into view, you release his arm and pull ahead of him. He automatically lowers the ship's ramp with the vambrace. You disappear inside the ship where he can hear you cooing to the child, banging around the hull as you settle in again and sort out whatever purchases you had made.

It’s an oddly domestic moment, considering everything about your circumstances together. He has no doubt you’re indulging Grogu in something else.

The dagger he means to give you weighs heavily against his spine, along with the pressure of the task he needs to complete, the offer he needs to make to you, officially.

His relationship with you is a strange one. It’s one that seems to have started at the end and gone backwards, one that circles itself and eats its own tail.

There are times he can’t imagine you not knowing that he intends you as his, and that he hopes that you feel the same. Like when he lies with you in the dark, helmet discarded somewhere near his feet, your careful hands tracing features you’ve never once asked to see.

Seeing your face with his naked eyes for the first time, your features for the first time not distorted by the visor, had nearly upended everything inside him. How trustingly you’d tipped your head into his hands, waiting patiently for him to tell you what to do, or make a move.

He could tell you felt no urge to open your eyes, no urge to take something from him he could never give you, not without making serious and lasting vows.

Riduurok. Marriage. More literally: a love bond.

Din longs to tell you to open your eyes in those moments, to let you see him as clearly as he sees you. Without any barriers.

He shouldn’t have been able to see you like that, shouldn’t have been able to kiss you, shouldn’t have been able to touch you, sleep with you in his arms.

He’s been lax, bending rules to the point of near breaking.

Which is both dishonorable and unfair to you. You’re worth more than broken rules and fumblings in the dark.

Still, he has to do something properly. And this is the thing he will do correctly, as is your right. As is his duty to you.

It’s what you deserve. A proper offer, proper courting. Not whatever he’s been playing at so far.

You are not Mandalorian, and you should also be afforded the chance to learn of his culture. To make a complete decision about him. Though he’s been teaching you some Mando’a phrases, you should see it all. Traditions and language and myths. To understand what you would be a part of.

You and Grogu both, if he’s honest with himself.

All he can do is lie everything at your feet and hope that he’s not found wanting.

Something seizes in his heart, because you could reject it. You could easily reject the formality of it, tell him it had never been that serious to begin with.

Din follows you into the Crest to find you patiently listening to the unintelligible chatter of the child. Wide brown eyes shift from you to him, tiny arms lifting. You smile and laugh, fidgeting with Grogu’s collar as Din shifts to lift him into his arms.

He should give you the blade now, make promises to prove himself to you as an ally and partner, as worthy of you, capable of protecting you and the clan. But you’re already turning away, chattering about a bolt of cloth you’d seen in the market that you want to go back for before you have to leave the planet.

“You should eat,” you remind him lightly, like he would forget if you didn’t tell him. Which, he supposes, is sometimes true. He forgets there’s more than ration packs to eat. “I’m going to shower.” You point to your bag, “Food for you.”

“Yes,” he agrees. Then hastily says, “Wait.” He steps forward and snags your wrist in his hand before you can go any further.

He shifts Grogu to the cradle of his other arm, nerves running up the inside of his skin. Cold sweat prickles at the back of his neck.

You turn and lift a questioning brow. Whatever he meant to say sticks in his throat and he can’t find the words to say what he needs to.

A smile plays around your lips. “You okay?”

His hand is still on your wrist and he hastily releases you. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you laugh. “So, what is it?”

Din swallows, unsure if he’s going about this the right way. He knows what he should do, but he’d never seen it done before. There were few couples among the covert, and there had been periods without any couples at all.

He’s never had to do it before, never had to declare himself quite like this. “Nothing, cyare. It can wait.”

You tilt your head. He can tell you’re amused.

Instead of teasing him, you lean forward and tug at the lip of his helm. “Cyare,” you coo back at him before releasing him and turning into the fresher.

There’s heat in his cheeks when the door slides closed.

“Mesh’la,” he hears you sing to yourself from within.

“It’s not really the same, is it?”

Din is only pretending to look at the stars that are scattered in the darkened sky above the Razor Crest. The faintest rays of sunlight can still be seen on the horizon. The sun never quite sets on this world, perpetually lit with just the barest brushes of light. Purple spills into midnight blue, the sun a smear of tangerine and honey.

He’s watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re lounging in the co-pilot’s chair, one hand braced on Grogu’s floating pod.

“You can’t see the stars properly with that light,” you grouse. “I always miss sleeping in hyperspace anyway.”

Din still doesn’t answer, watching the line of your throat, the shape of your curled legs, the shine of your eyes in the relative darkness. It's an imitation of the routine you have in hyperspace, watching the stars until you fall asleep, or until you’re ready to go to bed.

Your gaze shifts from the sky to him, your eyes abruptly meeting his. “Are you alright?” When he just tilts his head at you, you roll your eyes. “You’re quieter than usual. Which means you’ve been very, very silent all day. Since we got back from the market.”

“I enjoy listening to you,” he hedges.

“Is that so? What was I just talking about?”

“The stars,” he answers easily, not really entirely sure that’s true.

Your gaze narrows. “An easy guess.”

He chuckles lowly. “Then you should have picked a more difficult question, cyare.”

Your mouth pulls up into a smile. “So, what’s wrong?”

The worry that’s been gnawing a slow hole through his stomach all day beats back to life. It clenches his lungs in a tight fist that doesn’t compute.

Of all the things to give him pause. Of all the things to frighten him.

It had to be this.

This thing he has no experience of, no knowledge of, no one that he could have watched when he was younger to at least imitate.

His mind slides past the covert, all the way back to his mother and father. He remembers the gentle moments between them, the easy love, even in hard times, that should have lasted for decades.

That's how he feels with you. Like everything is easy.

Din swallows the image down, courage returning to him.

“Cyar’ika,” he answers, turning to face you directly. “I have something I’d like to give you.”

You perk up at that, straightening in your seat. “Oh? Is that what you were being mysterious about earlier?”

You’re smiling, the words a joke.

Din just nods, too nervous to attempt teasing you back, though it doesn’t show. He’s as still and silent as he always is. Instead he holds out a hand.

You readily stand, placing yourself between his legs, your fingers still on his.

He stares up at you, admiring the way those last dregs of light you complained of wash your skin in a low orange and pink haze. He must look at you for too long, because you suddenly jut out an impatient hip and fist your free hand on your waist, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Despite himself, he huffs out a laugh.

Din takes a steadying breath and reaches behind himself for the sheathed weapon at his back from beneath his cloak.

When he presents it to you, there isn’t a single word he can think to say. All those crashing thoughts of proving himself, of making vows to you someday and everyday in between, falls away, and he’s left adrift with nothing but the blade in his gloved hand.

He really isn’t even sure if he should say something. He’s not sure if it's normally done.

He looks from your face, down to the knife and back again.

A small frown has embedded itself on your face. You release his hand and reach out for it with both. Din hands it over carefully, watching you closely.

You pull the blade from the sheath slowly, eyes roving over the dark metal, the polished handle. You align your fingers over the grip before your lips part softly, brow scrunching. Din opens his mouth, but you shake your head, peering at the lettering along the side of the blade.

The language and script is foreign to you, he knows, etched in Mando’a.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this.” His heart plummets, the air around him seeming thicker than before, hard to breathe. It all seems like a terrible miscalculation all of a sudden. His fear had been that you might reject it, but a much worse worry swims to the front of his mind.

You could leave. If it offends you.

“Din, this must have cost so much - you have so many weapons I can borrow. I’m not a fighter. I don’t even carry-,” you break off and shake your head again. “It’s too much.”

Some of the tension in his chest releases.

Din covers your hand, stopping the motion of you sliding the dagger back into the leather. His shoulders loosen by a fraction more, his heart not galloping quite so hard. “Please accept this.” A note of desperation slips into his voice, which he makes no effort to clear away.

“I’m not a fighter, Din,” you repeat as your mouth pulls into a small smile. “It’s too much. It’s better with you, really.”

He frowns at you, tilting his head. “That is not the point, cyare.” Din cups his hand around yours and guides it to the grip of the knife. “The point is that it’s yours. That I am offering it to you.”

There are other things he should say to you, other promises he should make, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to speak them. “It is yours,” he repeats. “As you are owed”

You tilt your head and consider the blade again, pulling it slowly from the holster. “Owed,” you echo, a thread of confusion still laced in your voice, a question mark perched on the tip of your tongue. “But it is beautiful,” you say again, more confidently this time, turning it in your grip.

He relaxes a little more when you seem to understand its meaning.

“But the cost-,”

He almost scoffs. He’s offering you his heart and you are worried about the cost.

“It’s nothing. The smith owed me a favor,” Din says, watching as the smile on your face grows into something genuine.

Unlike yourself, almost shyly, you ask, “It’s really mine?”

He gives a simple nod of his head. “You’re proficient with knives,” he attempts to explain his choice. In a perfect world, he would have gifted you something cast from beskar. A piece of armor. But, the world wouldn’t be perfect then, you would be a very different person if you were one to wear armor as he does.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease. “Thank you. You…didn’t have to go through all this though.” You peer at him from beneath your lashes.

Din doesn’t answer, a smile easing onto his own face. He feels lighter, now. “What is this?” You point to the letters engraved on the blade. “I’ve never seen this script before.”

“Take a guess, cyare.”

You blink at him. “It’s not Mando’a is it?” You ask excitedly.

“It is.”

“Well,” you say impatiently, lifting the metal closer to your face. “What does it say?”

He huffs a small laugh at your demanding tone.

“Kar'taylir darasuum,” he says, taking your hand to lower the blade a fraction, pointing to each word as he speaks it. “To hold in the heart.”

To hold in the heart forever, he should say. He should tell you that its literal equivalent in Basic is essentially to love.

He doesn’t, his coward’s heart in this thing alone rising up again.

You blink at him, a strange expression pulling over your features before you seem to shake the thought away.

“Say it again,” you request.

He repeats the words slowly, and you sound them out after him. You smile widely when he says, “Your accent is good.”

“Thank you, Din,” you say, finally sliding the blade back into its sheath. His eyes flash up to yours when you press your free hand to the slide of his helmet. He doesn't blink, can't even draw a breath as you tilt his head up and bring your forehead to his in a gentle tap.

You rest like that for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, before you abruptly pull away.

He's done so much with you, seen more of you than he should have, but nothing rivals that moment, the kiss of your forehead to his.

“We should probably take the little one to bed, don’t you think?” You straighten and drop your hand. “I won’t sleep up here tonight,” you point to the sun.

Din stands, presses a hand to your back. He’s more than happy to follow you down into the dark hull. Once the baby is settled and you’re pressed together, he removes his helmet and kisses you, first your closed eyelids, a thank you for something he isn’t sure he deserves.

He wonders for just a moment, when you grin against his mouth, if you understand what just happened.

But he pushes the thought away.

There’s no way such a gift could be interpreted any other way.

This is the beginning of him doing something right. He’ll teach you more Mando’a, he’ll share the myths held sacred by his people, he’ll remove his armor before you.

He would lie all at your feet and hope that it might be enough.

One day, he might actually be able to call you what he has trouble reminding himself you aren’t already.

Riduur.

You’re molded to him in the dark, and the promise is more than enough for now.

There's no way you don't know what it all means.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #significant verse

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elllisaaa · 6 months

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no nut november - lee felix (3rd to lose)

-> pairing : felix x fem!reader

-> words count : 2,9k

-> genre : smut, etablished relation

-> warnings : you're both whipped for each other, felix being sweet, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, marking, riding + the way i'm depicting felix does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

Felix told you immediately about the bet. He wasn’t particularly competitive, but it was mostly to prove to himself that he could do it. And being the sweet girlfriend you were, you agreed to participate with him. You continued to make him lunch, to sleep while cuddling with him, to take your shower together when you could, and so far so good.

Hyunjin lost first, and then Changbin announced that he was out too, making Felix very confident in his chances to win. The second week of November was almost over, and he was more than ready to go through the third one. But at the same time, it was getting harder to keep the same routine with you when he wanted you so bad.

At first, it was easy. You had been together for two years now, and you were used to him being away for a long time and thus not getting to touch the other. But it was absolutely not the same. When he was alone in his hotel room, you weren’t there, grazing your nails against his scalp, running your fingers through his hair, all snuggled up to him and your breath tickling his neck. No, you weren’t there, and it might make him lose - both the bet and his mind.

He could just have told you to get off of him, but he felt guilty : he couldn’t even take care of you, and he didn’t want to keep that away from you too - but also because feeling so close to you was one of his favourite things ever.. You always did that when you two watched a movie, and usually, he appreciated it and it relaxed him. But today, it was just enough to get him turned on.

“- You okay Lixie ?”

Your sweet voice interrupted the dirty thoughts of your boyfriend. You certainly had noticed that he was tense and that he was staring blankly at the screen of the TV, not understanding a word of the movie you put on earlier.

“- Yeah, don’t worry love, everything’s alright.”

He smiled at you, but he saw that you weren’t convinced. Still, you didn’t push him further and came back to your previous activity, assuming that it wasn’t that important, or that if he needed to, he’ll talk to you when he’ll be ready. Felix knew it, and that made him feel even more guilty. You were nowhere near from thinking about what he was thinking right now, you were just worried he was upset by something. But the only thing that was upsetting him at the moment was his desire for you.

Don’t get him wrong, he was head over heels for you and he knew he was going to marry you one day. You were his soulmate and he loved you more than anything, but, right now, he was thinking about your body and nothing else, in a way that was all but respectful. You did nothing to try to seduce him, really, but it was already too late and his mind was filled with all the memories of you crying his name in pleasure.

Even if he couldn’t touch you like he wanted to, Felix thought that kissing you couldn’t be that bad. He would be able to kiss you without going further, he was sure. You were doing it all the time, no reasons to lose control right ?

Right ?

Kissing you was the worst idea he ever had. It all started innocently, just little pecks on each other's lips. But Felix needed more, just a little more. So he started to deepen the kisses, his hands slipping from your cheeks to the back of your head. And finally, he guided his tongue in your mouth. And then, he felt like he could never stop. He wanted to stay there forever, with you on his lap, your fingers gripping his hair and whining into his mouth.

Though, you seemed to have more consciousness left than him because you pulled back, breathing as heavily as him and lust filling your eyes. But you didn’t seem eager to act on it.

“- Lixie… We should stop…

- Yeah, maybe.”

Did he follow his own advice ? Not at all. He just grabbed your waist to pull you in closer to him and kissed you hungrily, like he had never tasted you before and that he would never get tired of it - which was not so far from reality. And as much as you wanted to melt in your boyfriend’s touch, let him do all the things he wanted to you, you had to keep the bet in mind when he couldn’t. You pushed him away just a little, trying not to stare too long into his pleading eyes. He was almost begging you to do something with his gaze.

“- I’m serious baby… We have to win this bet, remember ?”

You smiled at his pouty face, knowing it was just fooling around. He would thank you later, when he had cooled down. But for now, you just had to get off of his lap, in order not to feel his half-hard cock pressing against your throbbing pussy. You weren’t directly participating in the bet, you could have touched yourself, but it wasn’t nearly close to what Felix could have done to you. And if he kept being so close to you, you were sure to lose your mind too, and then, no one could prevent both of you from doing something stupid.

So you started to move, wanting to go back to your previous spot on the couch. But Felix’s hands were gripping too tight on your waist, making it impossible for you to move - well, you could have set you free if you were being honest, just loved it when he was showing you his strength. You laughed and hitted his chest playfully, even if your boyfriend seemed to be really serious about the whole thing.

“- Let go of me Lixie, you know we can’t do that.

- And how about me taking care of you ?”

You bit your lips, tempted by the offer. Well, he was allowed to do that, but if he was able to contain himself or not was a whole different question. And Felix knew it very well, but that was the least he could do for you - and for him, by the same occasion. Yes, he couldn’t please you with his cock without coming, but he could do it with his fingers.

“- You know I want you Lixie but…

- But I can control myself. Please love, I just want to make you feel good. I promise it won’t go further.”

His puppy eyes and words were begging for you to agree, and you were far too aroused to say no. Of course you wanted him to touch you, to lick you, and do all the things he usually did. But you knew the bet was important for him, and you didn’t want to be the reason for his loss. However, you decided to trust him. After all, it wasn’t like it would be his first time fingering you.

“- Go on.”

Your voice was only a whisper, but Felix heard it very well and he didn’t lose any more time, sliding down your thighs the shorts you were wearing when you wanted to be comfy as well as your panties. He was happy to find you already wet, and he almost groaned at seeing you this wet just from kissing. You must’ve been craving his touch, just like he was craving yours. But this was all about you, about making you cum around his fingers.

“- You’re so wet love…

- Yeah, it’s not the same with my fingers, I prefer yours.”

Felix chuckled and let one of his said fingers slide inside of you easily with who excited you were, not feeling any pain, only pleasure. You moaned at the feeling of him finally touching you. And your boyfriend couldn’t help but be filled with pride, knowing only him could make you feel that way. He wasn’t possessive at all, nor jealous. However, feeling you clench so hard around his now two fingers turned him on even more.

“- Everything’s alright ?”

You were only capable of nobbing at this point. You couldn’t think straight anymore, not when he was rubbing his digits against that particular spot that had you moaning his name, not when his thumb was circling your clit and making you dizzy, not when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you out for hours - and if you’d ask him, he would have done it without any hesitation.

Felix knew you were already close to coming, he could feel you getting tighter with each move he made, your moans increasing in volume. When his other hand slipped from your hip to your ass, squeezing it firmly, you finally opened your eyes that were shut since he started touching you. His gaze met yours instantly, and Felix knew he was screwed. You looked fucked out already, gripping on his shoulders so hard your nails were digging into the material of his shirt, and you never looked so hot.

“- L-Lix… Please-

- What do you want love ? Tell me, and I’ll do it.

- Please- Kiss me…”

And how could he not do it ? Impossible. So he moved the hand that wasn’t busy to the back of your neck, pushing on it until your lips met and your moans were muffled by his tongue playing with yours. And that did it for you. You started to move your hips, smacking them into his hand and making yourself cum hard. You took your time to come down from your high, your forehead pressed against your boyfriend's. Both of you were breathless, couldn’t put your shit together because you missed this too much.

“- Almost forgot what you look like when you come…”

Felix was staring at you in awe, like it was the first time he was seeing you like this and it really wasn’t, considering the fact that his sex drive was high, and yours even more. And it wasn’t at all, considering the fact that his sex drive was high, and yours even more.

“- But you love seeing me like that, don’t you ?”

Your boyfriend eagerly nobbed, making you chuckle. He could act like such a child sometimes, but it was something you liked, his innocence - well, not really when he just removed his fingers from your cunt and that he was currently burying his face in your chest only covered by a thin top. You put your arms around him, sighing when you thought about the fact that you’ll have to stay away from his cock and touch for two more weeks. It was torture.

“- I want to fuck you so bad.”

He whispered against the skin of your cleavage, but you heard him very well since the only other sound in the room was the film still playing in the background. You smiled, and ran your finger gently through Felix’s hair. You wanted him so bad too, wanted him to fill you with his cock and cum.

“- Me too baby, but we can’t and you know it.”

Felix didn’t answer, letting his lips trace your collarbone instead, leaving hickey and light bites in his way to your neck. You whined quietly, closing your eyes again and tilting your head to the side to grant him more access. He knew very well that your neck was your weak spot, and he didn’t let the information go to waste, literally devouring the sensitive skin while groping every part of your body he could reach. Your whimpers quickly became moans as you could feel his hard cock pressing against your crotch.

“- Felix…

- What’s up baby ?”

His deep voice against the skin of your neck made you shiver, and you knew he did it on purpose, aware of how much you liked hearing his low tone. You could feel him smirk as he resumed his previous activity - aka licking, kissing, sucking and biting your skin endlessly.

“- You have to stop now…

- Don’t do this to me love, not when you know how bad I want you.”

You stayed silent, thinking about it. Should you risk the bet even though you were really well placed to win it ? But Felix took your quietness as a sign of you being uncomfortable, so he immediately pulled out, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his hand resting gently on your waist.

“- Well, I mean only if you want it too. Or we can stop and put on another film, it’s up to you.”

His little smile made your heart flutter, and when he put back a strand of your hair behind your ear with the softest touch you’ve ever felt, you melted. What did you do to deserve an angel like him ? You slid your hands on his cheeks, bringing your faces only inches away and smiled at his big doe eyes waiting for your answer.

“- It’s not that I don’t want it Lixie, you can’t imagine how excited I am right now. But… Aren't you going to regret losing ?”

This time, it was Felix who felt his heart melt at the tenderness he catched in your gaze. And also the fact that you were worried for him ? You didn’t care about your own pleasure once, always putting him first, and that was probably the thing about you that he loved the most.

“- I’m one hundred percent sure love. Let the others fight over this stupid bet, and let’s enjoy ourselves for the rest of the month. How does that sound ?

- Perfect. You’re perfect.”

Felix’s chuckles quickly died when you kissed him again, this time hungrily, each one of them filled with the neediness you didn’t have the strength to hold back anymore. He sometimes wondered how he got so lucky to get the girl he could only dream of, the perfect girl for him. But that was something he’ll thought about later, for now, he had to fuck you like you deserved to.

Since then, you didn’t need to say a word to each other, your gestures talking for you. You hastily helped your boyfriend to get rid of his sweatpants and boxer, sliding them just enough to free his throbbing cock. At this point, Felix knew he wouldn’t last long, but you already came and he could do it again if you wanted it. And on top of that, you didn’t seem to be bothered by that because he could already feel your hand squeezing his dick and making him grunt your name.

“- You’re killing me love… I need you.

- Look who’s desperate now.”

You said that, but your actions showed the other way as you sunk on his cock fully, letting out a loud moan as you did. It was impossible to say who was more pathetic between you, smacking your hips from the get-go and letting his dick stretch you out, crying out in pleasure with no shame ; or your boyfriend who was grunting and hissing at the feeling of your tight pussy surrounding him, his hands gripping your ass firmly to help you move and his head thrown back.

“- Shit- You’re so good to me love…”

You whined at the praise, clenching around him as a reward. And then, you felt Felix’s hips meeting yours, which made his dick reach deeper into you, getting both of you to moan each other's name. His cock twitched inside you and you knew he was almost there, so you asked him the same question as usual, trying to collect your thoughts enough to produce a coherent sentence.

“- Where do you want to finish baby ?

- Tits, please…”

He answered you with a shaky breath, unable to think straight as you took off your top, exposing your bare chest to his starved gaze.

“- Come here then.”

Felix groaned, pulling out of you quickly. He only needed a few strokes on his dick to come, his cum painting your breast white, some even ending up on your chin. But you honestly couldn’t care less when he was moaning so sweetly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he released himself from the tension of these two weeks. You didn’t have the time to say anything that he had already layed you out on the couch, spreading your legs wide and diving into your pussy.

“- F-Fuck ! Lix… S-So good.”

These were the only words that escaped your mouth before all you could manage to get out were moans and whimpers of your boyfriend’s name. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and earning a small grunt from him, sending vibration through your sensitive clit. Soon enough, you were grinding against his face, desperate to get your sweet relief. All he needed to do was to flatten his tongue against your slit, and you moaned even louder, pushing his head between your legs so hard you would have been worried about him being able to breathe in other circumstances. But Felix loved it. This way, he was enveloped by your intoxicating scent and he could lick you until it felt too much and you wiggled out of his touch.

Felix pressed kisses as soft as a feather touch on your inner thighs before coming back to your face and kissing it all over, making you giggle like an idiot. He let himself fall on top of you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck - where he could admire his little work of art.

“- Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again ?

- Yeah, because it’s what I feel everytime I look into your eyes.”

Maybe it was cheesy, and sickeningly sweet, but at that moment, Felix couldn’t care less about losing the bet.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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bloompompom · 21 days

Text

˗ˏˋ guilty pleasures ˎˊ˗

☆ content: eren jaeger x female reader, modern au, reader cheats on her loser boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, masturbation, pussy job, just filth, written very fast my apologies, mentions of alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised 18+ ☆ word count: ~4.2k ☆ a/n: just a warm-up that got out of hand

Your boyfriend sucks. That isn’t an opinion, either. It’s a fact. The sky is blue; what goes up will always come back down; your boyfriend is and will forever be a jackass.

At least, according to your friends, Eren in particular. Sometimes according to you, too—let’s not leave that part out, it’s important.

Countless times, your boyfriend had driven you to wit’s end and back because yes, you always took him back. You aren’t the type to leave a kicked puppy out in the rain or a groveling man lying on your doorstep. He’d come crawling back, looking all lovesick and apologetic, and you’re ashamed to admit it hasn’t failed him yet.

Listen, Eren is just your friend. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of your relationship any more than the next guy. What he knows for sure is that your boyfriend generally sucks as a human being, and he knows you know it, too.

And it’s about time he does something about it.

Tonight’s as good a night as ever to make a move. Eren’s roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together,’ as he likes to say. But game nights are hard. No one likes to learn rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could agree on a movie.

That’s the plan for this evening: drinking the beer Jean brought along with a few leftover seltzers from the last time they got together, and spending some time with you. Alone.

You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, pissed over whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in the displeasure, trying to hide it, but it’s not working; Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.

If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d say they previously believed you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you—still do, frankly. But then you met your boyfriend and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course.

Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s all. Finding happiness with something (or someone) is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side.

He used to believe it was a timing thing, the reason you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want.

Eren can pry. He can be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that’d get him nowhere; you’d undoubtedly reply, ‘Girl stuff,’ and let the subject die there.

He noticed you don’t talk about your boyfriend problems when he’s around. Not that he expects you to. He would have written it off by now if he hadn’t heard you confiding in Armin about it. Jean and Connie, too. How frustrating it is that you never tell the one genuinely curious person. The one who wants to know and wants to show you how much better things could be, with him.

So Eren does just that. He catches you at the right moment, once it’s just the two of you. Armin was in bed and Sasha already left, taking Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes and would probably be out cold in the next ten.

Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.

“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows you’re not, but he also knows you’d never answer the more direct ‘Are you okay?’

“I’m fine,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m just—”

“Having a long night?” Eren guesses.

You merely sigh, but it’s weighty enough that it sounds like you’ve been holding it in for a while, like you must’ve needed it.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It’s vague, but you still feel you said too much.

You fiddle with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. You focus on that rather than the fact that you can no longer bring yourself to meet Eren’s eyes; it’s too much, it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot.

You can’t deny how Eren makes you feel. Even more, you can’t deny that you came over tonight with him on your mind—the sort of thoughts you shouldn’t have while tangled up with another guy.

“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you, “to make your night better?”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

You shake your head, gaze fixed on his leg pressing against yours.

“It’s not your problem to fix,” you try to assure, but it lacks any sureness. Instead, it’s demure and… inviting? You almost made it sound like a dare.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end.

You’re better than this, you tell yourself. You’re above this.

At the same time, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You’ve argued about his fidelity before—hell, you argued about it hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did from the start.

Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut out the flirting and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated it. You thought it was harmless then, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now. You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.

Eren places his large hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he becomes confident. He slides his hand higher, squeezes you gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for the way it made you weak.

I am absolutely not above this.

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the all-clear—that no one would know if you decided to head somewhere more private. Eren snuck you down the hall, shut the door behind you, and had you to himself, for the first time.

Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a step. “What would you like me to do?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur. He wants to hear you say it: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, his hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. You don’t give him the satisfaction of it.

You lean into Eren without a word. He moves with you, meeting you halfway. You lead, he follows. You’re the one in the relationship, not him.

You tilt your chin high to meet him. He catches it between his fingers, gently guiding you to him. Your noses brush; your lips don’t, but you’re so, so close. Close enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his hot breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating. It’s not enough. But you can’t make yourself seal the fateful gap between you.

“I can’t,” you regretfully stammer. It physically hurts to say the words. You wound the devil sitting atop your shoulder.

Eren doesn’t say anything, only pulls away from you. You don’t feel in control of your hand when it snatches a fistful of his shirt. You keep him there, still as close as before, eyes flitting between his pupils, big and blown, and his lips. He remains frozen, silent. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go.

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what do to,” you bemoan. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up mess. Screwed up from forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and the pool of warmth spreading in the depths of your stomach—all from him.

“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice.

It’s coaxing, cloying, but it’s needful at the same time. It’s a voice you’ve never heard from him, yet it’s familiar. It’s reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might create a hole, one perhaps only he can fill.

You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.

Eren nudges the tip of his nose against yours. “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”

He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he wouldn’t do that. What he does is worse. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends a shudder down your spine. He needs you not only to hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he has imagined doing with you.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. He clasps his hand over yours, then slips it between your legs. “And I want to watch.”

Eren touches your hand, encouraging you to rub. You feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there’s a fire in your belly. You finally let its flames engulf you and god, burning never felt so damn good.

You’re dizzy, you’re flustered—how could he possibly say that with such calmness? More than anything, you’re dumb to everything except the boy in front of you.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.”

It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole.

Eren leans back, holding your shoulders in his hands. He looks you in the eyes and again, he insists, “No touching.”

Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that or your brain short-circuits because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head.

Eren smiles down at you, runs his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, it brings—no, it yanks you back to him.

“Lay on the bed,” he says.

You do as you’re told, laying back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties—a telling color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you’ve stained them with your arousal, soaked and ruined after some innocent teasing.

You touch yourself without him having to ask. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. He sees how easily your panties slip between your folds, how fucking wet you are, and has to stifle a curse.

Eren drops to his knees, nestled between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either of your thighs, almost white-knuckling the plush skin.

“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”

You whine at the words, rub your clit faster. You want to come.

“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. It draws your attention to how hard he is, his insistent cock tenting in his sweatpants. He palms over it once, then twice, then grips himself through the fabric. Fuck.

You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his arm muscles tightening and twitching.

You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best as you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light, almost a tickle, as you dance a finger along the hem of your underwear. You watch lecherously, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you—you’re still leading. His thumb dips below his waistband.

This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right?

Eren shoves his hand down his sweatpants. You can’t see it when he takes his cock in his hand, only the outline of him slowly working over his length underneath the fabric.

Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first.” His eyes flicker to your crotch—your panties, more specifically.

Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupt waters, so you might as well take the full plunge.

You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them in the crease of your thigh. Your fingers are almost cold against your wet, hot skin and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck down your spine. You clench around nothing, whimpering just as helplessly.

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss.

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing how what he needs is so damn close, but out of reach.

He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around the sensitive tip to mimic your cunt.

He can only catch glimpses of it. Your panties persistently get in his way, and when they aren’t, you’re having to tug them back to the side. Your gasps and moans turn to little grunts, your frustration staving off your orgasm even further.

Eren goes to grab your underwear but stops himself short.

“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this is his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you.

You listen. Your hand slips from between your legs and a sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps. You hope Eren didn’t see it, but you’re sure he did based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat. You lift your hips from the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs. Then you kick them to the floor.

You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”

He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him, lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and completely on display and there’s no shying away. You may have even found it embarrassing if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you fear you may boil over and do something you’ll regret later.

“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, and the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment.

“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do it with two fingers. “God, look at you.”

So pretty. What a shame it was that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight.

Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other, then slathers it over his length, unblushing to how your eyes follow every fluid movement.

“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”

The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger inside first, then you add another. Your walls pulse, sucking the digits in further. You curve them, drag them in and out, in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with properly wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.

“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”

You moan something incoherent.

“Tell me,” he says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”

Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room, from the both of you, but you’ve already shed any shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now, the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had.

You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s a kaleidoscope of feelings and sensations. It’s strange and exhilarating. It’s this raw and primal surrender to only what’s physical and nothing more.

Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you; he enjoys hearing you just as much.

“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moan shakily. Your skin becomes unbelievably hot, your fingers stuttering, struggling to keep up with your neediness. “I d-deserve to come.”

His good girl.

Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.

What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around, how you like to tease yourself—maybe even pretend he’s the one teasing you.

You bring a hand to your chest, gingerly caressing the tips of your fingers along your nipple that pokes through your shirt. You slide the hand over your breast before groping it fully.

“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts. Once again, there’s no use for dancing around the truth of the matter anymore: you both wanted to get off.

“You first.” You giggle a little, all breathy, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”

Eren smiles at you before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to your promise, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it worked out pretty well for this, too.

You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your opposite hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth, anyway.

Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights the urge to buck his hips, to fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained, exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?

Your name’s a raspy plea on his tongue. His hands smooth up your legs as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumbs stroke your inner thighs, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, pulling a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.

“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs, loud and demanding. It’s as impossible to ignore as the man before you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock that leaks at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole.

You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your slit. You watch him do it, sitting higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw goes slack.

He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated.

You raise your hips, dragging your pussy over him, and bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts. You feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve been wetter. So wet he slips out a time or two. He takes advantage of it once, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit.

Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.”

You tilt your hips so he’s back in place, hitting your clit just right, over and over. It doesn’t take long for your legs to shake, swaying like they may give out. He steadies you, resting his hand on the divot of your hip.

“Oh, god—Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”

His hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He uses the grip to keep you moving, to guide you through it. He barrels you down the hill toward your release, and you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to allow it to happen before yours.

He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing and adding delicious pressure. He proves how heavy, how hard, he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought of it makes you groan. You push back on him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.

“So fucking hot,” Eren grunts, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”

That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarmy and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, and then your orgasm rips through you. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves into the sheets and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white-hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.

Eren urges you to open your eyes. “Keep ‘em on me while you come.”

You try your best; you don’t let your eyes roll back. What’s hidden behind your fluttering lashes is pornographic. Your soaked thighs—his soaked thighs. You don’t even want to think about the blankets below you.

You curse and cry his name. You look ruined, with eyebrows pinched and pulled together, your mouth hanging open like you want to scream out your orgasm. Eren crudely imagines how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside you.

Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he is right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax.

“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”

When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His body is flush with yours, his cock spilling across your legs. Come drips down the creases of your thighs, smearing with the last few pumps as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.

Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.

You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren’s above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.

You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren one shot #eren smut #aot x reader

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lowkeyerror · 1 month

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The Family Business Ch.5

WandaNat x Reader

Work Count: 1.2k

Chapter Notes: Angst, Violence

Summary: The guilt Wanda feels for missing your important milestones boils over and you're left trying to comfort her.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Dinner was over, but the chatter continued. Wanda had snuck off to the restroom somewhere amidst the conversation. Once she had finished up, she couldn’t fight the urge to go into her old room.

It was exactly the same as she left it. The light blue walls were littered with her old posters. Her bed still had a few old stuffed animals on it. Her desk was covered with post it notes, she used for keeping track of her important things.

Had she grown more than she had realized in the last five years? Was it selfish to assume that you wouldn't have?

“Something’s bothering you.”

Wanda startles at the sound of your voice. You stand in her doorway.

“Nothing, Y/n.”

You don't believe her.

You close the door behind you and fully step into her room. “You were quiet the entire dinner.”

“I was thinking,” she replied shortly.

“About what?”

She takes a seat on her bed and exhales, “A lot has changed since I’ve been away.”

You take a seat next to her, “You were gone for awhile.”

Her eyes meet yours, “I didn’t want to be. I didn't want to miss everything.”

She began to tear up. You hadn’t seen Wanda like this before. Wanda never let anyone see her be vulnerable. Her head rests on your shoulder, and she grabs one of your hands, seeking some comfort.

“Wanda it’s alright,” you try but she cuts you off.

“It’s not, I missed your graduation,” she began to sob.

You begin to internally panic, but you have enough sense to know that this is about more than your graduation. Your arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to you. She ends up straddling your lap. Her forehead lays against yours. You do your best to wipe her tears away.

“Forgive me, Y/n. Forgive me,” her cries grow louder.

Hesitantly you grab her face in your hands. Through the tears she sees the look of worry on your face. Wanda starts wiping at the tears with her sleeves.

You stop her, “There’s nothing that you missed that I can’t tell you about now. No one blames you for missing anything. I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you’re back.”

Wanda stops crying. She sniffles a bit with a sad smile on her face, “I remember that night when you came to the door.”

Your breath hitches. Her thumb follows the path on your check where the glass had cut you.

“You were so-”

“Helpless,” you finish.

Wanda shakes her head, “You are so strong. Anyone else wouldn’t have made it to the door. I was going to say you were so pure. The world was so cruel even though you were nothing but a light.”

“Wanda-”

“Now, I’m hearing from everyone how you’re not like that anymore, that you’ve changed. I hate having to find out about you because I should know. My wife knows about how many people you’ve killed, and I didn’t even know you had fired a gun. I hate that it feels like I don’t know you anymore.”

You were taken aback by her words. Even with her being away for 5 years, you felt like she knew you better than anyone; even Pietro. Wanda had such a deep understanding of your inner workings that it scared you a lot of the time.

It took little effort to interlock your fingers with hers. You wait for her to look at you and when she does you speak, “You know me better than anyone ever has.”

“I used to,” she tries to drop your hands.

You don’t let her, “I can’t say that I haven’t changed at all, but I’m still me Wanda. I still watch reality tv as a guilty pleasure, I still eat my cheese puffs with a fork, and I still get a little antsy in the dark.”

She laughs a bit, and the sound brings a smile to your lips. Your nerves ease as she seems to relax.

“You’re still my little krolik then?”

You blush a little but move her off your lap. You stand and hold out your hand. She doesn’t grab it, instead turning her back towards you.

You roll your eyes, “I’ll always be your little krolik. Now can we go back downstairs.”

Wanda hesitates, “Would you tell me what you told Natasha?”

“About my first kill?”

She nods lightly, “If it’s alright with you.”

You nod and sit at the desk chair across from the bed. It’s not much easier telling Wanda than it was telling Natasha. If anything, it was harder knowing how the woman had reacted in the past when you had been hurt.

“I should’ve known about this,” she’s seething, as she speaks.

“You had just lef-”

“I don’t care if the plane was mid fucking flight! I would’ve turned that bitch around!”

Before you could try to de-escalate the situation Pietro came into the room. “Is everything alright in here, you’ve been up here for a long time?”

Wanda jumps out of the bed and grabs the man by his collar. She nearly lifts him in the air, then beats on his chest. She’s moved him from the room to the hallway., You’re too stunned to intervene.

“WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME? NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME? SOME JERK FELT HER UP AND SHE SNAPPED HIS FUCKING NECK AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME?”

Pietro remains calm, his hands rest on top of hers “Wanda it was nearly 5 years ago.”

“So why is this the first time I'm hearing of it?” The drop in her voice snaps you out of your trance.

“Wanda put him down,” Dragos voice booms in the hallway.

She let Pietro go and instead redirects her glare to her father, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I knew you'd react like this. You’ve always been able to handle your emotions unless Y/n was involved,” his words only seem to anger her more.

“I’m the one that can't handle my emotions when it comes to Y/n? Are we sure about that? Because if you want to play ball I will swing for the fucking fences,” she combats quickly.

You watch as the color drains from Pietro’s face and even Dragos seems to stand down a bit.

“Wanda.” Natasha’s voice is strong as she speaks, “Let’s go, ok? I think everyone just needs a little space right now.”

Wanda doesn't seem like she’s done with the conversation.

“Y/n, sweetheart I think they're staying in your building. Why don't you take them there,” Flora suggests.

You nod, unable to speak at the moment. You can see Wanda about to argue again so you slip your hand in hers. You don’t waste time pulling her towards the stairs. Natasha holds her other hand, clearing some of the tension from her system.

You get in the drivers seat while Natasha sits in the back with Wanda. Your brain was slightly clouded as her words sat with you. Wanda knew something that made Pietro and Dragos cower in regard to you. You wanted to press on, but you knew she was in no shape to answer.

Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, you could see that Natasha was whispering to her, trying to calm her. You’d never known Wanda to have a temper, but apparently, when it came to you her rage seemed unrelenting.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat

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springtyme · 3 months

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x afab!reader (18+ mdni!)

word count: 952 - smut under the cut!

Can’t stop thinking about how Kyle would be the perfect boyfriend when you’re on your period…

He will always have a hot water bottle ready for you, and on the rare occasion that he doesn’t, he’ll use his hands, gently pressing his big, warm palms against your abdomen as he tries to soothe your cramps. He’s so attentive, never leaving your side when you’re in pain.

Whether it’s bringing you a cup of hot tea, a cosy blanket, or just holding your hand, he always knows exactly what you need. He’ll massage your back with gentle strokes, easing the tension and making you feel like the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders.

He is a champ in the pad aisle, asking all the right questions about what you need. He won’t shy away from the “embarrassing” items and instead, he’ll confidently march through the aisle, picking up what you need, making sure you have everything you need to feel comfortable during your period. He genuinely finds men who are uncomfortable with the subject dumb and childish.

Back at home, he’ll surprise you with a thoughtful care package filled with all your favourite snacks, painkillers, and even a little assortment of pampering items like face masks and bath bombs. He knows that sometimes a little self-care goes a long way in soothing both physical and emotional discomfort.

He’ll give you all the cuddles you need, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He understands the power of physical touch to provide comfort and reassurance, and he never hesitates to give you all the affection you crave.

These little acts of thoughtfulness remind you just how lucky you are to have him by your side.

He’ll shower you with words of love and encouragement, reminding you that you’re strong and capable, even when your body feels anything but. In his arms, you feel safe, loved, and understood. He is not just a partner, but a true companion who goes above and beyond to make sure you feel loved and supported. With him, every period becomes just a little bit easier to bear.

And even when your period is over, he doesn’t forget about your needs. He continues to show love and care, always prioritising your well-being. He understands that menstruation can sometimes leave you feeling drained and emotionally exhausted, so he makes it a point to be patient and understanding during those post-period days.

And if period sex is something you’re into, then he is more than willing to accommodate your desires. He loves any way he can provide relief for you and alleviate your cramps. He sees it as a way to connect with you and provide comfort during a sensitive time.

He approaches it with care and understanding, always checking in with you to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. He is always attentive to your needs, but when you’re on your period he makes even more of an effort to make sure everything is perfect for you. He will make sure to take things slow and gentle (if that’s what you prefer). He’s understanding of any discomfort you may experience and never pushes you beyond your limits.

He never rushes you or makes you feel guilty for not being in the mood, but when you are, he is more than eager to please you. He takes the time to set the mood, dimming the lights and playing soft, soothing music in the background. He wants you to feel relaxed and comfortable in every aspect.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he will whisper softly in your ear as he kisses your neck, his hands gently exploring your body and finding all the right spots that bring you pleasure.

He listens to your cues and always encourages you to communicate openly about what feels good and what doesn’t. His main focus is always your pleasure and satisfaction. As he moves inside you, he does so with care and tenderness, never forgetting that your body may need a more gentle touch during this time. He takes his time, savouring every moment, and constantly checks in with you to ensure that you are enjoying yourself. With each thrust, he showers you with praise and encouragement, reminding you of your beauty and strength.

He knows that the release of endorphins during sex can actually help soothe cramps and elevate your mood, so he is determined to make this experience as pleasurable as possible for you. “You are so incredible, baby,” he will whisper in your ear, his voice filled with genuine love and admiration.

Afterwards, he’ll hold you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as you bask in the afterglow. He strokes your skin lovingly, whispering sweet words of affection and gratitude. He wants you to feel loved and cared for, not just during your period, but always.

He will be so thorough and gentle with aftercare, making sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of. He understands that your body may need some extra care and attention after sex, especially during your period. He’ll help you get dressed if you need it, and then snuggle up with you, providing a safe and comforting space for you to rest and recover.

He never makes you feel ashamed or embarrassed about your period, but instead loves and embraces every part of you. He truly is your rock, your comfort, and your partner in every sense of the word. With him, every period becomes a time of deep connection and intimacy, reminding you that you are loved and cherished no matter what. He is a true gem, a partner who never fails to prioritise your pleasure and well-being.

Thank you for reading! Request for my 1k follower celebration is open ♡

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wonfilms · 1 year

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✰⋆ - STRAY KIDS AS “ BOYFRIEND ” THINGS !!

pairings : bf! ot8 x gn reader

word count : 2.7k

warnings : n/a.

chan takes so much pride in giving you his jacket, even when it starts to become a little cold he'd be quick to drape it over your shoulders with a smile. you'd quickly realise that arguing with him to take back the jacket wouldn't work, plus how could you resist when he gets so flustered seeing you in his clothes.

hyunjin loves it when you draw on his arms , he will go out of his way to preserve them until he showers next, even then he looks at your little doodles fondly before letting the soap suds wash them away. it makes his day a little brighter when he sees the hearts and stars you drew littering his skin, it's almost comforting to him.

seungmin has a habit of kissing your forehead, oh so softly, every time you're close to him. he can't help but press his lips to your temple just to watch you smile unabashedly and hide your face in his hands. it's a moment of weakness for him, just watching you makes his stomach erupt in butterflies but he can't help himself when you smile so prettily like that.

lee know really likes the smell of your perfume, though he will never admit it when he's away on tour even just the smell of you will comfort him, even if it's just a little bit. whenever he hugs you close, he could almost get lost in how much he feels at home.

jeongin has a picture of the two of you in the back of his phone case, it was a polaroid his took of you last summer, and he every time he looks at the picture he almost relived how happy he felt at that moment. it was a guilty pleasure of his to reminisce about the past and he finds himself doing so when he misses you a bit too much.

felix always has fruit snacks in his bag, just for you. even though you never ask him outright he'd make sure to have something for you to eat when you're both out for long periods of time. if you start keeping snacks in your bag for him, he'd blush like crazy knowing that you're thinking about him.

han likes to intertwine pinkies with you when you're walking beside him, though he loves to hold your hand there's something so special and intimate about linking his little finger with yours because every time he does a smile erupts on your face.

changbin buys you flowers every friday, it’s something he started doing when you started dating and it’s grown into a habit for him. he’d buy a bouquet of flowers to cheer you up after a long week, he’d absolutely run a bath for you and make dinner with you, just to make life a little bit sweeter for his favourite person in the world.

a/n : i really liked writing this! this was pretty short but i hope you enjoy it as much as i did! i’m so down bad for jeongin at the moment sniff

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harfanfare · 11 months

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I like to think that romance with Idia widely differs depending on the time you’ve been in a romantic relationship.

1. “Just started dating” stage.

If you're reading Idia fanfiction, there is an 80% chance this is the stage your relationship is on.

Idia is… treating you like a very precious stranger. He's on his toes and seeks your approval in whatever he's doing. He is going to great lengths to understand the theory of dating and your hobbies - so you can maybe share even more interests - but won’t really act on anything.

He’s constantly surprised by every romantic move you make and you have numerous occasions to adore his cherry blush and various puckles of hair igniting with pink and red. He stutters a lot and can’t focus on anything in your presence.

Idia will outright reject any suggestions for bolder moves. He’s unprepared, and although guilt is eating him from the inside, he is not up to anything you two weren’t doing as friends. Well, maybe handholding, kissing, and cuddling get a (hard) pass, but you are the only one initiating these things.

He will try his best to reciprocate effort, though.

2. “Have been dating for a while” stage.

It’s an interphase between two very different stages, so he’s a funny mix: a very shy outsider and a cocky genius at the same time.

Gaming sessions will be the centre of your couple's time. Idia regularly invites you to his dorm, sometimes even on spontaneous sessions when a new event comes up or he has found a new game that looks very cool. You share snacks, drinks, and clothes (read: you have unwritten permission to claim his blouses).

This boy would be dead without you and Ortho, and with that knowledge, you make it your mission to (somehow) tidy up his room, buy some cosmetics, healthier food, etc. If you are up to organizing a “self-care evening”, he will be hesitant at first but will be looking forward to it after a while, with some older anime. (I like to think it would be a magical girl series like Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew or Chobits, or some shoujo).

In exchange, he might construct some little gadgets (maybe anime-themed?) for you, helps you get the merch you want, and supports you in your games.

At this point, he doesn’t weigh his words much. He’s still easy to fluster, but he comes with comebacks right away. The most flirty he gets on the phone when it’s late at night and you are using a chat to talk, especially when you are not in the same room. 3. Long-term relationship stage.

He knows you are doomed to him and shamelessly takes advantage of that.

He has no claims against calling you in the middle of the night to watch him sharing his screen when he pulls for a character he wants to get in the gacha system. He believes your presence brings him luck, so he must have you when he does crucial things!

Idia disses your taste in fictional men. Sometimes, he reads the dialogues out loud from the otome games you play. He may alter them, which can make you either huff or laugh. If you read or write fanfiction, he might read them too, giving you an out loud commentary on some fragments and asking you if you are that desperate for dates so you are sending fanfiction to inspire him. If you say yes, he will hum and return to whatever he was doing before, but he might plan something out that you will preferably be able to do in his room.

Chatroom with him and Ortho is quite calm, almost polite, but your private chatroom with Idia is the most chaotic one you’ve ever been. You learned to not leave your phone openly if you don’t want to explain some inside joke with a layered backstory. An app you use to chat with Idia is the one your screen time is counted on most, and writing with Idia is your guilty pleasure.

If you are interested in IT, he might program you an app or something to help you with it! He will give you the best feedback ever, and although it may be harsh, the last thing he wants is to discourage you from learning further.

On one anniversary of your dating, he will gift you this kind of couple bracelet which lights up if the other person touches it. He created them himself. When he receives signals throughout the day, he thinks of them as a promise from you, that no distance can sever your bond.

If you bring up some serious talk, you will be bullied with memes. It’s Idia’s coping mechanism. He will plan his future with you, don’t worry, but wait for him to muster up the courage to get on one knee and ask the question.

#In conclusion at some point the stuttering will end #and he will smoothly pull an uno-reverse and 4+ cards on you.#This analysis sounded better in my head hhhhhhhh #idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst idia #twst idia x reader

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st4rymoon · 11 months

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Guilty Pleasure

Pairing 〉 Steven Grant x Fem Reader

Genre 〉 Smut and Fluff

Warnings 〉Somnophilia, dubcon!, teasing, unprotected sex, pet names (doll, love), P n V, slightly Pervy Steven, dry humping, steven slightly fighting his urges, creampie

Summary 〉Anxious about Stevens's distance, you confront him about a situation that happened while reading one of his books. Little did you know the reason for his distance was to keep temptation away.

You tried to hide the concern on your face as you notice Steven's eyes avoiding yours ever since you walked in.

You had no clue what you did for him to be doing this. Suddenly your mind flashed back to 2 days ago, you were reading one of his many books about Egyptian mythology. While putting it back on his shelf, a few books fell and one happened to land flat open causing one of the pages to slightly rip.

Steven reassured you it was ok, but you started convincing yourself it did bother him, he was just being his usual sweet self to avoid conflict with you.

“Steven?”

You can see his body tense as his name rolls off your tongue “y- yeah?” he shakily replies as you sit beside him.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t looked at me or even spoken to me since I got here. Do you want me to leave? Give you some space?”

Steven almost falls off the bed in protest “NO! No no”. “It’s about the book isn’t it? I already ordered you another, it’ll be here soon” you nodded. You can see the confusion on his face “Book? What book love?”

“The book that fell off your shelf when I was putting one away remember? The page ripped a little?” You mutter while feeling the guilt of ruining one of his beloved books fill you.

Stevens's face softens as he finally connects the dots, you thought he was mad at you? for a book?

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself seeing how worried you were “Doll trust must me I’m not mad, and definitely not for that little accident” he smiles reassuringly.

You feel yourself finally relax as he connects his soft doe eyes to yours. Steven felt a little guilty knowing you were beating yourself up for this whole book fiasco.

When you walked into his apartment with his favorite skirt and a silk blouses on, he knew if he looked at you once he’d be fighting himself not to pin you onto the bed and fuck you senseless.

Steven wasn’t one to show that side of himself, he kept all his dirty thoughts and urges to himself. “Come” Steven smiles, extending his arms out signaling for you to bury yourself in his arms.

Burying your face in his neck, your legs completely straddle him for a more comfortable position. His body jerks slightly as you rub up against his crotch, your soft sways as you hug him tightly making him anxious at the thought of you feeling him grow hard.

“Love you” you mutter softly as you press a soft kiss on his warm flesh, his arms wrapped around your waist, slightly lifting you in hopes to hide his growing bulge.

“Love you too doll” he hums as he places you onto his lap softly, his mind under control or rather distracting himself with counting the objects in his room to avoid his thoughts.

Both of you stay in this position, his eyes on the television as you stay cuddled onto his body. You were semi-drained from work and the stress of worrying about Steven being mad at you. You couldn’t help but fall asleep as soon as you fell into his arms.

Steven smiled at your shallow breaths, your chest rising slightly with each breath as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Always so pretty” he hums, his index finger softly running down your cheek as he places a kiss on your head.

Just as he was about to reach for the control, he heard a soft noise come from between his arms. Low whines escaped you as you squirmed in his lap.

Steven almost choked as you pressed yourself onto him, hips swaying softly as you rode out the sex dream you were having. His head falls back at the feeling, he felt like this was both the best and worst kind of torture.

It got worse once he heard his name come from your mouth, the low ‘stevens’ and muffled whines making him whine quietly.

He was having a debate in his mind. He wanted to move your pretty white panties to the side and fuck you awake, but the other protested. You’ve both only slept with each other once and neither of you never talked about fucking each other awake.

Although you’d never admit it, a part of you wore the outfit in hopes of him fucking you. The first time you both had sex, you could tell he was holding back.

His eyes were blown out, breaths unsteady as he looked down at you, your eyes closed and shirt slightly riding down just enough to let him see your plump tits spilling out of your bra.

He told himself one button wouldn’t hurt. His fingers impressively unbuttoned one of your buttons, then another, and another. By the time he finished, your shirt was fully open, the silk fabric gliding on your skin as you swayed onto him.

His self-control went out the window once he heard you beg, the soft whine in your voice as you cried his name. He needed to hear your pretty whines for himself.

His arms lift you slightly, his free hand sliding his sweats down as far as he could before moving your panties to the side.

He was burning up, his breathing louder than it was before as he ran two fingers through your puffy folds. Your cunt coating his two fingers as he took in your gummy walls.

His cock was leaking with pre cum as he took his fingers out of you and stroked himself with your slick. A loud sigh leaves him as he feels himself twitch.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he couldn’t help it, your soft flesh and pretty cunt rubbing against him as you slept.

He adjusts himself below you, a loud whine leaving him as he rubs his tip through your folds. He’d never felt like this before, his body was tingling, and eyes blown out as he watches you closely.

You lowered yourself onto him softly, his body trembling as you clench around him. Low gasps from your sleeping form as he gave you time to adjust. His fingers dug into your hips, his head on your shoulder as he kept himself calm.

His hands lift you softly, his hips softly thrusting up as he groaned at the feeling. His soft persona left as soon as he picked the pace up. His hips slammed into you harshly, your eyes fluttering open as you felt him stretching you.

“St- Steven?” You mutter as he fucks deeper into you. “I know baby, I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it” he says in almost a embarrassed voice. “It’s oka- o- it’s-” you try reassuring him but can’t manage a word out as he takes your blouse off completely.

Your body was burning, the feeling of his warm hands piercing your skin make you clench. “Love you, lo- love you so much” he seethes through his teeth.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to hold yourself up, his pretty brown curls sticking to his forehead as the sweat dripped down his face.

Heavy pants and moans fill the room as he picks up the pace.

“St-eve-“

Steven swore he could’ve came right there. Hearing the sound of your voice shakily cry out his name made him twitch.

He was lost in bliss, his eyes watching the way he slid in and out of you perfectly made him bite his lip. The white ring of slick forming at the base of his cock makes him hiss.

“Always so pretty” he hums, his hand holding your face up to his as he watches your watery eyes roll back as he pulls you into a kiss.

Both of you moan into each other, the sweet taste of ice cream from his snacking before lingering on his tongue as you sloppily kissed.

You could feel the knot forming in your stomach. Steven could see it, the way your stomach clenched and high-pitched whines escaped you.

“I’ve got you love” his raspy voice purred as you clenched around him. Your nails dig into his arms, a loud moan leaving you as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

A low chuckle leaves him as he watches you shake. His lap was a complete mess. Your slick covering his lap, slightly wetting his sweats as he sloppily fucks into you.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you doll, this pretty look on your face is driving me crazy” he huffs.

You nod at his words, the thought of him cumming in you making you clench as his breaths grow heavier.

Steven couldn’t believe this was happening, he swore it could’ve been a dream. The only way he knew he wasn’t dreaming was the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, he loved when you bruised him up.

“Go- on- fuckk” Steven cries out as he sloppily fucks his cum into you. Both of your moans synced as he fucked you full. The feeling of his warm seed filling you was addicting. You knew you’d start birth control as soon as you felt him leaking out of you.

“Love you so much, so much” he pants as you fall onto his chest. Your sweaty bodies connected as he moved the hair out of your face.

“I’m sorr-“

You knew what he was going to apologize for. You could care less that he fucked you awake for the first time, you loved it more than you expected. “Shhh” you hummed as you shook your head “Don’t apologize”.

He let out a sigh as you hugged him tightly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”

#moon knight #moon kingdom #steven grant #steven grant smut #oscar issac imagine #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac fic #oscar issac smut #steven smut #moon knight smut #marvel #marvel smut

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jo6hny · 11 days

Text

Guilty Pleasure - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College student! Hazel Callahan x College student! Reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, something more than kissing, reader and hazel being referred to as a girl, drunk sylvie, reader and hazel are in a situationship (oh no), freddy fazbear and fnaf mention

Summary: Based on this request.

Word Count: 2.18K

A/N: long time no post omg. sorry, i got caught up with work :( !! but i’ll still be writing and fulfilling requests. it'll just be very slooooow. tysm for all the support!!

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The sound of keys jingling breaks the silence of the once silent and unoccupied dorm room.

“That was sooo fuckin’ crazy” Sylvie says. Her words are slurred as she continues to yap about the party her, Hazel, and you were previously at. After having one too many drinks, the both of you decided to let the drunk girl crash over at yours and Hazel’s shared dorm room.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you tucked into bed.” Hazel says, letting her best friend crash on her bed on the left side of the room. The distinction between your side and hers was clear as day. No one would mistake one for the other. Hazel’s had different kinds of band posters on her wall, funko pops on her shelves, and five nights at Freddy’s plushies on her dark sheeted bed. You, on the other hand, liked keeping things clean and minimal with cream colored sheets and one rabbit plushie.

Tension arises between the two of you once Sylvie is tucked into bed. It is here that you both realize that one of you is without a place to sleep. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind sharing with Hazel if it were any other day, but you weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now.

The two of you had gotten into an argument at the party after Hazel wasn’t sure what to introduce you as to people she knew. She couldn’t settle between friend, roommate, or almost but not quite a girlfriend. It made you feel ashamed, if you were being honest. You didn’t want to be in this situation. Not knowing what stood between the two of you. Though, you did admit that the both of you were living in a bubble. A sweet, non committal and casual bubble. No one knows what goes on between the two of you except, well, the both of you. So a part of you understood her hesitancy when she introduced you, but a part of you also wanted her to take the reins and just shout out what she wanted you to be.

“So…” The brunette mumbled, balancing herself between her toes and the balls of her feet.

“It’s not like we have a choice.” You said, sighing. You’d stepped out of the way as a gesture for her to get in your bed.

Hazel’s demeanor lightened. She must have thought that you were over the incident at the party (you were not). The brunette changes into sleepwear before making herself comfortable on your bed. She’s done this hundreds of times before so there’s no shame or second thoughts in her body as she takes up the space she believes is hers. The space that was next to you.

You do the same as her and change into something more comfortable before slipping into bed beside her. Your body betrays your soured feelings as it relaxes when your skin meets hers. It was automatic nowadays, the feeling of relief that washed over you whenever you were near Hazel. The brunette faces you and drapes her arm around you as she always does.

“You looked really pretty tonight.” Hazel whispered, not risking waking Sylvie up. The brunette was anything but asleep and you could tell by the tone of her voice. She was gaging your reaction.

“Just tonight?” You reply teasing her.

A smile spreads across your lover’s dimly lit face. If it weren’t for Hazel’s night light, the room would have been pitch black. Thank god for Freddy Fazbear the night light.

“Always.” She reassures, a dimple poking out of her cheek. Hazel looked charming under the dim lights. Her eyes sparkled and her hair ever so soft. It was no wonder that you fell for her charms. The charms which compel you to bare your heart out despite the disappointments you’ve suffered, that is.

A visible frown forms on your face as you recall once again why you two were at odds. Hazel sees this and her eyebrows furrow in worry. She takes the arm that was draped around you and relocates her hand towards your face to caress it.

“I’m sorry.” Hazel says apologetically. You knew that she meant it. Hazel was rarely malicious and even if she was, it was always in a teasing manner. She was the most pure hearted person you’ve ever met, which is why you felt bad about what you did next.

“About what?” You asked, teasing. It was rare that your lover is the one apologizing, most of the time it was you. Taking on this rare opportunity, you decide to egg Hazel’s conscience further.

“You know…” She trails off, avoiding eye contact but maintaining her hand on your cheek. Her thumb was caressing your cheek in a windshield like manner which signified that she was fidgeting.

Fighting off a smile, you put on your best frown and puppy dog eyes. You wondered how long it would take the brunette to realize that you were joking. Most of the time, the jokes flew over her head. She had a knack of not detecting sarcasm and you found it endearing.

“I don’t know, Hazel.” You sigh, slightly shrugging of the hand on your cheek. The blue eyed girl was visibly getting frustrated by the second. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her big blue eyes were the roundest it had ever been.

“I’m sorry for not telling people what we are.” She admitted. You held in a gasp, you didn’t expect her to admit her fault outright. You were expecting a much whinier version of the woman beside you but right now you were faced with a visibly apologetic lover. The thought made your heart ache.

“Hazel,” You sighed, taking the hand on your cheek with your own. “It’s okay.”

She shakes her head in disagreement. A frown formed on her lips. She looked close to crying.

“It’s not. I should’ve told them we were together.” She protested, squeezing your hand.

“Are you sure?. I feel like you liked it when that sorority girl flirted with you.” Teasing, you interlock your fingers with her. No matter how guilty you felt, it was undeniably fun to tease your lover just a little bit.

“I didn’t. I swear! I only like you.” She exclaimed, now holding both of your hands. The last part of her sentence was whispered but loud enough for you to catch on.

A smile forms on your face and a warmth felt on your cheeks. You looked at your lover with much endearment and love.Hazel was nothing but pure. Her love for you had always shone and she’d never made you feel mad or sad or anything negative. Hazel’s was a love you’d never experienced with anyone else before.

“I guess I only acted like that because I saw how Isabel looked at you.” Hazel said. Your heart drops at her revelation and you’re quick to dismiss her. Unbeknownst to you, Hazel was sporting a mischievous glint in her eyes. The same one she noticed that you had. She’d been able to notice whenever you were teasing nowadays. She noticed how your tone fluctuated, like it always does when you’re joking. And she noticed how you tried to stop yourself from smirking but the tips of your mouth would still turn upwards. All this she picked up because Hazel always took mental notes on you; observed you.

“What? No-” You interjected, flailing your arms. “Isabel and I are just friends. Plus she has Josie, Haze!”

“Are you sure? Because the hug you shared seemed a bit intimate.” She said, copying the tone you carried when you presented the same idea. She was toying with you and found it amusing how now you were the one who was panicking.

“Hazel,” You grabbed her face gently to demand all her focus on you. “I would’ve kissed you in that sweaty house of people for everyone to see.”

Now it was Hazel’s turn to blush. She could physically feel herself turning red, she imagined what she’d look like. Deciding to be brave and continue on flirting, Hazel encourages you further.

“And why didn’t you?” She asked, her eyebrow raising. She looked at you with much anticipation, she wanted your lips on hers more than anything else. The desire to kiss and hold you is embedded in her person. Nothing else made her the happiest.

“Because..I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” You mutter, avoiding eye contact.

“I want to. You can do it right now.” Hazel said quickly and without hesitancy.

Smiles form from both of you which cascade into giggles. Hazel’s blue eyes turn into crescent moons as her smile reaches her eyes. You could slightly see her countenance being tinted red, signaling to you that she had been flustered with the exchange.

The laughter dies down and all there’s left is tension between the both of you.The silence between you was palpable, the tension thick. You didn’t know why you felt shy now. Too shy to steal a kiss from your lover's lips like you always did. Your hands were still on her face, gently stroking it with your thumb. You imagined that the two of you looked like a couple of rags after a wild night out and yet, Hazel looked ethereal. You reckon that her face could launch a thousand ships as Helen did.

“You look really beautiful, Haze.” You whisper, trying to shake off the nerves that suddenly appeared. It felt like the time you two first kissed. How the air was so thick and it felt like you were suffocating. The only solution was to put your lips on hers and kiss like her being held oxygen. You remember how you fantasized about how you would finally kiss her, running through so many situations in your head to prepare you only for it to happen on a random afternoon.

Hazel smiled, the dimple on her cheek appearing.

“You look beautiful too.You really always do. I mean it.”

“That’s the alcohol talking.” You retaliate. Compliments never came easy to you, especially not from someone you adored.

“I didn’t even drink that much. I was too busy looking out for…” She trailed, her gaze landing upon the bed next to yours.

You laugh at this, following Hazel’s gaze to see that Sylvie had her mouth open as she slept. She also somehow found one of Hazel’s plushies and was snuggling it which earned a look of disdain from her.

“She’s gonna deform him.” She says with concern. This makes you smile wider than you already had.

Stroking her face, you decide to kiss her. Your heart couldn’t handle it anymore and it felt like it would burst with all the love and adoration it was holding. Hazel’s lips were sweet, which told you that she drank one of those liquor the sorority sisters made that was full of candy. You made a mental note to point it out to her later. But now, you were focused on the task at hand and that was kissing Hazel so much til your head felt dizzy.

One of your hands loosen from her face and find their way to her hair. Hazel groans at the action, putting her hands on your neck in return. After what felt like a sweet eternity of kissing, the brunette takes it further by disconnecting her lips from yours and planting it down on your neck. You whimper at the feeling of her lips on yours and grip her hair tighter.

“Mmmh head hurts!”

A groaning Sylvie makes the both of you jump, fully forgetting that you had another person in the room. A smile is shared between you and your lover. You’d both silently agreed that you should sleep instead of fucking in case Sylvie actually wakes up.

Settling back into your bed, Hazel takes it upon herself to position her body on top of yours and bury her neck on your face. You could physically feel her sniffing you.

“Are you done sniffing me or do you need a little bit more time there?” You ask, wrapping your arms around her. She laughs at your comment and lifts her head up.

“Can’t I smell my girlfriend? Is that too much to ask?” She asks, feigning sadness in her voice.

You raise one of your eyebrows at Hazel’s reply, taking note of what she just called you.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Yup.” She nods, giving you a smile. “Unless you don’t want to, which is totally cool.”

You shake your head frantically, earning another laugh from your girlfriend. Hazel situates her face back onto the crook of your neck and plants a small kiss. Your heart flutters at the gesture. This was it. You were finally officially together and it happened because Sylvie was forced to sleep on her side of the bed because of poor alcoholic decisions. You had to thank her in the morning, surely. But for now, you’d tighten your hold on Hazel and relish in her body heat.

“Goodnight, Haze.”

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tags: @academiareid <33

#bottoms 2023 #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms imagine #bottoms movie #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #fanfic #lgbtq #jhmasterlist #ruby cruz

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sluttywonwoo · 6 months

Text

midday | h.hj

hyunjin x f!reader

smut mdni

hyunjin is thee biggest exhibitionist, you can’t convince me otherwise. whenever the members see [solo dance rehearsal] blocked out on the calendar, they’ll shuffle into the practice room with a hand over their eyes because they’re tired of walking in on you getting fucked within an inch of your life.

it’s almost like an invitation now, a little inside joke. every time he does it, he can count on at least one of his friends to “accidentally” interrupt you.

at first, he had to wrestle with the idea of other people seeing you like that. he liked the thrill that the risk of getting caught offered but he also wanted to keep all of you and your pleasure to himself.

now it’s something that turns him on even more— knowing that even though his friends can see you falling apart, he’s the only one that can make it happen. he can shatter you and piece you back together to his heart’s content. or until you’re so cockdrunk you can’t hold yourself upright any longer.

even so, he doesn’t want too much of you exposed so he always presses you up against the mirrors and fucks you from behind so that most of your body is covered. hyunjin thinks he’s being generous enough already by letting them see your face as you cum. they can fill in the blanks themselves.

hyunjin knows you love it too. you would never think about fucking another man but being watched by one as you’re getting fucked definitely does something to you. he can feel it in the way you tighten up around him when you hear the door open, in the way you get even wetter when chris or felix or jisung make comments about how good you’re taking it…

sometimes when he’s fucking you at home, he’ll mention the boys just to get you to cum. you always come down from it with a guilty little look on your face which hyunjin finds endlessly endearing but he also always reassures you that you have nothing to feel bad about.

it’s a bit mean to use his friends against you like that, but it’s not like you don’t do the same to him. it’s a game you like to play with each other, knowing you’ll both lose— or win, depending on how you look at it.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 7 months

Text

Sick Days with Joel Miller

(Joel Miller x female! reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female! reader (no outbreak) Word count: 4.5K of pure fluff and light smut Rating: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: You're used to doing everything yourself, a facet of being single for so long, but when you start dating Joel Miller that all changes. Especially when you get sick during the first six months of your relationship, and Joel tries to take care of you. Main masterlist

A/N: This was so much fun to write y'all. I'm currently sitting in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, wicked headache, and hopped up on cold meds, wishing I had Joel Miller to take care of me 🥹. Also please excuse the fast and loose car mechanic jargon I used, I couldn't resist. The fast and furious series is also my guilty pleasure sick day movie choice, that and the OG star wars trilogy 🌚 An enormous thank you to my lifeline @iamasaddie for reading and giving me feedback and the most encouragement.

This is pure fluff with a bit of spice thrown in, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and reblog if you like it, and I might do more oneshots like this! - 🌹N

It’s the first time you’ve been sick since you and Joel started dating, and it’s different. Different from what you’re used to.

To preface, you rarely ever get sick. Rarely. And you pride yourself on that. You’re not entirely sure whether it's due to your ironclad immune system, or the fact that you’re a germaphobe who’s constantly washing their hands, but either way you manage to miraculously miss the seasonal bouts of illness that filter around when the weather gets colder.

So you’re not entirely sure how you manage to succumb to the throes of this particular cold, but the sore throat and stuffy nose that you woke up with were unmistakable. Other than crying, which wouldn’t help the pounding headache that you had also been blessed with, all you could do was groan and silently curse, rolling back over in bed and snuggling under the covers. You mindlessly stretch your arm out over the sheets, reaching over onto the other empty side of the bed. The cold, unmussed sheets, not filled with the broad, warm body that usually occupies the space make you groan internally once more.

You’re not a crybaby. Not one for milking the sick patient act, and after being single for so long you mostly run on autopilot. Your independence and resilience outweigh your desire to have anyone take care of you or do anything for you really. Well, that was the case up until now. Until you met Joel.

You’ve had partners before that have ‘taken care’ of you when you were sick. Or well, tried to. The key word being tried. Other than a measly backrub and cuddling with you for the appropriate amount of time until they deemed it was time to go cause they weren’t getting laid, you pretty much handled it yourself. And you liked it that way. You didn’t need anyone else to play martyr and attend to your every beck and call.

Joel on the other hand, he does things. His presence interrupted your stream of self reliance and knocked you on your ass when you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you had nothing left to do for yourself, because he had already taken care of it all.

The light in the hood range above your oven went out? Joel fixed it. The bathroom sink began leaking underneath the cabinet? No less than a day later you come home and you already find him lying on his back, head underneath the vanity, toolbox beside him, twisting pipes this way and that.

Just last week you mentioned to him that you’ve been hearing a squeaking sound coming from the car every time you press on the brakes, next thing you know he’s out in the driveway, broad shoulders hunched over the hood as he tightens and loosens bearings, tinkering the way he knows best.

“Alright, you shouldn’t hear that noise anymore. The rotors on your front brakes needed tightening,” he mentions casually, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag as he comes into your kitchen from the garage. Looking up from the magazine you’re reading, you pause your chewing around a mouthful of toast.

“Huh?” you raise a brow at him quizzically. “I only told you about that yesterday though. I was just gonna take it to the mechanic.”

The corner of his lip lifts up slightly as he smirks. “And now you won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It was an easy fix, plus the mechanic woulda overcharged the hell outta you darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, “Gotta love that fucking misogyny,” you huff as you get up and head into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee for you both.

“It’s the way of the car industry unfortunately. Most guys who own shops are just crooks out to get anyone’s money, and most people don’t really know any better.” He replies casually as he washes his hands at the sink beside you.

“And I suppose that makes me ‘most people,’” you grumble, packing the coffee grounds into the filter, before placing it into the machine.

Without missing a beat, Joel slides your mug under the dispenser first. It's a cute little white ceramic mug that says Pot Head, beneath it is a comical image of coffee pot with bloodshot googly eyes . It was his present to you after you started dating, and he first slept over at your place. He soon realized the depths of your monosyllabic crabbiness in the morning, when he tried to talk to you before your first cup of coffee.

Now, six months into your relationship, the coffee pot is usually the first appliance that gets turned on in the morning, usually by Joel, the early riser that he is, while you soak up a few more moments of sleep. It’s pretty futile though, because once he gets out of bed, you can’t get comfortable under the covers, your personal space heater leaving a massive dent in the comforter.

“You ain’t most people to me,” his voice deepens with that Southern drawl as he moves to stand behind you, drying off his hands. God, he’s so fucking big. His presence crowds you, feeling his broad chest against your back as he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you to the counter.

You hum with a knowing smile as you hit the button to start dispensing the coffee. “Is that so?”

He leans in, brushing your hair off of your shoulder, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. “You’re my person. Mine. That’s about all that matters.” Pressing featherlight kisses into your neck, you sigh and let your head fall back against his broad shoulder, giving him more access.

“Well,” you try to collect your thoughts but the logical, words forming, part of your brain shuts down, turning to mush as he begins to nibble and bite at your neck. “Thank you for fixing the squeaky sound,” you barely get the words out between shallow breaths.

“No problem at all darlin.’” He grinds his hips into the plush of your ass and starts sucking on your pulse point. You whimper pathetically, grabbing a hold of his hands on the counter bracketing you, pushing your ass back against his crotch, reveling in how hard he is. Your pussy throbs with want, as you feel it clench around nothing, wetness seeping out of it.

“Should be silent as a whistle now.” His voice is gravelly deep now, and you snake a hand around the back of his neck, clutching his body closer to yours as you continue to let out small mewls. “Your noises on the other hand, are driving me fuckin’ insane. Wanna get more than just a squeak out of you.”

He reaches down, palm skimming over the curve of your hips, down to your ass before he squeezes, while biting down on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. At that, you squeak.

“Joel…” your last two brain cells firing off weakly as you try to form a coherent thought. “What- What about the c-coffee?”

“You had one cup already this morning,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’ll keep.” His left hand moves to grip your hip, the other one squeezing your asscheek again, not before he gives it a firm smack. You jolt forward in his grip and moan, bending your upper half over the counter, your body already responding so easily to his touch.

“Bedroom.” He says gruffly, releasing your hips and stepping back with a smirk on his face. You blink your eyes open, not realizing you had them closed in the first place and turn around with a glare.

Joel lazily tilts his head in the direction of your bedroom, his hand grabbing the obvious bulge in his pants. “C’mon my little pot head.”

So yeah, needless to say you really didn’t have to worry about being reliant on yourself for many things anymore. Joel was happy to do those things for you, and you were more than happy to show him your appreciation in return.

Being sick however, that seemed to stump him. There wasn’t anything to physically fix aside from your ailments, although he wishes that could be the case. That he could just snap his fingers and your nose would be cleared, sore throat gone, headache disappeared. But it wasn’t that easy.

Normally, you’d try to ride it out for a day or two as best you could, without making a fuss over it, but today the buzzing in your head was too intense to ignore. You yanked the top drawer of your nightstand open, bemoaning as you fruitlessly rummaged through the empty box of Nyquil pills, empty Advil bottles, and one lonely tub of Vicks shoved towards the back.

“For fuck’s sake. Of course,” you gritted. Closing the drawer, you roll back into the sheets, throwing an arm over your eyes and letting out the deepest sigh ever. Just then your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You pick it up and squint with bleary eyes as you focus on the text. It’s from Joel

[Joel]: Mornin’ darlin.’ Still up for the 7pm showing tonight?

You furrow your brows for a moment before you roll your eyes, back into your skull it feels like.

“Shit. The movies.”

It was Tuesday. You guys had made plans to see a cheap show after Joel got off work tonight. Some new crappy instalment of the Fast and Furious movies, hence the cheap night choice.

You sniffle as you fumble to type out a reply. The rhythmic pounding in your head distorts your concentration.

[You]: Morning babe. I don’t think so. Sorry. I came down with something last night and I feel like shit.

You add in multiple variations of the sad crying emoji, and the water gun to be dramatic.

[Joel]: No worries hun. I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well.

[Joel]: Wanna do something else?

You wish. You love any plans and dates you have with Joel, and you’re more than happy to cancel those plans to stay in with him on any day of week. Today shouldn’t feel like an exception but you don’t want to inconvenience him, and you also don’t want him to see you when you practically look like an extra off the set of The Walking Dead.

You sigh again harshly and sniffle.

[You]: I don’t think so. I feel like shit. Just wanna stay in bed and rot, plus I don’t wanna get you sick.

He’ll probably think you’re being overdramatic. The productive storm that you are getting bested by a measly cold, it’s stupid. Unheard of.

[Joel]: I think you’ll survive. Can’t have you dying on me so soon into our relationship, we still gotta hit the one year anniversary.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. How this man remains to be flirty and cute even when you’re feeling low and incredibly not cute is beyond you. Your phone buzzes again.

[Joel]: Plus if you’re sick now, then chances are I woulda already caught whatever bug you have cause I saw ya two days ago.

Well, he’s not wrong when you think about it. Your cheeks heat up when you think back to Sunday night, when he had stayed over. You were straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he licked into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and gripping your hips while you lazily bounced up and down his thick cock.

Ironically, it was supposed to be a Fast and Furious marathon night in preparation for the cheap movie you would see in theaters tonight. You barely made it through the first 20 minutes of the first movie in the series before Joel’s thick fingers started aimlessly tracing the inside of your thigh as you sat beside him. Your pussy throbbed at the memory, the phantom stretch of his cock, almost matching the throbbing residing in the front of your head.

Yeah, so maybe he was past the point of contagion. You’re so lost in reminiscing, he must realize it’s taking you a minute to respond, fully well knowing the effect that his words have on you. So he texts again.

[Joel]: Was a pretty fucking good Sunday night 😈

The devil emoji causes a chuckle to sputter up through your chest, but it’s pretty short-lived when you realize you can’t chuckle and breathe in through your congested nose at the same time. You recently taught him how to use emojis in his texts, so you’re surprised when he actually puts it to the test.

[You]: That it was babe. But I don’t wanna burden you, plus we can’t really do anything. 🙄

You add on the eye roll emoji, sure that he’s feeling the same way too. What guy wouldn’t? Surely not any of the guys you dated in the past. They tried, but deemed it wasn’t worth it when you couldn’t even suck their dicks without needing to pause every few seconds to breathe through your mouth and cough. Your sore throat feeling like it was wrapped in barbed wire.

[Joel]: Who said we had to do anything? I’d still wanna spend time with you. I just like being with ya.

Damn this fucking man for being such a sweetheart. You didn’t deserve him.

[Joel]: I’ll be over in 30. Want me to bring anything in particular?

[You]: You’re in the middle of the workday Joel, you don’t need to come over.

Of course you want him to come over. His presence is the only thing that would lift your mood if you’re being honest, despite feeling like your body’s been hit by a semi. But you don’t want him to leave work. That’s too much, and you’re not that whiny girlfriend.

Seemingly unimpressed by your response, he replies again.

[Joel]: 👀. 🍔 🍦 🍿?

[You]: I’m not terribly hungry right now. Just bring yourself. And maybe a bottle of nyquil plus some advil 💊? Also, look at you with all your emojis, I’m impressed 😉

[Joel]: 👍🏻sounds good. See you soon 🛻

Tossing your phone into the comforter, you slowly roll out of bed. Like a slug, you slide out from under the covers, over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the ground before you keel over.

You pad into the kitchen, glancing at the coffee maker forlorn. Probably not the best option with how your throat feels right now. Frowning, you grab a mug from the cabinet, not your pot head mug, but a plain one with simple red flowers painted on it, and flick the switch for the kettle on. Your options for tea weren’t endless as a coffee drinker, but you only really drank the muddied flavored water when you felt sick. Settling for a package of stale peppermint, you place the tea bag in the cup of boiled water and go to plop yourself back down onto the living room couch.

No less than 25 minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and your head resting on a pillow as you start the first Fast and Furious movie. Might as well, since you didn’t technically watch it with Joel the first time. Plus, Paul Walker was easy enough on the eyes that you didn’t really mind watching it over again.

Joel arrives minutes later, letting himself in, a bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and a plain plastic bag filled with containers in the other. Before you can question it, the savory fragrant smell of Chinese food wafts through the living room, infiltrating your senses and overpowering your congested nose.

At that you raise your head off the couch cushion, sitting upright with your legs crossed.

“Hey babe.” He drops the food off in the kitchen and comes over to the couch, pulling out the Nyquil and Advil, placing them on the coffee table.

“How you feelin’ ?” He kisses the top of your head and you grunt in response.

“Like absolute garbage,” you croak with the smallest smile you can muster, as you look up at him. He huffs in response and gives you a placating smile, not before peering down into your mug to see the transparent brown water. “Tea? Jeez you weren’t kidding”

“It tastes like garbage too.” You wrinkle your nose after taking a small sip. The smell of the takeout slowly brings you back as you perk up and look at him. “You brought Chinese?” The hopeful smile in your face grows exponentially as he nods.

Joel hums. “I know when you say you’re not hungry, that’s a lie. I also know that you have the biggest appetite of any woman I know.” At that your eyes narrow and your mouth drops open.

“And-” he cuts you off before you can respond, “I know that if there’s any kinda food that could convince you to eat when you don’t have an appetite, it’s greasy Lo Mein, General Tso chicken and fried rice.”

Sighing with contentment you smile and slouch back in your seat. Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue soon disintegrate as gaze up at him with utter awe and adoration.

“Thanks Joel, really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He frowns at you, confusion clouding his features. He's so adorable when he looks confused.

“It wasn’t a lot. You asked me to bring the cold medicine.” Flashing you a smirk, he brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “I was just thinking one step ahead of you, and this way you can have leftovers. Also if I could, I woulda tried to cook you something, but we both know that woulda been a disaster.”

You snort in response. “Well, still. I really appreciate it.” You nuzzle your face into his hand, as his thumb strokes across your cheek gently. You can feel your stomach twinging with hunger now, now that you’ve smelled the food. It almost matches your hunger for Joel.

He must have changed at home before he came over. The faint scent of his sandalwood body wash floods your brain as you take in his dark flannel shirt, stretched over his broad shoulders, dark wash jeans hugging his strong thighs. His curls peek out at the back of his neck as they dry soft and fluffy while his molten brown eyes look at you with a mix of adoration and concern.

Meeting his gaze, you look up at him through your lashes as you turn your face to kiss the tip of his thumb. Before he can stop you, you curl your tongue out, swirling it around the tip and closing your lips around it as you suck his thumb into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suckle harder, feeling heat slowly flood your body.

Joel exhales sharply, as he grinds his jaw, clenching his other hand into a fist.

“Christ baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” He presses his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he pulls it out, letting it catch on your bottom teeth as you bite down playfully.

It was just as easy to rile him up as he did with you, and you fucking loved it. You give him a saccharine smile. “Good. We can die together, seeing as I feel like death already”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you take two of these,” he opens the Advil bottle and places two tablets in your hand, “finish your tea, as much as you can,” he adds when you scrunch up your face at the mug, “and go take a hot shower. I’ll put the food out for us.”

You pop the pills in your mouth, chug the rest of the tea, grimacing as you taste it and stand up to face him. Joel grabs your face with both hands, that look of pure warmth emanating through his big rounded eyes as he plants a soft kiss your forehead, before kissing you on the mouth. In a feeble attempt to protest, you weakly pull back but his mouth continues to seeks yours out. "Joel," you murmur against his mouth, "my germs.”

“I love you, and I love your fuckin’ germs. They’re my germs too.” He pulls you into a big bear hug, you feel all the pent up tension from this morning dissipating from your body. Burying your face in his chest you inhale and make a small noise of contentment. You love his scent. It’s so inherently Joel. It’s home.

“Now go on.” He swats you on the butt playfully and you giggle, sashaying past him.

By the time you finish and get dressed, he’s already got the takeout containers organized strategically on the coffee table with plates, cutlery, and glasses set out. The lo mein and General Tso chicken dishes are closest to your side of the couch, while his dishes, the black pepper beef and spicy Singapore noodles, remain closer to his side, separated by the fried rice in the middle. Your heart warms and expands in your chest at the sight.

“I didn’t even wash my hair and it felt like that took fucking forever. The water pressure in that shower head used to be good,” you grumble as you take your hair out of the messy bun on top of your head, shaking it out for good measure.

“How long’s it been actin’ up?” He asks while pouring some soy sauce over his noodles.

Already, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Always the contractor.

“For the last couple months but it’s really bad now.” You fix him with a knowing look and speak up again before he can say what you’re already anticipating. “And before you say you can fix it, I’ve already had repairmen over before you who tried and failed. Saying something about a part that needs to be ordered and it’s super fucking expensive.”

He says nothing in response, just raises a brow at you. “Whatever you say darlin.’”

“C’mon let’s eat.” You change the subject and bounce over to the couch, shimmying by him and dropping down onto the couch.

“Seems like the Advil kicked in,” he surmises with a smiles. Your energy is evidently higher now that the headache has gone away.

Humming, you lean in to kiss him. You press your lips into his, feeling his tongue glide against the seam of your mouth as you open up and let him in. Moaning quietly, you break off the kiss before it gets heated, and before you have to breathe through your mouth again - although your congestion has gone down significantly, the hot shower definitely helped. “That, and your presence helps too.”

He grins at you, a twinkle dancing across his big brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You look away bashfully, and begin piling stuff onto your plate.

“You started watching this again?” He nods at the TV with an unimpressed expression as Vin Diesel broods over the hood of an old muscle car.

“Yeah,” you mumble around a mouthful of chicken, “we barely watched 20 minutes of it before you had your fingers buried in my pussy.” You look at him pointedly with your mouth full and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Licking his lips, he leans down till his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I’d rather hear that tight little pussy purring around my fingers, than the hear the engine of a 1970 Dodge Charger baby," he says lowly, stretching his arm over the back of the couch as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. "Even if it is one of my favorite cars.”

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your throat with a featherlight touch, careful to not squeeze as you finish swallowing your mouthful of food.

You groan and let your head fall back, submitting to his touch. Joel knows all your buttons to push, he learned them pretty quickly on into your relationship, and it made him all the more attractive to you. Every touch of his that made your breathing get shallow, every perfect press of his body against yours.

He knows you like being choked. Knows how sensitive your neck is, how you melt under his hands, turning to putty as soon as he wraps his large palms around the slender column of your throat. He makes it so fucking easy, your body so hyperactively attuned to his, no matter how crappy you may feel apparently.

“Joel,” you warn him but it comes out more as a breathless whine. Chuckling in response, he concedes and releases your neck.

“Not fair.” You glare at him and poke him in the chest with the opposite end of your fork.

He shrugs and gives you that shit eating grin again. “Fair is fair darlin.’”

Shaking your head, you resume the movie and both dig into the food. As delicious as the takeout is, you recognize that you don’t have as big of an appetite as you usually do, given how run down you feel, and you get full pretty quickly. An hour into the movie you’re curled up against Joel’s side with your feet tucked under you, a thick blanket pulled over you both, and a beer in his left hand.

“As if that would ever happen,” he grumbles out loud as he watches Paul Walker and Vin Diesel ramble on about fuel pump injectors and supercharged turbo's.

Secretly, you love how invested Joel gets in these shitty movies, it's partly why you put them on to begin with. Well, that, and because it usually ends with both of you getting distracted, and him railing you into the cushions of the couch. Still, it’s endearing to see him get annoyed and worked up over the mechanical and technical inaccuracies in the movies. It's also fascinating and super fucking attractive to see how his brain works. The competency kink in you preens at his humble flexing of mechanical knowledge.

You hum in question, too tired to formulate a better response.

“You put that much nos (nitrous oxide) in a car, and you’ll be blown to fuckin’ pieces at the smallest bump in the road. Jesus,” he shakes his head and gestures with his beer bottle at the screen. His right hand is curled around your shoulder, thumb brushing against your cheek, back and forth. The soothing movement coupled with your full belly is quickly lulling you into sleep.

“Well, Paul Walker seems to know what he’s doing, seeing as they made like 7 more movies after this one. Plus it’s just a movie babe. ” You nuzzle further into his shoulder, struggling to keep one eye on the movie as you hear Joel make more unenthused comments.

“Movie or not, they coulda done their research. Half the shit they’re describing under the hood of a car sounds made up. And there's 7 fucking more of these films?”

He huffs in disbelief, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah we wouldn't have made it through the rest of em.'"

“Okay Mr. Mechanic, we get it. It’s not 100% accurate, but you gotta admit the racing is pretty cool.”

He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly. “It’s alright I guess. More importantly, how are you feelin’ now?”

He rubs small circles into your back, as you practically fold over into his lap now, eyes refusing to stay open.

“Mmmm, much better,” you stretch your legs out, arching your back like a cat, making a small sound of relief. “Thank you babe. For the food, the meds, for coming over and taking care of me.” Giving him a dopey smile, you peak one eye open at him.

“Anytime darlin,’ you don’t have to thank me, s’my job. And I’ll gladly do it any time, sick or not.”

The warm depth of his voice seeps into your bones, as you soon doze off in his lap. He waits a little while till your breathing evens out, then kisses your head again as he slides out from underneath you to use the washroom.

You perk up and blink your eyes open to see the credits rolling across the screen, just as you hear the toilet flush. It's soon followed by the sound of the shower turning on and off, and then muffled sounds of clinking and clanking as Joel starts to take apart your shower head.

Smiling to yourself, you close your eyes again and curl up on the warm spot he left behind. Maybe sick days aren’t so bad after all.

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