#like no you're mumbling you barely open your mouth

[lazysoulwriter]

at your feet - rafe cameron.

SUB RAFE SUB RAFE SUB RAFE

Rafe Cameron was many things. Dangerous, reckless, a spoiled, rich asshole who acted like he owned the world. But in reality? He was yours. Entirely. Pathetically. Willingly.

Right now, he was on his knees in front of you, spoon in hand, eyes wide and eager as he held it up to your lips. "C'mon, baby, one more bite," he coaxed, voice softer than a whisper.

You stretched out on the couch, making a show of tilting your head, pretending to think. "Hmm… I don’t know if I want more."

Rafe nearly pouted. "But you barely ate, princess. You said you wanted ice cream."

You smirked, watching his desperation grow. "I did. And you got it for me like a good boy." You reached out, cupping his cheek, feeling the way he instantly leaned into your touch.

"Of course I did," he breathed, nuzzling against your palm. "I'll always get you whatever you want. Just tell me, baby. Anything."

His devotion was almost ridiculous. Almost. Because the way he was looking at you? That deep, desperate need to please you—like nothing else in the world mattered? Yeah, you could get used to this.

"Okay," you finally sighed dramatically. "One more bite."

Rafe's entire face lit up like you had just given him oxygen after he’d been drowning. He quickly lifted the spoon to your lips, watching every move you made as you took it in, humming in satisfaction.

"Good girl," he murmured instinctively.

You arched a brow, and Rafe immediately froze, realization dawning. His mouth opened, closed, then—

"I'm sorry," he rushed out, eyes widening. "You're a good girl! I didn’t mean—I mean—"

You burst out laughing, and Rafe groaned, face burning as he buried it against your thigh. "You're so fucking cute," you teased, raking your fingers through his hair.

"You're evil," he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin.

"And you love it."

Rafe sighed, pressing a kiss to your knee. "Yeah, I really do."

[icekkeugf]

Make you feel it, Yang Jungwon (18+)

Pairing: Younger!Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Jungwon confronts your dismissal of his unsaid yet obvious feelings and somehow, you let him lure you into your own bed.

Genre: Smut, Best friends to ???

Heads up: Unspecified age gap between Jungwon and the reader-no weird business though, Jungwon calls the reader “Noona”, the reader is drunk but still conscious of her decisions, softdom!Jungwon, making out, one tiny slap, unprotected sex (don't do that maybe), hair pulling, creampie, multiple rounds implied

Wordcount: 3,490 words

Author's note: I might have tried a little with this one. I have been wanting to contribute to the Enhablr community again. So, here's something for the Jungwon lovers :-) Hope you enjoy this, I would absolutely love feedback or constructive criticism. Happy reading ♥︎

He's in far too deep. Deep in love with you. 

Maybe, not so much. He convinces himself, though he's not entirely sure.

It's insane, really, how the tick in his jaw only relaxes when you assure him that the man beside you means no harm—has no romantic inclination towards you, rightfully so, as your cousin. A casual arm of his slung around your shoulder that borders no thoughts of personal space, it took everything—and, I do mean everything—in Jungwon to not yank your cousin off of you without further clarification upon first sight.

However, he is momentarily distracted by how the fairy lights perched upon the front door glare lovingly with their yellowed tint at you, almost as if it was meant to luminate only your presence. He thinks the fairy lights are mocking him and his reluctance to admit his feelings, a scoff barely slipping past his tongue when the lights continue to taunt him with a ridiculously focused glint on your form as you hold up your half-conscious cousin from succumbing to sleep with a thud, right here, on your porch.

Jungwon is tense when you poke a finger at his bicep, a brow scrunched up with a tinge of amusement breaking through when you tease him for being just as much of a handful as your cousin. It's insulting, how you liken him to another man, as if he was just as incapable, but, he lets it pass for now, a sigh exiting his lips when his eyes drop down to your cheeks, flushed enough to tell him that you're under the influence as well.

Without as much as a word spoken to you, Jungwon leans over to pull at your cousin, scooping the man in one arm and pushing his limp body in, only letting him rest when he gets to the couch situated in the living room. The sound of unsteady shuffling and a hiccup from you has him turning around, the same bubbly feeling from earlier returning to play tricks at him. "Noona, are you okay?" It's finally time for him to open his mouth, eyes scrutinizing your every move and finally deeming you unfit when you stagger towards him, falling into his chest head first with a giggle. "Mhm, I am okay, not too drunk."

Liar.

He almost sighs again but stops when his hand unconsciously lifts to linger above your head. It drops as soon as he realises, instead finding the curve of your waist to hold you up. Jungwon steadies you in less than a second, allowing your lower half to lean completely onto his hip with a nudge. "Noona..." He calls, softly, a honeyed voice dripping into your ears almost too smoothly, it has you wondering if he always sounded this sweet, almost...desperate. You wonder if he gets like this only around you. "Hm?" You peek an eye at the man, lips twitching and breaking into a smile.

"Oh, what will you ever do without me?" He hoists you up, just a little so that you're balancing on your feet. The curl of one end of his lips has you biting yours. There he is, you think. "You're right, what would Noona ever do without you, Wonnie?" You mumble, lips parting enough to sip at the water he graciously offers, a hand still around your waist. It's intimate. You realise. Normally, you'd keep Jungwon at bay, boundaries drawn very clearly to verify that friendship is what you two have. Tonight, though, things are different. Your head feels heavy, bearing a separate weight of its own, and your feet feel light, as if it's not carrying the rest of your body. There's a fuzzy feeling in your chest and a lopsided glance at Jungwon only makes things worse.

When did he get so pretty? You wonder. No, he's always been pretty, you reason. Sparkly eyes that watch you carefully, a brow cocking up to decipher your behaviour and his plump, coral lips parting, providing you just a sliver of his tongue that darts to lick a sheen of saliva at his bottom lip. It's only then that you catch yourself midair, fingers gently hovering above Jungwon's cheeks.

Oh.

One step, two and then, finally, three. You back away, putting reasonable distance between you two, only to have worked in vain when Jungwon closes the distance. It's a sudden but welcome change when you feel yourself sobering up, the air around you two palpable, crackling with tension. "Did you ever consider me a man, Noona?" His question is quiet, it has you looking into his eyes in momentary confusion before your eyes flit away. You're caught, red-handed. "What does that mean? Of course, I do..." You mumble, feigning an aching head with your thumb and pointer finger working in tandem at your temple.

"Do you really?" He takes another impossible step closer to you. "Look at me, Noona." His words, coming out in an unfamiliar gravel, make your knees weak, and, suddenly, you're aware of being present with him as if he ties you to the reality you're in. You visibly hesitate, it ticks him off, though he chooses not to express it. You watch him quietly with pieces of your hair framing the peripheral of your vision. "I do, Jungwon." You assure him, but really, you wonder if you're convincing him when your fingers twiddle in front of you, scrunching your brows together.

He scoffs, tongue poking inside at his cheek. The audacity to lie, to consciously choose to deceive him even while you're borderline drunk—it upsets him as much as it angers him. Jungwon can't believe that you muster the strength to keep yourself in control in an inebriated state of mind. But, you notice it before he does, as always, that one vein in his temple protruding, as if warning you to tread lightly. You want to say something, anything, to ease him up, ask him where all of this is coming from. As if you don't know.

No, you really don't, you think. It's not like you watch Jungwon round the corner of your residence from the gap between your curtains, through the window, when he appears to be nervous about approaching your front door even after being your friend for four long years. It's not like you know just how much Jungwon loves Marvel but continues to geek about Studio Ghibli with you instead just because you like it better. It's not like you notice Jungwon chowing down on dry, undercooked ramen at 2 in the morning, with you, when really, he likes his noodles cooked perfectly with enough broth. It's not like you realise that Jungwon's university is a 30-minute detour from your office and yet, he insists on dropping you off every morning, citing the unsafety of public transport as the reason.

"Noona, you're really bad at this. This game you're playing," You exhale quietly, hoping it would ease the clogged up tension in your chest. He leans down, just enough to not hurt your neck from looking up at him for too long. His hand at your waist, previously anchoring you, now applies a tad bit of pressure, urging you to back up against the nearest wall. Dizzy eyes blink up at him deliberately but he refuses to let it crumble his resolve.

You feel it now, more intense than ever. Maybe it's the many drinks from earlier but your heartbeat increases, getting louder and reverberating in your eardrums. You can tell that Jungwon is barely managing to keep himself in check if the way his eyes narrow down at you and the way his grip on your waist gets cruel are anything to go by.

You've kept it hidden all these years. Locking your feelings away in that tiny part of your mind, shoving it down the back of your subconscious. It wasn't meant to come down to this, have you caged in between a wall and Jungwon in your living room. A finger interrupts you, grazing your chin with utmost affection, so softly that you'd think a rougher brush of his finger could cut you. Against your better judgement, you lean into his touch, Jungwon raises a brow at this. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

You abandon all reason, the logic behind your behaviour all these years fading into a carnal need that you kept under covers, prompting your fingers to hook onto the hem of his tee. Grabbing at it, you hope he gets the message. Not really, no, you assume when his brow cocks further up, almost criticising you, telling you you’re making a fool of yourself. As if you've been burned, you retract your fingers quickly but Jungwon doesn't appreciate this. 

“Who said you could do that?” He pulls you flush against him, “Asking for something and then taking it back. You're really stupid when it comes to men, Noona.” His words are laced with faux disapproval. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you. “This won't do.” You're about to ask what he means by that but he's already pulling at your wrist, making a beeline towards your bedroom. 

You want to say you're surprised when he slams your door, lining you up by the door frame when you're both inside. You are surprised, though, when Jungwon presses himself up against you, hot breath fanning across your face and lips converging into one before you can process anything. You let out a muffled gasp, eliciting a groan from him, thighs pressing together to ward off potential arousal.

Jungwon dislikes the action, a knee of his prying some space between your thighs, lifting up and weighing at your centre to make its presence really known. You're oblivious to all this though, mind reeling at the sharp nip of his teeth at your lower lip, a warning, if you like.

You comply, allowing him to take you as he pleases, it's the least you can do after all you've put him through, right? Licking his way into your mouth, his hands wander down your body, finally settling at your hips, the pads of his fingers making indents on your skin. You don't know what it is, but something tugs at your heart. All this while, you might as well have made this up in your mind. But, Jungwon's fingers, unlike his lips that are relentless and making a statement on yours, are gentle, it reminds you that he is here, holding you, making you his.

Jungwon, taunting you, pulls away, not without his thumb wiping at your lips absentmindedly. You tasted just like he imagined, if not better, the dried lip tint sweet on you, smudging onto his as well. Glossy with his spit coating your lips, your teeth pull at it, a quiet whine full of complaints directed at a teasing Jungwon. “What? Now you're begging for a taste of me. Isn’t that right, Noona?” He tilts his head to the side, pushing you to do something, if not say something. 

With a grab of his collar, you pull him towards you quickly, it amuses him. “Shut up and kiss me.” You manage to speak for the first time in a while, “Whatever you say, Noona.” Jungwon obliges with your demands, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Assuming the lead, your tongue prods at his teeth which takes him by surprise, allowing you to walk him backwards till his calves hit one of the bedposts. 

“Aren't you eager?” He speaks into your mouth, not allowing you leverage over him by flipping your positions so that now you're the one closest to the bed. “That's unfair, Noona. After you've played with me so much…” His thumb caresses your cheek as if preparing you for something. “You don't get to enjoy this so easily.” The building high quickly wears off, his words serving as a caution.

Jungwon looks down at you and with a nudge of his hand to your shoulder, you lose balance, falling onto the mattress with a bounce. The boy settles onto the bed with a knee guarding both thighs at the sides. Finding your cheek once again, he tips your chin upwards, eyes locking with a breathy gasp from you. “Jungwon…” You trap him with a circle of your thighs around his hips, calves hanging loosely off the bed. 

He humours you, just this once, he tells himself. “What is it?” He pries, thumbing onto your jaw, pressing you to answer him. “Please.” You state, searching his eyes. Jungwon barely allows you a glimpse of his toothy grin before he's maneuvering you onto your knees. You understand just what he wants, as you always do when it comes to him, turning around to pucker your behind, arching your back by the slightest to tempt him, as if he's not already deep in the trenches knowing you're under him, so pliant and inviting. 

Just for him.

The thoughts have his sweatpants constricting around the visible tent between his legs. Jungwon lets pass a throaty groan at this, fighting the urge to rut himself onto the edge of your bed. No, he can't have that, not when he already has you exactly where he needs you. He doesn't think twice before asking you to strip, shimmying his clothes off and grabbing a handful of your butt to grope at while you clumsily tug at your tank top. 

With a needy whine, you push your ass towards him, throwing him a desperate look over your shoulder just for you to get needier at the sight of his bare torso. You can't make out much of him, your room bathed in the dark and only a singular ray of lantern by your porch penetrating your window. “Fuck, Noona.” There's a sharp sound of something smacking and it takes you a moment to register that Jungwon's palm had just struck your ass. You don't feel the pain, if anything, the impact has you doubling forward, panties possibly soaked through with a gush of your pathetic arousal pouring out.

“Look at you, sprawled out for me like this. Didn't think my pretty little Noona was into this. You're sick. Pathetic even. ” As if to make a point, he runs a knowing finger down the middle of your panties. The fabric does anything but cover you, he notes, moulding itself to your pussy by the way it's damp. The sticky feeling it provides rips a moan out of you and Jungwon decides that he's had enough. He would quite literally pass out if he didn't bury himself into your heat within the next minute.

Pushing the slit of your panties to the side, he eases a thumb into the rim of your hole, toying there for a second before rubbing languid circles at your bud. He wanted to make you work for it, he did but his cock is twitching, crying for him to envelope it in your cunt. He promises himself to teach you a lesson next time, lining his bulbous tip up against your hole. The view is nothing like he had imagined every other night, fucking his fist at the thought of having you to him. Your pussy is divine, he concludes, drops of your juices beading at your lips, it's like you already creamed yourself once before he could get you to do so himself. 

You're about to complain, eyes misty and curious about the hold-up but it's like Jungwon reads your mind, pushing at his boxers so that the fat head of his cock finally tastes you squeezing around him. It's painful how you clench around just his tip, he has to grit his teeth, kneading the flesh of your ass lovingly though he itches to deliver another smack to it, “Breathe, baby, I got you.” He mutters, bullying his way into you when you seemingly adjust to him. You cry with a start when he fastens your wrists behind you, holding it in one hand while the other deceives you for a second when it hovers above your hair softly. It's the next second when the same hand finds itself fisting around your strands and pulling you up.

Flush against him now, his cock lodges itself completely into you, filling you in a way you've never been before. “Oh, fuck—too full…” You manage to sputter, chest heaving although he's doing all the work. The angle he's nestled into you is mind-numbing, it has you dumb and thinking of nothing but the feel of his cock, your insides committing every trace of his vein to memory. You just know you'll be recollecting this for a while when you need that extra push when stressed. “Yeah? Full of me, aren't you? Does it feel good, baby?” He must be insane, you think, to ask you something so obvious.

“So, so good. Jungwon!” You attempt to say more but you can't think of any way to put how he's making you feel in words. You repeat the same with a shriek and it has him biting back a laugh, “So fucking dumb. Dumb on my cock, aren't you, Noona?” The hand in your hair makes its presence aware with another tug, positioning your shoulder to his lips and Jungwon takes the opportunity to sink his canines into your skin. His cock is merciless, ramming into you with powerful, rhythmic thrusts that force you forward every time he sinks into your heat again.

There's a familiar feeling creeping up your back, the muscles in your lower abdomen flexing and relaxing once in a while and your thighs part further, as if welcoming more of him into you. One particularly sharp rut of his hips has his pelvis slamming into yours and his cock seems to find a different angle to fuck itself into, massaging the one spot that has your toes curling and lips parting in a silent scream. “Is that it, Noona? Fuck, you're clenching around me so good. Fucking hell—” He pauses momentarily, lifting a thigh of yours higher around his hips to gain better access to you. 

Resuming his ministrations, Jungwon assumes a bruising grip on your wrists. “That's it, Wonnie, just there! Gonna come!” You warn, pushing yourself onto his length, rolling your hips. “Let go, baby, just like that, fuck yourself onto me.” It isn't long before you're spasming around him, eyes shutting tightly and walls clamping around his cock as you ride your high. Jungwon is teetering on the edge of his orgasm too, muffling himself into your neck with a bite of your flesh as he fucks his release into your inviting hole. He meant to pull out, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of coming in your tight pussy. He's not in the least apologetic, continuing to sheathe himself in your shared cum with slow, controlled thrusts. 

You can't help but wince, sensitivity quickly making itself apparent when he shows no signs of stopping. Jungwon shushes you though, basking in the glow of his well-deserved orgasm. He reluctantly pulls out, holding you up just in case. “Wait a minute, Noona.” He speaks quietly, letting you find your balance while he retrieves a washcloth damp enough to clean you up. His touch is gentle, reassuring you at this moment, that you're in this together, it wasn't a lapse in judgement. At least not for him. 

“Wonnie?” Your palm cups his jaw, moving to face him while he kneels by the bed. “Did you really mean what you said and what you did?” Jungwon is quick to nod his head and you surge forward to embrace him with a composed poise. “I didn't mean to do it this way. Though, I don't regret this in the slightest—it just wasn't the best way to bring up the way I was feeling. I think I was sick of you treating me like I was just like other men.” He pauses, “I really like you, Noona.” He finally confesses.

You don't know what this means for you two, you don't know how you feel about this just yet. But, you do know that you're willing to figure it out, with him, preferably. So, you tell him so, pulling him under the covers when he nods and his lips twitch into a grin. “You still have to make up for all you put me through.” Jungwon reminds you, brows quirking up teasingly. “Will this suffice?” You ask, mischievous hands feeling him down and finding his half-softened cock, surprising him with a jolt. “Oh, you're a fast learner.” He coos, shuffling you around until you're securely on top of him. 

You find yourself tangled in sheets with Jungwon all night, showing him, in multiple ways and positions, just how much you're willing to do to make it up to him. What you fail to remember is your now not so passed out cousin in the living room, who has to bear the torture of crashing at your place.

All rights reserved to @/icekkeugf 2025. Please do not copy, steal or translate any of my works.

[katebishopsbaefy]

PROMPT 3. DOM BILLIE. EDGING.

NEED THIS MORE THAN AIR

prompt list

3) fully clothed x stark naked

words: 577

You squirm underneath her, but don’t get very far. Her hand is trapping your wrists over your head too firmly. You know she won’t be happy with all of your movement, but you can’t help it; not with three of her fingers pounding into you.

All you’d done was talk to some girl at a party. It meant absolutely nothing; she’d just asked if you had a girlfriend, you'd said yes, and she left. That was all it was, but Billie loves to take that kind of thing and run with it. She likes to pretend she's jealous, pretend she’s angry with you, which is how you ended up here.

She’s got you completely naked on the bed. She’d been threatening to tie you up, but you know she won’t. She wants you completely bare, even your wrists and ankles, just to make it more humiliating for you, especially considering she was still fully clothed. All she would allow was her hand pinning yours into the mattress.

“Shhh… hold still. You’re just gonna make it worse,” she murmurs lowly into your ear, continuing to fuck into you. She’s got three fingers shoved into your cunt, and that’s it. She knows it takes you forever to cum like this, with just her fingers, so it’ll make you even more frustrated. More fun for her.

“Billie-” you start to choke out. You barely even did anything wrong, and even though you know her anger is all fake, her fingers in you aren’t. 

She quickly shushes you with a particularly harsh thrust. She probably knows your body better than she knows how to spell; she knows exactly what spots make you tick, exactly what spots make you scream, exactly what spots will work you up the most. “Don’t complain. Jus’ shut up and take it, baby. Don’tchu wanna be good f’me?”

Of course, you're nodding before you can even register you are. All you want is to be good for her, even though you know you never stepped out of line in the first place. And so, to be good, like she wants, you know you have to tell her when you get close. “G-Gonna come… please…”

When she bites her lip and smiles, you know you’re fucked. She pounds into you for about ten more seconds before abruptly pulling away, leaving you trembling on the bed with wide, tearful eyes. You whine and sniffle and squirm, but she just holds you down and giggles way too sweetly for what she’s doing to you.

She watches you come down from your edge, and only when she’s sure you’re completely calm does she press her fingers back into you. They immediately find your sweet spot which is already sore from the first edge, and you have to force yourself to relax. You know you’re in for a long night of crying and lost pleasure, but you want to be good for her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she mumbles against your shoulder, starting to place open mouthed kisses to your bare skin. You can feel the material of her shirt on your chest when she leans down (which happens to be incredibly sensitive from her abuse on your nipples just before this), and it serves as a reminder of your position. She’s got complete control. You shake your head, and she grins against your shoulder. “Good. Jus’ keep bein’ good f’me. We’ll keep goin’ ‘til I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

[animamii]

Hit Different | Eren Jaeger 𝜗𝜚 part deux

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Eren meets his match when Ymir's cousin crashes into his life. Classic playboy meets maneater. ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𖹭.ᐟ modern aot verse! college au!

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

The sun is a personal attack. Why the hell does it have to be so damn bright right now? You groan, burrowing deeper into the mess of blankets, only to realize—you don’t remember getting into bed. Hell, you barely even remember leaving the party. Your head throbs in protest as you peel open your eyes, met with unfamiliar floral-patterned sheets and a very judgmental Ymir sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Look who’s finally up,” she monotonously spews, not even glancing at you, just tap, tapping away at her phone. “Thought I was gonna have to throw water on you.”

You blink, sluggish, trying to piece together the events of last night. “Where am I?” Your voice is hoarse, like you swallowed an entire desert. You somehow still taste tequila on your tongue, with the little remnants of your pineapple juice chaser.

"Our guest room, dumb ass. Had to carry your ass in here when you passed out in our bed after I dragged your ass out of that party.” Ymir finally looks up, raising a sharp brow. “Speaking of—what the fuck was that with Eren?”

Your stomach does an annoying little flip, but you mask it with a slow stretch, feigning nonchalance. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Ymir scoffs. “Oh, please. The sexual tension in that kitchen could’ve powered the whole damn party.” She looks at you with an obvious look on her face, as if to say, 'don't fuckin play in my face like I'm stupid and blind'. “Dude was looking at you like he wanted to either fuck you or fight you. Maybe both.”

You snort, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You notice your lashes were taken off, now on the dresser next to you. “Not my fault he’s got a staring problem.”

"Right. So you just happened to flirt with Jean all night while Eren practically set him on fire with his mind?"

Before you can answer, Historia walks in looking suspiciously awake for someone who was blackout drunk last night. She holds out a bottle of water and some aspirin like she does this every weekend. "You look like shit," she chirps.

"Good morning to you too," you mumble, snatching the water and chugging it.

“Did you check your phone yet?” Historia asks, perching on the bed beside you as she holds out the tiny pain killers. Taking them from her hand, you toss them into your mouth, swallowing quickly.

A slight sense of dread creeps in. “No? Why?”

Ymir smirks, flipping her phone screen toward you, showing a group chat notification. Connie added Eren to 'Brunch, Bitches'. You groan at the sight of the name, flopping back onto the pillows. Of course. Because why wouldn’t fate be a petty little shit?

Meanwhileeee— Eren wakes up to a headache and text from Connie like he does every Sunday morning.

Connie: Lmao, you tryna get brunch? Eren: Why the fuck would I do that? Connie: Bc ur little crushy crush is gonna be there 😉 Eren: Blocked Connie: Damn bro just pull up, it’ll be fun

Eren stares at his phone, jaw tight, remembering the way you looked at him last night—how you didn’t look at him until the very last second. His grip tightens on his phone. Fuck it.

Connie: Yo, brunch at that spot on 3rd? You guys down?

Ymir: I’m always down for food, babe. But don't tell me we're going to that weird place again with the mismatched plates.

Eren: 😑 It’s good. Stop being a snob.

Connie: I’ll pass on the weird plates place if you bring your cousin,, I still don’t have her number lol

Ymir: lmao what do you mean you don’t have her number?

Connie: Yeahhhh I haven't actually talked to her much,, she kinda makes me scared 😅

Eren: 🙄 You mean you're scared she’ll turn you down like the others?

Connie: Stfu says the one who threw a tantrum cuz she was flirting with Jean ✋🏽🤨

Eren: ... I'm bouta leave ts.

Connie: Yeah that's what I thought ho!

Ymir: ugh. you two stop being dramatic. I'll bring her if she's not too dead

Ymir added y/n to Brunch, Bitches

Connie: Sounds good to me. Jean can’t make it,, btw. He has work. Told him to leave his ass at the office 🙄

Eren: His loss. Those pancakes are gonna smack, I'm ready asl.

Ymir: same. you guys better be on time this time. 😒

Connie: No promises 🙈😜😚😚🦧

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"So we're all just showing up in pajamas huh?" Ymir stands in the doorway of the room, watching as you lazily curl your lashes, leaning against the headboard in their room.

"Yup," you answer, picking up your mascara and applying a coat. "Besides, this is a track suit. It's like multipurpose."

Ymir raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. “A track suit, huh? I mean, I guess it does have boujie y2k bitch written all over it...”

You smile, finishing the last stroke of mascara and setting the wand back in the tube with a twist. “Exactly. It's basically brunch attire and I could probably go for a run after if I felt like it. Double duty, extra fruity.”

She snorts, shaking her head as she pushes herself off the door frame. “Yeah, sure, but I’m pretty sure the only thing you’re running for today is the nearest mimosa.”

"And you're running into the nearest Hot Topic wearing that damn flannel and sweats." You playfully quip back, tossing the pillow on your lap at your cousin.

"Somebody say something about my flannel?" Historia's soft voice rings into the room as she steps out of the bathroom, hands busy tying her hair into a messy bun. Her eyes are wide and confused, making you smile at her naivety.

Your eyes dart down to the flannel pajama bottoms she wears. "Can you two get any gayer?? Matching flannel to brunch? Really?"

Ymir lets out a bellow, her hand resting on the back of Historia's neck as she kisses the top of her head, causing Historia's eyes to shut as she beams a content smile. "Mad cause we're in loooooveeee?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, lesbians. I'd be gay too if I had a choice," you roll your eyes sardonically as you stand up and slip your uggs on.

"Oh hell no, we don't need any evil femmes. Regina George is that cautionary tale. Stay being straight, the male population needs their repercussions."

You laugh, zipping your sweater up halfway. "I think the world is far better off with a few evil femmes, if I’m being honest. Less competition, more fun."

Ymir grins, lazily shoving her feet into her sneakers. "Exactly. You get it."

Historia chuckles softly from where she stands by the bathroom mirror, finishing up with her hair. "You look like you stepped out of a 2000's paparazzi photo."

You shoot her a dirty look but can’t suppress the childish smile that creeps onto your face. "Yeah, well, at least I’m not going out looking like a damn lumberjack." You point a finger between the two girls.

Ymir twirls around dramatically, causing the flannel to swish with her movement. "Heyyy, leave my lumberjack alone, you know she loves to climb trees."

"Gross, I don't wanna hear my cousin say nasty flirty shit with her girlfriend, Miri. Save your kinky lumberjack fantasy for the bedroom." You hold a hand up as you step out of the couple's room.

Ymir bursts out laughing, following you down the hallway, while Historia’s face flushes a soft pink. "You're the one who started it," Ymir teases, nudging you with her elbow.

You groan dramatically. "Yeah, well, I should’ve known better than to walk into this disaster of a relationship." Throwing yourself onto their couch, you mindlessly scroll through your phone. “Why does it always feel like I’m the third wheel?”

"Because you are our third wheel?" Ymir says like it's obvious, which it is really. "But it's okay we don't mind being a tricycle sometimes." Taking a seat at the other end of the couch, she props her feet up on your lap.

Historia follows behind Ymir, still trying to hide her smile. "We’re not that bad, are we?"

"You're like an over-the-top romcom couple," you retort, rolling your eyes playfully. "But like, one of those ones that you can’t fully hate because they’re just so damn cute."

Ymir, who’s still grinning, tosses a pillow at you. "Hey, we’re adorable, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You place the pillow under Ymir's feet, not wanting her beat up converse to dirty the gray cotton sweats you were wearing. You were going for low effort, not slob. "Just don’t bring your cheesy couple energy into brunch. I’m not in the mood to be the only one single at the table."

"Oh, please, you’ll be just fine," Historia says with a wink as she slides her crocs on. "And besides, who says you have to stay single? You’ve got options. Plenty really. If you actually stopped with these maneater shenanigans." She nudges you gently, giving you a look more serious than you'd like.

You scoff, locking your phone and tossing it aside, letting it bounce on the couch before it finds a snug spot by Ymir's leg. "Maneater shenanigans? Excuse me, I prefer to call it ‘strategic non-attachment.’ Sounds way more sophisticated." Your nose sticks up in the air in a playfully bratty way, lips forming into a pout.

Historia rolls her eyes as she zips up her sweater, the ziiiiip sound loud just to be extra dramatic. "Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘terrified of commitment.’"

Ymir hums in agreement, stretching her arms behind her head. "Right? Like, you’re out here collecting numbers like Pokémon cards, but let a dude actually like you, and suddenly, it’s ‘ew, feelings.’" She sticks her tongue out in fake disgust as she mocks your tone, making you roll your eyes.

You lazily point at her, feigning offense. "First of all, rude, I don't sound like that at all, cunt. Second of all, you know my philosophy; love is a scam, and I refuse to be a victim."

Historia snorts, grabbing her bag, the plethora of keychains clanging together and making an off-sound symphony of metal, letting anyone in a mile radius know that she picked it up. "Tell that to Eren, who was practically following you around at the party like a lost puppy."

"He’s a player, remember? He’s got a new flavor of the week by now, I’m sure." Your face stays neutral, but the way you grab your phone a little too quickly does not go unnoticed by the girls' sharp eyes. "Anyway," you say, standing up, "we should go before Connie loses his damn mind. He’s already sent, like, three where are you texts."

Ymir smirks, but doesn’t push the topic. "Fine, fine. Let’s roll out, Breakfast Club."

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“Dude, you look like hell.”

Eren groans, standing in Connie’s kitchen, nursing a lukewarm fruit punch Gatorade like it's the last drop of hydration on earth. His hoodie is wrinkled, his hair a mess, and he still reeks faintly of last night’s Hennessy and bad decisions. He'd still be knocked out at home if he wasn't so abruptly woken up by said friend calling him a dozen times.

"Thanks," Eren mutters, feeling like his eye bags were physically weighing him down. "Exactly the kind of encouragement I needed. I shouldn't even be up this damn early."

"It’s literally noon," Connie says flatly, biting into his bagel, cream cheese spilling out of the sides. "And last night? You were gone, man. Like, barely forming sentences. You kept staring at y/n like you wanted to kidnap her ass and lock her in your basement."

Eren scoffs, taking a sip of his drink. "Was not."

"You so were," Connie says, pointing at him with his half-eaten bagel. "And let’s talk about that, actually. You’ve got that look in your eye—like she’s your next target."

Eren rolls his eyes, placing his hands on the counter to steady himself. "She’s not a target, dumbass. She’s just—" He pauses, searching for the words. "She just seems... interesting."

Connie snorts, finding the way Eren stares off into space a tad bit comical and so dramatic in a way only Eren can get away with. "So, what? You wanna wife her up now?"

Eren makes a face. "What? No. I haven’t even talked to her like that yet." He shakes his head as if he's trying to not imagine the thought of him actually, seriously pursuing you. "She’s just… different, y’know? It’s like a challenge."

Connie raises an eyebrow. "So, this is, what, a side quest for you?" Connie would never be one to admit it, but he was rooting for Eren to finally find love, and to finally stop being a damn fuckboy. He was tired of getting at girls only for them to tell him that they had their heart broken by his friend, Eren always leaving a mark on every single one of his hookup's hearts. He just wanted to meet one girl on campus that hadn't fucked Eren.

Eren smirks, leaning his elbows against the counter. "More like a boss level. She’s not like the usual girls. She’s got that whole I don’t give a fuck attitude, and you know I live for that shit." Eren always wanted things he couldn't have.

"So, let me get this straight," Connie says, licking some cream cheese off his thumb. "You’re telling me you spent all night trying to get her attention, and you still couldn’t bag a conversation with her?"

Eren clicks his tongue, looking annoyed and pouty. "It’s not that I couldn’t, it’s just—" He exhales sharply, that familiar frustration from last night coming back for a second. "She was talking to Jean all night. Didn't even glance at me. And then Historia got too drunk, and boom, she was gone before I even got the chance."

Connie bursts out laughing, finally someone was doing what Eren does to him, swooping in on the girl he wants. "Damn. She really curved you before you even got the chance to spit game?"

Eren glares, thick brows furrowing. "Shut up."

"Nah, man, this is hilarious," Connie wheezes. "Playboy Eren Jaeger finally meets a girl who doesn’t immediately fall into his lap? What’s next? Are you gonna start writing music about her?"

Eren rolls his eyes. "You’re so fucking annoying."

"Nah, you’re annoying," Connie shoots back. "’Cause I know you’re gonna spend all brunch trying to get her attention, and if you strike out again, I’m gonna have to sit there and witness the secondhand embarrassment."

Eren smirks, shaking his head. "Not happening."

"Mhmm. So what’s the plan, lover boy?" Connie asks, raising his eyebrows.

Eren grins, finishing his Gatorade and tossing the empty bottle into the trash. "Easy. I just gotta get her to talk to me. Once that happens? Game over."

Connie hums, finding Eren's words a bit deluded. "Man, I dunno. y/n’s like a you but hotter and meaner. You might be out of your league on this one."

Eren just chuckles, grabbing his keys. "There’s no such thing as out of my league, Connie."

Connie shakes his head, shoving the last of his bagel in his mouth. "Aight, bet. Let’s see how that works out for you."

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Connie picked the perfect spot for a hungover brunch, with the diner being less than busy for a Suday afternoon. The last thing you needed was a packed restaurant full of clanking dishes and obnoxious conversations stabbing through your skull. The scent of coffee and syrup lingers in the air, making your tummy rumble since you hadn't eaten since before yesterday's party. The hostess barely looks up from her tablet when Ymir announces the reservation, tapping at the screen with the kind of dead eyed exhaustion that says she’s one wrong order away from walking out mid shift.

"Ugh, why is it so bright in here?" you groan, slipping your sunglasses onto your face as the three of you follow the hostess to your table. Your feet shuffle against the floor, still wishing you were wrapped up in the heavy duvet in Ymir and Historia's guest room.

"Because it’s daytime, dumbass," Ymir snickers, sliding into the booth with Historia next to her. With a sigh you plop yourself beside Historia, slumping against the plush backing of the booth as if it might absorb your exhaustion. The other side is left empty—reserved for the two idiots who were, as expected, late.

"You’re acting like you weren’t up just as late as I was," you shoot back, lazily flipping through the laminated menu before going straight to the real priority: alcohol. "I need a drink. Immediately."

As if on cue, Connie and Eren show up, strolling toward the table with that casual, 'we definitely didn’t wake up on time but we made it' energy. Connie walks with his usual pep in his step, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who failed at punctuality. while Eren lags behind, looking annoyingly good for someone who was supposedly as hungover as you.

"Would you look at this," Connie announces, sliding into the seat across from Ymir. "The brunch bitches, in the flesh."

"You’re late," Historia points out, arching an eyebrow. Leave it to Connie to be late to something he planned.

"I told you no promises that I'd be on time," Connie dismisses with a limp wave. "We’re here now, and that’s what matters."

You don’t miss the way Eren’s eyes flick toward you as he sits across from you, that lazy smirk playing at his lips. Is this boy always smirking? He doesn’t say anything yet, just leans back in his seat, sizing you up like he’s trying to figure out the best way to approach. You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him for more than a second. Instead, you tap your fingers against the menu, eyes scanning over it even though you already know exactly what you want.

"So," you say, flipping the menu shut. "What’s everyone drinking? Because I am not doing this brunch sober." The first thing you do is order a mimosa, needing some sort of substance to numb the shitty feeling your body still harbored.

"Real shit," Ymir agrees, already knowing what's in order. "Mimosas all around?"

"Mimosa tower all around," Historia corrects, already flagging down the waiter with dainty hand.

"That’s my girl," you grin, nudging her shoulder with approval. There’s a silent understanding between you two; brunch isn’t brunch unless you leave a little tipsy.

The server swings by, takes everyone’s orders, and the conversation flows easily—mostly Connie, half-hungover and half-buzzed off life, trying to tell some barely coherent story about a girl he almost picked up last night.

"Bro, she looked just like Jade from Victorious," he insists, hands moving dramatically to prove his point.

Historia gives him a flat look, her usual wide doe eyes now hooded. "You say that about every girl with dark hair and a little eyeliner."

"That’s not even true—"

"It is true," Ymir interjects, rolling her eyes. "Last week it was that bartender at Sina’s. Week before that? The girl at the campus library."

"Okay, but this one really looked like her. Like actually," he tries to defend himself.

"Sure, Connie, sure." Historia nods, knowing how many times he had said this same thing before.

"You have a type," you say in a simple voice, reassuring him . "Own it."

Eren, though? He’s been biding his time, waiting for the right moment. And the second there’s a lull in the conversation, he leans forward, finally addressing you directly.

"So, you," he starts, and you slowly drag your gaze to him. His hair is messy, looking a bit greasy as a few strands fall over his forehead. Who does he think he is? Zayn?

"Me?" you say flatly, feigning disinterest as you take the mimosa flute from the server, keeping your lidded eyes glued on his. Looking away would make Eren feel like he had one up on you in this little staring contest.

"You," he repeats, resting his forearms on the table, emerald eyes locked onto yours. "Tell me something."

"Tell you what, Jaeger?" You take a slow, savoring sip of your drink.

He smirks, realizing you know his name without him ever introducing himself. "Oh, so you do know who I am," Eren smugly drawls, tapping a finger against the table. His posture goes more lax, legs spreading as if he's soaking up the ego that he lost last night.

Your face doesn’t give anything away, but inside, a flicker of irritation sparks. The way he’s looking at you—like he thinks he has the upper hand just because you acknowledged his name—sets something stubborn alight in your chest.

You take a slow sip of your mimosa, letting the bubbles fizz on your tongue before answering. "It’s hard not to when half the girls at that party were either throwing themselves at you or talking about how you used to throw yourself at them." Your memory reels to the blonde girl from last night, calling out Eren's name like he was some sort of damn celebrity.

Connie chokes on his drink, almost spewing his coffee all over the table. Ymir whistles lowly as her eyes dart between you and Eren. Historia presses her lips together, clearly entertained and loving every single moment of this.

Eren tilts his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he chuckles lowly. "Damn. You really came out swinging, huh?" He realizes his reputation precedes him, probably making his conquest of you just a little more difficult.

You lift a shoulder in a lazy shrug, setting your glass down with a soft clink. "Just calling it like I see it."

Historia, biting back a smirk, lifts her mimosa to her lips. Ymir’s grin is damn near feral. And Connie? He’s straight up beaming, like he’s witnessing the most entertaining drama of the century unfold before his very eyes.

Eren doesn’t look deterred, though. If anything, he looks even more interested. His elbow rests on the table as he leans in slightly, his gaze on you even more intense, as if that were even possible. "You keep talking like you’ve got me all figured out."

"Oh, I don’t need to figure you out," you reply smoothly, tilting your head with faux sympathy. "You’re a blueprint, Jaeger. Same old story, different haircut."

Connie loses it. "Bro, she just called you a template! A damn copy-paste ass—"

"Alright, alright," Eren cuts him off, but there’s no real bite to his tone. He’s still smirking, still looking at you like you’re a challenge he's determined to win. "I gotta admit, you got a sharp mouth."

"Comes in handy." You wink, picking up your drink again.

"And here I thought you'd at least pretend to be nice to me."

"Oh, Eren," you sigh dramatically, fluttering your lashes. "I don’t pretend for men."

Ymir wheezes. Historia’s dying. Connie is pounding the table with laughter, while Eren just sits back, shaking his head with that same smirk that hasn't left his face.

"You’re fun," he muses, eyes flicking over you, soaking in every detail. "I like fun." His tongue runs over his teeth as one of his arms slings over the top of the pleather booth lining.

"And I like my mimosa," you quip, raising your glass. "So let’s keep this professional, yeah?" You flash him a toothy smile and he would almost say you looked angelic if your attitude towards him wasn't the opposite.

Eren watches you take a sip, something unreadable flashing across his face. Whatever it is, it disappears quickly, replaced with something more playful. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. We’ll see about that."

Connie wipes a fake tear from his eye. "Goddamn, this brunch was worth it." This is exactly why Connie planned this little get together.

The mimosa tower arrives in all its bubbly glory, and Historia immediately starts pouring like she was born to be a rich housewife. She generously pours champagne from the tower's spout and asks everyone what juice they'd like. With the precision of a seasoned bartender (or maybe just a girl who’s been to one too many brunches), starts pouring everyone their custom mimosas.

“Alright, speak now or forever hold your juice preference,” she announces, tapping the spout like she’s about to make a life changing mixology decision. Large pitchers of different juices are lined up in front of her, waiting to be mixed with the bitter bubbles of champagne.

“Orange, obviously,” Ymir says, leaning back in her habitual manner, she could always get comfortable wherever she was, sprawled out like she's on her living room couch.

“Boring,” Historia mutters but obliges anyway, filling Ymir’s glass with the classic.

“Mango,” you say, watching as she pours the golden liquid. She makes yours strong, basically serving you champagne with a splash of mango flavor. Not that you're complaining though, you wanted to get tipsy.

“Classy,” Historia muses before turning to Connie. “You?”

He grins, his eyes scanning over the line up of juice options. “Mix ‘em. I’m feeling chaotic.” You don't know whether to scrunch your nose up in disgust or be impressed by Connie's idiotically genius idea.

Historia rolls her eyes but does it anyway. “Living on the edge, Springer.” His mimosa turns into a dark muddled purplish color.

“Always,” Connie quips, lifting his glass dramatically before taking a sip and nodding in satisfaction.

Then, finally, it’s Eren’s turn. He’s been quiet, just watching, observing, but now he leans forward slightly, lazily tilting his head toward you. “I’ll take whatever she’s having,” he says, eyes looking at the way you hold the champagne flute, making it wonder how your hand would look wrapped around his—

Ymir snorts. “Of course you will.”

You arch a brow at him over the rim of your glass, your lip curling slightly. “Copy-pasting my drink order too now?”

Eren doesn’t even blink. Just smiles at you, taking the glass Historia hands him. “What can I say? I like good taste.”

Historia fake gags. “God, please don’t flirt in front of my mimosa tower. It deserves better.” She downs half her drink like she’s washing away the secondhand embarrassment before refilling her flute with even more champagne and a splash of pineapple juice.

The table dissolves into laughter, the kind that feels warm and familial—like the collective, unspoken agreement that, yes, all of you may be hungover disasters, but at least you’re in it together. Connie and Historia start arguing over whether brunch food is overrated, with Ymir inserting herself into the debate just to get under Historia’s skin. Meanwhile, you feel Eren’s eyes on you every so often, like he’s still turning your words over in his head, still trying to crack whatever code he thinks you are. But you don’t look at him much. He doesn’t get that satisfaction of holding your attention longer than necessary. Instead, you lean back, sip your mimosa, and let the chaotic symphony of your friends fill the space.

"Alright, let’s toast," Connie raises his frankenstein of a mimosa up in the air.

"To what?" you ask with a lifted brow as you slowly raise your champagne flute.

Connie shrugs, trying to think of something clever. "Surviving another night of our dumbassery. And to, uh… new friendships?" He waggles his eyebrows between you and Eren, clearly trying to stir the pot.

Eren meets your gaze over the rim of his glass. He still has that look—the one that says he’s not done with you yet. You don’t react, just clink your mimosa against his without breaking eye contact. It was fun playing this little push and pull game, even if you were mostly pushing.

"Cheers," you say smoothly, a tiny hint of a sly smile on your face.

"Cheers," Eren echoes, mirroring your expression.

The table drinks, and for a brief moment, everything is peaceful—until Connie decides he needs all the attention again.

"So, get this," Connie starts, already grinning. "Eren and I had the most bullshit morning trying to get here."

"Oh god," Ymir mutters. "This better be good."

Connie rubs his hands together. "Picture this. I wake up, head pounding, mouth drier than the goddamn Sahara. I roll over, check my phone, and see like, five texts from you guys asking if I'm alive, and I’m like, ‘oh shit, we should link up and do brunch!’"

"Five texts isn’t even that much," Historia points out.

"Okay, well, it felt like a lot in my fragile, hungover state," Connie retorts before continuing. "Anyway, Eren comes over looking all tired and shit and heads straight for my couch. I tell 'im I'm gonna shower and to wait for me and guess what?? I come out and he's fuckin' snorin'. I try to wake him up, and this dude is fully knocked the hell out, like a damn corpse." He dramatically makes his head fall back, sticking his tongue out like he's dead to mimic Eren.

Eren exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "I was asleep. That’s normal, dumbass."

"Nah, bro, you were dead," Connie insists. "I had to blast music just to get him up."

"Which was so necessary," Eren drawls sarcastically. He swears his ears are still ringing from how close Connie put the speaker next to his ear.

"Yes, it was!" Connie exclaims, still finding the situation hilarious. "Because then this idiot gets up and takes, like, twenty goddamn minutes to stare at his phone instead of—"

"—Because I was looking at something important," Eren interjects.

"Yeah, sure, 'important'. Bro was probably checking his DMs like his life depended on it." Eren doesn’t confirm or deny this, which only makes Connie cackle harder. "Anyway," Connie continues, "we finally leave, and then tell me why this dumbass forgets his wallet, and we have to turn around—"

"I didn’t forget it," Eren argues, taking a sip of his drink. "I just didn’t know where it was."

Historia shakes her head, eyes squinting in exasperation. "That’s the same thing."

"Exactly!" Connie exclaims, arms flailing animatedly. "So now we’re really late, and when we finally get back in my car, the tire pressure light is on. And at that point, I was about ready to just die in my driveway."

"Honestly? You should’ve just let nature take you," Ymir says, stuffing one of the mini quiches the table ordered into her mouth.

"Rude!" Connie gasps, clutching his chest. "Ya know you would miss me if I actually died. Who else would entertain you at brunch?" He tosses a crumple up used sugar packet at her. You glance at Connie and allow yourself a small smile. He’s like a puppy that can’t stop barking, but you kind of like him that way. His antics help distract you from the tension that Eren never seems to let go of. Every time his gaze flickers your way, it’s like a spark of something you can’t name. Not yet, at least.

You softly laugh, finally giving in to the ridiculousness of it all. "So what I’m hearing is, between the two of you, getting to brunch was a damn odyssey?"

"Basically," Connie nods. "But hey, we made it. Even if Eren had to take his sweet ass time getting pretty for you."

You arch a brow at that, glancing over at Eren, whose lips twitch like he’s trying to suppress another smirk. You know Connie’s just stirring the pot, but you can’t deny there’s a certain… appeal in how Eren carries himself. It’s not that he’s trying—he doesn’t need to. And that's what irritates you.

Eren doesn’t even flinch at Connie's comment, instead leaning into it. "Maybe I did," he says smoothly, taking another slow, deliberate sip of his drink. "But even if I didn't I'd still look good enough for ya." It was something about this boy's ego that seemed to tick you off.

You just tilt your head, resting your chin on your palm as you regard Eren with yet another unimpressed stare. "Pretty bold assumption there, Jaeger."

Eren shrugs, an annoyingly smug grin tugging at his lips. "I make good ones."

"Debatable." You gulp the rest of your mango mimosa, wiping the little droplet that was on the corner of your mouth. "But sure, if you wanna tell yourself that." Reaching for a piece of french toast, you dip it in syrup, taking your time as you chew slowly, almost to taunt him. The silence between you both stretches, and for a moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the satisfaction of the game—your back straight, your expression utterly indifferent while his is all too easy to read: that quiet frustration that you’re just out of reach.

Connie, wiping the fake tears from his eyes, waves a hand between the two of you. "Oh, this is good. This is so good. Keep going. I’m invested." Cause who needs reality television when you have two friends at each other's throats.

"You would be," Historia mutters before popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Although she's just as invested in this fiasco.

Eren leans forward again, that damn smirk still present. "Alright, since we’re making assumptions—what about you? Took extra time getting ready just in case I showed up?" He wants to make you flustered, wants to see you blush or tense up or show any other emotion besides indifference to him.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, sweetheart, I barely made it out of bed. The only thing I got pretty for was this mimosa tower." There’s no hesitation in your words, no hesitation in the way you look at him. You’ve got to keep your ground. He’s fishing for something, but you’re not biting.

Eren clicks his tongue, feeling stumped. For once he didn't have a clever comeback. "Damn. Shot down again just like that." His fingers tap on the table as he falls back against the back of the booth.

You flash him a mock sympathetic look, plump bottom lip jutting into a pout. "Tragic, really."

Ymir whistles, tearing into yet another one of the quiches like it's popcorn and this is a show. "Alright, this is a slow burn in real time, and I’m loving it." The tension is so thick between you and Eren, it’s almost palpable. Whether it’s sexual, confrontational, or just a game of egos—you’re not sure, but everyone at the table feels it.

Historia leans on her elbow, eyeing you both. The stare down the two of you are having seems almost intimate. "You sure you two haven’t met before? Because this feels... personal."

You roll your eyes, trying to avoid the sudden rush of heat that floods your chest. "Nope. Just have a sixth sense for bullshit." Honestly you were tired of this little act Eren was putting on. From the stories Ymir and Historia had told you he was nowhere near as nice as he's pretending to be right now. You were waiting for his entitlement and attitude to shine through.

Eren huffs out a chuckle at that, shaking his head. "Noted." Despite the sour look you try to put on, Eren can see that flushed look you try to suppress, and although you would deny, deny, deny, he knows that he's slowly but surely gonna get what he wants. With that thing being you.

You take the opportunity to turn away, reclaiming some semblance of control in this little exchange. You busy yourself with refilling your mimosa, making a point to give him nothing else to latch onto. But then you glance over at him again, catching him staring at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’re almost sure he’s trying to figure you out, and maybe it’s working. Maybe he’s getting under your skin more than you’d like to admit. But before you can process it, Ymir’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

"You two are ridiculous," she says, leaning back in her chair, as she watches the two of you basically having a staring contest still. "You know that, right?"

You shoot her a look, but before you can respond, Historia accidentally spills her sixth mimosa, her face flushed, a giggle escaping her lips. "Oopsieeee," she hiccups, taking a french toast stick and sopping up the spilled liquid before taking a bite.

"Uh oh," Connie says, grinning. "Looks like someone had a little too much to drink already." Connie honestly loves when Historia gets like this, she's the definition of white girl wasted, always turning into a completely different person once she gets some alcohol in her system.

Historia leans heavily against Ymir, blinking slowly as she chews. "I’m fine," she slurs. "Just a little tipsy."

The whole table laughs as Ymir grabs her arm to steady her, clearly rolling her eyes but not too bothered by it. As the rest of the group focuses on Historia, you glance back at Eren, only to find him looking at you—his expression unreadable now, though the edge of amusement hasn’t left his eyes. You almost think he's going to say something—almost want him to—when Ymir interrupts, loud and clear.

"Okay, enough of you two and your weird ass tension. You’re both insufferable. Let’s get this one home before she turns into a puddle of bad decisions," Ymir grumbles, throwing Historia’s arm around her shoulder. You almost wonder how Historia got so drunk, but then you realize how tiny she is and just how much she drank. Plus, the girl barely touched any of her food, too focused on downing mimosa after mimosa.

You stand up from the table, shaking your head at the chaos of it all. You’re a little drunk, a little tipsy, but mostly, you’re irritated that the moment was so easily broken. You grab your purse, eyes locking with Eren’s one last time as you follow the others. For a split second, you wonder what he’s thinking—if he’s still amused by you, or if he’s over it. You’re not sure. But whatever it is, it’s a thought that will linger long after this brunch ends. As you step out of the diner the cool air hits you, and the rest of the group’s voices fade into the background. You feel his gaze on your back, and the flutter in your stomach is the only clue you need: this isn’t over.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．.・

tags ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @cc1306 @booksandbud4me

[allertonhoe]

B13 with submissive rafe who’s loud asf in bed 🫦🫦🫦🫦 nsfw <3

ahh thanks for the request!!! i honestly haven’t written a lot of sub stuff, so i’m really sorry if this isn’t great/not super subby lol but i really hope you like it!!

prompts: "God, you feel so good!"

content warnings: 18+ MDNI - smut, original afab!reader, sub!rafe, use of petnames (baby, good boy lol), dirty talk, masturbation (f), unprotected p in v.

500 follower celebration! (CLOSED)

"Baby, please."

You could only laugh bitterly in response, his begging not having any effect in altering your disinterest. Your relationship with Rafe was... interesting, to say the least. It was only inevitable for you to become friends with benefits, the informal arrangement having gone on for a few years without too much contention.

You'd gone out with him and the rest of your mates tonight, which was nothing out of the ordinary. But after barely giving you attention the entire evening, here he was, once again, expecting you to be willing and eager when he couldn't find another girl to take home.

"I'm not used to you asking so nicely," you allude.

"Come on," he instigates, his fingers sweeping under the hem of your shirt.

"Sit down," you command him in a soft tone. "On the chair."

He gave you a reluctant look at the instruction, not catching onto what you had in mind. You stood in front of him, stripping off your clothes—starting with your bottoms, then shedding off your top. Taking a few steps forward so you were directly in front of him, shoving his hands away when he brought them up to grab your waist.

"No touching." You advise him, his features furrowing at your assertion.

You hovered over him confidently, tracing your pointer and middle fingers along his bottom lip. Feeling his tongue wrap around the digits when you stuck them in his mouth, his heated gaze locked on you. Retreating over to the bed and situating yourself to face him, noticing him peel his shirt off in anticipation of what was next.

You pushed your panties to the side, not wanting to give him a full view as you began rubbing the sensitive area. An exaggerated gasp leaving your throat as Rafe observed you with half-lidded eyes, pressing his palm to his crotch to alleviate some of his own discomfort.

"Rafe," you interrupt promptly, halting your movements. "I said no touching."

"You're kidding, right?" He retorts in disbelief.

"Do you want me to make you feel good?" You survey, raising your brow at him. "Then no touching. Be a good boy."

While he scoffed at the new nickname, he didn't challenge you further on it. A mixture of frustration and hunger painting his expression as he tried to concentrate on you instead of his own urges. Watching as you dipped into your slick and relieved some of the tension you were dangling over him.

"Fuck," he mumbles, clutching the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. "Please. I need something, baby."

"So impatient," you scold lightly.

You sauntered back over to where he was sitting, in no rush as you slipped his belt out of the loops. Popping open the button of his bottoms and tussling with the fly, brushing over his bulge in the process. Retreating once more as you turned your back to him, peeking over your shoulder as you took off your bra and panties.

You swayed your hips over his seductively, Rafe letting out a dramatic sigh at your continuous teasing. Swivelling back around, you reached for his waistband. Only pulling his pants down to his mid-thigh, restricting his legs from spreading too wide. Climbing onto his lap and placing your legs on either side of him.

"Please," he repeats hoarsely, glancing up at you like he couldn't take anymore.

You held him in your palm and dragged him between your folds. Already throbbing just from the display you put on, aching for any sort of relief. His demeanour the complete opposite from when he'd been ignoring you and scouring the dance floor for other potential conquests just an hour ago.

Finally giving in to his pleas, you sank down onto him. Rafe letting out an animalistic groan, shuddering at the tender sensation. You didn't move right away, soaking him in your wetness. Your hands landing on his chest as he tried taking over the reins, his muscles flexing at the contact.

"I need you, baby," he rambles.

"You need me?" You purred.

Your finger trailed down his bare torso, your other arm draping around his neck to hold your balance as you started grinding onto him. The pace much slower than you were used to with him, the two of you typically going for a more wild and greedy approach. Rafe throwing his head back as he reveled in his pleasure.

"Like that?" You whisper in his ear.

"Just like that. Fuck, baby," he muttered. "God, you feel so good."

You rolled your hips to meet his, feeling his cock twitch at every motion. Bringing your lips to his nape, peppering chaste kisses along the flesh. He couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer, squeezing your sides as curses fell from his mouth.

Your thighs were becoming sore from your unconventional position, refocusing on hitting your own climax instead of deliberately taunting him. Your tits bouncing in his face, giggling as he glanced up at you with blown-out pupils. Barely recognizing the disheveled figure underneath you that was yearning for your touch.

"I'm so fucking close," he grumbles, licking his lips as he panted.

"Not before me," you direct.

He wasted no time covering his fingers in spit, playing with your swollen clit and sending jolts through your body. His unoccupied arm enveloping around your waist to keep you near. His forehead resting against yours, your tough front easily crumbling as he broke you down.

"Oh my god," he grunts. "Come on, baby."

He rocked in rhythm with you, building you up with no difficulty. Desperate moans and the filthy, wet sounds of your endeavor echoing through the room. Sending you over the edge with a few more lively pumps, losing yourselves in the moment of pure bliss. His flow not impeding as he chased his release. 

His dick throbbed as he kept slamming into you, every thrust deeper and more feral. Digging your nails into his shoulders as the familiar flame burned in the pit of your stomach again. Not having to work hard to coax another orgasm out of you, reaching his own just moments later. Your walls fluttering as he filled you with his cum.

"Fuck," he shouts, never having gotten such a strong reaction from him.

Neither of you were in any hurry as you rode out your highs. Rafe lifting you up slightly to pull out of you, feeling empty from his sudden absence. He slumped back into the cushion, caressing up and down your bare spine as you both caught your breaths. Leaving a gentle peck on his chest as you cuddled into him, settling back to your usual dynamic.

And with an abrupt shift, he swept you up into his arms and threw you onto the bed playfully. His predatory stare returning, now laced with something else. Like another layer had been peeled back between you, and things wouldn't be going back to how they previously were. Crawling on top of you and caging you in beneath him.

"Good boy, huh?"

[fazcinatingblog]

One night was washed out with heavy rain, the next night was too dangerous, and now the hurricanes decide to just pack it all in for not much???? Big bash is dead.

[luvleyshif4]

bf!rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summery~ bf!rafe coming back home from work to find a flustered and horny gf!reader but she can’t say it cause she’s shy.

Content~ Sexual tension, shy reader, slight humping, neck kissing, use of words like ‘princess, baby’ etc…

Authors Note~ Heyy!! I’m kinda trying out a new format so that’s why this looks like what it looks like… also this was so yum to write idk why but I just lowkey love this so much. Enjoy💗💗

Pt2

Rafe walks through the front door, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck, and hair messy from a long day at work. He drops his keys on the counter, letting out a sigh before he catches sight of you leaning against the kitchen island.

you stood there, clutching a glass of water in an effort to distract yourself from the way your stomach flips every time you see him.

"Hey, princess," he greets, his deep voice tinged with affection as he crosses the room in a few easy strides.

He reaches you, his hands immediately finding your waist like they always do, and presses a soft, casual kiss to your lips.

You're breathless by the time he pulls away, though he doesn't notice, already moving toward the fridge. "Miss me?" he teases lightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he grabs a water bottle.

"Always," you mumble, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. He shoots you a quick grin, but you can tell he doesn't think much of it. He's too busy twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning against the counter opposite you, taking a long sip.

"So," he starts, setting the bottle down and resting one hand on the counter behind him. "Dad had me running in circles all day. He's got this big deal he's working on, and guess who got stuck doing all the legwork."

You nod along, trying to seem like you're listening, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his chest looked with the first few buttons open, the way his throat moves when he talks. His voice, low and casual, is like a drug, making your pulse race.

He's oblivious to your inner turmoil, stepping closer to you as he continues talking. His hands naturally find your waist again as he leans in slightly, not because he's trying to fluster you, but because it's just second nature for him to be close to you.

"And then-" His words trail off as, without even thinking, he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. The movement is so smooth, so casual, that it barely registers for him.

But for you, it's like a spark to a flame.

Your breath hitches as he sets you down, his hands still lingering on your hips.

He doesn't notice, though. He's still talking, still distracted, one hand on the counter beside you and the other lazily brushing against your hip.

It's too much. You can't take it anymore.

You slide forward slightly, your hips brushing against his, and suddenly, his voice falters.

He looks down at the contact, then back up at you, his expression flickering between confusion and realization.

"Oh," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you can't stop yourself. Your hips roll gently, testing the waters, and you swear you see his jaw clench.

"Baby..." His tone shifts, softer, deeper.

His hands tighten on your hips as he steps closer, his body completely flush against yours now. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You mumble something incoherent, too shy to respond, but the way his lips curve into a grin makes it clear he understands now.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Too shy, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His mouth trails down your jaw to your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Each press of his lips leaves you breathless, and before you realize it, your hands are tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

Your breathing grows heavier, the sensation of his lips on your neck too much and not enough all at once. A quiet sound escapes your lips, a soft moan that you can't hold back, and he freezes for a moment.

"Alright," he murmurs, his voice dropping further as he effortlessly lifts you off the counter and walks towards the bedroom. "Let me take care of you."

Authors Note~ I was thinking If there could be a part 2 for this…and if there could..how would it be? LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD MAKE ONE💗

[valalice]

ꨄ︎ cw. fem!reader. smut nsfw. ab grinding/riding. sevika is a tease & a little condescending & mocking. smoking ( on sevika's part ). slight praise. begging. reader calls sevika sevi.

sevika's grip on your hips steadies you. the familiar feel of her warm calloused hand on you is a stark contrast to her coolly sharp mechanical arm. "shit. y're so wet already." she acknowledged. eyes flickering between your face of pleasure, your tits, and the movement of you working yourself on her—now—glistening abs. "needed you all day. looked s'good." you mumbled. arching into sevika, hands landing on her tits to gain leverage to grind you clit against the muscle at a new angle.

"is that so?" she teases. your eyes shut tighter and you clamp down harder on your already swollen bottom lip, determined to reach the bliss you've starved after all day. "mhm," you muffle out. your eyes startle open at an absence of a hand on you, only for sevika's large hand to be placed on the nape of your neck, a thumb stroking your cheek. there's a hungry glint in her eye and she moves her hand to the back of your neck to push you further into her, encapsulating your lips in a heated kiss.

when the two of you disconnect there's a sloppy string of saliva that connects you with her, it only pushes you over the edge more. you push yourself back up, but with her hand still on the back of your neck, she pushes you back down once more. lips just barely touching, "tell me how bad you needed me," your glossy eyes widen at her request. "and no more closing your eyes and biting your lip bullshit." her grasp on you releases and she reaches over to grab her cigar and lighter. the shift in her hips as she reaches over and the tightening of her mechanical arm still on your hip to keep you from moving too much as she moves has you clenching your cunt as the slight friction. lighting it, throwing the lighter back onto the nightstand and inhaling the smoke, letting it burn in the back of her throat before puffing out the smoke out through her nose.

you're met with the comforting grey of her eyes once more. sevika corks up a brow at you. "well? get to movin' and talkin'." her words breaking you out of the trance you were under, settling back into a position, beginning to grind your slick cunt on her tummy again. "atta girl."

the smoke from sevika's cigar filling the room adds to the cloudiness of your mind, "needed y'so bad." you repeat for probably the third time this night. "how so?" brows squinting together, your mouth falling into a small "o" shape. your body becomes hotter when you realize you're already close to coming soon. "ah— like this. me on top of you." you gasp.

"hm," she grunts, taking another drag of her cigar. the puffs of smoke exits her mouth as she speaks, "'nd what's got you all worked up, doll?" you know she's teasing you, she knows damn well what's got you so horned up. but regardless you tell her. "you. y're crop top. tummy and abs." she snickers at your answer. finding the way you're panting like a dog in heat cute.

"but, i wear the same thing everyday. what's so different?"

a loud groan erupts from you. falling forward into her once more. "sevi," you whine. "i—"

"you what?"

blinking down to glare down at her where you're met with a smirk. oh. "you're playing with me."

her eyebrows lift and the smirk turns into a grin, but it's quickly replaced by her taking her cigar into her mouth. "i wanna cum. please." the squelching noises of your cunt on her abs fills the room. you're so overworked and restless to reach your high.

"i don't know—"

you cut her off, "please, please, please." moaning out, "been so good, thinkin' of you 'nd only you all day." giving her the best doe eyes you can muster up at this moment.

sevika's gaze softens before it turns away from you. stretching out her arm to bud the end of the cigar. "sit up f'me." doing as she obeys. the hand once holding the cigar falls back into its place on your hips. she grinds you down onto her abs, "fuck, sevi." your wetness making it easy for her to continue moving your hips back and forth. she thinks there's something so raw and intimate about how you surrender your body to her, your willingness to trust that she'll take care of you the way you need. it swells something within her chest, and when you look so pretty all glistening, soft, and your chest shallowly raising and falling to contain and exhale air that you so desperately need. she can't help but give into you.

"c'mon, pretty. cum for me." she coxes in a husky lull. her harsh grip on your plush hips grinding your aching puffy clit onto her muscle tips you over. with a final gasp you shutter, whining out as sevika helps you ride out your high, still manipulating your hips to move. you slump against her, falling straight into her. curving your back so you'd be able to litter sloppy lovesick kisses across her face. "alright, stop that." you allow sevika to pull you away from her face, showcasing your dopey grin, "y'know you love it." you argue, leaning back down to give her a quick peck. "not really." she grumbles. rolling your eyes at her response you teasingly pinch her nipple. a gasp comes from sevika, sheepishly you giggle at her hardening expression. sliding off of her body to lie next to her.

"don't know why you got off. you're just—" she doesn't finish her sentence. "'m gonna what?" confused, brows furrowed as you watch her face soften. following her line of site, you're met with sevika's entire abdomen covered in your slick, traveling all the down past her belly button. you swear you see a glint in her happy trail and you know it's not just sweat. "sorry."

her dark gaze snaps to you, "sorry? you're cleaning your mess up."

[cuntphoric]

gojo satoru wasn't subtle. never had been, really. if he wanted something, he went for it. and tonight, that something was you, sprawled out beneath him with flushed cheeks and a chest that had been teasing him all damn day.

"you know, i think you wear these tops just to mess with me," he murmured, his voice was hushed as his fingers toyed with the straps of your bra. the fabric had been discarded somewhere near the foot of the bed, leaving you in nothing but lace and his undivided attention.

"i wasn't-" your breath hitched as his lips pressed against your collarbone, trailing lazy kisses downward, "-trying to mess with you."

"oh, sure. because i totally believe that," he drawled, though the smirk on his lips told you he didn't believe a single word of it. his hands cupped your breasts through the lace, thumbs brushing over the peaks with the kind of touch that made your body arch into him. "but that's okay. i don't mind being messed with by you, y'know?"

he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing light in his eyes softened by something far more. then, slowly, he leaned back down, his mouth trailing over the tops of your breasts. he reached the edge of the lace, he paused, his tongue flicking over the fabric.

"satoru," you whined, your hips shifting beneath him as heat pooled low in your belly.

"patience, sweetheart! i'm not done appreciating you yet. you're just so pretty all laid out for me like this, how can i not?" his voice was muffled against your skin, and before you could protest, he hooked a finger under the lace, tugging it down just enough to bare you to him.

the groan he let out was downright sinful. "god, you're perfect," he said, like he was talking to himself as much as you. his hands framed your chest, holding you steady as his lips closed around one of your nipples. the sensation made your back arch again, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue swirled and flicked - his free hand going to knead your other tit.

he didn’t rush. he lavished your breasts with worship, switching from one to the other with no less intensity as his hand switched to the other tit once more. his teeth grazed your, in the moment, warm skin, a contrast to the slight coldness of his mouth but with the soothing strokes of his tongue.

"you're so beautiful like this," he mumbled between kisses, his hands never straying from your chest. his fingers kneaded the soft flesh, coaxing gasps and whimpers from you with every touch. "i could spend all night here, you know. just like this."

"you're so annoying, toru, i know you would," you managed, though the words lacked bite when your voice was this breathy and needy.

he chuckled, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the valley between your breasts before meeting your gaze again from down there, watching you stare up at him with a dazed look. "maybe. but you like it."

which is true!

you couldn't argue with that. not when his hands and mouth were driving you to the edge with nothing more than sheer devotion to your body. it was so pleasurable - your senses were overwhelmed, your body alight with the feeling of him smooching every inch of your boobs. every swirl of his tongue and press of his lips felt soft, calculated to pull you apart bit by bit.

[plethorawrites]

hey! what about clark who always makes you ride him because he’s afraid that with him on top he might hurt you cause he’ll lose control of his powers?

Oookkayyy. I believe I'm veering into some very precarious territory, lmao. But, yess, I do have thoughts! (NSFW content)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Despite the fact that Clark Kent was 6'3 (while slouching), 225 pounds, and otherwise incredibly built, he was perhaps the least physically intimidating person alive. In fact, he was practically terrified of his own features—the same ones that made you utterly melt.

It wasn't until you discovered his identity as Superman that you realized the reason his hands never actually touched you during hugs, and he preferred you holding his arm over holding hands with each other. He was afraid. He always had been, in a way, but it was usually manageable.

That was because he wasn't trying to pursue a relationship.

You were affectionate, craving attention in whatever form possible, from cuddling on the couch to just grazing his pinky with yours while at lunch. And you wished he would return it more than he did. He wanted to. He really did. It was just so damn hard when he was terrified to hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he did something that harmed you in any way.

The more physical your relationship became, the harder it became to reduce contact to the minimum amount he could get away with. You wanted more and so did he. But he could crush you without even meaning to, break your bones by just holding your hips, maybe even something worse than both of those things.

No, if you needed intimacy, he would gladly give it to you, since he wanted it just as badly, but he'd refrain from doing anything that could cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm. You, being on top, was the only sensible answer.

Not to mention, incredibly attractive.

You always were, but there was something about the angle, about him just laying there, staring at you, watching you get lost in your own euphoria that drove him insane. The way your hair kept falling into your face, your fingernails kept digging further into the skin of his shoulders or chest, how your eyes sparkled brighter than usual.

To say nothing of how you actually felt, your hips soft against his bare skin with every slight roll you made, grinding against him slowly to prolong your time together as long as possible.

He could barely handle your usual smile, but the one you were giving him right now, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress a little huff of laughter made his heart clench.

"What?" He wondered, his breathing a bit heavy. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his composure and was pretty sure you could tell.

You shook your head, your hands planted firmly on his chest while admiring the way his head always tilted when he was curious. "Nothing," you mumbled, the word taking a little while to find since you had to focus enough to remember how to speak. "You just..." Your lips pursed as one especially long drag of your hips made your breath hitch. "... You're like a pillow prince." You teased a moment later.

Clark's mouth dropped a little, in surprise but not offense. You weren't exactly wrong. He was laying there, his hands behind his head, watching you do all the work, like always. But it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he was itching to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his hands and it was taking all his restraint not to flip you over. He just couldn't risk it.

"Maybe I just like the view," he replied, his hips jerking up slightly when he felt you clench around him. His jaw tightened at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the feeling for a moment. "You—" he swallowed, his eyes opening. "—are you so perfect on top of me."

Another bashful smile spread across your face as you dropped your head and resisted the urge to move your hair, afraid that if he moved his hands, he'd lose control entirely.

"You like watching me struggle," you muttered, your hands moving to his shoulders to grip them tightly, your movements slowing to a stop, trying to catch your breath. "Admit it..." You panted. "... you're a sadist."

He laughed, his body shaking under you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured you. "You're doing good for me."

You hummed slightly at the praise, closing your eyes for a moment. "It's exhausting," you admitted, your legs killing you despite the enjoyment. "Always so... difficult."

"I know," he responded sympathetically, hesitantly removing his hands from behind your back, hovering them over your thighs for a while, contemplating before carefully setting his hands on them. He just couldn't resist anymore. You were too damn tempting.

You moved your hands to cover his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You gonna help me, for once?" You murmur, trying to joke but failing. The words came out with too much lust for that.

He nodded slightly, focusing on making sure his fingers didn't accidentally dig into your skin too hard. "Tell me," he said seriously, staring into your eyes. "The second I take it too far."

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "You're not going to hurt me," you whispered. "I trust you."

[novascharms]

thinking about soft rafe who just wants to please his jealous girl njfezefeoizionfnmlks

before you can say more, his arms snake around your waist from behind, and you try to wriggle free, but his grip is firm. “i’ll throw them all out if that’s what you want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it with maddening softness.  

you shake your head stubbornly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a real answer. “no,” you mutter, crossing your arms even as his hold on you tightens. “you should put them above your bed. make a shrine out of them.”  

his lips find a familiar trail along your neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that make your resolve falter. “i think i kinda like when you’re jealous,” he murmurs, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine.  

you huff, keeping your eyes locked on the shelf in front of you, determined not to react. “who’s jealous?” you whisper, your voice small, defiant.  

you feel him smile against your skin, the curve of it unmistakable, and you purse your lips, refusing to admit how easily he gets to you.  

he presses you against him and suddenly, his gentle kisses turn into desperate nipping and soft sucking that flood your entire core with pleasure. you moan softly as his hands travel down, lower and lower until they're under your skirt and he's ripping your tights and panties down to your ankles.

"r-rafe.." you attempt to warn him, to stop him, to tell him this cannot happen in school but his name slips out like a breathless whisper and you can't get yourself to say no to this.

his hands are all over you and your body is pliant under his touch as he took one of your tits in hand, "you look so beautiful right now." you can barely focus on his words when his fingers are inching closer and closer to your pussy, tentatively trailling along the walls of your thighs before finally rubbing your pearly clit with his thumb, your eyes flutter shut and you instinctively try to push your thighs shut.

"should take a couple of pictures of you and hang those right above my bed," he muses and you whimper, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder as he forces your thighs open. "you'd like that, huh? your pretty cunt on my wall?" his thumb tirelessly rubbed your clit, flicking the little nub till your eyes were tearing up and you were gasping for more.

“more?” he’s taunting, almost mocking you as he his finger trails along your sensitive slit before finding your clit again. “mm,” you whimper as you buck your hips into his hands.

his lips nip at your skin but you can barely process it, you try to stay in the present, try to focus on anything that can ground you but fail miserably, “my fingers? does my pretty girl want my fingers inside her?”

"mhm, y-yes.." you whimper, back arching into his chest and you cry out when his fingers slowly push into your soaking cunt. your walls constrict around him and you're in disbelief at how filling his fingers feel. "rafe! oh, god!" you grip his forearm as he drills his digits in and out of you, fingers curling and pushing deeper and deeper.

you’re writhing against him, trying to stay up right as his fingers clamor in you and his thumb rubs your clit until it’s all sore and swollen. “it’s so g-good.. s’ good..” you mumble lazily, tears streaming down your face and rafe is mouthing at your neck, fingers move at a relentless pace. “c’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.”

you feel that familiar earth-shattering feeling, combination of that low pressure and deep coiling. your hips jerk against your will and then you’re moaning, eyes closed as you squirt and gush all over rafe’s fingers. “that’s it..that’s it, pretty girl..” rafe mutters quietly as you pant in his arms. you can’t believe that just happened in a storage room on school grounds.

“try to stand still, okay?” he mutters into your ear before he’s letting you go and reaching into your bag that sat forgotten on the floor for a tissue. he cleaned you up gently before pulling your panties and tights over your tights and up again.

you hold onto to the shelf for a moment to not lose your balance before turning to look at him, lazy smile on your face. “was that the first time?” he asks and you’re nodding slowly and leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his. he grins when you cup his cheeks, “i’ve only ever..done it myself and it has never felt quite like that.” you whisper and rafe pecks your lips, gently, lips brushing against yours. “anytime, baby.”

you wrap your arms around his neck slowly and he pulls you in, body against his as he kisses you again and again and again. “i want you,” you sigh against him when you feel his bulge poking you and he’s smiling against yours lips. “you just had me..” he murmurs. you shake your head, “no..” you whine softly, hands darting down to his bulge and gently running your fingers along it. “want you..” you repeat quietly.

you don’t know where this insatiable feeling is coming from, you don’t understand why you can’t get enough, can’t stop, don’t even want to stop.

you’re slowly sinking to your knees but rafe stops you with a pained expression, hands on your arms, “you’re not going to give me a blowjob in a storage closet. that would take the cake as the most assholey shit i’ve ever pulled.”

“i want to make you feel good.” you complain softly and he pecks the pout on your lips. “soon, yeah? i promise.”  

snippet from ‘teach please me’ series

[l13]

cw: nsfw 18+, MDNI, fever sex, f!reader, lazy writing, not proofread

DEAN is half-lidded, can barely keep his eyes open. You're starting to get worried so you press your palm down against his chest to move away from him, but he grabs your waist, pulling you back down on his cock. “No, no, no, don't stop, don't y'dare stop,”

You whine, “But Dean- you're burning up.” and he really was. You could tell by touching his pecs, the skin too warm under your fingertips, and you could also tell by his pulsing cock inside of you. The hot sensation spreading through your cunt, the warmth traveling up to your belly.

Dean hisses, “It's this pussy- h my God- so warm baby, could stay inside you forever-”

He pushes you skin tight against him with a hand on the small of your back, his arms then circling around your frame as he holds you close, his breath fanning against your lips as he moans lowly

Holding his cheek in your palm, your eyes dance across his face as his head tilts back, eyes rolling from the feeling of your cold hand against him.

“Just like that honey, fuck yourself onto me c'mon. Want y'to cum all over me.” he was mumbling, his words barely coherent, yet his hips never stopped snapping up against you, chasing your hot cunt.

“Jesus, Dean-” you whimper against his lips as you roll your hips in circles, making sure he stays snug inside you, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone making your thighs shake “m gonna cum” you cry out, and he groans, giving you open mouth kisses, his thoughts too fuzzy to even kiss you properly.

Your walls clamp down on him, and he moans, “Yess, yeah that's it- fuck- squeezin' me so damn tight sweetheart-” his cock now gliding easier in and out of your puffy pussy with the help of your wetness

Despite the aftershocks, your body twitching, and your thighs begging you to take a break, you keep going. Now, sloppily fucking yourself down on his warm cock, as you egg him on, “Come on baby, cum for me. I want it s'bad,”

His cheeks are flushed, mouth hanging open n' eyes crossed as he stares into nothing, “Yes yes yes, oh please- please make me cum- i'll do anything just please-”

His voice cracks as he begs you, his hands grabbing onto your thighs, nails digging into your skin as he follows the movements of your hips, feeling the coil in his belly slowly unfold.

You place your hands behind you on his thighs, leaning back as you keep your relentless pace and he groans pathetically, sitting up to moan against your tits as he cums, snapping his hips up against you roughly to make sure he’s as deep as he can go, feeling his cum and your slick messing up the inside of his thick thighs.

You’re panting hard as you slow down, thighs still twitching every now and then as you run your fingers through his hair, murmuring praises against his temple, lips warming up quickly since he was still burning up.

“You okay? you ask, and he nods against your shoulder, moaning huskily when he gives another slow roll up against you, “Dean let's go have a look at you, I’m getting worried baby-”

“Wait.” he snaps his half lidded eyes up to yours, a tear running down his cheek as he grins lazily, “Wanna go again. Please?”

2024 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[hysteria-things]

MATT'S STREAM

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris’ relationship isn’t out to the public just yet. when he’s on stream with matt, you tease him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, dry humping, cock warming, degradation if you squint, p in v, semi-public (?)

ASSUME YOU'RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,521

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hiii i’m excited for this. let’s see how this goes :)

chris sits at his desk, spam clicking and smashing buttons on his keyboard. he talks to his brothers in his headset.

matt’s streaming on twitch right now, meaning that thousands of fans are watching the three of them play fortnite. you’ve been with chris for a few months, yet the fans have no idea. you both collectively agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye.

hence why you are seated next to him out of frame, watching the stream go down. your eyes scan to his side profile. his brows furrow in concentration, his tongue sticking out as he focuses on the computer screen. you hear the boys scream in his headset, and he slams his hands onto his lap.

“damn.” he grunts out, glancing over at you for a moment and smiling.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” he says into the mic before muting it and taking off his headset. he turns his face cam off and goes into the bathroom to do his business.

he comes out beats later, sitting back in the gaming chair, wiggling to get comfortable. you get up, which gains his attention. “you doing okay?” he asks.

“yeah. just need to stretch.”

before he could unmute his mic and turn the cam back on, you push the chair back slightly to have enough space to straddle his lap. he wraps his arms around your waist and welcomes you closer, kissing your collarbone. “they’re going to think i’m shitting.” he says jokingly.

your arms snake around his neck and you lean back to look at him. “say your camera broke.”

he smirks and puts back on his headset. “i’m back.” he starts. “for some reason, my camera is acting weird.”

“it’s all good. as long as we can still hear you.” matt’s voice replies.

the thin fabric you call panties rubs against his bulge through his red plaid pajama pants. you have a shirt on, one of chris’s FRESH LOVE t-shirts that covers you enough to look like a nightgown. a sensation tingles between your legs, and you start to move your hips slowly.

you hear chris groan, pressing a button on his keyboard. “what are you doing?” he asks sternly.

“i need to get comfortable.” you tease, rocking your hips harder. he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and clicks unmute again.

you rest your head in the crook of his neck and continue to rock your hips, feeling him grow beneath you. he still talks to his brothers normally, but his performance on the game doesn’t look good.

“what the fuck is up with you, chris?” nick questions into the headphones.

“sorry,” he mumbles.

your hands find their way to the back of his neck and tug at his hair lightly. you breathe heavily to not make any noise since his mic is right next to your head. you don’t even notice your hips rutting and body tensing when you feel your release soak your underwear.

you exhale shakily, lifting your body and looking at the mess you made. there’s a wet stain on his pants on top of his hard-on. you don’t even have to look to know your underwear is ruined.

chris looks at you confused, before following your gaze. you go to get up but he grabs your hips and places you back to where you’re hovering over him. he unties his pants and pulls them down along with his boxers. he moves the mic away from his mouth, leaning toward your ear.

“don’t move or make a fucking sound,” he warns in a low tone you could barely hear.

he pushes your panties to the side and guides you down onto his cock, fighting off the hissing noise trying to escape your lips as he stretches you out tenderly and slowly. you and chris started having sex not long ago, but even after a few days without it, you had to readjust again.

this, however, is a first.

you guys never tried cock warming before. you felt so nervous. so excited. so full.

after multiple rounds of fortnite that felt like it lasted hours, your brain felt fuzzy despite not even doing anything. every time he talked, laughed, or celebrated a victory or loss, he’d thrust deep inside of you. and it drove you nuts.

you hear commotion on the other end of the headset. “fuck!” chris screams, jolting his hips further into you than at any other time. your eyes roll ever so slightly, mouth agape as your bottom lip grazes over his bare shoulder. it’s too late to take back the moan that came out of you.

chris’ hands make their way to your ass and squeeze hard, setting a reminder.

be quiet. right.

your patience becomes thinner and thinner, since it’s already been about thirty minutes. too desperate, you start to grind against him.

before he can do or say anything, you grab his mic and fist your hand over it so nobody can hear.

“please let me ride you. i promise i’ll be quiet.” you beg.

“so needy.” he sighs, taking your hand off of the mic and returning to the game.

rutting your hips forward, you start bouncing, your clit swollen from sitting still for so long without doing anything about it. you don’t know, but you could’ve sworn you heard chris groan.

too busy focusing to try to not make a sound by biting your lip, you hear sentences being scattered around from the boys.

“i don’t know, man.”

“this game sucks!”

“is your camera working yet?”

“no, sorry!”

little do they know, here you are, fucking yourself on your boyfriend’s dick like a bitch in heat.

you nuzzle your head in his neck and kiss a spot before biting down to stifle your pathetic sounds. chris hisses at the sudden contact and misses a kill, the other person killing him instead, costing them to lose.

“for fuck sake. chris, are you sure you’re okay?” matt asks in annoyance.

the tip of his cock brushes against your g-spot unexpectedly, forcing a whine out of you. “actually.” chris starts. “i don’t feel good, to be honest. i might log off for tonight.”

he quickly ends the discord call and shuts down his computer, stopping your movements. you look at him with glassy eyes, a frown portraying your face. he runs a finger up your spine before gripping onto your hair and yanking it, making you whimper. “first, you ruin my pants.”

he thrusts himself up into you, taking you by surprise with a gasp.

“then, you tease me.”

another thrust.

“now, you can’t follow simple fucking instructions.”

again.

a broken moan comes out of you, chris slapping your ass. “need me to fuck you so bad you can’t even wait two hours. instead, you get off by fucking yourself on my dick like your life depends on it. so pathetic.”

you whine of embarrassment, yet you don’t want this to stop.

“please.” you breathe out. “i’m sorry. please fuck me.”

with that, chris grabs your thigh with his free hand and starts plunging into you from below. his grip is still tight on your hair. you let out breathy moans left and right since each thrust takes the air out of your lungs. your eyes start prickling with tears from all of the built-up pleasure. “oh my— fucking— jesus— god.”

chris chuckles at your failed attempt to form a sentence. your moans transition into high-pitched squeals when he hits the angle that makes a knot form in your stomach. he releases his grip from your hair and moves it to your jaw, his hand that was on your thigh coming up to your mouth. he shoves in his middle and ring finger for you to suck on.

god, this felt good, and boy was it hot.

drool starts dribbling down your chin as you moan around his fingers and your eyes roll back. chris twitches inside you causing him to groan and take out his fingers, but your mouth still hangs open as unholy sounds come out of it. he releases your jaw and cups your ass with both hands.

“holy shit.” you whine. “i’m gonna cum.”

“let go, y/n. fuck you’re doing so good for me.”

because you certainly don’t have to be told twice, your whole body trembles and you fall forward. your hands cup the sides of his neck.

“i love you.” you moan into his neck as he continues thrusting to get to his release. “i love you so fucking much— jesus god.” you cry out when you feel chris filling you up.

he thrusts a few more times into your trembling body to get down from his high.

“look at me.” he says softly, bringing your head up to make eye contact. he smiles and kisses your lips. “i love you too, ma.”

when you come back to your senses you lift yourself off of him and stumble to his bed to sit down. chris pulls up his boxers and checks his phone that’s been blowing up on the desk in front of him.

[pseudowho]

"Now, gently release the clutch as you press the accelerat-- gent--ly-- Yuu--ji--"

"--shi--t--I'm--try--ing--Na--Na--Min!"

"--lan--language, Yuu--Yuuji, a lamp-post! Brake!"

"Shit! I mean, fuck!"

Kento's voice rose, punctuating each lurching stall of the car in first gear. You watched in despair from a distance.

Kento's car, far too powerful in the hands of a teenager, jolted and hiccuped across the evening skyline. The once quiet car park was polluted with screeches and grinding.

You held your head in your hands, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Teaching Itadori Yuuji to drive was surely the 9th circle of hell.

Over the weeks prior, Kento had tried explaining the mechanics of driving more. He had tried explaining them less. He had tried showing Yuuji videos, and diagrams.

Kento had pulled his hair out, and even considered sitting Yuuji on his lap like a child, and encouraging Yuuji to press Kento's own feet upon the pedals.

You had told Kento that his last idea was utterly mad, and Kento had slumped in resignation and poured himself a second, bigger drink.

The drive back to Yuuji's dorms, at least, was smooth. Kento's shoulders were tense, mountains beneath navy twill. Yuuji looked awkward in the rearview mirror. He broke the silence with a mumble.

"Maybe...maybe I'm not ready to drive yet, Nanamin."

Quiet. The car purred to a stop at the traffic lights. Your eyes flicked to your husband. His voice was quiet, too; measured.

"Any new skill takes practice. It takes time, Yuuji. We'll go out again in a few days. I know you'll get there. I...I believe you'll get there."

And so, Kento and Yuuji did drive again. And again. And again. And again.

Kento came home more dishevelled each time; first, with mussed hair; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains and a straggly, loose tie.

"Maybe he's not ready to drive yet," Kento grumbled into a whiskey one evening, his elbows planted on his knees and his head in one hand. He had dropped Yuuji home in a courtesy car this time.

His own car, with grisly tire arch damage, had been stretchered away to a mechanic as Yuuji bowed with tears in his eyes and stuttered promises of compensation.

Kento wouldn't hear a word of it, but you could see the fissures of anxiety rending him fragile. You could see the numbers racking up in his line of vision; the deep breath and wince as his insurance premiums rose.

"Maybe...maybe he just needs a bit of a push?" You mulled one night, as Kento sat on the sofa, obsessively researching methods to make Yuuji anything less than a hazard behind the wheel.

"Absolutely not," Kento grumbled, his face illuminated by his laptop. "What he needs is some control. Some self-discipline--"

"--Kento, come on, he's just a boy--"

"--and he'll be a man, soon!" Kento snapped, cold and dismissive. You gritted your teeth, knowing there was no arguing with him, when he was like this; when stress had rendered him dogmatic. You bit your tongue to stop the venom leaking out.

"Fine. Just...don't take it out on him."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento's tone was barely schooled. The air in the car ran thick with tension.

"So you press the clutch down, release the accelerator, and slip into second ge-- clutch down-- clutch down-- Yuuji!"

A horrible grind, a crunch, and a stall. Yuuji and Kento lurched forwards. Yuuji's mouth puckered up into a mortified grimace once more. In the back seat, you opened your mouth to reassure Yuuji, but Kento cut across.

"Enough. Enough. You're not ready, Yuuji. Perhaps you won't ever be."

You felt the same knives that Yuuji did. You turned to look at Kento, stunned. You heard, rather than saw, the tears brimming on Yuuji's lashes; his voice was thick as he spoke, barely audible.

"...'m sorry, Nanamin."

You waited until Yuuji was well inside his room, that evening, before you swept past Kento like a winter wind. Kento flinched, and turned to watch you go, silent. Minutes later, as he slid into bed to join you, the silence stretched longer, gravid and expectant. Eventually, Kento spoke.

"I just think...he needs a bit more control, and I'm...I'm sorry--"

"You can't control everything, Kento. Why are you apologising to me?"

It was Kento's turn to feel the knives.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wouldn't have blamed Yuuji for abandoning the mission, and leaving him to die.

This woodland shrine, mountain-nestled and ravaged by time, had no business being as cursed as it was.

"Grade Two, my arse," spat Kento, staggering out onto the moss-gravel path, with blood dripping from his hands. They were crushed; agony, and Kento's face twisted in pain. He could hardly hold his blade, let alone holster it. "Yuuji-- you've got to get out of here--"

A peachy blur; a boot-gravel skrrrrrr. Yuuji skid out of the shrine, dropping to his haunches beside Kento.

"What do you mean 'you've' got to get out of here?" Yuuji yelped, dodging flung debris from the beast that followed them. Kento swore, reaching one mashed hand into his pocket for his car keys and--

-- Kento froze. He stared at his battered, bloody hands in mute horror. He looked up to his car, through the windscreen, and at the steering wheel which he could not turn,q and blanched.

Yuuji panted, slowly deflating as he watched Kento unravel.

Never before had he seen true horror seep into Nanami Kento. Never before had he watched the light leave Kento's eyes, to be replaced by the looming spectre of certain death.

It made Yuuji's heart clench; and Yuuji decided.

Kento grunted in surprise as Yuuji's hands shot into his tan pockets. "Yuuji-- Yuuji! What are you doing? Leave--"

"Get in the car," Yuuji ordered, already yanking Kento over slippery cobblestones by the elbow. The earth rumbled behind them, their time running short.

"--Yuuji-- you can't drive--"

Yuuji slammed his hands on the hood of the car, and roared, "Shut the fuck up, Nanamin! And get in the fucking car!"

Kento's jaw dropped, pearl-clutching, gravely offended. He opened his mouth to argue, and Yuuji interrupted, ripping the passenger door open and shoving Kento in (who made a muted little 'ouch') with no decorum.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'language Yuuji'-- shut the fuck up-- and do as you're told, Nanamin--"

A monstrous thing, a curse of a Curse, punched out of the shrine with explosive force, as Yuuji slammed himself into the drivers' seat.

Still being regarded by Kento with mute horror, Yuuji leaned over Kento and his mangled hands, and pulled his seatbelt on. Yuuji gripped the wheel, turned the key, and took a deep breath.

And boy, how he drove.

Kento's arms flung sideways, slung like an unstrung marionette as Yuuji shot the car into reverse with staggering speed, and spun it into forward facing, to wheel-screech and half-donuts.

Yuuji's foot hit the floor.

Kento barked encouragement at him, as their speed rose, and the creature chasing them sped up to match, with a roar muffled by engine roar.

"--clutch-- 3rd gear-- build your speed! 4th! Put your foot down! Good boy, Yuuji!

Yuuji turned the volume up-- the radio blared. The sound of thundering footsteps quickened behind them. So Yuuji jumped to 5th gear, and flew.

Yuuji grinned, whooping like a howler monkey, driving Kento through branches and over tiny cliffs, swerving trees and leaves and logs and stones and river bridges until--

"Shit-- Yuuji-- blind spot--"

Yuuji laughed, and Kento groaned into his forearm to see one of his wing mirrors ripped off and left behind, the car juddering and slamming and skidding until--

Crash!

The car broke through foliage into glorious daylight, skidding to a halt on an empty dirt road. Yuuji panted. Kento panted. The second wing mirror fell off. The engine smoked. Yuuji turned slowly to Kento, his face falling.

Kento huffed, a rueful half-smile on his bloodied face.

"Mrs.Nanamin said you just needed a push. I should have known. You always were a clutch hitter, Yuuji."

[aakeysmash]

You haven’t seen farmer!sukuna for three whole days. He had to go to the city to get you the grade-A flour you begged him to fetch to be able to make your bread, but a storm made him stay away from you for way longer than what you both can stand. When he fiinally comes back home, you stop swirling your beef stew, turn off the stove, and run to him. Your summer dress flows around you, and he grins, catching you effortlessly when you jump into his open arms.

“Hey,” you smile. It blinds him for a second.

“Hey, wifey,” he responds, matching smile on his face, already brushing his nose with yours.

His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs when your lips descend on his, and he walks you both to the couch while you manage to throw his straw hat on the ground. You grip his hair, savoring the taste of the hum coming out of his throat when you grip it a little bit harder. It tastes of familiarity, of comfort, and a little bit of desperation.

“Did you miss me?” You ask him smugly, mumbling the words on his mouth, a string of saliva still connecting you two. You lick his upper lip with the tip of your tongue, teasing him, circling his head with your arms when he plops down on the worn-out cushions. He squints at you, but his lips still twitch to kiss you again, unable to resist the pull you have on him. His teeth graze your cheek, biting you softly, while his palms drag up and down your exposed legs.

His tanned, calloused fingertips nip your skin, but it’s a pleasurable feeling. A feeling you’re used to. He smirks, groping one buttcheek hard, and forces you closer to his chest. The action makes you keen and sigh, your smile falling from your face to leave space for a trapped moan inside your mouth.

“Dunno, I feel like ya missed me more,” he murmurs between both rough and delicate kisses along your neck. Despite looking like that, all broad and menacing, the soft press of his lips on your skin is the most him thing he’s ever showed you.

“I didn’t miss you-“ you half laugh, stopping briefly to caress his face. His smirk deepens and he kisses your ring finger right on your golden wedding band. “-didn’t miss you at all.”

His large palm moves under your frilly dress, coming down rather harshly on the glob of your ass, before soothing the sting with two little pats. You yelp, your head falling on his shoulder, trying to get even closer to his body heat. You feel his index finger moving along your panties, and he twirls the cotton around the digit before pulling it tight against the spot he knows you want him to pay attention to.

You hear him chuckle while you complain, already dizzy with wanting him all over you. Even though you're on top, you're still being engulfed by him.

“I know she missed me,” he rasps, forcing you to keep your head in the crook of his neck by putting one sprawled hand on your hair.

“Give it to her, then,” you whine, rolling your already damp underwear on the crotch of his jeans. His zip catches delightfully on your clit, and you softly moan in his neck.

“Sure thang, ma. Whatev’r my pretty wife wants,” he snickers, quickly discarding his pants. He barely gets his boxers under his ass, swiping the head of his cock on the front of the panties he still has in a twist around his finger. You try lifting your head to give him a mean glare, but he forces you back against him. Then, he rips the cotton band, getting your whole weight in his free hand without straining at all, lifting you up.

“Let me kiss your other lips too, mh?” He grunts, his lips brushing the side of your face.

“Just put it in, Sukuna,” you talk back, frowning, getting your mouth wide open ready to bite him. Your teeth come down on his skin at the same time his dick starts sinking into you, the feeling of your bodies finally connecting making you clamp down on his throat.

“Eaaasy, tiger,” he chuckles mid whimper, patting your hair. “Relax that jaw, vampire.”

“You can leave a handprint on my ass and I can’t suck your blood?” You pant, the perspiration from your breaths making the air you inhale so much hotter, his hand still deeply rooted on your scalp.

“I’d let you mark my fuckin’ heart, babe,” he mumbles near your ear, his hand tightening on your hip. He lowers you down slowly, letting your wetness drip all over his length. Usually he’d be a little rougher, and he loves how you love it, but since he also loves how tight and perfect you always feel, the fact he hasn’t fucked you in what feels like forever heightens his soft side.

“Shit, relax down here too,” he grumbles, his hand finally leaving your hair just to come rub little circles on your clit. You drop down lower by the second, and when he’s buried to the hilt, he slams his lips on yours. He grips both your hips, surely leaving marks, gyrating them at the same rhythm his tongue tangles with yours.

“Fuck yes. Missed this. Missed you,” he grits out, fucked out expression on his face, cheeks tinted pink and eyes rolled back.

For the next thirty minutes he swallows your moans just like you devour his curses, a cacophony of what’s simply just you. Three days might be little for someone else, but not for you two, so used to spending each waking moment together that you were on the verge of calling him to come back to you at least 34 times today.

You ride him slow but desperate nonetheless, and he lets you jump up and down his cock to your heart’s desire. He likes how you manage to have him wrapped around your pinky, even though he's double your size, and how your thighs are trembling since your pride won't let you ask him for help: it makes it all more fun when he drags you to the bathroom to clean you up. Maybe he'll sneak a little eating out session on the sink if he redeems you're still too sane.

Your dress is still on, just like his chest is still clad in his worn out t-shirt.

“Missed you so much. Wan’ you to cum inside,” you moan, baby hairs all over the place, and right now he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. He smiles lazily, his hand coming up to your face to lower your head just enough to drag out a sentence between your lips.

“Want me to put a bun in the oven?”

[nxsturn]

glasses ( m.s )

warnings: fluff, SMUT! (riding, praising, teasing, hair pulling, throat grabbing, soft and slow sex that escalates to more).

as you straddle him on his bed, the blue-light glasses perched on his nose, you can't help but notice the way the lenses reflect the dim bedroom light, making his eyes appear even more striking behind the transparent frames.

“they suit you,” you whisper as you grind into him slowly, a soft blue glow casted on his face. he looks up at you, mouth agap as he tries to form words, but all that comes out is a soft, breathy sigh. you lean down, pressing your lips against his, the glasses pressing into your cheeks as you kiss him deeply. he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as you continue to ride him.

his hands trail up your back, gently pulling you closer, while one hand adjusts his glasses. "you make them.. seem stupid," he mumbles between kisses, trying to playfully downplay how much he actually likes them. you pull back slightly, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

you arch your eyebrow, a playful smirk curling as he leans in for another quick smooch. "they're not stupid," you tease, leaning in close, your breath hot against his ear as you let out a whimper.

his glasses fog up slightly from breath as he chuckles softly, one hand moving to cup your cheek "yeah? think they make me look sexy?" his voice comes out deep and husky he pushes up against you, the glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

you giggle softly, nodding your head as you lean in to give him another kiss. "extremely," you murmur against his lips. his hands grip your hips tighter as he starts to move with you, the bed creaking softly beneath you.

as he starts moving more purposefully beneath you, you let your head fall back, a small moan escaping your lips, "fuck,"

he takes advantage of your exposed neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your throat, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "you like that?" he growls, his voice low and husky, the glasses slightly askew on his nose.

you can only manage a breathy whine of affirmation, already intoxicated by his touch. arching into him eagerly, your hips roll in sync with his thrusts, chasing the delicious friction as you tangle your fingers in his hair. "matthew,"

"mmm?" he murmurs, his mouth still pressed against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. his thrusts become more urgent, the bed creaking loudly now as he picks up the pace, his hands sliding down to grip your ass.

"right there.." you moan softly, pulling his face up to look at you, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "you're.." he pauses, adjusting his glasses with one hand while continuing his steady rhythm, "absolutely beautiful like this,"

his breath hitches as you tug at his hair, a dark hunger flashing in his eyes behind the slightly crooked frames. his free hand moves to wrap around your throat, not tightening but possessive.

"keep looking at me like that," he demands, his voice low and commanding. his grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. his hips snap up, hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you gasp.

your face is flushed, pupils dilated with desire, lips parted and swollen from kisses. a few strands of hair have come loose, framing your face as it moves with each of his thrusts. the combination of his possessive grip on your throat and the intensity in his gaze is driving you wild.

"you're.. fuck, you're perfect," he groans, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in every detail. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling it race beneath his touch. he leans in, his mouth hovering just above yours, his warm breath mingling with yours.

you can barely think, your mind consumed by the feeling of his hand around your throat, the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled whimper.

"shh," he whispers, silencing you further. "look at me," he demands, his eyes searching yours intensely. he begins to move his hips slower, deeper, drawing out each thrust.

your lips part, a silent moan passing through them as you hold his gaze obediently, drunk on the commanding tone and the exquisite torment of his deliberate pace. a single tear of overwhelmed ecstasy slipped from the corner of your eye.

he pauses, his eyes flickering to the stray tear tracing down your cheek. gently, almost reverently, he releases your throat, using that hand instead to tenderly brush away the tear. his expression softens, a rare vulnerability peeking through his usual intensity. "so sensitive,"

he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your eye where the tear had been. when he pulls back, there's a new warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that contrasts with the raw desire from before. "my perfect little mess," he murmurs, his voice filled with an almost wistful affection. his hand moves from your face to tangle in your hair, a gentle tug that somehow feels more intimate than anything before.

as he tugs gently on your hair, a familiar knot begins to form in your stomach — that telltale sign of impending ecstasy. your breathing becomes shallower, your heart pounding against your ribs as his steady rhythm threatens to send you over the edge.

he feels the shift in your trembling body, senses your rapidly accelerating pulse. a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face as he leans in to nip sharply at your earlobe. "almost there, aren't you?" he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

he leans forward, his mouth closing around a nipple as he suckles strongly, the wet heat of his mouth sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. at the same time, his free hand comes down in a sharp smack against your ass, the sound echoing in the room and making you yelp in surprise.

the unexpected sting on your ass contrasts deliciously with the intense suction on your nipple, making your hips buck involuntarily. your nipple releases from his mouth with a pop, leaving you gasping as he grins wickedly at your reaction. "mmm, that's it. ride it out,"

your back arches as the knot in your stomach finally snaps, the intense pleasure overwhelming you. a loud cry escapes your lips as your orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing with the force of it. he smirks against your skin, knowing he's pushed you to your limits and beyond.

he straightens up, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he sees the aftershocks wracking your body. he runs his hands possessively over your quivering stomach and hips, his touch soothing and dominant at the same time.

and just like that, he's remade you — pieces shuffled, reformed, a new masterpiece of pleasure and possession. you belong to his touch, utterly redefined by his hands, leaving you breathless and craving more of his exquisite torment. all because of some glasses.

©nxsturn

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