#safety gear for construction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biteofcherry · 2 years ago

Text

Nature’s beauty

mountain rescuer Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality.

warnings: consensual; barebacking; breeding kink; housewife kink; light bondage; dubiously consensual taking of risky pictures; lots of filthy talk (not even dirty, just nasty filth); mention of cumplay; established relationship; Steve’s a rescuer but who will rescue us from Steve’s hotness;

*no squirrels were harmed in the process of writing the story

“Come on. Get out of there!” You huffed, tapping your fingers against the wood of the small birdhouse installed high on the tree trunk.

It was a birdhouse - and just this morning you saw a small, colorful bird check it out - but some sneaky, red squirrel decided to squat inside it. How did it even fit through the tiny hole, you had no idea.

You noticed it as you returned from your little hike, seeing a flash of an orange fluffy tail as the squirrel stuffed its tiny butt through the hole. So you tried climbing the tree, not much successfully, and scare the intruder out.

It wouldn’t be a good house for a growing squirrel anyway.

To prop yourself, you used one of the wooden crates Steve built you for the vegetable garden that you planned on starting. Since it wasn’t enough to reach the birdhouse, you stuck another crate on top of it. The construction swayed a little, but you braced yourself against the tree trunk and reached your hand up to knock on the small wooden house.

“Your nuts won’t fit in there with you!” You called, though it was doubtful the squirrel would understand you.

The crates wobbled, but before you had a chance to stabilize yourself with both hands on the tree two strong hands gripped your hips and easily lifted you up.

“And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” Steve’s steady voice calmed your initial panic.

You melted into his embrace as he set you down on your feet on the ground and spun around to face him. Your immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, straining on your tiptoes to greet him with a kiss.

He’s been gone for nearly two days - his usual shift stretching longer due to a crisis his team had to react to in the higher parts of the mountains.

“Steve.” You breathlessly whispered his name, smile stretching on your lips.

So close to the way you looked and sounded when he woke you up with his mouth between your thighs.

“You’re back.” You pecked his lips once again then grinned. “Just in time for eviction.”

“Eviction?” Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“A squirrel locked herself inside the birdhouse. We need to chase her away. For her own good.” You pointed up at the tree where few weeks ago Steve installed the birdhouse.

With a shake of his head and an overly dramatic sigh, Steve went to his truck to get his backpack with the climbing gear. He put the crates away - sending you a warning glare for coming up with a dangerous idea of putting your safety on top of them - then tied a rope around the tree to have a leverage for climbing. He reached the birdhouse exceptionally quickly.

Once he brought it down, you opened the front panel and shooed the squirrel away. It looked at you indignantly, holding a nut in its tiny paws, then scrambled away onto another tree near your house.

“I see you got into serious animal real estate business, even though you only got back home yourself.” Steve chuckled, pointing at your small backpack and the camera placed a few feet away.

“I went to the valley to take some shots of the early crocuses.” You beamed, picking up your things.

“But!” You kept close to Steve as you both walked up the porch and into the house. “I prepared a stew earlier and some garlic bread slices that are ready to pop into the oven.”

“Wow. You’re organized like a proper housewife.” Steve snickered, patting your ass.

“Yeah?” You glanced at him over your shoulder, waggling your eyebrows comically. “You gonna keep me barefoot and pregnant?”

“We can have that arranged.” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him. He kicked the door shut behind you and dropped his backpack to the floor.

“Ah-ah!” You quickly slipped away from his grasp.

You turned around with a grin, mischievous sparks lighting your eyes. You lifted the camera and clutched it protectively to your chest.

“Gotta put the fragile goods into safety first, before you go all patriarchal on me.”

“You’ll never forgive me that vase, won’t you?” Steve hung his head in shame, but he couldn’t suppress the proud smirk on his face.

The pretty, pink glass vase became a collateral damage when the two of you resolved a minor argument with hot, angry sex.

Steve bent you over the table and fucked you so hard that your hands flailed helplessly around and you knocked the vase off the table. As the glass shattered all over the floor, you gushed around Steve’s cock with a scream that surely carried through the mountain range.

“That orgasm was worth the sacrifice.” You laughed, disappearing into the bedroom.

“But my camera is too precious to risk it!” The cottage you and Steve were living in wasn’t tiny, but small enough that your voice easily reached other parts of the house if you raised your volume a bit.

“Duly noted!” Steve called back.

He walked into the kitchen where the faint smell of stew lingered in the air. He sat down on one of the chairs and bent down to unlace his shoes, smiling to himself as he thought of you cooking and dancing around the kitchen.

You were quite messy when you cooked, even worse when you baked. But there was no hotter sight than you naked on your knees on the tiled floor, with smears of flour on your face and then his cum dribbling down your chin.

Suddenly, provoked by your recent words, an image of you walking around the kitchen pregnant flashed through Steve’s head.

He saw you glowing and round, cutting strawberries with a smile as he whisked the batter for pancakes. You’d snack on the strawberries, claiming to be hungry and impatient to wait for breakfast. He’d take the fruit from you with a laugh, lick the sticky juice off your fingers. Then go on his knees to pleasure you until you can’t stand upright anymore.

He imagined you bent over the sink, hands in soapy water from washing dishes, as he fucked you slowly from behind - unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly, needing to take you as soon as he comes home from his shift.

He easily pictured you carrying a toddler on your hip, bouncing the kid lightly as you walk barefoot around the house, the swell of your belly growing with another baby.

You’d take the kids to the meadows, play with them and take stunning photographs of the nature and of the kids exploring its beauty. You’d chase away squirrels and tend to your vegetable garden - happiness radiating off your faces. You’d cook meals and try new baking recipes, and you all would eat together.

And later in the evening, when he puts the oldest kid to bed and you nurse the newborn baby to sleep, he’d take you again.

Fill you full through your needy cries, letting the nature take its course with your body as well.

Steve was so deep in this unexpected rush of craving he didn’t hear your soft footsteps at first. Only when you called his name upon entering the kitchen did he look up.

There you were - feet bare on the floor, your pants replaced with soft, cotton pajama shorts, and in his t-shirt which you liked to wear around the house.

All that was missing from the fantasy was your pregnant belly stretching the fabric of the tee.

Steve crooked a finger at you, wordlessly calling you over.

You noticed the heat in his gaze, how wider his pupils got and that his lips were slightly parted on a quickened breath. It was a look signaling some mindblowing pleasure coming your way, though you weren’t exactly sure what caused it at the moment.

You walked over, straddling Steve’s lap and placing your hands on his shoulders. His palms spread over your ass, fingers kneading your flesh and forcing you to rock against him.

Against his undoubtedly growing, impressive erection.

“I feel that you’re really happy to see me.” You grinned at Steve, but couldn’t help yourself from rubbing against him.

“Always.” Steve muttered and kissed you.

His lips were soft, but the way he used them was anything but gentle. He took possession of your mouth, tongue slipping between your parted lips to tease a moan out of your throat.

Your fingers weaved into his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and causing Steve to purr.

He gave your asscheek a smack. Not exactly painful, but firm enough to elicit a squeak out of you and have you buck against him.

“I want to fuck you bare.” Steve growled, hips pushing up into you.

“Wha-” your mouth was still chasing his lips, your mind not yet fully catching up with his request.

Steve gave your ass another slap and tilted his head back, so your gaze focused on his eyes and what he was saying.

“I want to fuck you bare.” He repeated, his voice low and raspy with dark need.

“I want to fill you up and breed you.”

You shivered at his words. Your nipples tightened into hard peaks and your clit throbbed.

“You’re serious.” Your voice came out breathless, your throat suddenly dry.

Steve and you talked about having kids before, but it was all vague; nothing beyond agreeing that you wanted to build a family together, sometime. In the far future.

Since it was a unspecified future and your health didn’t allow for you to take pills or hormonal shots, Steve always had a strip of condoms at hand. Even in the spur of the moment quickies on your hikes, he always sheathed himself. You never took him bare.

Never felt him fill your pussy with his cum.

“What’s that thought, sweetheart?” Steve leaned forward and nipped your bottom lip when you let out an involuntary moan at the thought of being full of him.

“We’ve never done it bare.” You rubbed your heated core over his clothed cock. “I only had your cum in my mouth, or on my body.”

Corner of Steve’s mouth tilted in a smirk. He slid one of his hands to grip the back of your neck as he licked a wide stripe from your throat over your chin and up to your lips.

“I promise to still let you play with my cum from time to time, doll.” He kissed you again.

With your big eyes full of wonder, you always liked him to paint your body with white streaks of his spent. You stuck your little tongue out, swallowed him greedily, and scooped up every drop from your skin.

“But from now on, we’ll mostly fill your sweet cunt with it.”

You felt his dick twitch beneath you as he said those words. You felt your own panties and shorts dampen with your growing slick.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” Steve nudged the tip of your nose with his affectionately. “Want to get pregnant?”

“Pregnant and barefoot?” You huffed a breathy laugh, realizing it was your own words from earlier today that spurred Steve’s desire.

“Well, some days are really cold out here, so I think we can skip the barefoot part.” He smiled against your lips. “But we’re definitely doing the pregnant part.”

You were constantly grinding against him, your breasts pressed and rubbed against Steve’s chest. Growing heat consumed you and you wanted, needed, Steve to sate the fire he ignited. You felt as if your body wouldn’t calm down until he spilled inside you, like he promised.

“Yes!” You captured Steve’s mouth, clinging to him even closer.

“Yes, Steve!” You head fell back as he kissed and bit down your throat. “Fuck a baby into me!”

In rushed moves, surprisingly efficient considering how both of you were trembling with impatience, you undid Steve’s pants and took him into your hand. He pushed your shorts and panties to the side.

You both moaned as you slid down his cock. The feel of his hot flesh without the latex cover made your toes curl.

It was quick and brutal, really; your thighs burned as you bounced up and down on his length. A tearing sound, as Steve yanked on your t-shirt, didn’t falter your pace.

Your climax came as dizzying, filling the house with your scream and Steve’s loud groan following soon after.

Nothing but the pounding of your hearts and heavy breathing, as you sat tangled and spent. A little mewl of surprise bubbled on your lips when you felt Steve’s cock twitching and spurting more of hot come inside your fluttering walls.

It was hotter and wetter than how it felt ever before; and the thought of Steve’s cum filling up through your cervix made your pussy clench around him.

When you slid off him a while later, a thick dollop of cum dribbled out of you. Steve put your panties back in place, cotton quickly filling and staining with the mixture of juices.

“That won’t do.” Steve frowned, as he pulled the waistband of your panties and glanced at the mess between your swollen folds.

“You’re dripping it all over and it has to take.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant - your brain fuzzy from the aftershocks and bliss - Steve picked you up.

He carried you to the bedroom and dropped you onto the bed. He got his t-shirt over his head in a split of a second, then moved your pliant body around, getting rid of all of your clothes as well.

“Stay here.” He pointed at you and walked out of the bedroom.

You did enjoy the view of his naked ass moving. As well the way muscles in his back flexed.

When Steve returned, he had three climbing ropes in his hands.

“What are you planning mister rescuer?” You arched a brow.

He merely winked at you, joining you on the bed and straddling you. He weaved the blue cord around your wrists, binding them to the headboard. One of the red ropes tied around your left ankle; the other around the right.

You expected Steve to tie your legs to the foot of the bed, but instead he bent your legs at the knees and pushed them up toward your chest and slightly to the sides. The ends of the rope he tied to the headboard as well.

Once he was done, your breath was quickened again, as your vulnerable exposed position registered.

“Now,” Steve knelt back and ran a finger up your ass, “all my cum will stay nicely snug in your pussy.”

He scooped whatever dribbled out of you and pushed it back into your quivering cunt. He was right. In this improvised bondage version of a mating press, your hips were tilted up enough for the gravity to work in favor of impregnation.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve looked at you, love and desire shining in his eyes.

From your gorgeous face, hair sticking to your sweaty skin; your breasts shaking with each breath and your lovely legs strained and bound; to your gorgeous ass and glistening, swollen folds.

A thick trickle of his cum lingered just below your leaking hole. He moved his hand slowly up your ass, reaching up to push that one drop back inside you.

“I wish I could preserve this image forever.” He murmured.

Then paused.

Slowly, Steve’s gaze shifted from your pussy to your face. His eyes darkened and a naughty, evil really, smirk curved his mouth.

“What are you thinking, Steve?” You asked warily, partly scared of his wicked idea and partly excited.

Steve got off the bed, but returned rather quickly.

With your camera in his hands.

“You can’t be serious.” You squeaked, squirming against your bonds. But they were fucking secured top notch, you were unable to even pull your legs closer together.

“Why not?” Fingers of his left hand returned to your heated skin while he held the camera in his right hand. “You take photographs of nature. What’s more natural than this?”

He traced one of your swollen folds and pulled it slightly to the side, exposing your hole and the white cream filling it.

A shutter clicked. First photo of your pussy saved on the memory card.

Steve took a few more photos, from different angles. Some close-ups of his cum, some a wider perspective including your stretched body visible between your spread legs.

He moved closer, kneeling up and positioning his hardened cock between your sopping folds.

He moaned as he watched his dick slide back and forth; looked up at your face and held your gaze when you whimpered as the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit repeatedly.

“What’s more natural than a pretty cunt serving its purpose?” Steve rasped out, guiding the tip into your opening.

He angled the camera again, snapping a picture of your pussy opening up for him. Then a series of photos as he slowly pushed inside.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re taking me so good.” Steve bit down on his lip as he thrust deeper. “Such a fucking beautiful sight.”

He flipped the camera function to video, recording as he buried himself in your wet cunt. Your wrecked moan at the stretch, too. And the squelching sound of a filled pussy.

Steve’s free hand rested on your mound, thumb drawing the hood over your clit up and then resting on the hardened nub. Your hips bucked when he started rubbing.

He tilted the camera up, making sure to register all of your body before focusing on your face. You whined his name aloud.

When you noticed the camera pointed at you, you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side embarrassed.

“Don’t be shy on me, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, maintaining a steady pace. “You’re stunning. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. And your pretty, little pussy-”

He returned the lens between your spread thighs, recording every detail of his cock driving into you.

His dick shined with your juices and remnants of his cum. Your folds were puffed and darkened, and your clit crushed under his big thumb. Your wetness smeared around, glistening on your ass and thighs, as well shimmering on the hair above Steve’s cock.

“She’s swallowing me, doll. Greedy, little pussy.” Steve growled, picking up his rhythm.

“What she’s hungry for, sweetheart? Huh?” Though his hand was shaking slightly, he managed to move the camera so it was recording your face again.

“Tell me, what she’s hungry for?” He delivered a firm smack atop your clit that made you squeak and clench around him.

“It’s hungry for your cum!” You cried out.

You felt the heat engulf you whole, felt it almost burn the skin off your cheeks from the inside.

Steve always had a penchant for dirty talk, but it wasn’t always as nasty. Just a few lines here and there. Something about fucking you bare, trying to knock you up, made him wilder. And he forced you to interact along with him.

“Wants to be filled?” Steve’s raspy voice prompted again, another slap stinging your clit.

“It wants to be filled so bad!” Your need overcame the embarrassment.

With your eyes still closed, you babbled all the filth you were shy to admit, but everything you knew Steve wanted to hear.

“Wants you to fuck it hard and come inside. Please, Steve. Need you- Need you to make me take it! Fill my belly and make it swell!”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Steve nearly came at the sputter of your dirty words. “My sweet, fucking, dirty girl.”

He put the camera down on the side of the bed. He didn’t bother to switch it off.

It recorded a slightly blurred angle of Steve’s hips driving into you, his balls slapping against your butt as he leaned fully on top of you and bottomed out.

It recorded the sounds of your bodies - wet squelching, skin slapping, Steve’s heavy groans and your high pitched cries; and filthy demands.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart.” Steve stretched himself over you and propped his weight on his forearms on both sides of your head.

“I am! I am, I’m so close, Steve!”

Your body wanted to move along with his, to rock up into him and touch him, but your tied limbs prevented you from doing so. You could only lay there and take whatever Steve gave you. However he gave it.

“I’ll get you there, I promise.” He nipped along your jaw, lavishing each sting with a lick of his tongue. “First, though-” he paused to kiss you fully.

A surprisingly thorough kiss, considering how frantically his hips were pumping you.

Steve’s voice turned into a low, gravelly growl.

“Tell me your purpose, my sweet fuck doll.”

So close to the edge that your toes were curling, you weren’t resilient enough to fight for more dignity. You knew what hot, humiliating words Steve fished for.

And you knew you could scream them out, because once he untied you and you left the bedroom, Steve would respect you like he always did. He would worship the ground you walk on and cherish you. Give you the stars, if he could.

“My p-purpose-” your voice choked on a moan as Steve angled his hips, driving his cock into that spongy, oversensitive spot inside you.

With a whine you dropped your gaze down, unable to look right into Steve’s eyes as you cried out the words.

“To be bred! Fuuuuck. To be bred and have your babies! Be y-your, ah, little housewife. To serve you, serv- Fuck! Steve!”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Steve groaned, leaning his forehead against yours.

He slowed his pace, but each snap of his hips drove his cock into you deep and rough. Skilled, coarse fingers maneuvered between your bodies, finding your clit.

A few strokes over your nub combined with the incessant pounding into your sweet spot were enough to push you over the edge.

You clenched your hands around the ropes that tied your wrists to the headboard as you shattered. Steve’s choked, low moans lost in the sound of your keening, as he came right after you.

Steve dragged his lips across your cheek toward your lips. Kissed you slowly, and wet. Your ragged breaths mingled, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths and popping.

He remained buried inside you, his cock twitching and spurting more cum into your clenching channel.

“I fucking love you.” Steve breathed heavily, a huff of chuckle at the end of his confession.

“Mhmm. I love you, too.” You opened your eyes halfway. “You perv.”

You both laughed, a quiet, intimate sound between lovers that knew each other to the tiniest bone.

With a displeased groan, Steve pushed himself up. He was careful as he sat back, not wanting to slip out of your pussy too quickly.

His gaze focused on your joined bodies as he withdrew inch by inch. His cock glistened with thick cream; your walls fluttered at the friction. He admired your open hole for a moment then squeezed your puffed folds between his fingers.

“Gotta keep it in, sweetheart.” Steve tugged on your folds lightly, keeping them pinched between his fingers.

“I could make you come again. Help your pussy swallow more of it into your womb.” His eyes, still hazy with desire, drifted back to your face.

You groaned. Your cunt clenched at the mere idea of another orgasm shattering your body.

“How about we leave it as it is for now?” You wiggled your butt as much as you could in your restraints. “You can do more nasty things to me in the upcoming days.”

Because you knew if you allowed Steve to make you come again now, he’d use his mouth. And if he used his mouth, he would switch into the overstimulation mindset - he always did that when he went down on you.

You were plenty ruined today without that.

“As you wish.” Steve sighed, with exaggerated disappointment.

“But I’m keeping your legs tied up for a bit longer.” He announced, releasing your folds and patting them less than gently.

You squeaked and glared at him, but it only made him grin.

“Better untie my hands.” You said, making a comically frowny face. “So I can call for the mountain rescuing service to save me from a brutal bear’s captivity.”

Steve laughed and plopped down on his ass, then stretched himself on the bed crosswise. He reached for the camera and finally turned recording off.

He did switch to a browsing mode, though.

“Stop working yourself up again!” You reprimanded him when you realized why Steve moaned suddenly. “Untie me and bring me food.”

“Isn’t it your purpose to serve me food, little housewife?” Steve propped himself on his elbows and looked at you with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t do that while I’m bound.” You smiled sweetly.

Steve moved up and leaned over you, untying the ropes around your hands in two swift moves. He rubbed the skin on your wrists then placed a soft kiss on each.

“Hmm, brutal bear has to think of ways to keep you full and still able to do your housewife duties.” He winked at you.

“Yes, yes, can you think of that while we’re eating?” You rolled your eyes.

As on cue, your stomach rumbled.

“You stew here.” Steve moved down your body and kissed your abdomen, then hopped off the bed. “I’ll reheat everything. Want some wine, too?”

Slipping his pants back on, Steve left the bedroom. And you inside it.

With your legs still up and spread, your hips tilted up and cum brewing in your cunt.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You yelled after him.

His response was an impudent snicker.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #mountain rescuer steve rogers #mountain rescuer steve rogers x reader #steve fic: nature's beauty

8K notes · View notes

hairyjocktf · 8 months ago

Text

Building a New Life

Justin was the star wrestler at his high school. He had won regional titles and the adoration of all the local families for years, and was ready to head to college to continue his streak. Senior year he was at his peak, winning matches left and right. All he had to do was wait for those recruitment offers to roll in. He waited and waited, still kicking ass in his wrestling, but while everyone around him was committing and getting accepted, there were no letters to him. To his dismay, one never came. His plans for the future were shattered, what was he supposed to do now? The wrestling scholarship was his only shot for college.

With the year ending and not many options, Justin started looking for entry level jobs that would take him. He lived in a fairly rural area so most of what he found was either farm work or construction, and the latter paid better. He called one of them up and they told him to swing by the site a few days later. He drove out to the construction site later that week and walked into the mobile office they had there. The manager came out to greet him. He was a rugged man in his late 40’s, with a stocky build and thick stubble. He’d clearly been in the business for years and it showed through his worn hands and gruff voice from yelling orders at his lackeys. The man looked Justin up and down.

“A little scrawny but I can work with it,” he said after a few seconds.

“I was a top wrestler in the region!” Justin protested.

“Doesn’t matter in this industry,” the man said flatly. “Can you handle heavy loads and equipment? Can you deal with being outside most of the day in rough weather?”

Justin was caught off guard, usually people were much nicer to him. “Of course I can! I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he assured.

“Well alright, If you think you can handle it let’s see how you do here,” the manager said, handing a pile of clothes to Justin. “Here’s your safety and HiVis gear, make sure it fits and then we’ll get you set up outside.”

Justin took his uniform to the bathroom to try it on real quick. It included a hard hat that was adjustable, which he fit to his head, a bright orange and yellow HiVis vest, and a couple other things. He put it all on and stepped back into the office.

“Alright follow me, Justin was it?” the manager gestured towards the door.

“Yes sir,” Justin responded uncharacteristically.

“Name’s Blaine, the manager revealed, “Around here we usually work on residential projects, we’re currently assisting on a development outside of town.” He led them away from the office around the immediate site, which currently seemed to be mostly used as storage for equipment and materials. “Since you’ve got no experience you’ll start by shadowing some of our guys for a few weeks and handling more basic tasks til you’re ready for more,” he continued. “You can head back to the office and they'll take care of the nitty gritty for ya. I’m expecting great things from you, wrestler,” Blaine laughed as he left Justin and headed out towards the development. Justin heard his gruff voice booming in the distance as he barked orders to the workers.

Justin was unsure about all of this, but he didn’t really have a better option at the moment. He felt out of place in his new safety gear, and he was younger than nearly everyone he saw working. He took care of the paperwork and headed home for the day; they'd hired him on the spot to start the next morning. With considerable unease, he went to bed, closing one chapter of his life for the next.

As the weeks went by Justin began acclimating to this new job fairly well. He got to know the guys he worked with, learned how to use the equipment, and began to feel comfortable on the site. He even felt like he had put on some mass to better handle all the physical work he was doing. His rock solid abs were a little less visible than they had been but for some reason that didn’t bother him. He was already starting to forget the sting of not being recruited for wrestling. Every day he came into work those past dreams seemed to fade a little more, replaced by his new life. His coworkers had made fun of him for having such a baby face at the beginning, but now he was starting to sport a little bit of stubble. Justin was slowly starting to blend in more with his new crowd.

The months continued to pass, with Justin becoming more and more entrenched in his new construction life. It was getting colder outside, and his body began to adjust without him even noticing. His stubble grew out into a real beard, short and dense. He began packing on more body fat as he spent less and less time at the gym and more and more working and drinking with his new bros. His voice began to sound a little deeper and rougher, matching those around him. The hard hat really suited him now with his more rugged looks. He had never been a good student in school but he seemed to really be taking to this new job, completely forgetting about his old goals. The occassional approving nod from Blaine was driving him forward. He was thriving in this new position, but the job wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to Justin, under his thick winter clothes things were changing. His previously toned body, while still fairly muscular, was steadily becoming thicker with fat. Not only that, but he’d always been near perfectly smooth and that too was slowly changing. It had started with his chest, where on the previously bare skin thin wispy hairs had started to poke out. That didn’t last long though, as they were quickly overrun with thicker, darker hairs that began sprouting in between his pecs. They grew curly as they spread out, covering his entire chest in hair, spreading up across his collarbone and down across his slowly growing stomach. The new hairy coat was just another part of his insulation against the harsh winter weather. But the hairs didn’t stop there either. His pits erupted with thick wiry hairs, coating his underarms in curly hairs that trapped both heat and sweat. The hairs pushed out, tangling together as they formed a thick tuft of hair under each arm, even spreading out to connect with the rug on his chest. After each day of hard work he’d come home stinking like the other men he worked with, and over time he started to enjoy the musk he produced.

Of course he wasn’t done filling out his uniform quite yet. His formerly modest bush began growing with no end in sight, engulfing his groin in thick, wiry brown hairs that radiated out from his lengthening cock. Sometimes while on the site Justin would instinctively reach down in his pants to itch the growing bush, the feeling and texture of it driving him wild. With pubes erupting day and night his musk only grew stronger, as Justin began to truly have a manly aura around him that he’d never had before. It seemed to help him bond with the other guys more, as they welcomed him into their groups and invited him out more and more frequently. Underneath his work pants his legs bulked up considerably from carrying all sorts of materials around, followed closely by the same dark fur. It raced down his legs and coated them with curly hairs that rubbed against the inside of his increasingly tight jeans as he walked around, an almost arousing feeling. Within the first year of working Justin had gone up four sizes in his work boots, as his feet grew and widened to match the rest of him. The massive steel-toed boots hid how hairy his feet had gotten, with dark hairs covering the tops and toes.

The next year was largely the same. Justin continued slowly changing to better fit his new job. He was really beginning to excel at it, and he’d attained a close friendship with many of the men he worked with. It almost seemed as if he’d aged ten years over the last one, he certainly looked it at this point. His fur coat only thickened, growing even denser across his chest and stomach to the point you could barely see the skin beneath the hairs. Hair had also spread up and onto his shoulders before enveloping his massive back. The hairs gushed out across his shoulder blades before shooting down his spine and spreading out wide. The heavy coating slowly grew thicker and spread out further as time went on, reaching down to his ass. It too became covered with thick, dark hairs as it inflated to a truly massive size. During the warmer months sometimes he just wore his vest and hard hat, his incredibly thick hair covering the rest of him and sticking through his vest.

Justin earned the nickname ‘Grizzly’ from his coworkers after they saw how hairy he’d gotten, and his body had put on the size to match. Gone was the small but toned body of a wrestler, replaced by a thick, hairy, and sturdy body of a weathered construction worker. He oozed masculinity from not only his stained and dirty work clothes, but from the thick chest hair that he left his shirt open to show off. His entire body was now coated with a dense coat of hair and he liked to make that known, as long as he wasn’t caught against safety regulations at least. He never questioned why he’d changed so much in such a short span, it never even occurred to him, and honestly he liked his new life. He was just one of the guys working on the site now. The hair felt as natural to him as anything else, and the other guys seemed to like it even if they made fun of him once in a while. Occasionally when they went out drinking some of the guys would have too many beers and start rubbing their hands through his thick fur, but he didn’t mind at all. It felt good to be masculine, and to be appreciated for it by other guys. Months continued to pass though no one could really remember how long Justin had been working there at this point, but they were all glad he was there. He was the best construction worker on their team.

#male tf #hairy tf #bear tf #hairy #hairy chest #hairy pits #beard #hairy back #hair growth #my writing

654 notes · View notes

artbyblastweave · 11 months ago

Text

Frederick Sinclair is a really interesting foil to Mr. House. I mean you start digging into this and it's just parallel after parallel after parallel. Start at the high level. House sinks inordinate amounts of resources into saving the city of Las Vegas - not the people, but the city- from nuclear destruction; as long as the stage endures, he can get anyone to wear the costumes. Sinclair sets up an entirely new "community" totally off-the-grid for the sake of protecting one woman, plasters that place with her likeness. House is a visionary with a 200-year action plan to rebuild society in his image, bootstrap space exploration, and construct an interplanetary empire; Sinclair sank everything he had into building the most secure facility possible for a woman who he knew was terminally ill anyway, just to ensure that her last few years lived in the aftermath of the nuclear apocalypse would be as comfortable as possible- there's a fundamental pessimism baked into what he was doing. Both House and Sinclair relied heavily on automated defensive systems and cutting-edge, esoteric technologies to accomplish their ends, but House built his power base on proprietary robotics and computing technology, much of which he personally designed- an outgrowth of his policy of never widening his circle any more than he absolutely has to. Sinclair, in his naive techno-optimism, outsourced his utopia, grabbing flashy third-party technologies like a kid in a candy store- opening a backdoor for the Think Tank to poison his city and ultimately getting everyone at the Gala Event killed when the holograms malfunctioned and went berserk.

Their management styles are inverse. House allows countless abuses to occur under his aegis because he subscribes to a libertarian-when-convenient philosophy where he doesn't much care what the little people do as long as he gets his cut and they don't rock the boat too much- a hands-off approach that fosters resentment amongst his subordinates, lets the White Gloves and Omertas get up to untold levels of fuckery while Freeside languishes and Benny conspires against him. Sinclair, by contrast, had a sincerely-held utopian-straight-edge safety-first micromanagement approach built into the very bones of the casino, he appeared to genuinely give a shit about the safety of the construction crew on the villa, and he was well-liked by nearly everyone who had any direct contact with him- and yet untold horrors also went down under his aegis, because his myopic focus on building the vault for Vera let Dean Domino and the Think Tank run circles around him, good intentions be damned. Their respective interpersonal dispassion and obsession are on display in how they react to betrayal. House's tone never rises above exasperation when it comes time to clean house of Benny, the Omerta Leadership and the White gloves; he treats them as problems to be solved, gears that are slightly out of alignment; By contrast, when Sinclair learns that Dean and Vera have been playing him, he channels the monomaniacal energy he previously directed towards protecting Vera towards the goal of building the perfect poetic-ironic death trap for her and Dean.

There are some other parallels in their personal lives. For one thing they both trusted a pastiche of a 40s lounge singer a lot more than they should have. They both tried to digitize, immortalize their girlfriends- and the discrepancy in how they went about it is telling. House's recreation of Jane isn't terribly robust, and in terms of House's overall project she's an afterthought. She's more a sock-puppet than a person, a sanded-down copy of a woman who died forever-and-a-half ago, forever agreeable, never saying no. Convenient. Only the most superficial visual elements preserved- an illustration of her face on a robotic chassis. Sinclair was obsessive in recreating Vera, preserving her likeness. It's all over the villa, her hologram is everywhere, her voice is everywhere. The terminal in the lightwave lab in Old World Blues reveals that he was still obsessed with getting her hologram right even after the love curdled into hate. All of it a monument to the real woman, and yet in all of it the real woman is still lost, buried under the mythologized projection. He didn't respect the real person enough to let her know that she was dying. A total failure of preservation from the opposite direction. (Except in the suites, where you can hear her very authentic dying pleas.)

You find both of them in their basements. House only looks a little better than Sinclair, but he's got much more of a voice in the narrative. He took steps to make sure he'd be around to tell you what he thinks about everything, fine-tuned the voice with which he speaks to the world, the face he presents. It matters to him that he gets to tell his own story. We find out a lot about House, from House; but for the kind of figure that he is, a shocking amount of what we learn about Sinclair comes from other people, people who knew him or wrote about him. The only image of him you can find is a downplayed element of a larger mosaic. The two documents you find that're written from his perspective have been buried for 200 years, and they're yards from his corpse. And the more recent of the two is an apology. I mean admittedly at the point where he wrote that apology Sinclair was personally turbofucked regardless. If the cloud didn't get him the holograms would have, or the radiation, or, or, or. You can read some level of ego into what he did in the face of that. But however futile it was, he died in the specific way that he did because he recognized that he'd done something awful, and he was trying everything he could think of to correct it. Somehow I find it very hard to imagine House doing either of those things- admitting fault or putting skin of his own in the game to make it right.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #mr house #frederick sinclair #meta #vera keyes #fallout jane #dead money #thoughts #fallout: new vegas #robert house

730 notes · View notes

catsrsupersonic · 7 months ago

Text

morning runs, sleepy kisses

Person A trying to get Person B to exercise early in the morning. Bonus: Person B is not a morning person.

Luke Hughes x reader

Word count: like 700

Warnings: don’t think there’s any lol

Be kind! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Wage Peace xx

****

In the deep, comfortable slumber you found yourself in, consumed by peace and warmth, you heard a small nattering voice threatening to awake you from this bliss. “Baby...” it whispered into the landscapes of your dreams, forcing the image to slip away from you with each passing second. You heard the voice again, followed by a giggle and a large comforting hand on your shoulder as it shook you awake. Your eyes opened slowly, and an annoyed groan slipped from your lips as you rolled over in bed, very nearly falling out of it but managing to stop yourself with your hand pressed to the floor and Luke’s hands pushing you back to the safety of the mattress.

On your way back up you glanced at the clock. 5;03am. Why on Gods green earth was your boyfriend waking you up at such an awful, dark and cold hour? It was then that you took in his appearance. He was dressed in running gear with damp curls evidently from a shower and two granola bars in his hand. He wore a cheeky smile as he giggled once again at your sleepy state. It suddenly dawned on you the promise you had made him the previous night when you were feeling particularly motivated, to join Luke on his extremely unnecessarily early runs he likes to have during the off season.

You groaned again and pulled the covers over your head, momentarily hiding from the reality of the fact that you never broke one of his promises. He gently pulled the covers from your head again and lightly caressed your cheeks and admired the morning glow on your skin. “C’mon baby, I got your clothes ready so you could sleep some more and if we don’t set off in 10 minutes, we’re going to miss the sunrise.” He pouted.

You sighed dramatically as you sat up in bed and leaned forward to rest your forehead on your boyfriend’s shoulder. The soothing rub of his hand on your back was sending you back to sleep. His natural smell (which you called his “boyfriend” smell), mixed with his comforting touch was lulling you back into the dreamy landscape. But inevitably you rose from the pile of duvet gathered around you and, with a lingering kiss, left your boyfriend to get changed and freshen up quickly.

You found him again, making your bed and opening the blinds but before he could finish making the bed, you flopped onto it with your third dramatic groan of the morning. “Leave the bed, Lu,” you began, propping your head up on your hands as you watched him manoeuvre around the bed to begin putting your shoes on and tying your laces for you. “When we get back, we can get back in and go back to sleep for a bit.”

He laughed and lightly kissed the inside of your knee before rising and pulling you up to your feet by your hands. “You do know the whole purpose of a morning run is to wake you up, right?” he says, amused.

“Whatever you say, handsome. But we both know we’re going back to sleep after this.” You say back, heading to the door ahead of him. He hands you your water bottle and one of the granola bars he had and smiles at you. He leans in to give you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for coming with me Baby, I love you.” He says as you open the door. You smile appreciatively at him. He never fails to make you feel loved.

“I love you too, Lu. Now lead the way!” and as you say the last part you lightly smack his behind earning a gasp and a flurry of giggles from the both of you.

#luke hughes #he is so babygirl #luke hughes x reader #hes so beautiful #luke hughes blurb

362 notes · View notes

hazmatgearguy · 8 months ago

Text

Toxic fumes out here on the road. 🦺

#safety gear #protection #respirator #full face respirator #fullfacerespirator #work wear #workwear #work gloves #construction gear #road work gear #guysingear #men in workwear #masked men

17 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Strawberry Soju

🎶 I don’t need another shot of you, but I got to, my strawberry soju 🎶

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre: college au, enemies-to-lovers

Word Count: ~7.0k

cw: asshole!Eren, fratboy!Eren, subby!Eren, blowjob, cunnilingus, face riding, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, unprotected sex, alcohol, language.

Summary: Two weeks before graduation, you are finally done with your senior project. This calls for a celebration with your team, including the person who annoys you the most: Eren Jaeger. The two of you learn to put your differences aside for one night, starting with a bottle of strawberry soju.

Notes: All characters are seniors in college (21-22 years old), engineering majors. Eren is a frat boy, so some details from my series Rush will be used, but no correlation to that story. Inspired by the song “Strawberry Soju”, which I’ve been obsessed with for the past two weeks. I had a lot of fun with this, so I hope you enjoy! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thank you so much!

“And now, we are proud to present the winner of this year’s Senior Project Showcase: Team Titan! For their omni-directional mobility gear, designed for construction workers in the field to ensure safety whilst elevated hundreds of feet in the air! Bravo, Team Titan! Bravo!”

Professor Pyxis’s announcement leaves you and your group flabbergasted. Sasha and Connie both have their jaws dropped. Eren, who sits beside you, throws his fist in the air, exclaiming, “Oh hell yeah!” You stay in your seat, in total shock.

Pyxis stares fondly at the four of you, beckoning you towards the stage in the main engineering lecture hall. “Don’t be shy, my young engineers, come here to accept your award!” Hesitantly, you all make your way behind the podium, a polite round of applause from the other students and faculty echoing throughout the room.

Nearly an entire semester of work has led to this. Five months of grueling research, scrambling to acquire the right materials, complicated design issues that made you want to scream. Not to mention five months spent collaborating with the bane of your existence: Eren Jaeger. The award for first place barely makes up for a semester’s worth of torture; nonetheless, it’s still a pretty trophy.

It was fate that brought the four of you together back in January, the same fate that has spited you for whatever reason, forcing you to work alongside Eren, the most obnoxious, cocky, annoying person you have ever met in your short twenty-two years of living. While you had no issues with Connie or Sasha, you and Eren did not mesh. It’s been apparent since the beginning of the semester when you were chosen to be the team leader. He scoffed, claimed that he “would be a better choice, but whatever.” Your relationship with him was doomed from that day on.

What’s odd is that he isn’t an asshole to the entire group; his less than pleasant behavior seems to be reserved for you, and only you. He gets on perfectly fine with Sasha and Connie, who have basically played mediator for you two, keeping as much of the peace as possible whenever an argument ensues. He usually instigates it, always making an unnecessary comment to get under your skin. At this point, you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose just to get a rise out of you, because how can one human be this irritating?!

Despite all the petty drama, you have to admit that he’s smart. Not only that, but he also works hard and gets shit done, no matter how much grief he gives you about it. And, if you squint hard enough, he maybe is, almost, sort of…hot. Strictly speaking from an objective standpoint, that is. Based on media-driven beauty standards and common qualities that are considered conventionally attractive by society. Of course, you will never, ever admit this aloud, especially not to him. You’re convinced that if he ever finds out, his massive head will explode, already overinflated from his gigantic ego.

Your team crowds Pyxis, who happily hands you the trophy first. Eren, no surprise, snatches it from your clutches to hold it himself, kissing it and lifting it above him like he won a major league championship. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to maintain professionalism in front of the watching staff.

“Will your team leader give a few words about the project?” Pyxis asks, gaze on you, motioning to the stand.

You tense up, usually nervous about public speaking. Clearing your throat, you lean into the mic. “Uh, thank you Professor Pyxis and the rest of the faculty for selecting our project. This has been a labor of love for the past five months and we are honored to have it recognized. We hope that this prototype and any of the research associated with it will help improve labor conditions for those working in construction, risking their lives every day.”

You glance at Connie and Sasha to see if they’d like to add anything else. Connie adds, “Special shoutout to grad students Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Hange Zoe for helping us out a ton with our project, from offering advice to testing it out. We love you!”

“And thank you Paradise Pizzeria and Café Utopia for fueling many late nighters throughout this whole semester! You rock!” Sasha exclaims, resulting in laughter from the audience.

Eren grabs the mic from the stand, yelling, “This is dedicated to my fraternity brothers, for providing moral support during these trying times! Alpha Tau for life!” He holds the trophy in one hand, using the other to salute an inverted fist at his chest, sticking his tongue out.

This time, you don’t contain your eye roll as the crowd laughs even louder, clearly amused by it. He passes the microphone back to Pyxis. “Fantastic! I love the enthusiasm of this team. Let’s give them all another big round of applause!”

After the presentation is over, Pyxis instructs, “They’d like to take your picture next to the ODM gear. The photographers are taking some shots of the other projects, so feel free to take your time heading to the Rose Center.”

On the walk, Eren passes the trophy to Sasha. “What to hold it, Sash?”

“Sure! Still can’t believe we won!”

Connie puts his arm around her, staring at the prize. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but damn, is it nice to look at.”

Eren catches up to you, nudging you in the arm. “Would it have killed you to smile during your little speech?”

You shove your elbow into his ribs, a little harder than necessary. “I was smiling.”

“You call that a smile? You looked like you were in a hostage situation. Like, blink three times if they’re hurting you type of deal,” he teases, that cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Like you were any better!” You stick your tongue out, mocking him. “Alpha Tau for life, bros!”

“I really meant it. I needed all the fucking help I could get, dealing with you this whole semester. If it weren’t for them, I would have gone fucking crazy because of you.”

“Oh right, because I’m the one driving you crazy, sure,” you respond, sarcastically.

“Hey, at least you’re admitting it! You’re finally making progress!” He claps in front of your face.

You shove him, glaring. “You are such a jerk.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, baby.”

“Oh, I am not your baby.”

Sasha jumps in between, yelling, “Enough! Both of you, stop it!!”

Connie joins in. “Yeah, we won today. Stop ruining the mood.”

Without you realizing it, the four of you have made it to the Rose Center, which is luckily vacant in the midst of your little spat with Eren. This is how your arguments usually go, all because of something petty that never leads anywhere. When the photographer arrives, they direct you to stand beside your project, already displayed in one of the glass windows. They take a couple of shots, then it’s over. Just like that, your senior project is officially done. There’s a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. All that’s left to do is to graduate.

The sun is setting by the time the photoshoot is finished. The four of you exit the building, Sasha immediately announcing, “I’m hungry! Let’s get dinner one last time as a team!”

“I’m down for that. Any ideas where to go?”

“Paradise Pizza?”

“No, we’ve had that way too many times this year. Let’s go somewhere special tonight.”

“There’s that all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue place downtown,” you suggest. “It’s only fifteen minutes away if we take the train.”

“Ooohh, I like the sound of that!”

“I’m down. Eren?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets. That too-cool-to-care attitude apparent in his body language. “If that’s what everyone else wants, then I guess it’s fine.” If it had been either Sasha or Connie to suggest it, you know for a fact that he would have a more positive response. Because it’s you, he has to act like he’s being forced into it, reluctant to concede with absolutely everything you propose.

You go your separate ways to change out of professional attire and into more comfortable clothes, agreeing to meet outside Eren’s in an hour. His apartment is closest to the train station, making it the most convenient. By 7:00PM, you’re inside the restaurant, seated at a table, grill fired up as you browse through the menu. Sasha, the ultimate foodie of the group, orders the first round of meats. You pick the drinks.

“Two bottles of strawberry soju, please!” you tell the waiter.

“Oh, I love soju!” Sasha squeals.

You smile at her. “Me too. This flavor’s my favorite.”

Eren, who is somehow seated next to you, grunts. “Strawberry? Of course you’d pick some girly shit like that.”

“Hey man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Connie says. “This shit gets you fucked up fast. Trust me. I’ve gotten soju drunk before, and it’s awesome.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, that’s because of all the extra fucking sugar, I bet. Sounds gross.”

The waiter arrives with the alcohol and four glasses, along with waters to share. You do the honors and pour everyone, except Eren, a shot. “I’m guessing you don’t want any of this gross soju, then?”

He snatches the shot glass, thrusting it towards you. “I didn’t say that. Just pour me some.”

With glasses filled to the brim, you all cheers, then throw it back. The familiar flavor is refreshing and sweet on your tongue, smooth down your throat.

“Shit, that’s good!” Connie raves.

“Strawberry might be my new favorite flavor! It’s so yummy!”

You face Eren, grinning. “Well?”

He shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t lie to me. You like it, don’t you?” you tease, nudging him in the arm.

“I said it’s fine, okay?”

You stop pestering him, satisfied knowing that maybe you were finally right about something when it comes to him.

Soon, a plethora of tasty side dishes are scattered on the table. Rice, kimchi, fresh lettuce, potato salad, two helpings of steamed eggs to share. Three heaping plates of meat follow. Sasha begins barbequing, laying out portions of beef bulgogi on the hot grill as the rest of you watch hungrily, the steam and aroma surrounding you like a cozy embrace. Once it’s cooked, you help yourselves, stuffing your faces with perfectly grilled meat and whatever else you desire. Several bites in, you all decide to do another round of shots, first bottle almost finished.

“Good idea to do KBBQ tonight!” Sasha mentions. “I haven’t had it in a while. I forgot how much I love it.”

Connie chimes in, “Same! Which side dish is everyone’s favorite?”

Sasha immediately points to the potato salad. “Is there any doubt that mine would be this?”

“Of course we all know that potato girl. I like kimchi. What’s yours?”

You pick out your favorite. “This one, for sure.”

Eren makes an unapproving noise. “Of course you’d pick that. So basic.”

To keep the peace, especially on this night of celebration, you ignore the temptation to reply with an equally sassy comment. Instead, you ask, “Well, what’s your favorite, Eren?”

“The steamed egg. It’s delicious and packs an extra serving of protein.” He flexes his bicep with a smug expression. “Not that I really need it.”

Connie and Sasha laugh, while you take a deep breath, using every ounce of willpower to keep your cool. You crack open the bottle, downing the remaining alcohol to help you get through the rest of the night.

“What’s everyone’s plans after graduation?” Connie asks.

Sasha answers first. “I’ll be working with my dad for our family business.”

“I’m sure Artur will appreciate all the new, high-tech engineering skills you have! If I’m still unemployed in two months, can you please hire me?”

“Of course!”

“What about you, Eren?”

“I got an offer in Marley,” he reveals. “It’s a pretty good gig, but I don’t know about moving overseas. I got another in Stohess to work for their weapons warehouse, so maybe I’ll accept that instead.”

“I’ve never been overseas,” you comment. “Sounds interesting if you do decide to go.”

“Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t sound interesting at all.”

Even your attempt at being polite is met with malice. “You always argue with me for the sake of arguing.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. “No I don’t!”

“You’re literally doing it right now! I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, try harder,” he grumbles, picking meat off the grill.

“My god, you two are exhausting!” Sasha intervenes.

Connie nods. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of fighting all the time?”

“Honestly, you two should do it and get it over with.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eren leers at Sasha through the smoke.

“I’m saying get all your anger out by fucking each other. Hate sex is the best medicine for situations like this,” she explains, matter of fact.

“No fucking way,” Eren says. “It’s not like that.”

“Definitely not,” you reiterate, cheeks warm. You pour yourself another shot, already on the second bottle, not offering a serving to anyone else. Desperate for liquor with the direction this conversation is going.

“Wow, you two actually agree on something for once!” Connie teases. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

The duo giggle together, finding enjoyment from your current state of misery. Eren clears his throat, muttering something unintelligible. He reaches for the soju in front of you, avoiding your gaze as he tips it into his empty shot glass, instantly downing it. Before the silence gets awkward, you change the subject, mentioning some idle gossip you heard around the engineering department, to which Connie and Sasha have plenty to contribute to.

An hour later, the four of you manage to finish most of the food, only a few pieces of charred meat left over. Sasha and Connie rub their stomachs, satisfied by the feast. You and Eren end up finishing the last bottle between the two of you. Since the comment from earlier, neither of you have spoken directly, avoiding each other.

Connie slumps into the chair, patting his belly. “Let’s play a game while we digest! Truth or eat. If you don’t answer, you have to eat these burnt pieces of bulgogi.”

Eren laughs. “That sounds fun. I’m down.” He looks to you, brow raised, challenging. “You in, princess?”

You bite your cheek, holding in the clever retort at his annoying nickname for you, also relieved he’s back to normal. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha volunteers, sitting up in her seat. “Eren, who’s the freakiest brother in Alpha Tau?”

Without hesitating, he states, “Armin, for sure.”

“Armin?! Really?”

“Yup. He’s one kinky motherfucker,” he grins. He turns to face you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“You want the whole essay, or an abridged version?” you reply, smirking as you sip on your water.

Sasha giggles while Connie mutters under his breath, “Oh boy.”

Eren doesn’t let up. “Give me one reason.”

Contemplating which of the many grievances you should expose about him, you finally decide on one. “You always disagree with me, no matter what. Whether it’s something about the project, or something as simple as a side dish preference.”

“We already know that, though. What else?”

“Hey, you wanted one reason, and I gave it to you.” You think for a few seconds, adding, “And to be fair, hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.”

It’s true. While he annoys you beyond your wit’s end, you don’t hate him. He’s a quarter of the reason you all achieved what you did. You focus back on the table, avoiding Eren’s expression. “Connie, have you two ever hooked up?” you question, pointing at the duo.

“Gross! No!”

“Absolutely not. We’re practically twins. That’d be illegal.”

“Yup. We’re basically two halves of a whole idiot.”

You laugh with them, taking another sip of water as Connie poses a question to Eren. “Why do you give her such a hard time?” he asks, referring to you.

“Here we go,” you mumble, ready for an onslaught of ridiculous reasons.

It’s silent for a few moments, then he takes his chopsticks, grabbing at the charred meat on the grill, placing it into his mouth to eat quietly.

“What?!” Sasha yells. “You’re not going to tell us?”

Connie smirks. “Must be pretty bad, then.”

You watch him slowly chew the burnt food, a small smile on his face. As if there’s a secret he’s keeping from everybody else at the table. Why would he refuse to answer the question that he basically asked you? Is his hatred for you that intense that he chooses not to say it, to save you from humiliation? What could you have possibly done to him to warrant this kind of treatment? Maybe it’s the liquor leading you to jump to conclusions, to be slightly offended by his choice. Maybe even a little hurt.

When he’s done, he chugs his whole water. “Alright, my turn again.”

“Wait, really?”

“We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Yup,” he responds, nonchalant.

“Why?”

“Hey, I ate that shit, right? Let it go,” he states, more aggressively this time.

You remain silent, mind racing with all types of ideas. You pay no more attention to the game, contemplating all the possible reasons Eren Jaeger would hate you so much. To be fair, he’s the one who starts it first. All you do is defend yourself. Why would he have any bigger reason to dislike you more than you dislike him?

Connie yells out your name, breaking you out of your reverie. “Hey, are you in?”

“Huh?”

“Karaoke! There’s a bar down the street.”

After paying the check, split evenly, the four of you head to the karaoke bar, booking a private room for an hour. You all sing your hearts out while sobering up from whatever buzz you developed from the soju. Any strange concerns you had about Eren evaporate. The two of you even seem to get along, performing a few duets together.

On the train ride back near campus, the four of you share more laughs, enjoying possibly the last time you’ll be together. With everyone graduating and off to their own paths, it’s hard to tell when, or if, you’ll ever see each other again.

From the station, you start you trek home, pausing outside Eren’s apartment to chat a bit more, until Sasha says, “I guess this is goodbye!”

“Yeah, thanks for all your hard work. This was really fun,” Connie adds, smiling.

“We should all try to keep in touch.”

Eren hugs Connie, then Sasha. The two of you look at each other, contemplating if you should embrace also. Suddenly, you blurt out, “Actually, can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”

You really do have to pee, but surely, you could have made it the extra ten minutes to your own apartment to do so, right? For some reason, your mind convinces you to stay with him just a little longer. There’s a pending task you have to complete before you part ways for good. You hope for closure, to end things on a good note.

You, Connie, and Sasha exchange hugs, leaving with a final wave, disappearing into the distance. Despite the pleasant warmth of the summer night, there’s a noticeable chill in the air. Not from the weather, rather, from the growing tension surrounding you and Eren. His voice is quiet when he says, “Alright, I guess we can head in now.”

You nod, following him through the entrance. At the elevator, he swipes a keycard, pushing the button to go up to the third floor. The doors open and you step in, still not speaking a word. Arriving at his door, he unlocks it, holding it for you.

“Bathroom is down to the right,” he points, removing his shoes at the entrance.

You copy him, sliding out of your sneakers. “Okay cool. Thank you.”

Once you find the bathroom, you swiftly close the door, fully aware that you are inside Eren Jaeger’s apartment. Naturally, curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick glance around the room, you can tell he’s tidy. Towels hung properly, actual floor mats on the tiles, toilet seat down. Is he anticipating a visit from a friend? Maybe a lover? You can’t help letting your imagination run wild.

Finished with your business, you walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch, television playing a show you’re familiar with. “Have you seen this episode yet? The new season just started,” you mention, stepping towards him.

He stands up, turning to face you. “I haven’t. Was planning to watch it tonight.”

“Cool,” is all you manage to utter.

There’s another moment of awkward silence until he asks, “You want to watch it with me?”

Without thinking, you agree.

The two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching in silence. About halfway through, with a soft chuckle, he admits, “That strawberry soju wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good.”

This catches you off guard. You look at him, grinning. “Wow. It took you this long to finally come clean about it.”

“Better late than never, right?” He keeps his eyes forward, smirking.

You adjust, completely facing him. “Since you’re being honest about that, can you tell me why you didn’t answer Connie’s question?”

He plays dumb. “What question?”

“Why do you give me such a hard time?”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yeah, I am,” you confess. “Seems a little odd to me that wouldn’t just say it.”

Finally, he matches you, repositioning himself to set his gaze on yours. “Why do you care so much?”

“I’m curious. Since we’ll be graduating soon, we’ll probably never see each other again. I figured we should put everything out there. Get some closure. Make amends.”

He scoffs. “I wasn’t aware there were any amends to make.”

You’re getting annoyed now, impatient with his round-about comments. “Seriously? You think our relationship is normal?”

“I don’t think we have a relationship at all.”

You stand up, regretting being here in the first place. He’s the same asshole he’s always been. What we’re you expecting? Why would he be any different tonight?

“Fine. Forget it. What a waste of time. Good job on the project, and I hope you have a great life.” You stomp towards the exit, not bothering to look at him.

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping you loosely around the wrist. “Wait. Don’t go.”

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in frustration, skin tingly from the physical contact. Waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he stammers. “I’m not…I can’t really…” he trails off, not finishing his sentences.

When he doesn’t proceed, you ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you treat me this way? Why me?”

He swallows hard, the truth difficult for him to spit out. “It’s dumb.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me.”

He lets out a sigh, averting his gaze to the floor. “It’s because I like you, okay?”

It takes a moment for you to process what he’s saying. Eventually, you stammer, “You like me?”

“Yeah, I like you,” he reiterates, still staring at his own feet. “You’re cute. You’re the smartest person I know. And you’re also a fucking pain in my ass. But I like you.”

That last part would normally have you on the verge of swinging; however, it’s almost endearing the way he says it. Your sudden change in heart has you questioning if you’re drunk from the liquor you consumed hours ago. “Why would you treat me like this if you like me?”

Another deep sigh as he explains, “I don’t know. Because I’m a fucking idiot and I’m immature. I told you, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. I just…I didn’t expect this.”

More silence falls between you two. You look down at his big hand still holding you, racing heartbeat reverberating through your chest. You’re not sure how to react. So, you go with your instinct.

You kiss him.

~~~

Eren doesn’t know why he started it months ago at the beginning of the semester. If he’s being completely honest, he’s got the body of Greek god, the intelligence of a genius, and the maturity, or in this case, immaturity, of a fifth grader. That being said, whatever it is that he has going with her, he’s decided to classify it as a schoolboy crush. Like a kid on the playground picking on another kid, doing everything they can to garner all their attention, no matter how annoying it is.

It began with snide remarks here and there, nothing ever too cruel to be considered bullying, but enough to make her bite back. He’s not sure why he kept it up so long, especially after realizing he actually likes her. In his mind, negative attention is better than no attention at all. He can’t be normal around her; being a nuisance is what he’s comfortable with.

Another reason is that he’s intimidated by her. She could see right through his cocky demeanor. Break him down into the vulnerable little shit he really is. The grief he caused her is some bizarre defense mechanism, a way to deny his true feelings for her. All to protect himself and his heart.

He was supposed to go to a frat party tonight after hanging out with the team. Instead, he finds himself alone with her in his apartment, everything revealed, his confession hanging heavy in the air.

Even more unexpected is her leaning forward to kiss him, lips soft and gentle against his. Hesitant and uncertain. Sweet and tangy from the lingering essence of the strawberry soju from earlier. Before he gets carried away, he pulls off, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” she admits. “But I can’t deny that I’m curious.”

“We shouldn’t do this then. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just…shut up and let me check something.”

He obeys, closing his eyes, waiting for her move. She kisses him again, more confidentially this time, hand sliding to his nape to pull him closer.

“Fuck, are you sure this is okay?” he breathes out, slowly losing his composure.

She nods, smiling. “Yes.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“If you ask me one more time, you’re really going to piss me off,” she warns, grazing her mouth along his neck, sucking at the skin of his throat.

He nods erratically. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Fuck.”

She pushes him back towards the couch, falling into the cushions. He watches in awe as she strips her sweatpants, revealing pink lacey panties. She sits in his lap, legs spread wide with him between, clothed pussy against his pulsating cock. His hands are to his sides, clenched to the cushion of the couch. With her lips brushing his ear, she whispers, “You can touch me if you want.”

His cock twitches, erection growing by the second as she straddles him. Carefully, he slides his palms around her waist, moaning a trembling, “Thank you.” Hands at her bottom, he squeezes her ass cheeks in a firm grasp, fingers slipping underneath the fabric, dangerously close to her arousal.

Without thinking, he blurts out, “Use me. Do what you want with me. You’re the leader.”

There’s a wicked smile on her face as soon as he says it. “Eren Jaeger is going to let me use him?”

All pride is thrown out the window. He doesn’t care anymore about giving into weakness. With graduation only two weeks away, and no promise of ever seeing each other again, he decides fuck it. He’s going to do whatever he can to fulfill this fantasy of his. And if that means submitting to her, begging and groveling at her feet, he’ll fucking do it.

“Yeah,” he growls. “Use me as your fuck toy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just fucking use me.”

“Didn’t think Alpha Tau’s frat star would behave like this,” she murmurs, sucking on his ear lobe.

“Does it turn you on?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Fucking wreck me apart then. Don’t hold back,” he demands. There’s already precum leaking from his tip, soaking through the cotton of his briefs. “Consider it payback for this semester.”

She responds by grinding her hips on his lap. He’s desperate to feel her without fabric separating them, but he knows what he agreed to. He can’t do anything without her permission, without her initiating. She rides him for another minute, his palms on her ass, following her motions. His cock throbs beneath her, aching for release from the confines of his pants. There’s an audible whine developing in his throat, needy for anything.

On cue, she swings her leg over to kneel beside him, tugging at the waistband of his sweats and underwear. He lifts his hips as she slides them off simultaneously, freeing his stiff cock. He watches her marvel at his erection, noticing desire in her eyes. Before he knows it, she’s bent towards his lap, mouth hovering his dick, licking at the slit.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Goddamn.”

She continues to tease him, leaving the shaft untouched, tongue swirling the tip, lapping at his precum.

“Fuck, please. Touch me,” he begs, legs quivering from arousal.

Without warning, she wraps her fist around him, surrounding the tip with her mouth, bobbing up and down in sync with her strokes. She starts slow, increasing the pace with each guttural moan that emits within his chest. The temptation to buck his hips into her warm, wet heat is tantalizing, but he reminds himself that she’s in control, which only turns him on more.

She uses her other hand to fondle his balls, causing him to swear loudly. “Fuck!”

He feels the vibration of her giggle through his cock, clearly enjoying the way she’s unravelling him, his orgasm approaching fast. “Can I please come?”

She shakes her head, still working his dick.

“Fuck. I can’t…I can’t hold it.”

She releases him from her mouth, stroking him, face close to his. “You think you deserve to come now?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Apologize first.”

“Huh?”

“Apologize. Admit that you’re a fucking asshole.” She nibbles on his ear lobe, dragging it down between her lips, still jerking him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m a,” he chokes on his spit before he can finish. “Fucking asshole.”

“Tell me your desperate for it. That you need it.”

“Fuck, I’m so fucking desperate, I fucking need it. Please.”

“Good,” she whispers, pumping him faster. She kisses him on the lips, grip tight around him as his cock swells, hanging by a thread at the edge of his climax. “Go ahead. Come for me, Eren.”

At the sound of his name on her sultry lips, he does, hot cum shooting straight onto his t-shirt. “Fuck!” he yells, eyes shut tight, riding out one of the best orgasms of his life. She strokes him until his balls are completely drained. Finally, he opens his eyes to inspect the scene, shocked by the mess painted across the bottom of his shirt, spilling onto his abdomen.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, smiling at her.

She grins back at him. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all. Really fucking good, actually.” He kisses her, fingers drifting down to her arousal, rubbing the fabric against her clit. “Come here. Let me eat this pretty pussy out. Please. I want it so bad.”

“Since you said it so nicely, I guess I can let you have a taste.”

~~~

You stand up, leaving room for him to lay down on the couch. He doesn’t need to be told. He expects you to ride that pretty face of his. When he’s flat on his back, shirt stripped off and completely naked, he turns to watch you slip out of your panties.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he praises, reaching down to rub his balls. “I think about this a lot, you know.”

You toss your underwear to the floor, watching him play with himself, removing your remaining clothes. “What do you think about?”

“This. You, naked in my apartment. Riding my face till you come. Fucking your wet pussy right after.”

“I guess tonight’s your lucky night,” you tease, lifting your knee across him, straddling his face.

“Yes, it is,” he replies, licking his lips, eyes wide with lust at your pussy above him, already wet with arousal. He cranes his neck upwards, tongue out, desperate for a taste.

“Not yet.” You lift up enough so he’s out of reach. “Watch me play with myself first.”

“Fuck,” he swears, salivating.

You wet your middle finger with your slick, rubbing circles around your clit. He watches in a daze, biting his lower lip, brows knit together in concentration, focused on you pleasuring yourself right above him. He squirms beneath you, thrusting his hips into the air, in an effort to feel anything. “Get it fucking juicy for me, baby. I want to fucking drown in it.”

The little nicknames you’ve grown accustomed to hating has a very different ring to it now. For the first time all semester, you don’t mind it. You actually like it. With your free hand, you run your fingers through his hair, redirecting his gaze on yours. “That’s right. I’m your baby. And what are you?”

He swallows hard. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re my fuck toy.”

“Fuck yeah. I’m your fuck toy, baby. I’m your fuck toy. Use me, please.”

With your grip firm on his hair, you sink lower, your pussy pressed to his open mouth. He licks your clit, swiping his wide tongue over it, moving side to side. You moan at the glorious sensation, rocking your hips across his face to feel more. He latches onto your swollen bud, humming in pleasure as he suckles on it. His hips rut into nothing again, arms at his sides, clutching hard at the cushions, letting you be in total control. This power he gives you turns you on more than you imagined. Maybe because all semester, he always acted as if he had the upper hand. Knowing how desperate he is to be beneath you, to please you beyond any other desire he has, it only spurs you on.

You grind yourself on his face, the squelching noises indicating how sloppy he’s eating you out and how wet you’re becoming because of it. He’s relentless, alternating between licking, slurping, and sucking at your clit. You blissfully indulge in it until you climax on his tongue, bud over-stimulated, pussy soaked with his spit and your slick.

“Fuck,” he muffles, slurping the cum from your sleek entrance. Legs wobbly from your orgasm, you lift off him, shifting to reposition yourself comfortably on top. His cock is hard beneath you, sticky with his cum from earlier. Through shiny lips, he whines, “I’m so fucking hard again. Fuck me. Fuck me with that wet pussy.”

Reaching behind you, you align him with your slit, sinking down on his shaft. He lets out a gasp, “I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck.” Concerned, you attempt to lift off, but he shakes his head fervently. “Don’t. Please baby. Fuck me till I come. I need it. I need it.”

You ride him, bouncing your ass on his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside you. He moans loudly, babbling filthy words from his needy mouth.

Use this cock, baby. Fuck me like a toy.

Make yourself come on this dick.

It’s all fucking yours. Take it, baby. Take it.

I’m all yours. I’m all yours.

You moan with him, another climax approaching. Grabbing his wrist, you guide him to your clit. He caresses your puffy bud with his fingers. “I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Can I come with you, princess? Please, can I come inside you?”

You nod wordlessly, pumping him in and out of you faster as he rubs your clit relentlessly, determined to make you orgasm. When you cry out in ecstasy, he joins you. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming, baby.”

For the second time tonight, both of you come, this time together. He spills inside you, filling your cunt with his warm, creamy load as you coat his dick with yours. Your body is spent from the euphoria, throat dry from whining in pleasure, and your curiosity satiated. It’s a lie to say you’ve never imagined being fucked silly by Eren. No matter how much he annoyed you, irritated you, aggravated you, there were moments this semester when you thought about it. How good it would feel to ride him, fuck him dumb until he’s begging for release.

“I’m exhausted,” he giggles, limp on the couch, softening cock still inside you, wrapping you in a snug embrace.

“Me too.” You settle into his arms, relaxed and comfortable against his chest.

“Thank you,” he mutters, caressing your back tenderly. “Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate, repeating it a few more times as he nuzzles his nose into the top of your head.

You cuddle together in a comfortable silence. “Sleep here tonight. I have an extra toothbrush and you can wear my clothes.”

Accepting his offer, the two of you start tidying, picking up strewn wardrobe from the floor, wiping away the sticky aftermath of sex. You hop in the shower, rinsing your bodies clean, exchanging passionate kisses while the water splashes you. After you dry off and brush your teeth, you change into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers he lends you, jumping into the bed beside him. He smiles at you. “You look good in my clothes.”

You give him a smooch, getting yourself cozy under the covers. He spoons you, arm sliding over your waist, interlacing his fingers with yours. His breath is pleasantly warm on your neck. “I know we’re probably past this already, but I want to formally apologize. It wasn’t right the way I treated you, and I’m sorry. Genuinely.”

“Apology accepted,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry too. For saying anything that hurt you out of anger.”

“You don’t have to be. I deserved it.”

“Still, I’m sorry. And no one deserves that.”

“All is forgiven then.” He chuckles softly. “For two smart people, we sure are dumb.”

You laugh with him. “If only we were a tad bit smarter, we could have started this months ago.”

“Yeah," he says, nestling his face against your neck. "You’re right.”

Nothing else is said as the two of you drift into sleep. It’s nice, having closure on a previously volatile relationship. However, something else lingers after tonight. Another door opens, leading to the unknown. He confessed his true feelings for you. You didn’t have time to process it, too focused on settling your truce through sex. While there’s no doubt that you find him physically attractive, can you really move on from the past and give him a chance?

~~~

The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he decides to keep it that way, not wanting to disrupt this moment of peace. Not wanting to complicate it any further. He knows that this is the beginning and the end of whatever this fling is. She hasn’t reciprocated his feelings and he won’t pressure her to, not tonight. Maybe not ever. No matter how badly he wishes to see her again, keep in touch, make it official, he won’t ask that of her. At the end of the day, it’s his own fault for waiting too long, for being too late. Time has run out, and now he’s paying the price.

They stay in each other’s arms, Eren listening closely to the sound of her steady breathing. Cherishing how her fingers fit seamlessly in his, the small smile on her lips as she drifts into a tranquil slumber, the warmth and weight of her body against his.

The next morning, he wakes up, alone. If not for the stack of clothes he let her borrow folded neatly at the end of the bed, he would have thought last night’s events were all a dream. He vaguely recalls her waking up beside him, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, sneaking out on her tippy toes at the crack of dawn. Still, he searches the apartment, calling out her name to no response.

Throughout the week, he’s constantly on the verge of texting her. He never goes through with it, though, scared to be rejected. Afraid of having the final memory of her be one of heartbreak.

As a last-ditch effort, he devises a plan. Eren hosts a party at his place to celebrate the upcoming graduation. He invites the Alpha Tau brothers, plus some sorority girls for good measure. However, his main objective is to invite her. He ends up sending a group text to his senior project team, casually informing them of his little gathering. Sasha and Connie both reply, announcing their attendance, but she doesn’t.

At the party, he tries not to think about her, distracting himself by socializing with the crowds of people already filling his apartment. When Connie and Sasha arrive together, he decides to try one more time before he consumes his sorrows away. After exchanging polite greetings with them, he asks, “Have you guys heard anything from her?”

“Nope. I don’t think she even texted back, right?”

Eren’s ready to reach for the closest container of booze he can find. The duo walks past him to enjoy the party while he remains standing, watching the door for another minute. Just as he’s about to turn his heel, he sees it open slowly.

She walks in, her favorite drink in hand, a happy expression on her face as soon as she spots him. In the background, someone yells out, “Eren! Tequila shots?”

Waving the familiar bottle at him, she smiles.

“Nah,” Eren responds, gazing at her with a grin. “I’m sticking with strawberry soju from now on.”

--------------------

Taglist: @liliorsstuff-blog @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @belovedackerman @wtfiswrongwithme1

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x fem!reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #aot smut #strawberry soju

2K notes · View notes