summary: stuck in traffic in the blazing heat of california. with cliff next to you, cooling down seems near impossible. but you get an idea on how to pass the time and finally - give into the heat.
warnings: nsfw, language, pet names, implied age gap, body worship, finger sucking, oral (male receiving), swallowing
words: 1484
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Cliff liked listening to the radio whenever he was driving, mostly music but he would occasionally switch to the news channel. It was the hottest day of the year according to the newscaster. You weren’t surprised. Sitting in your tube top and denim shorts, your skin glistened in the sun. A mix of cocoa butter and sweat.
You tried to follow the newscaster's voice but he was talking so quickly and you were quite distracted. Could anyone blame you? Cliff was looking ravishing. Maybe it was the result of heat radiating through the metal of the cadillac but damn, you felt hot. Even though the windows were rolled down and fresh air streamed inside, it could not be described as anything other than scorching.
You could see a faint layer of sweat on his skin as well. He was wearing his infamous yellow hawaiian shirt, his chest exposed just enough to make your mouth water but not enough to be considered indecent in public. A drop of sweat had collected at his brow, threatening to roll off his temple, slowly, teasingly.
You tried to look out the opened window, to take in the view, concentrate on anything else but Cliff’s hands pulled you back into heat like a vortex. He was driving with one hand on the wheel, his other arm propped on the window sill. His veins popped out deliciously. Just like they do when he fingers you into oblivion. You just wanted to lick up and down his arms and -
“You good, sweetheart?” Shit. Cliff had noticed your staring and uneasy energy, his lips curled up into a slight smirk. “I’m fine, just…a little hot.” You shuffled restlessly in your seat, eventually sticking your arm outside the window in the hopes of catching a cooling breeze.
He chuckled, knowing exactly what type of heat you were experiencing. It wasn’t the first time you had spaced out looking at him while he was driving. Usually that meant you would jump at him the moment you both arrived home and closed the door to his trailer. But this time something felt…different. More desparate.
“How long until we arrive home?” you ask, clenching your thighs together, secretly hoping he notices. “About 20 minutes. If we’re lucky. The way this line moves we might be stuck for a while.” He replies while looking at the long line of cars in front of you. You pause internally and contemplate on what to do. You need him. So bad. Right. Now. What if-
Your breath hitches and you turn your body towards him, staring at him seductively. His head turns to you, displaying a raised brow. The drop of sweat has now finally started its descent down his handsome face. His expression is a mix of confusion and daring you to go on.
“You want me to suck your cock?”
Silence. For a short moment you regret asking but the thought quickly fades as he chuckles, turning his head away from you. Was he blushing? He turned towards you again, this time studying your face. After breathing in and out deeply, he says:
”Knock yourself out, sweetheart.”
Grinning from ear to ear he shifts his hips forward, making himself more comfortable for the upcoming event. You smile and bite your lip enticingly. Your gaze shifts from his beautiful eyes down to his chest. Your hand slowly makes its way underneath his hawaiian shirt, across his pecs, playing a little with his silver blond hair.
His ribcage moves up and down slighlty more intensely than usual. Satisfied your fingers head down his biceps. Ellbow. Forearm. Eventually reaching the steady hand he has on the wheel. He loosens his grip slightly upon your touch and you gently tug on his fingers. He gets the hint and replaces his steering arm with the other, letting you take his hand. You lead it to your mouth slowly but surely.
You take his index finger in your mouth, keeping eye contact with the rugged man sitting next to you. He can’t help but smile at you, excitement for whats to come coursing through his veins.
The air is thick. Humid. Tension high. By now you are sucking on two fingers like an ice lollipop. Holding onto his muscular forearm, you feel every callous in your mouth. A sign of Cliff’s dedication to his craft. Stunt work requires blood sweat and tears, a real commitment physically and mentally. The thought stirs something deep inside you and you decide to spend some extra love on each callous with your tounge.
Cliff keeps his eyes on the road, looking as cool as ever, as your tounge licks down the protruding veins on his forearm.
“I know you think I’m smoking hot, but you said you wanted to suck my dick, not my fingers.”
Your lips part from his skin and you let out a mischievous smile. Your panty is completely soaked already from all the work you have been doing on his muscular upper body.
“Patience. I am just getting started” you said, biting your lip while caressing his thighs. Both your hands move over his jeans, deliberately avoiding the area he wanted touched the most. His already hard thighs were even more tense than usual.
“Sweetheart, I'm too old to get teased like that.” He bucks his hips upwards exhaling slowly, a bit of impatience escaping his chill facade. You try to hide a succesful smile and move your hands towards his belt. One trained motion and the buckle was open.
It was hard to say who was more excited: you or him.
His cock springs free once you pull it out of his boxers. Veiny, girthy, perfect. A little drop of white had already collected at his reddened tip from the teasingly long wait.
Keeping your eyes locked onto his, you dive down and with one lick of your tongue the white drop disappears in your mounth. You can hear the squeaking sound of leather as Cliff tightens his grip on the wheel.
You take him into your mouth, bobbing up and down, taking him deeper inch by inch. With every bob you can feel his body relax and melt into the seat of the car. If he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road he would have closed them to revel in the sensation.
Spit drips down his shaft, making wet sounds with the guiding motions of your hands. The sounds were competing with the newscaster on the radio.
One hand still on the wheel, Cliff's other hand reaches down to support your head. He looks down endearingly at you. A look you don't see, too busy sucking his cock like it was your last day on earth.
You change your rhythm now and then, alternating between slow and fast. Sucking, licking, kissing. Using your lips to their fullest capabilities.
Honestly, you have no idea how long you've been down there, neither does Cliff. All you can think about is making him feel good and enjoying every bit of the process.
You have to moan when you take him as deep as you possibly can. The vibrations making your eyes turn to the back of your head.
“Shit.” Cliff says.
“I won't last much longer, sweetheart”.
You just hum in response, his shaft never leaving your mouth. You start twisting your hands, rotating them into opposite directions.
Cliff grunts, his body tensing up. His hips thrust upwards, making you moan in return. You continue your rhythm despite his slowly collapsing facade. He starts pushing your head down, firmly but not forcefully. And you anticipate what is coming next.
With an strained grunt and a tight grip on your hair, he spills into your mouth. You still your movements, looking at his face, with his mouth slightly open.
Once his raggard breathing has calmed down and you swallowed all of him, you find your lips locked onto his. Who initiated the kiss is hard to determine.
His tounge makes a distinct swipe in your mouth, with the mission to taste himself and make sure that everything has been swallowed.
Parting your lips, you lean back and pull your knees to your chest. A triumphant smile on your face.
“And? You cooled down a little?” Cliff asks visibly more relaxed than before. His hair slightly tousled. You loved this. The effect you have on him.
You shake your head. “Not even a little bit.”
He has to laugh at that and switches the radio to another channel. Music fills the car and you look out the window, daydreaming about the things he will do to cool you down once you arrive home.
A/N: This was my first ever fic and I am a little nervous putting it out there, so please be kind :) Thanks for reading. I hope you have a lovely day, angels ♡
— synopsis: Tyler Durden is impossible to ignore—shirtless, bruised, cigarette between his lips, looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking. You’ve always danced on the edge with him: sharp words, lingering stares, rough nights that blur into something deeper. He knows every way to unravel you, and you keep letting him pull the threads. This time, it starts with blood on his hands and your mouth on his thumb. It ends with your back against the couch and his name falling from your lips like a confession. He’s chaos. You crave him. And neither of you are willing to stop.
— warnings: blood play, violence, smoking, cigarette burns, manhandling, obsessive, not really an established relationship, slightly toxic.
—song recs while reading: haunted - beyonce + all mine - brent faiyaz
— not proof-read too well! apologies if there is some mistakes.
Tyler Durden walked into your life like a lit match tossed into gasoline—sudden, reckless, and impossible to ignore. From the first glance, he unsettled something in you, like he had rewired your instincts to orbit around him. He wasn’t a person; he was a storm with a heartbeat, and you accepted that; begging to be struck. The connection you had with Tyler wasn’t romantic, it was ruinous. Obsessive, Addictive, A high that both of you chased. You fed off of each others damage like it was oxygen, and somewhere between the highs and the ruin, you stopped recognising who you were without him. Love, if you could call what you had with him that, had teeth. And Tyler? He made sure you felt every bite.
Tyler walked into the makeshift house you both shared with blood smothered all over his features. His hair was ruffled, shirt tucked into his denim pocket while his chest remained bare; only covered in deep red and purple bruises along with blood. He had that manic shimmer in his eyes once again, the one that appeared only when he came back from the club. He looked alive in a way that made your stomach churn with excitement and ecstacy. Tyler wasn’t smiling, but an expression close to it was carved into his face—as if he was daring the world to try him again. You didn’t flinch when he flung the door shut, You didn’t even bother to ask if he was okay.
Tyler Durden never came back wanting comfort, he came back wanting release.
“You should’ve seen the other guy. Fuck..you’d be proud” He chuckled, ripping open a box of bandages stashed on the top of the fridge.
“You know I’m always proud” you smiled half-assed, eyes still focused on the glowing TV screen.
Some nights, he would pull you close on the couch and kiss your calloused knuckles like you were a goddess. Whisper gentle words into your hair that sounded like promises; even though they weren’t. Other nights, just like this, he was someone else entirely, unleashed, all jagged edges, ready to bleed or to make someone else bleed just to feel his rapid pulse.
But you couldn’t hate it, how could you? You were the only one that understood him.
understood that itch underneath his skin. That need.
You could tell Tyler still hadn’t come down from the high of his fight. It was easy to see from the way his chest heaved up and down heavily, his fingers fiddling weirdly with a packet of cigarettes; unable to take one out without his hands shaking. There was something oddly violent about Tyler smoking, as if it was a warning. He’d light it with his twichy grin, suck the poison of the tobacco like it gave him control over something in his life, and let it bleed from his mouth like a threat. You watched him every. single. time. Hungry and stupid, aching to be apart of that ritual. It wasn’t just the look of him smoking— his cutting jaw, the rough hands, the tension in his shoulders, no, it was him being one spark away from burning the world down. You wanted the pain. The punishment. You imagined the cherry tip of the cigarette kissing into your skin, the searing burn of it biting into your flesh, the hiss and crackle of nerve endings set on fire. You yearned for that feeling; yearned to see his eyes darken as he noticed the control he had over you.
He moved like he knew you were watching, or more so, he wanted you to. The cigarette hung lazily between his plush lips, smoke curling up around his jaw like it worshipped him. His eyes met yours through the grey haze, narrowed and sharp, a flicker of something dangerous lurking. Tyler didn’t say a word at first. He inhaled slowly, deliberately, like he wanted you to watch the way his adams apple bobbed up and down as he expanded his lungs to accept the burn of the smoke. He then exhaled, and the smoke rolled out. Tylers lips curled into a smirk-like expression, leaning against the counter.
“careful, you’re going to burn a hole in me with that stare” he grinned.
You didn’t look away, your eyes tracing the sharp and lean physique lined with blood. You let the silence stretch, letting the moment hang heavy before you spoke.
“What can I say? You make a fool of yourself, and I can’t look away.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed before he flicked away the cigarette, letting it burn itself out on the wooden flooring of the messy house. He pushed himself off the counter, approaching you slowly before leaning down to meet your face on the couch.
“You like what you see huh? blood and all.”
He continued to stand so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. the tension between you two palpable. His hand brushed against your arm as he reached up, wiping a smear of blood with him thumb from his neck. His eyes still locked on yours. Without saying a word, Tyler pushed his thumb past your lips, his gaze steady and intense. You didn’t pull away, allowing your tongue to meet the blood and sweat located on his finger. The room undeniably grew heavier with unspoken desire, Durden’s breath being caught in his throat for a brief moment.
“Not afraid of the mess, are you?” Tyler said in an almost growl.
He watched you intently as you took your time, not breaking the eye contact you both shared as you swirled your tongue over his finger, allowing the taste of iron and tobacco from his cigarette abuse your tastebuds. His thumb slowly retracted from your mouth, the action almost torturously slow. The blood was now gone from his skin but didn’t fail to leave behind the deep taste that lingered. Before you knew it, Tyler leaned in to your ear, his lips brushing against the side of your face as he spoke with his deepened voice. The playful edge that was once there fading into something darker.
“Think you can handle more?” He grinned, his face still pressed closely to yours.
Of course you fucking could.
“I can handle whatever you give me, Durden.”
Tyler’s grin spread wider, the dangerous edge in his expression only making your pulse race faster. He didn’t need to say anything more—he had already decided. Without another word, he gripped your jaw, kissing you hard, the taste of smoke, blood, and something far more intoxicating mixing as his lips demanded yours.
The couch creaked beneath the weight of him as Tyler dropped down beside you, his body still radiating heat from the fight. You didn’t even have time to react before his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you into him with a force that left no room for hesitation. His lips crashed into yours—hot, desperate, full of something feral. He kissed you like he’d been starved for it. Like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His fingers tightened in your hair as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss with a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your mouth. You could taste blood—his or yours, you couldn’t even tell anymore, and it only drove you further into him.
You climbed into his lap without thinking, knees on either side of his thighs, pressing down against the bruises and scrapes that covered him. He hissed between his teeth, not from pain, but pleasure, like he wanted to feel it all. Like he needed it.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he breathed against your lips, voice rough and breathless.
His hands were anything but gentle. One fisted in your shirt, dragging you closer until your chests collided, the blood on his skin smearing against you. The other hand traveled down your back, gripping your hip so tightly it bordered on painful.
Your hands made their way into his hair, pulling hard enough to make him growl into your mouth. He bit your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you gasp—and took the opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth, hungry and relentless. Every kiss was rough, each one more demanding than the last, like he was trying to claim you with his mouth alone.
Your bodies continued to rut against each other, messy and desperate, no rhythm—just need. His hands were all over you, like he didn’t know what to grab first. He palmed your thighs, your waist, your ass—like he wanted to leave his mark everywhere. You broke the kiss for just a breath, your lips swollen, chest heaving. Tyler stared at you like you were the last thing he’d ever see. His thumb brushed roughly against your lip again, more possessive than teasing this time.
“You like it like this, don’t you?” he growled. “You want it rough. You want me like this.”
You nodded, breathless, already pulling him back in, and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth found your neck, biting hard enough to bruise, then soothing it with his tongue. You moaned, your hips grinding harder against him, both of you lost in the mess of it blood, sweat, teeth, tongues. It was chaotic, primal, obsessive.
And neither of you wanted it to stop.
Tyler didn’t stop kissing you—he devoured you. Every part of you his mouth touched felt claimed, marked. His grip on your hips tightened as he shifted under you, one quick motion flipping the two of you so suddenly that the couch groaned beneath the impact, your back hitting the cushions with a gasp. He hovered over you, hair wild, chest heaving, blood and sweat dripping from his skin onto yours.
“You always get like this after a fight?” you asked, voice breathless and cocky, even though your pulse was thrashing in your throat.
His smile was dangerous.
“No,” he said, dragging his knuckles down your jaw, then gripping it. “Only with you.”
Then he leaned down and bit your collarbone—hard. You gasped again, arching under him, the sharp edge of his teeth followed by the rough drag of his tongue that sent a shiver all the way through you. His hands were all over you now, pushing your shirt up, nails scratching down your sides, leaving trails of red where he touched.
He didn’t undress you gently. He tugged, yanked, pulled fabric out of his way like it offended him, growling when it caught. There was no softness—only the sound of threads straining, of breath caught in your throat, of his mouth on your skin like he wanted to consume you whole.
“You make me feel insane,” he muttered against your ribs, kissing down your torso, every word hot against your skin. “Like I’ll fucking rip the world apart if I can’t have you right here, right now.”
His voice was low, ragged, almost like a warning.
And you wanted it. You welcomed the madness.
With a swift motion, He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his other sliding between you, teasing—taunting. You writhed beneath him, arching, desperate, and he just smirked.
“This is what you do to me,” he said, voice unhinged, pupils blown wide. “Look at you. You're just as fucked as I am.”
And he was right.
Because in that moment, with the taste of blood on your tongue and his hands all over you, you didn’t want love. You wanted destruction. And you wanted it with him.
With no time to spare, Tyler shifted his weight, forced your hips into the cushions, and ground himself against you hard. Denim met heat, friction sparking between your bodies like it had a life of its own. You gasped, your back arching off the couch as the pressure sent shockwaves through you. It was messy, relentless, filthy. Nothing delicate. Just the rhythm of his hips punishing yours, again and again, desperate and wild. You bucked up to meet him, testing the strength of his hold on your wrists—he liked that. You felt the grin in his breath before he shoved down harder, forcing your thighs wider with a rough press of his knee. The tension built fast, sharp and electric, every movement raw and frenzied. He was rutting into you like he needed it to survive, like getting closer to you—grinding harder—might be the only thing keeping him alive.
“Fuck,” he muttered through his teeth, panting now, his pace growing erratic.
You moaned beneath him, eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t having that. He released one wrist just to slap your jaw lightly—enough to snap your eyes back open.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “Don’t fucking hide.”
Your eyes met his. Dilated, wild, full of something darker than lust. Obsession. Possession. Hunger that went deeper than skin. He dipped his head and pressed his forehead to yours, hips still grinding like he couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe without it. He continued to grab your thigh and yank it over his hip, angling you just right—and when he drove his hips down again, your entire body jolted.
You cried out, fingers digging into the cushion, legs trembling from the sheer intensity of it.
“There she is,” Tyler rasped, a grin breaking across his face like something wicked. “You need this. You fucking love it.”
Your only answer was the way your hips rolled up to meet him, how your body moved without permission, chasing every punishing grind, every filthy drag of his hips against yours. He let go of your other wrist, both hands now gripping your waist, dragging you along with him in a rhythm that was pure chaos. There was nothing soft between you. Only bruises forming, fabric burning, bones aching, and the brutal need to ruin each other. You could feel him; every muscle in his body coiled and shaking under the strain. He was close to snapping. You both were.
And when it happened, when that last push shattered the tension—it wasn’t graceful.
It was violent.
Shaking.
Wordless.
And absolutely fucking perfect.
The couch was wrecked. You were wrecked. The room smelt of sweat, blood, and heat, reminiscent of the fight club itself.
Tyler stayed above you for a moment, his breathing ragged, jaw clenched tight, his eyes locked on yours like he was still in it. Still not done. His hands flexed on your waist, and for a second, it felt like he might start again, another round, another ruin.
But he didn’t.
Tyler pulled back slowly, dragging his body off of yours like it pained him to do it. His jeans were still halfway undone, blood drying in streaks across his chest and abdomen, the sharp lines of his body rising and falling with each breath. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The silence was loud enough.
You pushed yourself upright, dazed, trembling, sweat cooling on your skin in the aftermath. Your body ached. Your clothes were twisted, barely hanging on, and your skin was littered with red marks, smudges of blood. Some his, some yours.
He stood in front of you now, just looking. That same dark hunger still flickering behind his eyes. Like he still wanted more. Like he’d never really be done with you.
"You look good like that," he said finally, voice low and rough. “Ruin suits you.”
You stared up at him, unable to stop the slow curve of a smile from breaking onto your face, even if your legs were shot, even if your entire body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together wrong.
Tyler leaned down, grabbed a cigarette off the table, and lit it with a flick of his bloody thumb. He took a drag, slow and deep, then exhaled without taking his eyes off you.
“Don’t clean up,” he said, the smoke curling from his lips. “I like seeing what I did to you.”
Then he turned and walked off, shirtless, bruised, bloodied—smoke trailing behind him like a ghost. And even in the silence he left behind, the chaos still clung to you like a second skin.
And you loved it.
please remember requests are always open, and feel free to reblog ! <3
18+ only please. Sexual content, language, unprotected sex and oral sex.
My Masterlist it One and Two
Ethan Hawke
He looked into your eyes, holding your gaze before dipping down to brush his lips over your jaw, down your neck, Nipping at your ribs until you squirmed beneath him. He stilled your movements, sliding his hands up your thighs. Fingers digging into your flesh until he pulls your ass up and presses you closer to him.
A whimper stuttered past your lips. Ethan kisses you, licking the sound out of your mouth until you’re panting beneath him. His left-hand crawls across your thigh, kneading your leg until you’re grinding against him. He slides his hand further, feeling the heat between your legs and sliding a finger along you.
“Oh.” You gasp, pushing your head into the pillow. He watches you, sliding his finger up and down, stopping at your clit to press down, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. You’re twitching, pouting, your eyes opening to glare at him and Ethan smiles.
“You okay?” Ethan nudges your jaw, kissing the curve of your neck.
“Yes.” He grins and speeds up, trading his thumb for the heel of his palm. Your frown dissolves into a moan when he slides a third finger inside, curving them until you jerk on his hand.
Ethan swears he feels your pleasure emanating from your body and it makes him feel alive. He knows what he wants to do next, what he always wants to do when he has you alone. With a kiss to your chin, he shifts, peppering kisses down your torso and over your hips, listening for the hitch in your breath.
He moans when his nose brushes your hair; you squeeze around his fingers, making him shiver knowing when he licks you open you’ll fuck against his tongue and groan out his name.
Ethan waits. Let you push yourself onto his fingers, his nose nudging you when your hips drop. He feels it everywhere when you squeeze around, slick leaking down his face.
Drowning in you.
“Fuck!” You shout, hands flying to his hair when he licks you open, tongue spreading you apart until he reaches your clit and nips at it. You tug at his hair causing pinpricks of heated pain flooding down his spine. Your hips stutter for a beat, his tongue moving faster before dipping inside until you hiss.
There.
He moans when you fuck down on his tongue, pressing closer, letting him slide deeper. He spreads his fingers, curling them to pull you down with each snap of your hips. It makes you cry out, your hands clenching his hair tighter, your hips move faster along his tongue.
“Baby-” You whine, “Please.”
He lifts, rubbing his nose against your thigh to smile up at you, “Then come for me, Sugar.”
He dives back down, redoubling his efforts until you’re fucking his face, his fingers matching your beat as he holds you closer.
It’s incredible — this feeling of being used to make you come undone. Knowing he did that for you and he’d do it again and again if he gets to hear the sounds you make.
Exhilarating.
Sometimes he gets about out of his head, thinks beyond the moment, but right here, between your thighs with his name falling from your lips? This is where everything goes silent. Your hands are shoving at his head now, then you stop. A cautious movement to pull away, return, then pull away again.
Nope.
Ethan grabs your hand, looking up at you. “Sugar.”
You grit your teeth, mouth opening for a beat, bottom lip quivering. The intensity in your eyes, the way you looked down at him? It boils over the heat in his stomach to pool into the groin. With a groan, he fucks into the mattress.
There’s no holding back now. Your fingers curl into his hair to hold him in place, his tongue lying flat, fingers following your movement.
“Fuck.” You squeeze around him, “Fuck,” Your heels dig into his shoulders, “God, fuck yes - yes - yes.” He feels your pulse, feels the clench of you as you ride out your high on his face. It sends sparks through his body that burn him alive.
He feels you tug at him; he follows your hold, dragging his facial hair across your nipples then hovers above you. His fingers wrapped around your left calf, holding you close. “You’re shaking.”
You nudge your nose against his. “I wonder why.”
The look in your eye, the shine that looks back at him and causes stars to burst in his chest? He wants to keep that forever. He wants to see that every day and every night for the rest of his life.
“Fuck.” He jerks, toppling a little when your fingers wrap around his cock.
“Baby.” Your hand is slick, sliding down then back up before your thumb teases his slit.
“Yeah?” Your hand slips over his cock as you nip his bottom lip, up, down, up, down and around his head, making him jump. When you pull him closer, your fingers reaching you before he does, he groans, feeling his cock slide in along your fingers.
Ethan shivers and breathes into your mouth when you gasp — pulling your head back. He can feel his hair dangle over his eyes, watching it tickle your nose as he fucks into you. Your hand wraps around his neck, heels digging into his ass. It drives him crazy — makes him want to worship every inch of you for letting him have you like this.
“Come on.” You whisper, reaching down to grab his ass, guiding him deeper, deeper, until you move beneath him. Your chin knocks against his when you throw your head back, a sharp gasp escaping as he nips your ear, kissing down your throat to leave a trail of marks. He licks the sweat from your skin, rocking his hips with you.
He groans when you scratch your nails through his facial hair. “Here.” You kiss his forehead, lifting his chin with your fingers.
“Open.” He moans when you slide them into his mouth, coating his tongue with the taste of you.
He sucks when you push deeper, your hips moving faster, making him lose himself at the moment. He moans around your fingers, swallowing around them. His body buzzes with electricity.
“Thank you.” You murmur against his ear.
Ethan closes his eyes, your fingers resting on his tongue, and you squeeze around him. He hisses when you pull your fingers away and wrap your arm around his neck.
“Fuck.” You groan, head tipping yourself back as your arm tightens. Your legs tremble as you keep moving with him. He licks the spit from the corner of your mouth and dips down to bury his face in your neck.
He shifts, moving you higher, pulling you closer, your body going pliant with a long moan.
“Fuck, Baby. Fuck.” His ball tightens and his head tingles as he loses his rhythm and bites your shoulder.
He comes down as your fingers card through his hair. He lifts to look at you, sliding his elbow to hold him up. “Hey.”
could you write todd helping reader in english? like helping her with poetry or just regular homework. also, they are already dating ❤️ im a sucker for established relationships im sorry lol
Study Buddies
Pairing: Todd Anderson x FemReader
Warnings: established relationship, fluff, some language, just sweetness
Summary: Being a student at Welton is difficult and even more so when you already struggle with most of your classes. Thank God you have a sweet boyfriend who is always so willing to help.
word count: 700
Masterlist
The groan you let out immediately causes Todd to lift his head and scan the library for any onlookers. Deer in headlights like always just at the thought of someone paying a semblance of attention to him. You shake your head as you watch him, dropping the pencil in your hand as you completely give up on the assignment in front of you. When Todd realizes the coast is clear he finally turns his attention towards you.
“What’s wrong now?” he curiously asks and you wonder how he ever got comfortable around you if he panicked like that over just a couple of curious looks.
“This homework is impossible. I give up” you tell him, eyes glancing at the chemistry you no longer cared about. Even if you could figure out what all of it meant, the amount you had been given was absurd.
“You don’t give up, you just need a second to collect your thoughts” he says, voice his normal quiet and hushed tone and you watch as his hand reaches and slides the book back towards you. “Give it another go”
“I’d rather die” but the pointed look he gives you convinces you to pick back up the pencil and stare at the images on the page.
“I don’t get it” you pout, half annoyed and half on the verge of tears. Welton was hard, you knew that, but it still broke your spirits just the same.
“Let me see” he says, scooting close enough that his knee bumps against your own. He’s a fool if he thinks there’s any chance you’ll pay attention to your homework now. Not when your extremely adorable boyfriend is now this close to you.
“Oh well that’s easy, here look” but when Todd’s eyes look up to meet your own he can see you’re no longer interested in whatever he’s trying to show you. The look makes his ears tint pink and you can’t help but smile.
“Todd, I don’t want to do my homework anymore” you coo, leaning your face close to him. His head swings again, searching to see if anyone was peaking in on this private interaction. He freezes when your hand reaches up and stops him.
“W-we have to study” he tells you but you let out a soft ‘shh’. Stopping his stuttering and brushing your nose against his own. His face is fire truck red in an instant.
“I’d rather kiss you” you say, hot breath fanning across his lips and you can feel his mouth opening and closing, struggling to find words in this very moment. You love how shy he can still get around you.
“You gonna stop me?” you whisper and he shakes his head in your hand, yearning for it just as much as you. With your grip still on his chin you tip his mouth up and towards your own, sealing it against you.
The soft sigh he lets out causes you to grin against his lips before closing them around his again. You kiss him briefly but enough to make him dizzy. When you pull away his eyes are closed, mind reeling and now suddenly desperate to get far away from here. You chuckle to yourself lightly, watching as he processes the moment between you.
“Can you help me with number 6?” you ask and his eyes snap open, trying to recover from the whiplash you’ve just given him. He’s a mumbling mess, head snapping between you and the text book and you offer him as innocent a grin you can muster.
“Everything okay?” you curiously ask and he smiles, laughing lightly to himself and mentally cursing himself for always falling into your traps. It made sense you were the only girl who was able to lock him down.
“Everything’s just fine” he says, sliding back close and leaning to look at the question. You watch him intently, waiting as he processes the words.
“Okay, listen close” he starts and you grin, eyes casting over the page as you’re now prepared for him to explain. He was right you definitely needed a second to collect your thoughts.
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