#and there’s not really anything to be done except wait it out and don’t do too much heavy lifting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osamucide · 3 months ago

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⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

rafe + corruption kink

warnings: flirting, teasing, groping

“how come you’re here if parties aren’t your thing?” rafe currently had an arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your thigh as he gazed down at your pretty face. “my friend wanted me to get out for a while..” you bit your lip, glancing up at the handsome stranger before quickly looking away. rafe smiled at your nervous antics. you gave him the impression that you’re not used to being in close proximity with men, and that idea enticed him more than he cared to admit. “do you know my name?” rafe watched your breathing quicken when he started rubbing shapes into your skin, his hand slowly moving under the hem of your dress.

“no.. i’m sorry, am i supposed to?” he leaned down so his lips were right next to your ear. “well, you’re in my house.” your eyes widened slightly. “really?! you have a beautiful home.” you smiled nervously. “yeah? you like it?” he got up, taking your hand in his, “wanna see more?” you nodded, fully expecting him to show you the pool outside, or maybe the bar in the corner of the living room, but instead you found yourself following him upstairs. “tell me..?” he trailed off, “y/n.” you answered, swallowing thickly as you two entered his bedroom. “y/n, i’m rafe. do you have a boyfriend?”

he guided you to his bed where he pulled you on top of his lap. “umm, no.. but i go on dates sometimes.” nervously fiddling with the ring on your finger, rafe hummed. “dates, huh? do these dates go anywhere?” he stroked your hair softly, tucking a few strands behind your ear as you shook your head. “i don’t think i understand what you’re asking.” your voice was small, the feeling of his fingertips on your skin made butterflies flutter in your tummy. “do they get to have their way with you?” his tone sent shivers down your spine. “like if we kiss and stuff? no.” you felt embarrassed saying it out loud.

rafe cursed under his breath at the revelation, his cock hardening in his shorts. “how come?” he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way you shifted in his lap. “i don’t know, i just get scared i’m going to disappoint them.” you shrugged. “and why is that?” finally, you looked up, meeting his eyes. “because i’ve never done anything before.” it was like a switch flipped in his brain, and the only thing rafe could think about was stuffing you with his cock and turning you into his own personal slut. “do you want to?” his hand was back under your dress, as if to coax you to say yes.

you let out a shaky breath, blinking at him. “you’ll teach me?” rafe watched your eyes sparkle as you waited for him to answer. “baby, i’ll do so much more than teach you. i’ll make you feel so good you won’t even know what to do with yourself.” you nodded before a word could leave your lips. “you’d do that?” rafe smiled, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. “of course,” he cooed, “but only under one condition.” your stare faltered when you felt a single digit slide between your folds. “no one else except me can touch this pretty pussy.”

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yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

Text

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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eddiesghxst · 11 months ago

Text

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago

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baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.

“Is something wrong with my shirt?”

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.

“Can we have one?”

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.

“You--you mean like a baby?”

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.

“I thought we were waiting on that.”

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.

“What? What’s wrong?”

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.

“You’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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nezuscribe · 4 months ago

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slytherin!gojo acts like he knows what he likes in a girl. if you’ve ever seen him at one of their slytherin parties he’s either sporting some fire whiskey in his hand or he has his tongue down one of the other (pureblood) slytherin girls.

truth be told he’s never seen you, the muggleborn slytherin, at these parties before, and a part of him wonders if it’s because you don’t want or because, well, you weren’t really welcome to them anyways.

thankfully he doesn’t have to wonder much longer as he stumbles up the steps that lead to girl dormitory’s, supposed to meet up with catie (he forgot her last name), for a hookup.

when he knocks on the door he excepts a face other than yours, but a part of him is pleasantly surprised that it’s you.

“g-gojo?” you look like you been asleep, your eyes a little droopy, mouth open in a yawn, “is everything alright?”

he stares at you for a bit, his eyes raking over your figure, the pajamas you’re wearing and how even those were cute (they had little teddy bears all over them, something surely from the muggle world).

you were slouching a bit, your face staring at his as you waited for him to speak. he opened his mouth and then closed it again. why did you have to be so pretty?

he was a little tipsy, but not drunk. not drunk enough to pretend that his carnal desires were only being spured on by the alcohol in his system.

“is catie not here?” he asks, yet it wasn’t what he really wanted to say.

you blink tiredly, suddenly realizing what he was asking for, and you stutter, your eyes widening for a second in embarrassment.

“catie’s room is over there,” you motion with a finger behind gojo, pointing to the door adjacent to yours.

he knew that, but he’d never tell you.

“hm,” he hummed, not doing anything to make it seem like he was leaving.

“are you okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, as if you could already predict the raging headache he was going to have tomorrow.

if any of his other friends were around they’d most likely have some sort of snarky remark about how the prince of slytherin didn’t need anything to do with you, and how absurd it was that you were even asking, but right now it was just the two of you and he needed you more than anything.

“mhm,” he muttered, his blue eyes a little softer than usual, the smile on his face not cruel not taunting but…genuine.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding once as you rub at your tired eyes, too tired to even begin to think about why he was quieter than usual, “i’m ‘gonna go back to sleep now…okay?” you say it as if anything would stop you from going back to the warm embrace of your bed, but it was just in your nature.

but he doesn’t mock you, doesn’t jest or laugh or do any of the things his friends would’ve done had they been here.

he just nods once, his lips tugging up into a boyish smile as his hands find their way into his pockets.

“okay,” he repeats, watching as you closed the door, hearing the soft patter of your feet until you reached your bed.

that night he didn’t seek out catie or any of the other girls that slyly told them they’d be waiting for him, instead he just found his way back to his own dorm, a stupid smile on his face the entire time until he went to sleep.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo drabble #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo #slytherin!gojo

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spiteless-xo · 8 months ago

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╰┈➤ my first kiss. ⋙ Embarrassed that you're falling behind your peers, you decide to have your first kiss with someone you meet at the party, but your childhood friend, Eren, really doesn't like that idea. Why would you want to learn how to kiss from some stranger when he can teach you?

ft. eren/reader, minor jean/reader wc. 17.9k cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unsafe sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, loss of innocence, corruption kink, loss of virginity, first kiss, friends to lovers, pining, jealousy, praise kink, second person POV

“How far have you gone with a girl?”

Eren chokes on his spit, glancing over at you from the road. “What?”

“How far have you gone?” you repeat. “Y’know, like hand stuff, mouth stuff—“

“No, I know what you mean,” he says, gripping the steering wheel with both hands until his knuckles turn white. “I dated my ex for like three years, so…”

“So…?”

“So, I fucked her,” Eren finishes, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I haven’t done that,” you admit, turning to look out the window, hiding your face from him. “I haven’t done anything with a guy.”

“Ok.” Eren doesn’t know when you’re going with this.

“I feel like I’m so behind everyone else.”

“Because you haven’t had sex?”

“I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

Eren jerks to a stop at the red light, shaking his head in confusion. “What? What about high school?”

“I was too focused on my studies—I never went out with you to parties or anything, remember?”

“Shit, yeah… I guess not.”

“Right!” you whine, turning back to look at Eren. He spares you a glance from the corner of his eyes as he picks up speed, seeing your eyes wide and your lower lip jutted into a pout. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s going to want to date me if they find out I’m so inexperienced. It just gets worse the older I get!”

Eren snorts, “The right guy isn’t going to care about that.” He feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest as the two of you drive back to his place—are you trying to hint at something? Do you want him to be your first kiss?

“I’m hoping I can meet someone at the party tonight,” you continue, immediately crushing Eren’s hopes. “There’s going to be a lot of your friends there, right? Maybe I can kiss one of them.”

“They’re all idiots,” Eren says quickly. “You don’t want to kiss them.”

“I kinda just want to get it over with.”

Eren bites his tongue from speaking. Are you serious? You’re going to bring this up and then not ask him to be the one to do it with? “You should do it with someone you trust,” he says finally, throat tight. “Someone you’re comfortable with.”

“I don’t have any other guy friends except for you.”

Exactly! Eren wants to scream. “So, you’re just going to pick one of my asshole friends and mack on him tonight?”

You shrug, “That’s the plan.”

Eren makes a strangled noise in his throat as he pulls into his driveway, shifting the car into park before rubbing at his face with his hands. “I don’t get it,” he says, voice muffled.

“I thought it was pretty straightforward,” you say before getting out of the vehicle. Eren watches you walk past the front of the car to the door of his house, hauling your overnight bag with you as you head inside.

Eren waits a few minutes for his heart to stop beating against his ribcage before he follows.

The two of you have been friends since you were kids. You grew up a few houses down from one another, so you spent your childhood running around the neighbourhood with Eren and getting into trouble. You had a bit of a falling out in high school because Eren’s aforementioned ex-girlfriend had an issue with him spending so much time with you, but now that they aren’t together anymore, the two of you have rekindled your friendship—entering your second year of university.

When Eren gets into the house, he sees you chatting with Zeke in the kitchen and immediately scowls. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here, brat,” Zeke says, smiling warmly. “What trouble has Eren gotten you into, now?”

You laugh, “Eren is taking me to a party tonight.”

Zeke whistles lowly, “Wow, your parents are ok with that? Aren’t they pretty strict?”

“They don’t know.”

“Atta girl,” Zeke hums, gaze shifting over to Eren as Eren leans on the island next to you. “So, she’s spending the night?”

“Yeah, Mom set up the guest room for her already,” Eren says.

“Cute,” Zeke says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He turns to look at you, “You’ve grown up quite a bit since I last saw you.” Eren feels a flare of anger at Zeke’s comment and the way he punctuates it by leering at your breasts—but you don’t even notice, your head is down as you dig through your bag. "You're not a little brat anymore."

“I think the last time I was over was when I was like sixteen,” you say.

“Did you get tired of Eren teasing you all the time?”

You chuckle, “More like, he got tired of me.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Eren says.

He never told you the reason why he stopped talking to you was because of his ex, so of course he never told you that the reason why he started talking to you again was because she was gone. So, you’ve decided yourself that Eren just thought you weren’t cool enough to hang out with him these past few years.

“Childish,” Zeke tsks, finally shifting his gaze to Eren’s and catching his venomous glare. Zeke looks away, feigning innocence.

“I was a child,” Eren says through clenched teeth.

“You’re still a child,” Zeke says with a scoff.

“I’m nineteen.” Zeke hums in consideration, gaze shifting back to your breasts, and Eren decides he’s had enough of his brother’s shameless leering. “Let’s go to my room,” he says, grabbing your bag from the counter and stomping down the stairs to his bedroom, with you following close behind with a huff.

Eren chucks your things onto his bed, waiting for you to walk into his room before slamming the door shut. “Keep the door open when you have a girl in there!” Zeke calls from upstairs, but Eren ignores him.

Just like upstairs, you take a seat on his bed and start rifling through your bag, brows furrowed in concentration. “I need your help deciding on an outfit.”

Eren's whole body feels hot all of a sudden. “Ok,” he says, sitting in his desk chair and spinning it around to face you. “What’ve you got?”

You pull out a tiny, black dress that looks like it was made for a toddler. “I think this one is really sexy, but I’m worried it’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Eren hums and haws in mock consideration. “It’s hard to tell what it’ll look like when you’re just holding it like that… can you put it on for me?”

“Oh, yeah—duh!” you laugh, as if you’re silly for not suggesting the idea yourself. You stand up, curling your fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, moving to pull it up, but then pause and look at Eren with narrowed eyes. “Don’t watch me.”

He thinks about protesting—saying something like, how are you gonna kiss someone if you can’t even undress in front of me?—but he calms his hormones and spins around in his chair until he’s facing the wall. He can hear the drag of your zipper as you undo your pants and the sound of clothing falling to the floor as his face starts to burn.

Eren’s ex had an issue with his friendship with you because she felt like you always came first. If you called, Eren would come running. If you needed something, Eren would already have it for you. Plain and simple—she was jealous of how close the two of you were.

She broke up with Eren because, even though she made him cut you out, he still wouldn’t shut up about you. “If you like her so much, why don’t you date her instead?” she said. And that’s when Eren realized that his feelings for you were more than just platonic.

Was it unusual that he wanted to hug you for a little longer each time? Or that he wanted to hold your hand when the two of you walked alongside each other? It’s completely normal for friends to want to cuddle up together during movie night, and maybe if those cuddles turned into kisses, that would be ok—right?

No. Eren just had a big, fat crush on you and it took his ex-girlfriend’s suggestion to make him realize it.

“Ok, I’m ready,” you say, and Eren spins around to see the dips and curves of your body covered up by a tiny, little dress that barely falls past your ass. “So? How does this look?”

Eren clenches his jaw tightly, taking slow, measured breaths through his nose as he tries to bring some blood back up to his brain. “Slutty,” he says, and you frown.

“That’s what I thought,” you huff, directing him to turn around again to switch outfits. “What about this one?” You pull the second dress over your head quicker than the first. This one is more modest with small flowers decorating the fabric, it falls just above your knees with thin straps resting on your shoulders and a modest neckline.

“This seems more your style,” Eren says after clearing his throat, “I like this one.”

You hum, unconvinced. You take a look at yourself in Eren’s full-length mirror, spinning around gently to watch how your dress lifts as you do. “I’m not sure… it feels too cutesy to me.”

“What’s wrong with cutesy?”

“Boys don’t like cute girls.”

Eren snorts. “What?”

You shoot him a measured look, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting out your hip. “Hitch wasn’t cute. She was a bombshell.”

“Why are you so concerned about my ex?” he asks, hopeful.

“I’m just using her as an example,” you say. “Same with Mikasa and Annie. They’re all hot.”

“Pieck is cute.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“She’s one of the girls in my program,” Eren says, adjusting himself in his seat—discretely tugging the fabric around his crotch to alleviate the strain in his jeans—he feels like a teenager again with you in his room like this. “She’ll be at the party tonight.”

“Do boys like her?”

“She gets a lot of attention,” Eren shrugs.

You sort through your bag again with your back to Eren. This time when you bend over, Eren doesn’t avert his eyes. The bottom hem of the dress rises to mid-thigh, and somehow just this small sliver of skin has Eren sweating under his collar.

“So, she’s my competition,” you say, pulling out a small bag.

“She… uh… what did you say?”

When you turn around Eren quickly looks away, but he catches the way you roll your eyes at him. You settle yourself cross-legged on the floor in front of his mirror and Eren rolls his chair over until he can see your face in the reflection, watching you as you apply makeup.

“Eren, you’re acting weird today.”

“I just think this idea is stupid,” he says, and his heart beats faster in his chest. “If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss me.”

You snort, “Don’t make fun of me.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek, eyes narrowing as he looks at you through the mirror. “Whatever.”

Eren tries to talk you out of going to the party for forty-five minutes before you finally just take his keys and storm off to his car.

“Hey, come on—“ he yells, right on your heels. “I’m just saying, the party’s gonna be stupid. We can just hang out and watch a movie instead.”

“It might be stupid to you, but I’ve never been invited to a party before,” you say, thumbing his fob to unlock the doors. Before you’re able to reach forward for the handle, Eren grabs it first and squeezes his way between you and the car. “Besides, I already got all dressed up.”

Eren looks down at you as sternly as he can muster—lips pressed into a tight, thin line with his brows furrowed—but you look so cute and eager to go, that he concedes. “Fine, whatever. Give me the keys,” he holds out his free hand and you drop them into his palm with a grin, “but as soon as you want to leave, you tell me, ok?”

“Got it!” you cheer, practically skipping around the front of the car and crawling into the front seat. You’re so giddy with excitement that you can’t stop bouncing in your chair.

“You really haven’t been to a party before?” Eren asks, rolling out of his driveway and onto the road, already mourning the memory of you in your underwear in his bedroom.

“Who would I have gone with if not with you?”

“What about Armin?”

“Armin?” you ask, tilting your head. “You really think he’s the type to go to parties in high school?”

“I don’t know,” Eren scoffs, dismissive. “Hey, why don’t you practice kissing with him instead of some random at the party?” Eren teases, kissing the air as you groan in annoyance.

“Armin knows less about kissing than I do. I want to be with someone more experienced—someone who can teach me.”

“You’ve got really specific criteria for this guy. Are you sure you’re gonna be able to find someone?”

“Once I have a few drinks, my standards will lower,” you joke, gesturing to the six-pack at your feet. “Do people really play Spin the Bottle at parties? Or Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Not really.”

You sulk in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Aw, man.”

Eren clenches his hands around the steering wheel, rolling his palms back and forth until they squeak against the leather. “Look, there’s going to be a lot of bad guys at the party—guys that might try to take advantage of you—so let me know who you pick for your Big Kiss before you lock lips,” he says through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean: take advantage of me?”

“I mean, they might make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“Like, tongue?”

“Like hand stuff,” Eren says, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eyes, “or mouth stuff. Or maybe even all the way.”

“At a party? But there’s people there!”

Eren clicks his tongue, “If someone asks you to go somewhere private, he probably wants to do more than just kiss you.”

You bring your hand up to your lips, ghosting your fingers across your mouth as you stare wide-eyed out at the road before you. “Wow, so I could lose my virginity tonight, too?”

“Take this seriously,” Eren snaps.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I think you’re making a mistake giving away your first kiss to some stranger.”

“Who cares, Eren? I’ve decided I’m going to do this, so I’m going to do it—stop being so weird about it.”

Eren groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

“Ok, fine,” you whisper. “I’ll run my choice by you before the Big Kiss.”

Eren’s grip loosens around the steering wheel. “I’m just looking out for you after being a jerk for the past few years.”

“Yeah, I know, Eren,” you say. “Thank you.”

Connie’s parents own property just outside the city. It’s about a thirty-minute drive from Eren’s house, down a dirt road with no street lights. If you’re unfamiliar with the road, it can feel very spooky—and Eren senses your unease by the way you chew your lip and wring your hands together.

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he assures you, and you hum in acknowledgment. “Just be grateful you got invited to a house party and not a pit party.”

“What’s a pit party?”

“It’s when we all get drunk in a gravel pit outside of town.” You look over and Eren in disbelief and he laughs. “We get some of the guys with trucks to drive out pallets so we can burn them for warmth.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Eren shrugs, “Probably.”

“How do you get home?”

“I don’t. I usually tent overnight.”

Your jaw drops. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not. There’s not many pit parties because the cops always shut them down if they catch wind, but they’re a blast.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh, and it makes Eren grin. “So, that’s what you were doing instead of studying during high school.”

“Hey, I did ok,” he says with a chuckle. “Are you nervous about the party?”

“A little,” you admit, biting your lower lip. “Not so much about the party itself, but more about… well… you know.”

“The Big Kiss?”

“Yeah,” you nod, exhaling shakily. “I’m worried I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Then don’t have your first kiss when you’re drunk at a party with some stranger,” Eren scolds, brows furrowing.

“I wish you’d be more supportive about this.” You cross your arms over your chest with a huff, pouting in Eren’s seat like a child.

Well… at least you don’t seem nervous anymore.

Eren pulls into Connie’s long, gravel driveway that’s already filled with cars. He parks behind Reiner’s truck and gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way up to the house.

From outside, the music and voices of the people inside are muffled, but Eren can see a group of people chatting in the living room by the window, and when they catch sight of him, they all start cheering.

He opens the door to the cry of, “Eren!” from several nearby guests. Arms pull him into hugs, palms slapping his back, and suddenly he has a cracked drink in his hand as the crowd sweeps him away. For a split second, he forgets about you—but then he turns and snatches your wrist, dragging you with him as he’s steered into the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you came, man!” Connie says, a joint hanging from between his lips. “I thought you weren’t going to make it out tonight.”

“Jaeger never misses a party,” Jean scoffs, clapping Eren in the back.

“Just running a little late, that’s all,” Eren shrugs.

“Reiner was looking for you, he wants to play beer pong against us later tonight,” Jean says. “He’s convinced that this time he’s actually going to beat us.”

Connie laughs, puffs of smoke spilling from his mouth as he does. “Reiner would win if he didn’t always make Berthold his partner—that guy can’t aim for shit.”

“You’d think he’d have some sort of advantage because of his height,” Sasha chimes, giggly, “but it just makes him even more uncoordinated.”

You clear your throat softly and Eren watches as Jean and Connie’s attention shifts over to you—as if in slow motion, he sees the way their eyes scan your face, down to your chest, and then your thighs, before back up to your face.

“Who’s this babe you’re with, Jaeger?” Connie asks, brows raising. Jean runs his tongue across his lower lip and Eren feels his jaw tensing.

Eren wants to step in front of you to shield you from their lecherous gaze, but you stand a little taller from the attention, smiling wide as you introduce yourself.

Connie extends a hand out to shake with yours and Eren thinks about swatting it away. “Connie Springer,” he says.

“I know who you are,” you smile, but you shake his hand. You nod over at Jean, then Sasha, “And you’re Jean Kirstein and Sasha Braus. Eren talks about you guys all the time.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Eren explains. “We grew up together, so I’ve known her forever. She goes to school with us, but in a different program.”

“Oh, ok!” Sasha says, pleased with the explanation. She cocks her head to the side, lips pursed as she surveys your appearance. “You’re like, really pretty!”

“You go to the same school as us?” Jean asks, looking down at you curiously. “I think I’d notice someone like you.”

“I’m pretty shy,” you say.

“You don’t look shy.” You giggle, ducking your head slightly behind Eren’s shoulder and Jean shifts his gaze up to Eren’s face, eyes narrowing. “Are you two together?”

Eren doesn’t get a chance to respond before you chirp, “No, we’re just friends!”

“Oh, so he was trying to keep you for himself,” Jean says, and Eren feels his anger flare up. “Very childish, Jaeger,” he teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Kirstein,” Eren mocks, and Jean scowls at him.

“Do you know how to play beer pong?” Connie asks, nodding toward the free table in the living room. “Wanna play?”

“I’ve never played before, but I’m happy to learn!”

Connie leads you over to the beer pong table with Jean and Eren close on your heels, leaving Sasha behind in the kitchen to raid the Springer’s snack cabinet. He arranges the red solo cups into a triangle shape as Jean and Eren do the same on the opposite end of the table. “The point of the game is to sink your ball into one of the cups on the other side,” Connie explains. “If you get it in, then the other team has to drink.”

You nod in understanding, watching closely as Connie dunks a ping pong ball into one of your cups, coating it in water before handing it to you.

“Give it a shot,” Connie smiles.

You stick the tip of your tongue out in concentration, squinting one eye shut before throwing your ball toward the opposite end of the table. You completely undershoot, hitting the table instead, and the ball dribbles toward the cups without any hope of getting in.

“That wasn’t bad,” Connie says encouragingly, “but you need a little more power and a little more arc.”

“Arc?” you repeat, curious.

“Here, let me show you.”

Eren’s vision clouds as he watches Connie step behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other ghosts over your hand. He whispers something into your ear as he guides you through the motions of tossing the ball, and whatever he says has you giggling and squirming in his grip.

Connie guides you through tossing the ball and it hits one of Eren’s cups, swirling around the rim just above the water. Jean sticks his fingers into the cup and flicks the ball out and onto the floor.

“Did I get it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Nah, I fingered it out,” Jean says, “doesn’t count.”

“I fuckin’ hate that rule,” Connie groans, stepping away from you and back into position in front of the table. “Fingering is so hard.”

“I don’t want to play it either,” Eren says, relaxing now that Connie’s put some distance between the two of you.

“Let’s let our new guest decide,” Jean suggests, extending a hand out for you to speak. “What do you think?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, glancing between each of the boys. “Um… what’s fingering?”

Eren hears the sharp inhale Jean takes from your comment and watches how he stands up a little taller before speaking. “It’s when you put your fingers into the cup—like this—and flick out the ball.” Jean makes a show out of it, running his fingers along the rim of the cup before dipping them inside, gently flicking the water before pulling out his dripping fingers. Eren can see you gulping nervously from across the table from the sight.

“Oh,” you say.

“But girls can’t do that,” Jean continues, “you have to blow.”

“Blow?”

“Yeah. Just lean forward and blow into the cup—why don’t you try it?”

“No!” Eren snaps, crushing the ball in his hand. “Let’s just play the fucking game, stop fucking around.”

After swapping out the ball Eren ruined, the four of you continue to play—and it’s not a close game. Eren and Jean are incredibly good at beer pong, Connie is too high to function, and you can hardly hit any cups. You and Connie quickly drop to four cups while Jean and Eren still have all six.

“You guys really need to land a shot,” Jean says, feigning sympathy. “Otherwise you’re going to have to do a naked mile.”

“What’s that?” you ask, turning to Connie.

“Exactly what it sounds like—run a mile naked.”

You frown from his response, looking across the table at Eren for sympathy. “Nobody’s going to make you do that,” he assures, but Jean scoffs at his side.

“Hey, can we get a rearrange?” Jean asks, gesturing to the wonky formation of the remaining cups. “Give us a rhombus.”

Connie leans into your side but whispers loud enough to be heard across the table. “What the fuck is a rhombus?”

“It’s like a squished square,” Jean says, and he directs you as you move the cups into place before throwing his ball into the upper left cup.

After you fish the ball out, Eren lines up his shot and sinks his ball into the same cup. With a cheer, Eren can't resist high-fiving Jean as Connie groans. He fishes out the ball, removes three cups from play, and rolls the ball back across the table, gesturing for you to do the same.

“What happened?” you ask.

“If they both sink it into the same cup, it’s three cups out and balls back,” Connie explains, sighing as Jean lines up his shot. “They’re gonna win this.”

Jean misses his shot with a loud, “Fuck!” and Eren intentionally overshoots. He’s trying to give your team a chance to get a cup so there’s no chance of you doing a naked mile, but it’s no use because you and Connie both miss your shots.

Eren rolls the ball between his palms, wishing for the first time that his partner will flub the shot—but Jean’s got great aim, and he manages to sink it. Eren intentionally ices the ball again to give you and Connie a chance for redemption.

“Did we lose?” you ask, looking over at Connie as he hands you a ball.

“We get two chances to get it in. If we do, then we’re in the clear, but if we both miss, then it’s game over.” You frown at his explanation, looking down at the ball in your hand before glancing across the table at the six cups lined up in front of Eren and Jean.

“I just wanna get it in,” you say.

“I bet you do,” Jean whispers under his breath, hiding his mouth behind his beer, and following it up with a slow sip.

“Why don’t you take both shots?” Connie offers, handing over his ball to you as well. “I’m not much better, and that’ll make your odds a little better.”

You smile at him gratefully before lining up your shot. You follow all of the instructions that the boys gave you throughout the game: line up your arm with the edge of the table, hinge at the elbow instead of throwing with your arm, arc it into the cup…

But you miss.

Jean runs his tongue across his teeth, chuckling as he catches your ball. “If you miss this one, you’re gonna have to do a naked mile.”

“No, you don’t,” Eren says through gritted teeth.

You shake out your limbs, loosening your nerves. You bounce a few times on your feet to get out any extra energy and Eren watches the way your tits jump with every hop. After a long, slow breath, you line up your second shot.

“Oh, shit! You got it!” Eren cheers, watching the ball perfectly arc into the air and into one of his cups. “Great work!”

You throw your arms up in the air with a cheer, twisting to the side to wrap them around Connie’s shoulders as you pull him in for a tight hug. Connie’s arms wrap around your lower back, squeezing you tightly before gently lifting you off the ground.

“Ok, cool it,” Eren hisses, “you guys only won redemption.” But Connie spins you around like the two of you just won the game.

When he finally sets you back down, it’s Jean and Eren’s turn, and Jean easily gets the final ball in again. This time, you aren’t able to get a successful redemption shot, so you and Connie lose the game.

“That’s a naked mile!” Jean hoots, clapping his hands.

“No, it’s not. She got the ball in—they’re fine,” Eren argues.

Jean gestures to the six cups arranged in a perfect triangle on the table. “What do you mean? I don’t see any missing cups.”

“She got the redemption shot.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Hey, it’s my house, and I decide that it counts! No naked mile!” Connie yells, and the small group of people that had gathered around the table to watch start booing. “Oh, fuck off!”

Eren breathes out a sigh of relief knowing that you won’t be running around the house naked, but when he turns to look at you, he sees that Jean has already made his way over to you. He’s shaking your hand, whispering into your ear, and rubbing your back with his free hand.

Oh, hell no.

Eren starts charging over to you so he can pull Jean off of you when his path is blocked by a big, broad blonde. “Eren! Let’s go, it’s our turn to play you,” Reiner says.

“Dude, I can’t right now,” Eren says, trying to push past him, but suddenly Berthold is standing there, too, blocking Eren even more. “Hey, can you guys move aside—”

“Come on, Eren. Don’t be lame, let’s play!”

“Yeah, ok—just give me a sec—can you get out of the way?” Eren ends up pushing his way past Berthold and Reiner to find Jean’s face in your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. You’re pressed up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your body into him completely.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, trying to calm his anger, before reaching forward and ripping Jean’s arms off of your body. Jean stumbles back, frowning down at Eren. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Eren feels hysterical—this isn’t happening. “I’m just—”

Just then, your arms wrap around Eren’s waist, tugging him into a tight hug and Eren feels like all the air has just been sucked out of his lungs. You bury your face into his chest with a happy sigh and Eren finds himself carefully resting his arms around your body, holding you close and pressing his nose against the top of your head.

The two of you have never touched like this before—it’s always been strictly platonic—despite his desire to be more physically affectionate. The most physical contact the two of you have ever had was probably just a high-five, so Eren’s shocked to suddenly feel the warmth of your body against his.

He can feel you murmuring something into his chest, but he can’t quite hear you. Eren cups the bottom of your jaw in his hand, tilting your face out of his chest until your chin rests on his sternum. You smile up at him drunkenly. “He’s the one I want,” you say, and Eren feels his world crashing around him, “Jean.”

“No, you can’t,” he says. “He’s not—don’t do it—he’s not the one you wanna do this with.” Eren looks down at you with furrowed brows, holding you tight against his body as if he can physically restrain you from doing this—from kissing Jean.

“I want to,” you giggle, and you turn your head to look over at Jean, resting your cheek on Eren’s chest.

Jean’s still standing right there—grinning right next to you and Eren as Eren holds you close. Eren shoots Jean a deadly look, to which Jean responds by taking a step back. “Hey, come on, Jaeger. Let’s play with Reiner.”

Eren only agrees because playing beer pong with Jean means that he’s not taking you somewhere private and stealing your first kiss—so the two boys return to their spot to play against Reiner and Berthold while Connie and Sasha keep you company.

Connie is still openly hitting on you, but he’s stoned now, so he’s not talking as smoothly as he thinks he is, much to Eren’s relief. And Sasha is feeding you chips she found in the cupboard, which is helping to sober you up after the drinks you had during beer pong. A few other people come over to introduce themselves to you throughout the game, but nobody sticks around to chat.

Jean and Eren are cleaning the floor with Reiner and Berthold in this game of beer pong. They’re down to just one cup and there’s a good chance that Jean will get it on his next shot, but rather than taking the shot right away, Jean whistles for your attention and then beckons you over.

“If I get this one in, what do I get?” he asks, leaning down to speak into your ear. Eren feels his shoulders and neck tense as he watches you giggle into your hand.

“Um… I don’t know, what do you want?” you ask, batting your eyelashes up at him. You’re not even doing it on purpose—but with the height difference, you have to tilt your head almost all the way up to look at Jean’s face. It makes you look small and innocent, especially compared to Jean’s almost sinister smirk.

He runs his tongue across his lower lip, passing the ball between each of his hands as he pretends to think it over. “Hmm… what about a kiss?”

Eren watches your throat bob as you swallow nervously and he considers stepping between the two of you—but this is what you want. You’re his friend, he should be supportive of you and your decisions, even if he likes you—especially if he likes you.

You tug your lip between your teeth to bite back your grin as you nod up at Jean. “Ok—yeah, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, standing up tall again. He wraps one arm around your waist to hold you close at his side while he raises his hand to take the shot. It’s no coincidence that Eren happens to lose his balance at this exact moment and stumbles into Jean, causing him to fumble the shot with a groan. “What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry,” Eren says, not sorry at all. He takes his final shot and sinks it into the final cup, and Berthold and Reiner don’t have a chance at redemption.

The crowd cheers, Reiner demands a rematch, blah, blah, blah—none of that matters when Eren realizes that you (and Jean) have disappeared from his side. He frantically looks around the room, alarmed at how quickly the two of you were able to sneak away from him, but he catches Jean’s signature mullet disappearing into the kitchen and Eren charges after him, knowing that he’ll find you there, too.

And as expected, he sees you giggling into Jean’s chest as his hands reach down to your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counter, “So, where’s my kiss?” Jean hums, leaning toward your face. Eren loudly clears his throat and Jean’s entire back tenses with annoyance before his eyes shift over to Eren. “Can I help you?”

“Reiner wants to play again, let’s rerack.”

“I think I’m done with beer pong for tonight.”

“Come on, double or nothing.”

“Eren, I’m good.” Jean makes a point of jerking his head in your direction as he stares at Eren with a stern expression.

Eren pretends like he doesn’t get the hint and steps closer, hopping up to sit on the counter next to you and swinging his feet. “What do you think of the party so far?” he asks as Jean steps back with a huff.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you grin, holding your drink in your lap with both hands. “It’s not like the movies, but it’s still a lot of fun—it’s nice meeting everyone.”

“Some of my friends are really nice,” Eren says with a strained smile.

Jean clears his throat loudly, reminding the two of you that he’s still standing right there. “Hey, Eren, I think I heard Reiner calling for you in the other room.”

Eren tilts his head to look at Jean, his expression blank. “I didn’t hear anything.” Then he returns his gaze back to you, “So, do you want to play any more games? We might be able to get a round of Flip Cup going or something.”

“Ooo, what’s that?”

“Ok, fuck this,” Jean huffs under his breath before taking a step forward. He cages you against the counter with his arms on either side of your hips as he steps between your parted thighs, blocking Eren out of the conversation. He leans forward to whisper something into your ear, so quietly that Eren can’t hear, and you giggle in response when he leans away. “When you’re done talking with Eren, come find me upstairs,” Jean says with a wink before walking off.

“Upstairs?” Eren can’t hide his shock. “Upstairs?!”

You giggle again, kicking your feet in excitement before hopping down off of the counter. “He says he wants to kiss me.”

“Oh, he wants to do a lot more than that,” Eren spits. “You’ve known him for like two minutes, what the fuck?”

“I told you, I wanted to kiss someone at the party tonight.”

“But Jean?”

You shrug, “He seems nice.”

“He’s not. I heard from one of the guys from his hometown that he used to be a real fuckin’ bully in high school. I mean like, stuffing guys in lockers and stealing their lunch money, type shit.”

“That sounds made up,” you say, frowning. “Besides, he’s been nice to me all night.”

Eren sputters around a response—shocked. You’re not seriously going to go through with this, are you?

You hold your hands up in surrender. “I’m obviously not going to do anything I don’t feel comfortable doing with him, ok? You don’t have to worry about me. If he gets too pushy, I’ll tell him to stop.”

“How far do you plan on going? Are you going to lose your fucking virginity to him, too?”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you reach forward to clamp your palms over Eren’s mouth. “Hey! You don’t have to broadcast that I’m a loser to everyone at the party!”

He swats your hands away easily. “You’re not a loser for not having done anything with anyone—stop saying that. Don’t be in such a rush to have these experiences with some random person when you can wait for the right guy and have all of your firsts with him. It’ll be more special if it’s with someone you trust—someone you love.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “The whole concept of virginity and purity is just a social construct, anyway—none of it matters. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m less than just because I’m in university and I haven’t done things that other people have done in high school.”

“Who’s making you feel less than?” Eren asks, brows furrowing. “Don’t let what other people think dictate your actions.”

You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. “You’re right, I shouldn’t… but I am—so, please let me do this.”

Eren presses his face into his palms in frustration. He rubs his face harshly before running his hands up and through his hair, taking a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry. You don’t need my permission to do anything—go for it.” He forces a smile and shoots you a double thumbs up, and he can tell by the look on your face that you’re not quite convinced.

“Whatever, Eren. I’ll come find you later, ok?”

Eren nods, clasping his hands together and stuffing them between his thighs as he curls forward into himself, defeated.

He doesn’t know exactly how to communicate the way he feels about you and it’s freaking him out. You’ve always been the most important person in his life and the years he couldn’t be with you because of his ex were easily the worst years of his life. He’s angry that you want to waste your first kiss on one of his asshole friends because he wants you to be with him. And at this point, he knows he’s already making a fool of himself from how he’s been going out of his way to sabotage things between you and any guy that looks at you for longer than two seconds.

How much worse could things get if he was just honest with you? If he chased after you and told you explicitly how he felt and why he’s been acting so weird tonight—maybe you’ll take pity on him and just kiss him.

He could be ok with that.

Eren hops off the kitchen counter, determined to stop you before anything happens between you and Jean. He climbs up the stairs two at a time and is faced with a hallway full of doors—you and Jean are nowhere to be seen. Did you two really have that much of a head start on him? But it doesn’t matter, Eren knows which room is Connie’s, so he marches down the hallway and swings open the door—

But there’s no one there.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils, gazing around the room in case the two of you are hidden away somewhere, but no luck. Eren steps out of the bedroom and walks instead into the bathroom, swinging the door open to find an unfortunate party guest curled up in a ball on the floor next to a toilet filled with puke. Eren wrinkles his nose at the sight, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. Where else could you be?

Through some stroke of luck, Eren hears the sound of giggling from the room behind him—your giggling. He swings open the door to Connie’s parent's bedroom to find Jean laid out on the bed with you straddling his lap.

The two of you jolt when the bedroom door swings against the wall and Jean sits up on his forearms, visibly annoyed. “What the fuck!”

“Eren? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, Eren, what are you doing here?” Jean asks, holding you firmly down on his lap when you make a move to crawl off—the action turns Eren’s vision red.

“Jean, you—um—” Eren flounders around an excuse, taking another step into the bedroom as he watches the way your hands reach for Jean’s—have the two of you kissed yet? “Uh… Floch’s in the bathroom upstairs, he’s asking for you.”

“Um, ok? I’m a little busy.” Jean gestures to you perched on his lap—like it’s obvious—before rocking you down onto his lap. Your eyes widen in surprise and you lose your balance, falling forward with your palms on Jean’s chest.

Eren wonders if he’s capable of getting away with murder.

“We have to leave, Zeke’s on his way to pick us up,” Eren says, reaching forward and grabbing your wrist.

“Already? We haven’t been here that long,” you protest, glancing between Eren and Jean with your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah, he said it’s now or never,” Eren says, and you start to crawl off of Jean’s lap. “I don’t want to pay for a cab.”

“Eren, what the fuck is going on?” Jean groans, sitting up fully and grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch when you climb back to your feet next to Eren.

“So sorry, Jean,” Eren sighs, relieved that you’re coming with him. “We gotta go—have a good night!”

“Whatever,” Jean hisses, flopping back onto the bed just as Eren walks you out into the hallway with him.

He tries to sneak you out of the party as best as he can—avoiding Reiner and Berthold so he doesn’t get dragged into another game, avoiding Connie because Eren knows he’s interested in you too, and just avoiding as much of the crowd as possible before slipping you out of the back door.

He has your wrist in a vice grip as you walk down Connie’s driveway back to Eren’s car. You stumble over your feet and you struggle to keep up with him as Eren charges down the road. “Eren! You’re hurting me! Let go!”

Like he’s been jolted with electricity, he drops your hand and pauses, staring at you with wide eyes. “Oh—shit, I’m sorry. Are you ok?”

You frown up at him, rubbing your wrist with your opposite hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you—we have to go.”

“No, Eren. You’ve been acting weird all night—just tell me what’s going on.”

He balls his hands into tight fists at his side, scrunching up his face as he tries to think of what to say—how to explain himself. He was so riled up in the kitchen about telling you how he felt, but now that you’re standing here in front of him—furious he cockblocked you—it’s hard for him to put his thoughts into words.

“Zeke said he’s on his way. I didn’t want you to get left behind,” he says, mentally kicking himself for chickening out.

The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the way back to the car (where Eren texts Zeke to come pick you both from the party), grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the flat in his trunk before settling into the car. He turns on the ignition just to get the heat going while you curl up on the seat beside him, nursing your bottle of water.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you sigh, and Eren feels his body relax for the first time tonight. “Mission failed.”

“That’s ok,” Eren hums, drinking from his bottle of water. “There will be other parties.”

“Yeah,” you sigh again, resting your head on the backrest as you look over at Eren beside you. “You were right though, it was a really stupid plan. I was so excited when Jean and I were flirting at the party, but when we were alone in the bedroom together I felt kinda… scared.”

Eren frowns. “Scared? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, of course not,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. “I just… I felt like I didn’t really want to be there anymore but I felt bad because he was, um…”

“He was what?”

You gesture vaguely at your lap, refusing to meet Eren’s eyes. “Um… he was… hard.”

Eren snorts, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from his bottle. “He’ll survive. You don’t owe him anything just because his dick got a little excited.”

You laugh around the bottle as you take another sip. After a few loud gulps, you put the now empty bottle in one of Eren’s cupholders and brush away the spilled water on your chin with the heel of your hand. “I just… I don’t know, I woke up this morning and I decided that I was tired of being so inexperienced, but you were right, I shouldn’t have tried to rush it.”

“Did you have fun, at least?”

“Oh, yeah—I had loads of fun,” you grin up at him and Eren feels his heart rate quicken. “Thank you for bringing me with you, I had a really good time, even though I never got to kiss Jean.”

“I hear he’s a bad kisser anyway,” Eren says, and you snort.

“I wouldn’t have known.”

“I guess not.”

You sit up in your seat and look over at Eren. You scan over his face, his chest, his hands on the steering wheel—it makes him a little uncomfortable to sit with your gaze like this, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. “What are you looking at?”

“I never feel uncomfortable when I’m around you.”

He chuckles anxiously, lowering his gaze down to his lap. “Uh, I would hope not. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Well, I mean, even around Armin I feel a little awkward sometimes… but I’m not like that when I’m around you.”

Eren fiddles with his rings, spinning them off of his fingers and then twisting them back on. “Yeah, I always feel comfortable when I’m around you.” Except for right now. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest from the attention you’re giving him right now. There’s just something about the way that you’re looking at him that’s getting Eren’s hopes up.

“Who was your first kiss?”

“My ex,” he says, risking a glance over at you, “why?”

“How did you know what to do?”

“I don’t know… we kind of just figured it out together.” Eren feels uncomfortable talking about her with you like this.

“Do you think about it a lot?”

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think about it at all.”

“So, your first kiss wasn’t special.”

“I guess not,” Eren says as he looks over at you with a frown. “Her and I aren’t really friends anymore and I don’t wanna get back together with her, so I don’t really think about her anymore.”

“Do you regret it?”

He laughs nervously, running his palms across his thighs as he tries to stretch out in the confines of the car. “You’re asking a lot of difficult questions.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“I didn’t regret it at the time, but now, I kind of wish I had done it with someone that was more important to me.”

“Like who?”

Eren looks over at you. You’re perched in your seat, leaning forward onto the centre console with wide eyes and plush, moist lips. He feels his face soften as he looks at you—as he imagines his first kiss with you—but he doesn’t say anything. The tension in the car is thick as the two of you sit there staring at one another. He can hear each soft breath you take and if he looks closely, he can see the way your pupils dilate as you look into his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He sucks his cheeks into his mouth, making quick, little nods as he tries to keep his cool while his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. “Thought you said you didn’t want to.”

“I thought you were just making fun of me earlier… but… if you’re into it—”

“Yeah, I’m into it.”

“I trust you more than anyone,” you say, as if trying to justify it but Eren’s already sold.

He tosses his empty bottle into the backseat and then quickly leans forward on the centre console, toward you—but you jerk back and away from him. “Shit, sorry,” he hisses, sitting back in his seat.

You laugh nervously. “Uh, no… it’s ok, I’m just—I’m new to this, right? So, I just need you to be…”

“Slow,” he finishes for you, and you nod. He swallows thickly, leaning forward again—slowly this time—and rests there for a moment until you lean toward him. He can tell you’re nervous, too. Little beads of sweat dot your hairline and your breathing is quick and shallow. Not that Eren is the picture of composure right now, either. He can feel the burn of embarrassment in his cheeks and his back feels slick with sweat—but he tries to hold it together. “Do you want me to lean in or…?”

You raise your hands to his face, ghosting around his head before pulling them back against your chest. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

Eren reaches forward to grab your wrist—slow and gentle—and guides your hand up to his face, cupping his jaw in your palm. “Hold me like this, and then with your other hand, uh…” he guides it to his chest, pressing your hand right over his heart. “Here, see? Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m just as nervous as you are.”

You laugh and lean in a little further. “Why are you nervous?”

Because I like you.

“I don’t know,” he says.

Eren cups your opposite jaw with his hand, tilting your face slightly to the side, and running his thumb across the warmth on your cheek. He leans in a little further, brushing his nose against yours, and he hears your breath catch in your throat. “Are you ready?”

“I… I think so,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

Eren closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, chaste kiss. You’re a little stiff—a little awkward—as you lean into the kiss. Your lips are so rigidly puckered that there’s almost no intimacy in it at all. He holds like that for a moment—despite every muscle in his body urging him to try to deepen the kiss—before pulling away just enough to speak.

“Try to relax your lips a little bit.” He tilts his head until his lips are pressed against the palm of your hand and he demonstrates the motion by softly kissing your hand, “Like this.”

“Ok,” you whisper, breath hot against his cheek.

The second time he moves in to kiss you is already significantly better than before, your lips are soft when Eren presses against you, but you’re not quite kissing back. He tries to deepen the kiss by pressing into you a little harder, moving his lips against yours, and breathing in your scent, but you’re giving him… nothing.

“Try to copy what I’m doing,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Like you’re trying to kiss my lower lip, over and over again.”

You hum in response and awkwardly start to follow his motions and this—this!—is exactly what he wants. He applies a little more pressure as the two of you move together and the longer you kiss, the more comfortable and soft you become. You lean more into Eren’s body, clutching his t-shirt with one hand while the other curls around the back of his neck. Eren slides his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer and he’s rewarded by a soft moan that jolts electricity straight down his spine.

“Can I—can I use my tongue?” he asks, breathless. Right, he’s supposed to come up for air every once in a while.

You take a few deep breaths, lashes fluttering as you look up into his eyes, and then back down to his lips. You brush your nose against his, eager. “Yeah—please.”

This next kiss is hungry—Eren’s quickly beginning to lose his composure. Although you’re a little uncoordinated at first, you’re a quick learner, and soon Eren’s hand is gripping the hair on the back of your head, tugging gently and drawing out louder and louder moans from you. With the addition of his tongue in your mouth, it’s all too easy for him to imagine things going further with you.

He pictures looming overtop of you in the backseat of his car, your thighs on either side of his hips. He pictures sliding his hand up the bottom hem of the dress he helped you pick out, fingertips brushing against that soft, wet spot between your legs while you whine into his mouth.

The thought has him groaning into you, shifting his lips away from yours to pepper kisses along your jawline. You’re panting heavily in his ear, still clutching his shirt tightly as you struggle to catch your breath. Eren presses his lips just behind your ear before trailing his mouth down the column of your neck and with his lips against your pulse point, he can feel how quickly your heart is beating.

You squirm in your seat, “Eren, that… it feels good.”

He hums against your throat, gently sinking his teeth into the skin to the sound of your moans before swiping his tongue across the mark. “Is there anything else you want me to teach you,” he asks, breathless.

“Yeah, um…” you pull away from this kiss, looking up at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. You drag your hand down his chest, resting on his belt as Eren holds his breath. Your gaze drops to Eren’s lap—to the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“You can touch it if you want,” he whispers, and your hand shifts to his thigh. He feels like he’s the virgin here, as your hand gently ghosts across the bulge in his pants. He’s desperate for you to touch him, but at the same time, he’s worried that he’s going to immediately lose it.

You hesitate, looking down at Eren’s cock with shaky breaths. Just as Eren thinks you’re going to pull your hand away, you gently lower it onto his cock and he groans from the warmth of your palm.

“Oh!” you squeak, surprised. “It’s hard.”

Eren laughs, “Yeah, that’s all because of you.”

You wrinkle your nose at him but gently squeeze him through his jeans before softly moving up and down his length. Eren throws his head back, gritting his teeth as his hips buck against your hand—he’s about to fucking cum from an over-the-pants handjob.

“Does it hurt?”

“Definitely not,” he responds through clenched teeth.

“Can I see it?”

Eren sucks in another sharp breath, quickly moving his hands to his belt buckle as he works on undoing it. “Yeah, yeah—of course, you can,” he says, fumbling with the strap as he tries to free it from the clasp.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

The two of you jolt in surprise, jumping against either end of the car when you hear a loud car horn from nearby. Annoyed, Eren wipes his palm across the window to clear the steam on the glass and is met with Zeke grinning at him from the car beside Eren’s. He makes a point to wave before he lays on the horn again.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

“We’re coming! We’re coming!”

He turns back to you with a huff, running both hands through his hair to try to calm himself down as he looks at you apologetically, but you’re already working on the door and heading out—leaving Eren alone in the heat of the car, and Eren has to sit with his forehead against the steering wheel until his boner goes away.

“You got here fast,” he huffs, slamming the door behind him as he crawls into the backseat of Zeke’s car.

“When my brother calls, I answer,” Zeke says, smirking at Eren from the rearview window and he backs out of Connie’s driveway. “What were the two of you doing in the car? I thought you were here for a party.”

“I got a little too drunk,” you lie easily, smoothing your dress over your lap, keeping your head down. “Eren got me a bottle of water and we were just hanging out until the spins went away.”

“Ah, that’s right—it was your first party, so your first time drinking, too?”

“I’ve had wine for special occasions with dinner, but I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

Zeke hums in approval, “And Eren took care of you? That’s surprising.”

Eren’s knee bounces in the backseat, gently rattling the car as Zeke drives through the country and back to the highway. If Zeke hadn’t arrived, you could be holding Eren’s cock in your hands right now. He could be teaching you how to stroke him—show you how to spit on it to get it nice and slick.

But instead, Eren’s stuck in the backseat with sore balls while you’re sobering up in the front. You’ll probably run up to bed as soon as you get home, leaving Eren to jerk himself off in the basement while he thinks about how soft your lips felt against his.

He rests his head against the cool window pane and watches the trees rush by as you and Zeke talk to one another quietly in the front seat. Eren wonders if you had gotten as worked up as he did during your makeout session, or if it was all just for the sake of learning.

Were you still thinking about the way his body felt against yours? The way your breath hitched when Eren kissed down your neck or how much you loved getting your hair pulled? Did all that kissing make you wet for him, squirming in the front seat to hide your discomfort from Eren’s older brother as you tried to hold a conversation about school?

He hopes that you can forget about this all in the morning—that the two of you can just go back to the way things were before and pretend it never happened. Maybe you’ll end up messaging Jean and kissing him the way Eren taught you.

The thought makes him bristle, but he tries to push the feeling away.

When Zeke parks the car at the Jaeger residence, he gently reminds you both that the guest room is upstairs with a knowing smirk. Eren just rolls his eyes—not like anything is going to happen between the two of you.

“Goodnight, guys,” Eren says, whispering in the darkness of his home as you follow Zeke upstairs. He lingers by the base of the stairs until you disappear around the corner, and then with a frustrated sigh, Eren makes his descent into the basement.

He flops face-first onto his bed with a groan, already feeling the ache in his cock from the memory of your lips against his. Eren rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room as he works on the buckle of his belt, finding it much easier to undo without the added pressure of your heavy gaze on him.

He palms at his crotch through his underwear, hissing at the pressure as the tip of his cock leaks against his leg. He imagines you laying in bed in the guestroom above him, your own hand drifting between your thighs to the same memory of tonight.

He resigns himself to a night of jerking off to the lingering smell of your perfume on his shirt, but then he hears the familiar buzz of his phone on his nightstand—the designated heartbeat vibration that you set for yourself as a joke—and he jolts out of bed.

You: I think I need more practice

Eren feels his heart jump into his throat from your message. His thumbs hover anxiously over the keys, unsure of how to respond, but then he sees a second message come through.

You: Can I come downstairs?

Eren: Do you think you can without Zeke noticing?

You: I don’t care about Zeke

Eren: Yeah Eren: Come here

Eren climbs to his feet and immediately starts cleaning up his room. He shoves clothes that he had thrown across the ground haphazardly into the closet, tidies up his desk of any garbage and old dishes, and sprays a bit of cologne onto his neck and crotch—just in case.

Sure, you were in his room earlier today, but now things are different. Everything feels electric and he doesn’t want something like his dirty laundry to ruin the mood.

He is midway through trying to force the doors of his closet shut when he hears the gentle tap tap of you knocking on his bedroom door. He pauses immediately, feeling his heartbeat in his ears as he shifts his gaze over to the closed door. Standing up tall, he runs both hands through his hair to smooth down his brown locks before stepping over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hey,” you smile, breathless. You’ve changed into your pyjamas, a cute set with a short-sleeve cotton button-up and matching shorts.

He grins, reaching forward to loop his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Hey,” he says, right before pressing his mouth against yours.

You return his kiss with fervour, hands reaching up to wrap around Eren’s neck as you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. Eren grunts into your mouth, hands shifting to cup your ass as he carries you into his room and onto his bed.

He lays you out on your back on his mattress, pulling away only to admire the way your skin looks against his bedsheets. He’s already breathing hard with flushed cheeks, just from kissing, but you look just as wrecked as he does as you squirm beneath him on the bed.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper, a quiet reminder as Eren runs his palm along your waist. “Be gentle with me.”

“Of course,” he promises, leaning down to kiss you again. “We’ll go at your pace, ok? Tell me what you want.”

You swallow hard when Eren’s mouth trails down your throat, your hands twisted in his hair as you tug him closer to your skin. He presses more of his weight against your body, kneeling between your spread-open thighs on the bed as his arms wrap around your waist. “You look really cute,” he says, nipping at your neck and you moan. You squirm against him, needy for something you’ve never felt before, and Eren feels his mind grow hazy.

“Can you touch me?” you ask, an airy whisper against Eren’s hairline as he kisses across your collarbones.

“Where?” He moves his hands from around your waist, sliding up and down your sides, and gently tracing the curve of your breasts. You tug your lip between your teeth, eyes half-lidded at you look up at Eren, nodding slightly when he moves his palm across your chest.

He squeezes your breasts softly and your legs squeeze around his hips in response, making his breath catch in his throat. You’re not wearing a bra under your pyjamas, he can feel the absence of it through the thin cotton, and as he brushes his thumb across your already pert nipples, you whimper.

“Like that?” he asks, and you nod furiously. He moves his hands to the centre of your chest and starts to work on the buttons, watching the way your chest heaves with every breath and he moves down your stomach.

Eren pulls your shirt open and groans at the sight of your exposed breasts—rising and falling with each breath that you take. He brings a hand up to his mouth, licking his thumb, before bringing his hand back down to grab you, and he uses the slick digit to slide across your hardened nipple.

“Eren!” you squeal, arching your back into his touch as he flicks his thumb forward and back over the nub. He can see the small goosebumps across your skin from the cold at the same time that you darken in arousal and it drives him insane.

Hovering over the opposite nipple, he lets a long line of drool spill from his lips until it lands on your nipple. You squirm from the feeling, gasping again when Eren’s opposite hand reaches out to pinch it between two fingers.

“Oh my God, Eren,” you whimper, biting your lip hard as your head twists against the pillows. Your body is rolling against him, hips bucking up and seeking friction to alleviate the need as he plays with your chest.

He reaches down to shove his half-undone pants off of his hips so he can press his barely-clothed cock against you, instantly feeling the heat of your arousal against him as he does. With a deep groan, his head falls forward against your shoulder as he struggles not to fuck into you just like this—he’s so turned on it hurts.

“Where else?” he urges, desperate. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You struggle to speak as Eren gently pinches and pulls at your nipples, his mouth salivating at the thought of taking you into his mouth, but he’s trying to take things slow. He’s trying to let you set the pace, lest he completely ravages you.

You reach a hand down from Eren’s hair, grabbing the wrist of his hand and he stills his movements completely. He lifts his head from your shoulder to look up at your face as you gently pull his hand off of your breast. Holding eye contact, you drag his hand down your body until it rests firmly between your thighs.

“I need you here,” you say, like you have absolutely no idea what those words will do to him.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” You shake your head from side to side and Eren feels like he’s just been gifted the greatest thing in the world. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“I think so.”

“Ok, so you haven’t,” Eren chuckles, running his tongue across his lower lip. “Sit up for me,” he says with a nod, standing up onto his knees and making his way over to your side.

You shrug your pyjama top off as Eren settles onto the bed behind you, scooching the two of you back until he’s lying back against the headrest and you’re lying back against his chest. He can’t help himself from grabbing and palming at your breasts and he makes himself comfortable with his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m going to show you how to do it, so you can do it yourself,” he explains, and your breathing stutters.

He slides his hands down your stomach to your thighs, gently running his palms down to your knees before dragging them back up to your hips, using his thumbs to press into your inner thigh as he does, dragging up the hem of your shorts.

“I’m not an expert at this, so I’ll need you to tell me if it feels good, ok?” he hums, brushing his lips against the bare skin on your shoulders. You let out a shaky breath in response, nodding jerkily as Eren’s hands come up to the waistband of your shorts.

He hooks his thumbs under your clothes, nudging for you to lift your hips as he drags them down past your knees, where you kick them off to the side, leaving you in just a pair of black, lacy underwear. The sexy thong you have on contrasts harshly with your innocence and does something to Eren’s brain that makes everything feel fuzzy.

Eren spreads your thighs open by laying them across his legs, keeping you open for him, even when your knees try to cave together. With one hand on your stomach, holding you in place against his chest, he moves his other between your legs to cup you through your underwear. And just like he suspected, you’re soaking.

He groans against your skin as he moves his fingers against the slick, wet mess seeping through the fabric of your underwear. From over your shoulder, as he pulls his fingers away, he can even see the strings of your arousal stretch and snap against him.

“You’re so horny,” he whispers, throat tight. “You need it bad, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice low. “Eren, can you please—?”

He smiles, petting your entrance softly with his fingers before dragging them up to your clit, and the contact makes you jerk immediately. “Does this feel good?” he asks, applying gentle pressure in smooth, circular motions.

Your hips squirm against him as you breathe out sharp puffs of air. “Yeah—yeah, that—it’s good.”

“This is where all your nerves are,” he explains, listening closely for each hitch in your breath as he increases—decreases—the pressure of his fingers, trying to find that sweet spot that has you mewling in his ear. “This is what you’re gonna wanna do if you’re touching yourself.”

You bite your lip so hard the skin around it turns white, your eyes clenching shut as you focus on the feeling, but Eren tuts and gives you two soft slaps against your cunt. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me.”

Blinking your eyes open, you look up at Eren with hazy, tear-lined eyes, your lips plump and swollen from kissing and biting—and you look nothing like the sweet, innocent girl that was here in Eren’s room earlier today. Your gaze swings from Eren’s face to down between your legs, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of Eren’s hands on your body.

“Take over for me,” he hums, sliding his hand onto your thigh. You whimper and lurch your hips forward to chase him, but his other hand keeps you firmly in place against your chest. “Show me what you learned.”

Your chin drops to your chest as you move your hand between your legs, copying Eren’s motions from before as you find your clit and rub gentle circles through your underwear. He can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing beneath his hand as your pleasure builds and your head falls back against Eren’s shoulder.

“Does it feel good?” he asks and you moan softly in response. He trails his hands across your body, moving to the waistband of your underwear as he starts to tug it down your hips. “Now, take these off.”

Your skin is hot to the touch, breathing fast and shallow, and your hips twitch and keen up against Eren’s touch as he moves both hands to your inner thighs, spreading you open for him as he looks down at your pussy from between the mounds of your breasts.

“Eren, you’re better at it—can you please—?” your words are choppy and airy as your hands reach out to grab at his wrists, trying to pull him toward your aching cunt. Eren imagines a world where you can’t figure out how to get yourself off—where you have to come to him to find pleasure.

“Ok,” he coos, teasingly, “but you have to pay attention, ok?”

This time, when he touches you, he presses the pad of his thumb flat against your clit, leaving his fingers open to toy and play with your pussy. You’re so wet, he’s just slipping his fingers against your skin, collecting the slick on his digits while his tongue grows heavy in his mouth—he wonders if you’ll let him taste you.

“I’m going to go inside you now,” he says, shifting his free hand to grab your chin, making sure you're looking down between your legs. “It might hurt a little, but just try to relax.”

He tries to pick his thinnest finger to push inside of you, but they’re all thicker and longer than yours. He opts for his ring finger, pushing past the slippery folds into your entrance to the first knuckle, groaning at the wet warmth of your walls as they squeeze around him.

“How’s that?” he asks, carefully working it in and out of you, pushing deeper each time.

Your hips squirm against him, rubbing his cock between the globes of your ass as you do. “I want more.”

He pushes deeper and deeper, meeting no resistance as he slips his entire finger into you. You squeeze around his digit in tight, little pulses that has Eren’s cock throbbing against your back—you’re so tight.

Eren starts to fuck you with his finger, pulling in and out while his thumb maintains pressure against your clit. Your arousal coats his finger, dripping down between your legs with each pump of his hand, but slowly you start to loosen up around him as you begin to relax.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” he groans, pulling out until just the tip of his finger remains, showing how slick and shiny his skin is from you. “I’m gonna do another one, ok?”

You moan loudly when Eren pushes a second finger into you—hands clawing at Eren’s thighs as your back arches hard off of his chest. “Oh my God, Eren!” you cry, body trembling, “That feels so good—that feels so good.”

He moves his palm to cover your mouth, shushing you as his fingers curl against that spongey bundle of nerves inside of you that has your toes curling. “My family is upstairs,” he reminds you, but he picks up his pace just to hear more of your muffled moans against his hand.

The wet squelch of your cunt around his fingers has him breathing hard into your neck—all he can think about is how perfectly your pussy is moulding around his fingers, how easily you’re able to take him with how wet and eager you are. His cock is making a mess in his underwear, leaking precum and soaking through the fabric as his hips grind against your ass. He wants to be greedy—he wants to stuff his cock inside of you—but he has to keep reminding himself that this is your first time, you’re just learning.

Your legs start to shake on either side of him and Eren can feel you squeezing hard around his fingers as you moan into his palm. “Does it feel good?” he asks, even though he can already tell, and he grins when you start to nod. “You’re close, I can tell. It’s ok to cum—just let go.”

Your stomach flexes and tightens under his arm as your pleasure builds and you start squirming in his grip—fuck, your first orgasm! Eren feels lucky to be the one to give it to you.

He keeps his steady pace of fucking his fingers into your cunt as his thumb presses against your clit, and soon he feels your chest tighten as you hold your breath—one, two, three—and with a muffled moan, you cum on Eren’s fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, breathing hard as you tighten around him, clenching and squeezing his fingers as you body shakes and your eyes roll back into your head. Eren works you through it, listening to your breathing and waiting for your body to relax against his before he stops moving. With great delight, he looks between your breasts as he pulls his fingers from inside of you, groaning at the sight of the creamy, white ring around his knuckles.

Your hands are still shaking when you reach out to grab his wrist. “I’m s-sorry, Eren,” you say inbetween breaths.

“Why are you apologizing?” Eren asks, voice strained. His other hand has shifted down from it’s hold on your mouth to your chest and underneath his palm he can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. “You did really good, I’m so proud of you.”

Your thighs tense from his praise, moving to snap shut but Eren still has your legs hanging over his own to keep you open. And while you’re still catching your breath, Eren brings his fingers up to his lips to suck the sour taste of your pussy off of them.

Removing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop! he laughs and presses a kiss into your cheek. “You taste really good, did you know that? I can show you how to cum with my tongue, next.”

“I need a break,” you sigh, dramatically wiping the back of your palm across the sweat on your forehead.

Eren allows you to shift, sitting up off of Eren’s lap and instead on your knees between his thighs, facing him as Eren pulls off his shirt. Despite it all, he feels a little exposed in front of you like this—thighs spread with his cock hard against his thigh—especially with the way your eyes seem to devour every inch of him.

“I never got to see your dick,” you remind him, eyes lingering on the tent in his boxers.

“Do you still wanna?” he teases, hiding his excitement behind a devious grin, and you shock him by reaching forward and hooking your fingers under the waistband of his underwear.

Eren lifts his hips as you tug them off, dragging the waistband across the length of his cock until it springs to life against his stomach. It’s slick with precum and red from neglect, and you stare at it with wide, curious eyes.

“It’s so big,” you say, and Eren tries to keep his ego in check by reminding himself that you’re a virgin.

“Do you wanna touch it?” He grips his cock by the base, lifting it upright from where it lays across his abs, and there’s already a thick string of precum connecting his stomach to the tip of his cock.

You nervously reach out to touch him, delicately wrapping your fingers around him and—ok, wow, he looks really big in your hands. Your touch is still faint, even with him in your grasp, he can hardly feel you.

“Squeeze it a little harder—it’s not gonna break,” he directs, and you shoot him a hesitant look before redirecting your attention back to your hand and squeezing it a little harder. It would be cute if Eren wasn’t so fucking horny.

He reaches out with his free hand, covering your hand with his palm as he shows you how hard he likes to be squeezed and you squeak in alarm. Now with his hand around yours, he slowly starts to move your palm up and down along his length. You’re still looking at him like he’s some sort of science experience as he shows you how to jerk him off—eyes full of wonder—but he can tell this is turning you on by the way your thighs press together.

“This feels good,” he says, stroking along his length, “but it feels better if you touch up here.” He slides your palm all the way up to the tip of his cock, using your hand to squeeze another fat drop of precum from his tip before working your grip around the head. Eren groans from the feeling of your soft hand rubbing along the ridge of his cock and you tug your lip between your teeth in delight.

“I can do it, Eren,” you say, swatting his hand away from yours before grasping him now with both hands. Eren throws his head back against the headrest with a dull thunk! and a deep moan as you start to work along his length.

“You learn quick,” he says through gritted teeth, looking down his nose at his cock in your hands. There’s just something about seeing his pretty, little, best friend like this that has his cock leaking all over your knuckles.

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and start to inch back, lowering your face down toward Eren’s dick. At first he thinks that you’re just trying to get a closer look—but then your mouth falls open and Eren watches a line of drool spill from between your lips onto the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hands balling into fists at his sides as his cock throbs against your hand. “Where did you learn that?”

“From you,” you say, flashing him a smirk. “You did it to me, remember?”

Eren’s having a hard time thinking about anything, right now, but he just nods—not wanting you to stop. “That feels really fucking good—keep going.”

“Can I put it in my mouth?”

Your words have Eren’s hips bucking up into your hands, groaning loudly as his cheeks burn in arousal. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at Eren through your lashes. “Feeling you in my hand like this is making my mouth water—I really want to taste you, Eren.”

“Holy fuck, yes—yes! Put it in your mouth!” he can’t contain his excitement when you bat your eyelashes at him like that. Do you even realize how sexy you’re being right now? Eren’s having a hard time believing that you’re really a virgin—where did you learn this?

You break out into a smile that’s so big, Eren’s sure your cheeks hurt, but then he watches you shimmy a little further back on the bed, lifting your ass up into the air and planting down onto your forearms. You lick your lips, hands slipping down to the base of Eren’s cock as you direct it toward your face. Eren watches your jaw fall open, lips stretching to accommodate his girth, before slowly taking the leaking tip of his cock into your mouth.

You’re warm and wet as you wrap your lips around him—just the tip—but you experimentally suck on his cock while your tongue flicks against his slit.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to cup your face as he curls forward. “That feels good—keep going.”

Your eyes crinkle in amusement, but you keep a tight seal around Eren’s cock as you start to take him deeper into your mouth. Eren’s own jaw hangs open as he watches you gently bob up and down around the tip of his cock, drool leaking down his length and pooling around your hands as you hold him upright.

“Take a bit more.” His voice is strained when he speaks, moving one hand to the back of your head as he starts to push you down on his length. He keeps his movement gentle, never pushing you too much, and giving you the space to pull back when you need to, but with his direction you’re able to fill your mouth with his cock until the tip is pushing against the back of your throat.

He watches you wince slightly from the feeling, eyes pricking with tears and Eren coos at you softly. “You don’t have to take it all—it’s ok, just whatever you can.”

You pull up along his length, following your mouth with your hand as you smear his length with your spit. You let the ridge of his cockhead slip between your lips before lowering back down as much as you can, twisting your wrist as you do so in a way that makes Eren’s toes curl.

He groans loudly as you work along his cock—sucking and drooling and jerking him off. Your cheeks hollow around his length as you suck and Eren can feel your tongue moving back and forth along the bottom of his cock as you bob your head. “You’re really good at this,” he says, trying to commit this scene to memory.

You keep trying to take him into your throat—you poor thing—but each time you try to press his cock past the tight ring, you clench hard around him as you gag, pulling back quickly with tears in your eyes. “Fuck, if you keep doing that you’re going to make me cum,” he says, breathing hard.

You pull off of him all at once, gasping for breath as strings of spit and precum trail from your mouth to his cock. Inbetween breaths you say, “Wait, no—can we have sex?”

His dick twitches in your hand. “You want to have sex? Are you sure?”

You nod, crawling back up the bed until you’re sitting up on your knees again, sticky palms resting on Eren’s chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you fully into his lap, straddling your legs on either side of his hips. “You don’t need to be in a rush—you’ve already learned a lot today, we can stop now.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you insist, and you’re pouting, now. “Don’t you want to have sex with me, Eren?”

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his face soften as he looks at you. Yes, he absolutely wants to have sex with you—

But he wants it to mean something. As easy as it would be to agree to your request and fuck you here and now, he doesn’t want you to leave in the morning and have things go back to the way they were before. It’s bad enough he’s let things go this far. He’s never going to be able to get the image of your lips wrapped around his cock out of his head—or the way you feel when you’re cumming on his fingers.

“I really want to have sex with you,” he assures you, hands moving up and down along your waist, “but I don’t—”

“If we don’t do it now, then we’ll never do it,” you say, interrupting him with an annoyed groan. You cross your arms over your chest as you level Eren with a stern look. “I’m never going to get this chance with you again.”

Your choice of words has Eren tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

You press your lips into a tight, thin line, hesitating. Eren can see the gears in your head turning as you try to put your thoughts into words, speaking after a dense silence. “I like you—I have for a while now, and it’ll kill me if we don’t see this through.”

He wrinkles his nose at you, struggling to contain his excitement. “You like me? Ew, gross.”

“Eren!”

He cackles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist to keep you close when you try to squirm away. He’s smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt and he feels like his whole body is buzzing. You like him—you like him? Why didn’t you say that sooner!

“Look—I know it’s stupid, but you were right. I want to look back on the night I lose my virginity and feel good about the person I lost it to, so I want to lose it to you, Eren. You’re the only guy I’ve ever trusted like this, and it’s ok if you just want to be friends in the morning because I’ll always have this.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends in the morning?” he asks, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. “What if I like you, too? What would happen then?”

You return your hands to his chest, sliding them up his shoulders, to around the back of his neck. Carding your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, you look into Eren’s eyes with a narrowed gaze. “Well… if you like me and I like you… then I guess, we should probably date each other.”

Eren grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m cool with that,” he says, and then he closes the gap between you both when he sees your lips twitch up into a smile, pressing into you for a soft, slow kiss. “In that case, of course, I’ll fuck my girlfriend.” The word feels like electricity on his tongue.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. You’re his girlfriend.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, but you’re still smiling against Eren’s mouth as he peppers you with kisses. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

“Dunno. Scared.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Coming from the girl that almost made out with one of my friends,” he scoffs, and you lean back to smack him lightly across the chest.

“Ok, come on! Are we doing this or not?” You roll your hips forward, smearing your wet pussy across the length of Eren’s cock and he groans—any hardness he lost during your conversation springing back in an instant.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck. Just let me grab a—”

As he leaning over to his bedside table to grab a condom, you reach out for his wrist, stilling him. “No, can we…?”

Eren gulps, his cock twitching against his stomach as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Yeah—fuck it. Let’s do it raw.”

You groan, rolling your eyes, but you allow Eren to lift your hips up as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance. “You’re being weird, now. Stop it.”

“Sorry, I’m just happy,” he admits, and he’s still smiling from before, but then his brows pinch as he rubs his cockhead against your slit, coating himself in your arousal. “Can you relax for me? This might hurt a little, but I need you to trust me.”

“Of course, Eren,” you say, settling your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“Take as much as you can, but take it slow, ok?” Eren presses his cock against your entrance, holding it there with his fist around the base of his cock as you slowly lower your hips and sink down onto him.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the tight pressure of your pussy around the head of his cock as you take him. Eren’s eyes flick up to your face—despite wanting to watch the way he disappears inside of you—to gauge your reaction, and your face is scrunched up in discomfort.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you say, but your voice is strained.

He shifts his hands to your hips, holding you in place as your thighs tremble on either side of him. “It’s ok, take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you take slow, measured breaths. Eren’s biceps bulge and stiffen from the effort of holding you up, but it’s worth it as he slowly watches your face relax and you start to inch yourself downward.

“Try—oh, fuck—try going back up before taking me deeper,” Eren cuts himself off with a shuddered breath as you squeeze around him. He digs his blunt nails into the meat of your hips as he tries to control himself while you cunt drools along the length of his cock. Heeding his advice, you gently lift yourself up until just the tip of his dick is nestled inside of you, before lowering back down again and taking him deeper.

Your face is still tense and your grip on his shoulders is punishing, but you slowly work Eren’s cock into your virgin hole until he’s completely sheathed inside of you. Eren carefully loosens his hold on your hips and allows you to sink your full weight onto his lap, taking quick breaths through his nostrils to try to keep his composure as he’s engulfed in your warmth.

You scrunch your nose, gently rocking in his lap as you try to get accustomed to his size. “I feel like you’re in my lungs,” you say and Eren snorts.

“You’re really making me feel like a stud tonight,” he laughs. “How does it feel?”

You hum, searching for the words as you squeeze around him. “Unfamiliar, but at the same time… it feels good. Like I’m full.”

“Wanna try moving?” he asks, praying that you do.

“What do I do? Just like—bounce on it?”

You laugh like it’s a joke, but Eren nods encouragingly. “Yeah, just bounce on it. I can help you.”

With a look of concentration, you grip Eren’s shoulders for stability and slowly lift yourself up from his lap with the aid of his hands on your hips. He groans from the drag of his cock through your walls as you sit up, and you moan along with him when you lower back down.

You’re a little jerky and uncoordinated at first, but after a few experimental bounces and with Eren’s help, you’re able to build a rhythm on his lap that has your nails digging into his skin as you whimper. “Oh my God, it feels so good, Eren.”

He nods in approval, breathing hard as he watches your breasts rise and fall with every bounce. You feel incredible—so fucking incredible—and he’s not sure how long he can last with you riding him like this, but he doesn’t want you to be unsatisfied the first time you have sex.

“Can I try something?” he asks through gritted teeth, gripping you a little harder around your hips as he plants his feet into the mattress and his shoulders into the headrest, shifting his hips slightly. When you nod at him, he raises you up from his lap and starts thrusting up into you.

With a stuttered moan, you fall forward into his chest as Eren fucks you—gasping and moaning with your face buried into his neck as Eren bullies his cock into you with every snap of his hips. With the way your nails are clawing into his skin, Eren can tell that he’s hitting you at just the right angle now to get you off.

The sounds between your bodies are wet and loud with every thrust, your skin slapping against each other, and your pussy leaving a mess against the dark hairs at the base of Eren’s cock. Your moans against his neck just send more and more heat flooding to the surface of his skin, beads of sweat rolling down the column of his throat, his chest, and the nape of his neck.

“Eren, I’m gonna cum again,” you say, almost apologetic against his skin as your body tenses around him. “Oh, fuck—Eren!”

“That’s it, come on—cum for me,” he grunts, feeling the lustful haze he’s been trying to fight off finally consume him as he nears his own orgasm. He should be cooing softly in your ear, brushing your hair out of your face as you lose yourself around him, but now—all he can think of is how he absolutely wants to ruin you.

His fingers press bruises into your skin as he starts to force you down onto his lap, meeting each upward snap of his hips. Each breath is harder and harder to catch as he works himself to exhaustion, chasing your high as his own quickly follows. “Let me feel you fucking squeeze me,” he says through each strained breath, “show this pussy what it’s like to cum on a fucking cock.”

You whimper his name when you cum—thighs trembling on either side of his hips and toes curling into his sheets. Your nails dig lines into the muscles of his back at the same time that your sweet, virgin cunt clamps down around Eren’s cock.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s fuckin it, baby!” He’s laughing now, riding the high of his quickly building orgasm. He throws his head back against the headrest, slamming you down onto his lap as he looks down his nose at your trembling body.

You’re still going through the waves of your orgasm and whimpering his name, probably verging on the edge of overstimulation as Eren’s cock pushes against your tight walls. Your words quickly turn into mindless babbling when Eren’s grip shifts to your ass, squeezing you hard as his hips pound against yours.

“This is my pussy now, got it?” He smacks your ass with his palm and you jolt against his chest. “Look how perfect she is for me—how messy she gets. Nobody else gets to feel you like this, not when you fit so perfectly around my cock.”

Eren sits up, letting you fall onto your back on the mattress as he looms over you on his knees. His cock slips out from inside of you in the movement and he grabs himself around the base and slaps at your clit with the head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says through gritted teeth, tendons in his jaw twitching as he looks down at your body—sprawled across his mattress in a breathless, sweaty mess. You’re cunt is slick and shiny from your arousal and Eren feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

He runs his cock through the lips of your pussy, nudging your clit before pushing back into you, groaning through his teeth as he watches you squirm from the feeling. “Do you like that? When I stuff you like this?” he punctuates his statement with a snap of his hips that has your hands scrambling for purchase on his sheets.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he hisses, hands shifting to your hips to hold you in place as he thrusts into you. “That’s what you’ve wanted all night, right? You’ve been begging for it all night—someone to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Isn’t that right?”

He’s delirious as he barrels towards his orgasm, breathing hard with every movement. The bed is squeaking and scraping against the floor and your moans are echoing off the walls of Eren’s bedroom. He grunts and pants, feeling the familiar tightness in his gut as his nears his orgasm.

“Eren, I’m—” you reach out for him, nails just barely reaching his abs as he pounds into you, and he can feel it—the clench of your pussy around his cock as you start to cum again. It completely sends him over the edge and with a deep, gutteral moan he cums—hot white shooting into the tightness of your cunt with every pulse of his cock.

Eren’s vision goes white and he collapses ontop of you, holding himself up by his forearms on either side of your head as he gasps for air. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, pulling him tight against your chest and Eren feels the slick heat of your sweaty skin against his as he presses into you.

“Oh my God,” he says inbetween each breath. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle—that wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, I—”

You break out into a smile, breathing hard alongside him, hair clinging to your forehead and the nape of your neck from sweat. “It’s ok, Eren. It was a lot of fun.”

He sighs with relief, lowering his face into your neck to nuzzle against your throat. “Ok, good—shit, I’m still sorry, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.”

He snorts, sitting up just enough to put some space between your bodies, and he moves his palm to your lower stomach, gently rubbing in little circles. “Poor girl, all stuffed full of cum.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and make a weak attempt at shoving him off of you. “Gross, Eren.”

Eren cackles and allows you to roll him off, landing on his back with a quiet oof! as he stares up at the ceiling and tries to process everything that just happened. Beside him, you’re quiet too, gradually slowing your breathing as your body relaxes into the mattress.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, trying to find the words to say, but you beat him to it. “So… were you being serious? About all those things you said earlier about… liking me and wanting us to date and stuff.”

Eren nods in response, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

“So… this isn’t just some—” you gesture vaguely between the two of you “—one night stand thing where we pretend like nothing happened in the morning? This is like… for real?”

He swallows thickly, tilting his head to the side to look at you and he sees that you’re already looking at him. Eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear as sweat dries on your skin and the heat on your skin fades away in the cool evening air.

“Yeah,” he says, “this is for real.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“I don’t know. Since the beginning, I think,” he admits. “There was never a moment for me where our relationship felt different, it just… it always felt like this, but I didn’t know—or maybe I was in denial—of how much you really meant to me.”

You hum, “Yeah… I know what you mean. It’s the same for me.” You clasp your hands on your stomach and look up at the ceiling in thought. Eren can see the way your brows furrow gently and your lips purse as you concentrate on whatever’s going through your head.

“That’s why my ex didn’t like you,” he continues, “she said that I cared more about you than I did her, so she made me stop hanging out with you.”

“Ah! So that was the reason. I thought you just thought I was too lame to hang out with anymore.”

“I would never think that.” You shift to look over at Eren beside you and he shoots you an apologetic look as he sits up onto his forearm. He leans over you, brushing away the sweaty strands of hair on your forehead as he looks down at you. “I’ll make up for the years we missed, I promise,” and he seals his promise with a soft kiss against your lips.

You reach your hands up to cup his face, deeping the kiss and putting all those tips Eren gave you to good use—it makes his heart clench with pride at the fact that he taught you to kiss exactly the way he likes.

When you pull away, your eyes flutter open, gaze bouncing between each of Eren’s eyes as you build up the courage to speak. “Eren…”

“What is it?” he reaches for your hand on your chest, untangling it from your other hand so he can bring your knuckles up to his lips. “You can tell me anything—you always can.”

You chuckle and seeing your mouth twitch up into a smile has Eren smiling down at you, too. “Eren… I think your cum is leaking out of me.”

“Oh, shit,” he sits up, eyes wide as he looks around his room. “Let me get you a cloth or something.”

Eren wakes up to the gentle buzzing of his phone on his nightstand—a text message. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to go back to sleep and nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head as he holds you close.

After cleaning you up last night, you decided to stay in bed with Eren. The two of you chatted a bit more about your feelings for one another before falling asleep in each other’s arms, and as happy as Eren is to be awake in a reality where you’re his girl, he really doesn’t want to wake up right now when his head is pounding with a hangover.

His phone buzzes twice more and it almost feels more urgent this time, so with a groan, Eren reaches over your body to grab at it. He squints one eye open as he looks down at his messages to see a text from Zeke.

Zeke: Good morning, Eren. Zeke: I advise that you tread lightly this morning when you see your mother. Zeke: She was not too impressed with the racket you caused last night.

Eren’s eyes widen as he looks down at the message, thumb moving quickly to type up a response.

Eren: Shit. Eren: I thought we were being quiet.

Zeke: Really? Zeke: You really thought you were being quiet last night when you were yelling in explicit detail about when and where you were going to cum?

Eren: How mad is mom?

Zeke: Very. Zeke: You know how much Carla likes that girl, so I don’t think she’s very happy about the way you were speaking to her last night.

Eren groans, covering his face with his hand as he feels his heart sink into his stomach and his whole body break out into a cold sweat. You start to stir in his arms, pulling your face from his chest to look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Good morning,” he says, feeling his face soften as he looks down at you. Facing his mom doesn’t seem so scary anymore when he knows that he can wake up next to you like this again.

It’s ok, Eren decides. He’ll stay in bed with you all morning until his mom heads out for her regular weekend shopping trip, then he can sneak you out and deal with her on his own. There’s no need to have you present for the verbal lashing he’s bound to get.

She’s always loved you—she used to tease you as kids about getting married when you got older, so Eren’s certain that she’s over the moon about the two of you finally getting together. But that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy about overhearing Eren taking your virginity, especially if Zeke is to be believed.

“Morning,” you say around a yawn, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Pretty early,” Eren says, shifting his gaze over your shoulder back at his phone. He watches three grey dots appear on the screen as Zeke types out another message. “It’s ok, we don’t have to get out of bed right away. We can just sit here and—”

Zeke: By the way, breakfast is ready :)

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carlsangel · 4 months ago

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KEEP TALKING PLEASE?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(carl is a chest guy.)

tags: smut, BOOBS!!! and all that jazz

masterlist here!

Carl loves your body, there’s no denying that. Whether you liked it or hated it, he would always love and adore it. He absolutely loved worshipping your body while you two were alone in your room. Usually when you’re out with others he does it quietly. He’ll run his hand up and down your thigh if you’re sitting or he’ll just stare at you for minutes until you notice.

One part of you he adore the most are your boobs. As silly as it sounds, consider him obsessed. The first time he saw them was way into your relationship, a point in time where you were sharing a room but you would change in front of him. He was always so curious and couldn’t help but ask so one time you let him see. He practically froze while he was sat on the bed.

You went to put a shirt on but he immediately protested. “Wait- just hold on.” He shyly waves you over to sit beside him. He’d admire you for a moment before looking up at you, putting his hands out towards your breast, waiting for you to give him the go ahead. When you smile and give him a small nod, he gently cups them, grazing his thumb over your nipple. You breathe in a sharp breath and he looks up at you slightly alarmed before realizing it felt good for you.

From there, he’d just massage you while you made out. Slow, gentle kisses while he played with your chest. It was probably his favorite moment of his life by far.

It reached another level when he started to use his mouth. At first it was something he’d done when you guys were intimate, but then it became something for comfort. Anything with your boobs really. It was comforting for him and he wasn’t sure why, maybe it was how warm you were or how soft your skin was.

You could be laying down on your bed, cuddling with him while talking. He’d grow to get a bit sleepier and quieter so he lifts your shirt a bit in his hands and looks to see if you’d let him like usual. “Yeah go ahead baby.” He loved how gentle you’d be with him while he was sleepy. It was just everything he needed. He’d lift your shirt up enough to reveal your bra and he’d pout at the barrier between him and what he really wanted.

You were wearing a sports bra so he just slid the fabric up to see your chest. He smiled immediately and before you knew it, his mouth was latched onto your tit. He’d shut his eyes as he sucked gently, drawing small moans from you. He didn’t mean for it to be sexual, it was just something he found comfort in. He pulls back a moment to look up at you. “Keep talking…please?” Once again his tone was sweet and light.

You’d just talk and talk about your day while he sucked at your nipple. He’d make small noises against you, which would die down as he fell asleep.

Other occasions he’d just enjoy holding them. Kind of how women find holding their own boobs comfortable, he’s the same except they don’t belong to him. Sometimes you’d watch movies in the living room on the couch while Rick and Michonne are chatting in the kitchen behind you both. All he wanted to do the entire time was to put his hand under your shirt and hold your tit because it was warm and comfy but they wouldn’t leave and he got so frustrated.

Anytime they spoke to him he’d be sort of irritated until they left.

I think it’s safe to say that Carl is a boob guy.

a/n: sorry this is so short but i really like it!!! i actually got two requests for this so i hope it meets the expectations LOL okay that’s it bye love you!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd smut #twd fanfiction

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nnon0 · 7 months ago

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JJH fic recs

other fic rec posts : 1.(active post) 2.

been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)

(🫀) -personal faves

all these years @domjaehyun

WC: 34.1k

fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au

Just friends @lonelyharmonies

WC: 22k

Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au

what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?

(🫀) Only @ppangjae

WC: 21.6k

almost!lovers au

You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?

Romeo roulette @wincore

WC:21.1k

soulmate au, office au, fake dating

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight

WC: 18.7k

Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers

jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.

(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic

WC: 17k

heartbreakers, smut

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites

WC: 17k

school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun

As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.

(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae

WC:13.7k

poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers

As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs

WC:11.8k

friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut

there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts.

Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan

WC: 10.2k

Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

Boyfriend material @mochidoie

WC: 6.2k

fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst

Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.

Back up Valentine @tyonfs

WC: 2.9k

Spiderman!jaehyun

you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.

SERIES

S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun

WC:66.2k

heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

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leaderwonim · 8 months ago

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MR. FUCKING BRIGHTSIDE

pairing. slytherin!jake x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary. although sim jaeyun constantly surrounds himself with douchebags and looks like he could stomp all over a girl’s heart; you knew the real him that was deep inside. but did you really?

genre. hogwarts!au, ANGST, bits of fluff, right person wrong circumstances, forbidden/secret love

warnings. jake can be a bit of an asshole, the insult “mudblood” is used, slytherin gets shitted on as a house (dw, i’m a slytherin 😭)

Sim Jaeyun, or everybody knew him as Jake, the sixth year Slytherin, seeker of his house’s Quidditch team, and nevertheless, charming to every girl that has stepped foot in his proximity.

Half of your friends would disagree—that he was not charming but rather just another slithering snake in the worst possible house at Hogwarts.

Jake’s friend group consisted of three people: Draco Malfoy, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson. They just so happen to be an insufferable lot, maybe except Blaise who minded his own business half of the time.

“Today you will be working in pairs.” Professor McGonagall states, fixing her glasses as she holds a stroll of paper. “I’ve already decided them, absolutely no changes.”

There’s groans that fill the room, one of whom you recognize as no other than Jake.

“Seriously? I wanted to pair up with Blaise!” He whines, earning a glare from Draco. “What? C’mon Dray, we both know you and I don’t get anything done.”

“Alright,” Professor McGonagall clears her throat. “Blaise Zabini with Nancy Drumswell, Aidan Callaghan with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter with Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy with Pansy Parkinson, and finally, Jaeyun Sim with Y/N L/N.”

You don’t blink when you realize who your partner is. Rather, you just sigh a bit in defeat, coming to the conclusion that you cannot do anything to convince McGonagall to change partners.

“Hey.” Jake plops himself down on the seat next to you, laughing as Draco gives him a shove on the way to his own table.

“Hi.” You murmur, suddenly finding your yellow robe more interesting than him.

“I’ve never been paired with a Hufflepuff before.” He grins, the shit eating grin that weirdly captives your senses. “Are you guys as nice as you claim to be?”

“I don’t know Jaeyun, you tell me.”

Jake’s eyes widen before he lets out a giggle. “Jaeyun? No one ever calls me that anymore.”

You shrug, sliding him the piece of paper with the instructions to your project. “You can stop by the Hufflepuff dormitories at 8, I’ll be done with dinner by then and I’ll open it for you.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.”

You cringe at his words, the obvious disdain on your face makes him laugh even harder.

“I’ll see you then.” He whispers, and just like a movie, stands up as soon as McGonagall dismisses the class, merging into one with his friends.

♡;

Just as the clock struck eight, you heard a knock. Your books, pens, and parchment were spread out in front of you, eagerly waiting to be used.

As you slowly get up to open the door, you’re met face to face with Jake, who entered the room with a confident stride

"Hey there, Y/N," Jake greeted, flashing you a charming smile as he took a seat across from your side of the table.

"Hey," you politely turn his smile. "Ready to tackle this project?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed, pulling out his own notes and spreading them out on the table. "I've got some ideas already. How about you?"

You nodded, slightly impressed by Jake's readiness to dive into the work. "I've been brainstorming as well. Maybe we can combine our ideas and come up with something great."

As the two of you began discussing your approaches to the project, youcouldn't help but notice how articulate and intelligent Jake was when he wasn't surrounded by his usual group of friends. His confidence shone through, but it was paired with a genuine interest in the subject matter that caught you off guard.

"You sure sound different when you’re not around Draco," You remarked.

Jake only chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Yeah, well, I guess I don't always show this side of me around my friends. They have a different idea of what's cool."

You can only nod in understanding, realizing that Jake was more complex than you had initially assumed.

As you continued working, you couldn’t help but find yourself paying closer attention to the small details about him—the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the soft lilt in his voice when he explained a concept, the way his eyes sparkled with passion for the project.

"Thanks for coming, Jake," you say, offering him a genuine smile. "I really enjoyed working with you."

Jake returned your smile, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a sudden flutter through your heart. "Anytime, Y/N. I had a great time too."

As you bid each other goodnight, you couldn’t help but suddenly miss his presence, something you didn’t expect to happen with just one session with him.

♡;

In your second studying session, you and Jake found yourselves engrossed in their project once again. This time, you two decided to move to a quiet corner of the library, away from prying eyes and distractions. The Hufflepuff dorms were too crowded, and you knew you’d rather die than step into the Slytherin dormitory as a Hufflepuff.

As you discussed your research findings, you couldn't help but notice how Jake's demeanor had softened since your last meeting. He seemed more relaxed, more open, as if he felt comfortable letting his guard down around you.

Jake suddenly reached across the table to grab a book, his hand brushing against yours in the process. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you quite literally breathless for a moment. “Here Y/N, I heard this book was good for this particular topic.”

Your eyes met briefly, and you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

“Thanks,” you murmur, looking down slightly.

Jake smiled back at you, seemingly oblivious to the effect his touch had on you. For a person who charms so much girls, you’d think he know how much his advances affected others.

“No problem, seems like we got a lot done within these 2 days huh?”

"Yeah, it seems so," you reply softly.

Even though it had only been 2 nights, in those quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of their classmates, you had realized just how much you actually enjoyed Jake's company. He wasn't just the annoying Slytherin she had initially pegged him to be—he was kind, intelligent, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

"I guess that's it for tonight," Jake said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Can’t believe they only allow Prefects in the library past ten.”

"Yeah," you groan, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye. "But we'll see each other again soon, right?"

Jake nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Definitely. Let’s just hope Malfoy doesn’t ruin it.”

♡;

As you made your way through the corridors of Hogwarts with Hermione, you spotted Jake surrounded by his Slytherin friends, including Draco and Pansy. Suddenly feeling the wave of confidence at the sight of him, you decided to muster up the courage to approach him.

But as you drew nearer, you noticed a subtle shift in Jake's demeanor. His usual friendly expression hardened, and a smirk spread across his lips as he turned to face you and Hermione.

"Look who it is, boys," Draco says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Little Miss Hufflepuff herself."

Jake and Pansy chuckled, exchanging knowing glances with Draco as if they were in on some inside joke. Your smile faltered, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest as you struggled to make sense of Jake's sudden change in attitude.

"Um, hi, Jaeyun," you replied, voice barely above a whisper as you fought to keep her composure.

"Seriously? Jaeyun? That’s hysterical.” Pansy laughs, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

“What's the matter, Y/N? Can't find anyone from your own house so you bother our Jake here?” Draco continues to taunt you, his words like daggers aimed straight at your heart. “Or should I say Jaeyun?”

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the laughter of Jake's friends echoed in your ears. You had never felt so small, so insignificant to the group in front of you.

“I was hoping to discuss our project.” You say quietly, looking at anyone but Jake.

Hermione could sense your hostility, pulling you close to her side as she gave Draco a snarl.

“Listen Y/N,” Jake says, “all that crap you Hufflepuffs preach about loving each other and expressing feelings is a lie. No one really cares about what you have to say.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hermione says, shielding you by putting herself in front of your frame. “What has gotten into you?”

But Jake just shrugged her off, his smirk widening into a sneer. "Mind your own business, mudblood. This doesn't concern you."

Feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you quickly turn on your heel and fled down the corridor, desperate to escape the humiliation of Jake's cruel words.

Had you really been so stupid to place your trust in Sim Jaeyun knowing full well his reputation? By the looks of it, all answers pointed to yes.

♡;

By 7pm, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the surface of the Black Lake just in front of the Slytherin Common Rooms.

“Y/N?” Almost as if he knew exactly where you were, Jake shows up in front of you, making you give him a glare.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse as he avoided your gaze. He takes a seat next to you on the grass, his fingers tracing patterns across them in nervousness. "I messed up back there. I let my pride get the best of me, and I hurt you in the process. I should have stood up for you."

You sighed, your heart heavy with disappointment but softened by Jake's sincerity.

“I don’t get it,” you say. “One moment you’re all kind and sincere around me, and the next, you say all these things like I’m worth nothing.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the air filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. Then, Jake spoke again, his voice hesitant but earnest. "I guess my friends just have an influence on me that I can’t control. I’m sorry for what I said earlier, you’re one of the kindest people I've ever met, Y/N. I admire that about you."

You slightly smiled, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you, Jake. That means a lot to me."

As the sky darkened and stars began to twinkle overhead, the two of you continued to talk, laughter mingling with the night air.

♡;

The next night was one of the more important nights at Hogwarts. Everybody had finished their exams—and the Ravenclaws decided to throw a party at their Commons.

The music throbbed as you entered with Ron Weasley, who, at the sight of his twin brothers, ran towards them. You roll your eyes at his behavior, and start pulsing through the crowded room, a plastic smile plastered on your face.

You notice Jake in the corner, sipping on what looked like a bottle of beer. He exchanged nods and greetings with those around him, his eyes scanning the room for something—someone.

But before you could gawk at him any longer, Draco cut in smoothly, his tone laced with mockery. "Oh, look who decided to show up. Did you bring your Hufflepuff friend to the party, Jake? How charming."

Pansy giggled, her eyes glittering with malice as she looked at you up and down. "I didn't know us Slytherins were into charity work."

“Guys, seriously? Cut it out,” Jake gulps, eyes directly meeting yours.

“He’s right,” Blaise says, and you swear it’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him. “Don’t ruin the party.”

“Whatever.” Pansy throws her hand in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t want to make the Hufflepuff cry.”

Hermione comes to your rescue right after Pansy throws you a glare.

“Piss off.” She says, interlocking her arms with yours.

“Thanks ‘Mione.” You thank her softly as you’re lead away from the lot. “For saving me back there.”

“Always,” she smiles. “Now cmon, I heard Ron’s already drunk!”

You two giggle at that, you letting Hermione lead the way into the crowd of people.

♡;

It’s about 2 hours later and the Ravenclaw party is still loud as ever, filled with with laughter and music.

Despite the Weasley twins making a full ruckus of themselves, your eyes were drawn to a figure slumped in a corner. It was Jake, only this time, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, his face pale and contorted with some type of emotion you hadn’t seen before.

Concern etched onto your features, and your body felt itself navigating through the crowd of people until you’re knelt beside him. "Jake? Are you alright? Where’s Draco?”

He lifted his head, and you swore you felt your heart clenched at the sight of his glassy eyes and trembling lips. "I'm fine," he mumbled, but his voice betrayed the lie.

"No, you're not," you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze flickering with a mix of emotions. "It's... it's nothing," he slurred, but his words lacked conviction.

You stayed silent, sensing he needed to unburden himself. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice raw with emotion. "Do you think I’m good for nothing?”

"What?" You asked gently, your heart sinking as you watched him struggle to form his thoughts.

"I mean look at this, look at me," Jake gestured vaguely, gesturing to the party around the two of you. "This charade I constantly put on. Pretending to be someone I'm not."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Jake trailed off, his breath hitching. "Was it all worth the six years of be pretending to be who I wasn’t? Pretending to be the egoistic charming Slytherin everyone claims to know so well?”

Jake pauses before looking up at you, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "You know I care about you a lot, right? I like you, a lot.”

“You do?” You say quietly, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes.

“But we just can’t.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

"Because,” Jake's voice cracked, and he looked away. "Because I wish you were in Slytherin."

You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces at his words. You almost knew it then, with a painful realization that you could never compete with the loyalty he felt towards his house and the expectations placed upon him by his housemates.

Tears stung your eyes as you realized there was nothing she could do to change his mind. With a heavy heart, you rose to your feet.

“Well I’m sorry then, Jake.” You say, turning around so he wouldn’t see your tears.

And as you walked away, the echoes of his confession lingered in your mind, haunting your thoughts with the bitter realization that sometimes, love simply wasn't enough.

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sansuri · 6 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Arranged marriage | gojo x indifferent!wife | MDNI

WARNINGS: 1.3k, you guys have a child together, reader is wearing a sundress, subtle suggestive thoughts, infidelity

Synopsis: Gojo’s little family takes a trip to the beach collecting sea glass. Maybe this time, Gojo might finally get that kiss he’s wanted?

Prev: His Wife

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“Satoru, bend down for me.”

Gojo looks at you, a bit of surprise is laced over his face as he bends down to your level, waiting curiously of what you were going to do. You softly move a piece of stray hair out of his face, smoothing out the flyways of his hair, a result of the ocean wind riling it up. A soft crimson tints his handsome face and ears.

God, did he feel like the biggest asshole for this whole predicament. You didn’t deserve any of what he was doing, even if you weren’t aware of the greatest sin he was committing, yet here you were, innocently standing there, oblivious to all the wrongdoings he had done, especially to you as your husband.

Did you know that just days earlier, he was fucking the maid in the room next to yours? “Fuck,” he cursed himself under his breath. He really was a dick in this marriage. You were nothing but a perfect wife for him, yet Gojo was anything but perfect for you.

“There,” you say softly, taking a step back to gaze at the appearance of your husband. It was quite a shame that his handsome face was ruined by his brash behavior. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have been so hard to like.

Your focus is shifted back to your child, who happily babbles at the feeling of sand between his toes, picking up shells as he stomps happily within the puddles of the tide pools. Your baby was a perfect mixture of you and Gojo, taking on your husband’s playful nature, while also having your kindhearted and quiet nature.

Although you paid no mind to your husband watching you from afar, the sight of you made him feel warm within his chest, a fluttering sensation at the sight of your look today. He grew to adore the sight of his family, especially you, yet you continued to have no interest in him but your shared child.

Nonetheless, Gojo had to admit that you were quite the scene at the beach. Your sundress fit on your curves beautifully, flowing gently in the ocean breeze as it hugged around your bosom elegantly, making any sane man grovel at the sight.

Gojo smoothly wraps an arm around your waist as you follow your child, noticing the way your body tenses at his touch. The white haired man is an observant husband of course, noticing just how your body reacts to his touch, even when in bed. However, he pouts silently at your reaction, lingering his hand on your waist, in hopes of still being physically connected with you somehow.

Your child distracts Gojo with a hermit crab, picking it up and gurgling as he shows both you and Satoru the crab crawling on his chubby hand. You silently gasp, smiling as the sweet boy gently places the hermit crab down, tugging at his father’s sleeve to show his dad where he put the tiny crab back. Satoru grins at his son, “yeah?” He says in his husky voice, one that has women crawling at his feet, but you seemed to have been an exception.

“Why don’t you go find a pretty sea glass for your mom next?” He chuckles softly, nudging his son to send him off on his next adventure. His son nods excitedly, already tottering to his next mission. You eye Satoru, that look of “really?” on your face as your son wobbles off further in front of you, adamantly glaring at the sand in hopes of finding that pretty sea glass you seemed to adore more than your husband.

Gojo smirks, nodding as he watches his son trail in front of him. “I want some alone time with my wife.” He says nonchalantly, a smile still on his face, pulling you closer by the waist, leaning forward to place a kiss on your pretty lips, but yet again, you turn your face quite casually, his incoming kiss landing on the corner of your lips instead.

A look of sadness, masked by a half-hearted smile appears on his face. He nudges his face in your neck, sighing softly at your avoidance.

“You make this so hard sweetheart.” He breathes softly on your neck, sounding desperate, nipping at the tenderness of your skin there. Your breath hitches subtly, one that Gojo relishes in silently. What would you look like if you let him mark you up there? Would you release those pretty little sighs and whines? You allowed him to mark you in the lower region between your thighs, but why not up? He wanted a way to show that your intimacy was of existence even after the moment, one that even your thin sundress couldn’t cover.

Even so, you ignored his comment, placing your hands on his chest as a way of distancing yourself from him. “Behave.” You tell him with a gentle sternness in your voice, clearly trying to avoid the affections of your husband. The women on the beach otherwise find the scene to be of a loving husband and wife, admiring the sweetness of your husband. You and Satoru were far from lovers, well one-sided lovers at least.

Just then, your son tugs on the chiffon of your dress, his small hand lifting a single piece of worn down glass from the waves of the sea. You marvel at the piece of white sea glass in his hand. There may have been an abundance of sea glass on the beach, but this was one that your precious child had found. One that you would treasure as a memory piece.

“Awe, Naoki.” You bent down to the level of your son. “I love it.” You pet the fluffy hair of your son, placing a motherly kiss on his cheek, one that he relishes in happily, giggling.

Gojo watches the sight unfold, wishing silently that you were open to giving him kisses as you were to your son. He watches in silent envy, ruffling the head of his son, a smile of “good job” on his father’s face.

Naoki continues to pick sea glass, kneeling down in the sand to carefully seek for anything buffed and smoothed by the sea. You remain watching, crouching down to fetch a shell that caught your sight. While you were distracted, Naoki tugs on his father’s pants. Satoru was enamored, watching your figure marvel at the sight of the newfound shell, eyes widening at the tug of his son, quickly turning his attention to the toddler’s hand that held a piece of pink sea glass.

His son places the pink piece of glass in his hand, gesturing towards his mother, who remained fixed on the shell. Gojo instantly connected the dots, understanding that his son wanted him to bring it to his mother. He smiles affectionately, ruffling the head of his son again. What a smart boy.

Gojo, almost too excitedly, closes the distance between you two, waiting patiently for you to notice that he was holding something for you. Attentive as you are, you stand back up, looking curiously at your husband’s puppyish look.

He opens the palm of his hand, revealing the pink sea glass. Your eyes widen ever so subtly, your hand reaching to lift the piece up to the skyline to admire its color. “Pink sea glass is rare to come by.” There’s a soft smile on your face, one that Gojo can’t help but reciprocate the same genuine smile back.

“Do I get a kiss now?” He asks innocently, a genuine tone lacing his voice, asking silently in fear of being rejected.

Your eyes have a subtle hesitance, quickly recovering as you place the sea glass in the tiny baggie of yours, complying and gently grabbing your husband’s face, which he happily envelops your waist with his hands, leaning closer to make easy access for you. You gently place a chaste kiss on his lips, to which he hums softly into, relishing in the feel of your soft and gentle lips. Your touch was addicting, and Gojo could only hope for this to happen more often. Would you some day eventually kiss him everyday like you meant it? Genuinely? Like true husband and wife?

“Thank you.” You say quietly, almost afraid of disturbing your initial peace.

Even after separating, Gojo can’t seem to have enough of you, and there’s a clear look of lust on his face. God, was he so far deep in this.

“Of course sweetheart.” He lifts your face once more, placing another gentle kiss on your soft lips.

And this time, you let him. Just this once.

#sansuri writes | indifferent #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo soft #gojo comfort #gojo x y/n #unrequited love

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itneverendshere · 1 month ago

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we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s.

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it.

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa.

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard.

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head.

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull?

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way.

oh, wow, big spender.

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first.

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has.

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you.

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go.

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.”

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there.

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration.

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it.

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed.

real, scary, big girl feelings.

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

“better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to.

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

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