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simpinghour · 1 year ago

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Cake and Pears at 2am Hange x fem! reader

Summary: What is meant to be a casual night out to hang with Mikasa and friends leads you to meeting the very dapper, very suave even though they sometimes remind you of a golden retriever, Hange.

This was meant to be a mafia AU and there are light mentions of it but that's not the focus. Here you'll read about a fem!reader who is 14 years younger than a nonbinary Hange but doesnt let that stop her from dating them.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Nonbinary Hange, gothkasa, Strap on sex, loss of virginity with strap on, this is smutty as hell and I have no regrets, side Eruri, Side Eremika, Squirting, Oral Sex, Fingering, also side Mikenana, Yelena needs her ass kicked, age gap, but not a creepy age gap I promise, I had to do so much research about strap ons for this damn fic

Ao3 link

Chapter 1

First you didn’t feel like going out. Then Mikasa wheedled until you gave in, and you asked what you should wear.

“Anything is fine. Wear your regular clothes.”

And that was how you ended up wearing an ankle length black linen dress, feeling completely out of place when turning up at Mikasa’s cousin’s bar.

The plan was to have a quick drink to start off the evening. How you ended up drinking by yourself was a mystery, but you suspected it was likely due to Mikasa getting in a quickie with her boyfriend and losing track of time.

I hope the dick is good because I’m going to kill you and Eren when you get here, you quickly texted Mikasa while trying to ignore the drunken man to your right doing the most to get your attention.

“Either drink this and stop harassing our guests or get the fuck out. Your choice,” you hear someone say.

You look up to find a guy with short dark hair and an undercut who eerily resembles Mikasa pushing a glass of water across the bar top while glaring at the man bothering you. A quick glance at the man shows that he looks as though he’d been scared sober, because he takes the water and scuttles in the other direction without another word.

“Tch. Asshole,” the guy says in disgust before he flicks a dishcloth at a spot of moisture on the bar. “You okay?” he asks.

“I’m good, thanks. I would be great if my friend Mikasa didn’t have me here waiting like an idiot.”

He scoffs again. “So you’re friends with my cousin. No doubt she’s glued to that idiot boyfriend of hers.”

“I’m guessing you don’t care much for Eren,” you reply, biting back a laugh.

“Hmm,” he grunts. “She could do better, but I guess she could also do worse.”

He doesn’t offer further commentary and moves to the other end of the bar. You go back to fiddling with your phone and sipping on your drink.

Ten minutes later you get hit on again, this time by a tall blonde who is admittedly attractive but too damn pushy for your tastes.

“Don’t be like that,” she says, reaching down to wrap long, rough fingers around your wrist.

The last thing you want to do is cause a scene; not only is this a club for members only, but everyone here is at least fifteen years older than you. On top of that, Mikasa vaguely mentioned something about her cousin’s bar being a mafia hang out, but she didn’t answer or give more details when you outright asked if her cousin was in the mafia.

As you think back to the way the guy harassing you earlier looked like he was going to wet himself when the dark-haired guy glared at him, you think the answer is yes.

“Yelena, leave the young lady alone before I have Levi ban your ass,” a raspy voice interrupts in a way that seems light yet has a casually threatening undertone.

The woman named Yelena takes her hand off you and you peer around her to find the owner of the voice.

You were aware that you were likely gawking, but you hadn’t expected to see a lithe brunet dressed in a three-piece suit that clung to them like a second skin. Their hair was sort of long but had been pulled up in a partial ponytail, and a few strands framing square-rimmed glasses and a pair of warm brown eyes were the second things you saw. The unamused expression on their face was the next.

“You and I both know why you’re acting like this,” they continue, staring unblinkingly at Yelena.

You know this person came to your defense, but you can’t help feeling intimidated. Then Yelena sighs dramatically and backs up a few steps.

“No harm done, Hange. It was just a bit of fun.”

“Bit of fun, my ass. You’re only here because we like Onyankopon. Now move along.”

Yelena stares hard while slinking away and the person called Hange leans against the bar to peer down at you.

“Sorry about that,” they apologize while sticking out a hand. “Hange Zoe. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“This is my first time,” you explain after giving your name and shaking their hand. “I’m supposed to be meeting some friends here but they’re extremely late.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?”

“Mikasa and her dumb boyfriend Eren. And I think our friend Armin if he’s not glued to his computer.”

“Ohh, you’re Mikasa’s friend. Levi told us some of you would be stopping by tonight.” Hange turned to look across the room and pointed to a table. “Wanna join us while you wait?”

You peer over to see a man with shaggy blond hair sitting there, engaged in conversation with another man who had neatly styled brighter blond hair as well as a stunning blonde woman with a short haircut that fits her face perfectly. Levi, who you learn is in fact Mikasa’s cousin when pointed out by Hange, is in the middle of sliding into the booth with the two men and a lady. They all seem equal parts classy but intimidating, and it immediately sets you on edge. They’re nothing like anyone you’ve been around before and you’re in fear of making some serious social faux pas.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you protest.

“You aren’t. Besides, it’ll piss off the blonde who just got grabby with you.”

“Okay, only if you don’t mind,” you agree, picking up your glass. “Who was that, an ex of yours?”

A wry look cross Hange’s face as they lead you across the bar.

“You could say that. Say, what is that you’re drinking? It looks tasty.”

“It’s called a Red Devil. Not everyone knows how to make it but this guy with brown hair knew what I was talking about. He made it perfectly too; some people use too much gin and it tastes disgusting like that.”

“If he had on a blue shirt that’s Moblit and yup, he makes the best drinks.”

When you and Hange reach the table they introduce you to everyone. Nanaba is friendly and Miche is polite but doesn’t seem like a big talker, although Erwin and Levi have plenty to say. Hange orders you another drink without you asking and you sit on the outside of the booth, sipping on your second Red Devil while wondering how the hell you ended up at the table of Mikasa’s cousin and his friends.

You guesstimate that the jacket alone to their suits is equal to the price of a month’s rent. And you don’t know much about watches, but you definitely know what a Rolex is and every person at the table except you is wearing one. Correction, Miche and Nanaba have on his and her Patek Philipe watches.

Eventually someone else equally well-dressed joins the table, the tall man with brown hair named Moblit who happens to be the person that made your drink.

“Are you and Hange going to drink one another under the table tonight?” Levi asks, and Hange grins broadly.

“No,” they laugh. “But now that I think about it, I could use a snack. Are there any olives in the back?”

“Yes, for the cocktails,” Levi hisses, looking scandalized as though Hange suggested snacking on earthworms.

“Actually, I bought a large bag of mixed olives because I know you like them,” Erwin interjects, ignoring the way Levi glares at him.

“I thought I was the only one who ate olives on their own,” you murmur, and Hange’s face lights up.

“I guess you’ll share with me, right? Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Hange, don’t you break my damn bar!” Levi yells over the booth as Hange hurries in the direction of a closed door. “And bring something to put them in!”

You’re wondering why Hange needs to be told to bring something for the olives, and bite back a laugh at the image of them eating olives right off the tabletop. Soon they return, arms laden with a small stack of bowls and the olives.

Erwin hadn’t been lying; the bag of mixed olives he bought was enormous. It easily rivaled the size of a food container one would find at a food co-op. Hange tries to cut it open with a pocketknife but with speed-lightning deftness, Levi reaches over and snatches it out their grasp.

“I’ve got it, before the whole fucking thing ends up all over the floor,” he grumbles, pulling out his own pocketknife from somewhere and neatly slitting open the bag.

“You are so weird,” Miche says, watching Hange pour a generous portion of olives into two paper bowls. They stab a toothpick into a green olive atop both mounds and push a bowl in your direction.

“See, Miche? I told you I wasn’t the only one who ate olives like this,” Hange tells him, brandishing a toothpick with a black olive on the end before popping it in their mouth.

The entire situation is laughable. The idea that the stunning human in a bespoke suit has the personality of a golden retriever yet can clearly switch to that of a guard dog with a killer bite is unfathomable. Either way, you’re having a good time and don’t think the night can get any stranger. But you’re soon proven wrong.

Miche excuses himself and as he crosses you to get out the booth, he pauses and loudly sniffs your hair. Hange explains that it’s a thing he does and he means no harm, but then he says your hair smells good. Nanaba says she noticed the same thing too, and then everyone else says they also agreed.

Everyone starts throwing out names of expensive parfums that would probably take you a month or more to save for if you wanted a bottle. You tell everyone that it’s not perfume you’re wearing, they’re smelling the hair oil you used on your ends. That prompts a conversation about your tight curls and you’re explaining that your hair tends to get dry and needs extra moisture when Mikasa finally shows up. Eren is behind her, trying to pretend that he isn’t hiding from Levi and failing miserably. Armin is also there and he’s smiling nervously. Mikasa looks confused when she sees you sitting with her cousin and his friends, but her expression barely gives away anything.

“Hey brat, why’d you make your friend wait all this time?” Levi asks her.

“Eren and I lost track of time,” Mikasa offers dismissively, sniffing as she looks away.

“Tch. I bet,” Levi scoffs, narrowing his eyes and the increasingly nervous Eren. Armin also looks anxious, but mostly because he likely feels like a third wheel knowing what his two best friends were doing that caused them to be late.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Hange tells you with a smile. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

You really don’t want to leave but know it would be rude to not join Mikasa and the others. So you thank Hange and everyone else and reluctantly leave their table.

You’re oddly quiet while sitting with your friends, yet they’re too busy quarrelling over something to notice. When you cast a surreptitious glance over at Hange, they’re laughing loudly at something while slapping Miche’s shoulder. You feel a stab of envy, wishing you were the one to make them laugh when they suddenly turn in your direction and wink at you. Before you can react, they’ve turned back to their friends and you’re left wondering if you imagined everything.

Eren and Armin go to fetch drinks and when they return, Armin hands you another Red Devil and a glass of water. You notice that everyone also has water along with their drink and Eren asks Mikasa why her cousin made him also take water. The answer comes in the form of Mikasa shooting Levi a nasty glare across the bar and he returns her look with an eerily similar one.

“He hates sloppy drunks,” Mikasa explains. “This is his way of telling us to have fun but not too much fun. I watched him make someone mop up their own puke before throwing them out on more than one occasion.”

“Your cousin is scary,” Armin says, warily eyeing his cocktail as though unsure if he should drink it.

You finish your Red Devil a little too fast and become the teeniest bit tipsy—okay, you’re drunk—and decide to wobble outside, in desperate need of fresh air. Just as you take a deep breath and close your eyes, you hear the door open and someone else walks outside.

“Needed a breather?” Hange asks with an unlit cigar held between their teeth. They reach into their pocket to pull out a box of wooden matches and some other metal tubular object on a ring. “It’s a hole punch for cigars,” they explain when they see you staring. “It gives a better flavor as you smoke opposed to completely cutting off the tip.”

“Yeah, I got a little hot in there,” you reply. “So are cigars good? I’ve never tried one.”

“The right cigar is very good,” Hange explains, taking the cigar from their mouth and punching a hole into the end. They put it back into their mouth and strike a match and you’re captivated by their long fingers cupping the flame while bringing it up to their cigar. A few twirls between two fingers ensures that its lit evenly and Hange takes a few pulls and exhales a grey cloud into the cool night air. “Darker cigars—maduro they’re called— have a smoother taste. A lot of people think the lighter ones do but those tend to be harsh on the throat.”

You’re really drunk and wonder if you’ll remember this impromptu lesson on cigars, but mostly you’re enthralled with watching Hange smoke while looking like the picture of ease in their vest, the other hand in their trouser pocket.

“Would you like to try it?” they ask suddenly, and you realize they’re smiling while holding it out to you.

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” they reply, nudging their hand again in your direction. “Go on. Don’t suck too hard though, it’ll taste awful if you do.”

You feel awkward as you take the cigar and try to ignore the sensation of Hange’s fingers brushing against yours. Without their jacket on you catch a whiff of their cologne; something sweet yet musky with a hint of wood and vanilla. It mingles perfectly with the cigar smoke and the aroma leaves you light-headed.

Okay, girl, you really need to calm down, you tell yourself, lifting the cigar to your lips.

Normally you’d be disgusted by the idea of putting your mouth on something that was just in the mouth of someone you barely knew, but you aren’t for some reason. The tip of the cigar is damp and you brush way the intrusive thought that this is an indirect kiss, but you take a soft pull as directed and are shocked to find that it indeed tastes good.

“Nice, right?” Hange asks when they see your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“It is, actually,” you admit, handing the cigar back to them. “It’s sort of chocolatey but earthy? Makes me think of a nice latte.”

“Yes! Some people do have cigars with coffee, as well as chocolate and some teas.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is. If you ever want a recommendation, I’d be happy to help.”

Just as you’re about to say yes, the door opens and Mikasa sticks out her head.

“Oh, here you are,” she says. “Sasha just texted me to see if we wanted to meet up with her and Jean at the diner.”

“Did any of you drive here?” Hange asks.

Mikasa shakes her head. “We took an Uber.”

“Me too,” you chime in.

“All right. If you need help getting home let one of us know.”

The rest of the night is uneventful and boring compared to how it started. Mikasa had her limit of alcohol and used Eren’s shoulder as a pillow for an impromptu nap. Armin’s face is flushed and he keeps complaining that he’s hot and his hair is annoying him. You dig two satin scrunchies out your purse and put his hair into two tiny pigtails and he is visibly relieved. Armin keeps his pigtails in and when Mikasa finally wakes up, she asks Eren if she’s seeing things while staring at Armin.

“I got hot,” Armin replies without further explanation.

“And on that note, I think it’s time to go,” you tell your friends. “I’m going to say goodnight to Hange and your cousin and his friends,” you add, looking at Mikasa who is laying back on Eren’s shoulder. She nods and remains silent, clearly not giving a shit.

“We’re going to leave now but I wanted to thank you,” you tell Hange, who is sitting in the booth with Moblit. “Did everyone else leave?”

“Nanaba and Miche did, and Erwin and Levi are probably making sure things are tidied up before they close. You said you all came in an Uber, right?”

“Yeah, I’m going to order one in a minute.”

Hange reaches into their vest pocket and pulls out their phone. They tap at the screen a few times and then hand it to you. “Just put in wherever you want to go.”

You see that they’re booking an Uber pool for you in an SUV which you know costs a grip.

“I’ll pay you back,” you tell Hange, and they wave dismissively.

“No need. The only thing you need to do is make sure you all get home safely.”

Hange waits outside with you all and you’re disappointed when the driver arrives faster than you anticipated.

“It was really nice meeting you,” they tell you, taking your hand and stroking the top with their thumb. That small touch leaves you speechless and you want to say more but Mikasa is yelling for you to get in the damn truck.

“You too,” you tell Hange, flashing them a smile before getting in the truck and shutting the door. You watch their retreating figure out the window until you’re out of sight, and then you feel immense regret at not asking for their phone number.

Shit.

“You like Hange, don’t you?” Mikasa asks a week later when you two are having a girl’s night at her place, although her sentence sounds more like a statement.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, wondering how the hell you’ve been caught.

Mikasa shrugs, leaning in close to a mirror and relining her lower lids with a smudgy black eyeliner pencil. “It was obvious that night. Well, obvious to me that is.”

“How the hell could anything be obvious to you? You were two hours late!”

“I only needed ten minutes at most to figure out that you like Hange,” Mikasa continues, now working on the other eye. “You wouldn’t stop looking at them.”

“Well, they’re good-looking. So they are non-binary, right? I didn’t want to be rude and ask since I’d just met them but that’s the impression I got from listening to everyone else speak.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Cool. There was a woman named Yelena there too. She’s Hange’s ex?”

“She is, that bitch. They broke up a few months ago because Yelena’s a conniving, manipulative asshole. Levi didn’t like her from the start. Although it’s not as if he likes many people from the start.”

“He’s probably good at sniffing out bullshit,” you tell Mikasa, thinking back to her stern-faced cousin.

“He is and it’s annoying at times. He’s rarely wrong though, not that I’d admit it to him. Anyway, should I ask Levi for Hange’s number so you can text them?”

“No! I can’t do that.”

Now Mikasa is lining her lips in black, and you see her eyeing you through the mirror.

“Why not?” she asked, leaning closer to perfect the sharp lines at her cupid’s bow.

“Because I… I don’t know.”

Mikasa sighs and turns around to face you. “Listen, I know you’ve always been too shy to flirt with someone who wasn’t a man, and I get it. Men are simple as shit and think a girl likes them if she blinks in his direction. But Hange isn’t some big bad wolf who’s going to attack you. You two can meet for coffee or something casual.”

You know that Mikasa is right, and there’s a stretch of silence before you speak again.

“Fine. Text your cousin. But if Hange isn’t interested, do me a favor and please don’t tell me.”

“You got it, you dramatic weirdo. Honestly, you’re weird and Hange is weirder. You two should get on like a house on fire.”

“That’s an awful analogy, Mikasa,” you groan, flopping over onto your other side. “Can you do my makeup when you’re done?”

The corner of Mikasa’s lip lifts slightly and you know your tactic to distract her was fruitful. For some reason, Mikasa loves putting eyeliner on all her friends. Eren fussed that it made his eyes itch, but Armin allowed Mikasa to do whatever she wanted. You also didn’t mind; you found that someone else doing your makeup was relaxing, and sometimes you fell asleep and let Mikasa do whatever she wanted.

“You’re actually going to let me do your entire face?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Yoda.”

“Ugh, like I said—weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Sure. Now be quiet while I clean your skin.”

You’re lying flat on Mikasa’s bed while she swipes a cotton pad soaked with micellar water across your cheek when you speak again. “So what else do you know about Hange?”

“They’re older than us but you know that already. I think they’re forty? Something like that; I only remember because I know Levi is a few years older.”

“Wow, I figured they were a few years older than us. I didn’t think there was a fourteen-year difference.”

“Yeah. They’re also smart as hell. Two doctorates I think and run a lab. Also an adjunct professor if I remember correctly.”

“Well now I’m a little intimidated,” you admit quietly.

“I don’t know why. This is the same Hange who blew up hard-boiled eggs in the microwave at Levi and Erwin’s house because they forgot that you can’t microwave eggs.”

“Okay, that’s actually funny.”

“It is, but the runt didn’t think so. He cursed out Hange, made them scrub it twice and cursed them out some more when they didn’t clean it to his standards.”

You think back to Levi fussing about Hange spilling olive brine all over his bar and fight back a laugh.

“I had a good time with Hange and their friends until you and Eren came. They’re really funny.”

“Yeah, they’re cool. I’ve known most of them since I was a kid.”

Mikasa is now working on your eyeliner so you stay quiet so she can concentrate.

“Let’s go outside when I’m finished your makeup,” she says, using a short eyeshadow brush to buff out the pencil liner. “I need to smoke and I also got that wine you like.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you reply with a tiny grin.

Twenty minutes later, you and Mikasa are out on her balcony that’s been decked in orange lights that were meant for Halloween but are year-round decorations for her. Mikasa brought out her phone and speaker and a darkwave mix is playing in the background while you two puff on cloves and sip wine.

“I texted Levi for Hange’s number, by the way,” Mikasa says casually, blowing a puff of smoke out into the night air. “No doubt he’s wrapped around uncle Erwin right now so his phone is probably turned off.”

“Shit, thanks Mikasa. Now I’m going to be a nervous wreck all night.”

“I have something stronger than cloves if you want. There’s edibles and gummies; pick your poison.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

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good-boy-ren · 10 months ago

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carrd ✦ sfw selfship✦ main blog ✦ art blog

◆ ro ‣ 30↑ ‣ they / them ‣ biro ace ◆ chronically-ill artist, 07th expansion enthusiast, alice hnkna kinnie, Weird Little Guy enjoyer, and oushirou’s spouse! ◆ this is my nsft selfship blog. i'll focus mainly on my beloved personal chewtoy and golden retriever boyfriend oc 💕ren 💕 and his AU counterparts!! 🦦💖🐐 i also have many vn and otome game f/os -- vns are my special interest! feel free to chat with me about them ^^ ◆ if you're openly anti-nsft and/or anti-kink... this isn't the place for you. i shouldn't have to say this, but clearly i do. i don't care if you have a secret nsft sideblog; if i'm on your dni on main, then treat me as on your dni no matter the blog. ◆ i block liberally. curate your online experience, peace and love on planet earth. ◆ kinks / preference list, tags, f/o list, and DNI/BYF below. (i interact from @nocturne-of-illusions -- updated 16 june 2024)

credits: 1 / 2 / 3

──⌈ kinks & preferences ⌋──

💚 LOVE 💚 soft dom, hands, gloves, light bondage, orgasm control, edging, collars, toys, praise, body worship, breeding (NO pregnancy), voice, scent, panty sniffing, oral, light possessiveness, monsters, excessive cum, (purposeful) aphrodisiac, outercourse, cumming in pants, premature ejaculation 🔶 SQUICK 🔶 heavy bondage, degradation, injuries (causing OR receiving), blood (except for nosebleeds), breath play, flagellation, watersports, scat, anal, rimming, emeto 🛑🛑🛑 ABSOLUTE NO-GOES, DNI 🛑🛑🛑 raceplay, ageplay / ddlg / cgl / sexual agere, noncon / dubcon / cnc / etc, incest, pedophilia, lolisho, misgendering / detrans ⚠️ CURRENT BLACKLIST SQUICK TAGS ⚠️ "#bondage -"

◆ lmk if you need anything added to the blacklist tag list! ◆ if you like things on my squick list, feel free to follow; these aren't moral stances, they're simply not my thing

────⌈ tags ⌋────

📌 [ my posts. ] ; 💭 [ my thoughts. ] 🎨 [ 046 art. ] ; ⚙️️ [ 046 wips. ] ✏️️ [ my scenarios. ] ; 💤 [ 046 dreams. ] ✨ [ oc lore. ] ; ⭐ [ canon lore. ]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ [ ♡ ]⎯⎯⎯⎯

[ official. ] ; [ imagines. ] ; [ affirmations. ] ; [ aesthetic. ] [ fashion. ] ; [ memes. ] ; [ misc. ] [ music. ] ; [ videos. ] ; [ voice. ] ; [ img. ] [ suggestive. ] ; [ nsft. ] ; [ nsft ds. ]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ [ ♡ ]⎯⎯⎯⎯

[ asks. ] ; [ ask games. ] ; [ tag games. ] [ prompts. ] ; [ need to draw. ] ; [ resources. ] [ other ppls ships. ] ; [ irl. ] ; [ favs. ]

───⌈ top romantic ⌋───

🍄 [ lying on the blade of an emotion. ] - ♫ ¬ ren brunet (oc) [ doc!ren ] 🧃 [ who is in control. ] - ♫ ¬ ren brunet (oc, villain au) [ v!ren ] 🦦 [ can’t escape it. ] - ♫ ¬ ren brunet (oc, retail au) [ r!ren ] 🐸 [ look ahead. ] - ♫ ¬ ren brunet (oc, pkmn au) [ poke!ren ]

──⌈ primary romantic ⌋──

📷 [ phantom hearts. ] - ♫ ¬ shirogane oushirou (starry☆sky) 🦎 [ chasing starlight. ] - ♫ ¬ gray ringmarc (hnkna) ☣️ [ good in red. ] - ♫ ¬ mars (oc)

──⌈ secondary romantic ⌋──

🏹 [ purple eyes. ] - ♫ ¬ raven (tales of vesperia) 💣 [ lost in your charm. ] - ♫ ¬ sirius (starry☆sky, polestar au)

──⌈ self insert & misc ⌋──

🐐 [ been up all night. ] - ♫ ¬ ro (self-insert) 🦔 [ used to be easy. ] - ♫ ¬ ro (self-insert, pokemon au) [ ❤️ ] ¬ all romantic f/os

──⌈ dormant romantic ⌋──

🐝 [ step on bug. ] - ♫ ¬ utsuro (jooubachi) ¬ no longer actively tagging 🤖 [ city of ghosts. ] - ♫ ¬ nika (oc) ¬ no longer actively tagging

───⌈ do not interact ⌋───

◆ NO minors, period. also, this is not an rp blog; do not solicit me for nsft DMs. ◆ i’m a staunch lgbtqia+ inclusionist, including mspec lesbians and xenogenders and conflicting labels; if it's in good faith, chase your bliss! neither zionism nor antisemitism welcome. villains are fun, but violently bigoted or fascist f/os will get you blocked. ◆ if you d.oxx and threaten to send p.olice to a black person (or anyone in general, but being specific) because they were "being mean" online, i'll block you and anyone else who signs off on your behavior, as i consider that a threat on someone's life. blatant racism needs to be stamped out of this community. ◆ i dislike the fetishization of CSA, incest, abuse, assault, etc. difficult subjects should exist in fiction, but i don't enjoy them being sensationalized or sexualized. i'm also against real person fiction. if a blog includes these things, i will block and move on.

──⌈ before you follow ⌋──

◆ DO NOT selfship with my ocs, and please be clear that any comments aren't flirty (unless we're mutuals; i trust y'all to be "flirty (platonic)"💖). ◆ i'm cool with sharing canon characters, but i'll respect if you aren't. if i gain the same f/o and you don't share, we can block each others' tags, or you can tell me we need to unfollow each other (i'll understand). if non-sharing friends share the same f/o, it's their responsibility to block each other, not mine to choose between them. ◆ i tag general triggers as "#trigger -", as well as "#pokemon -" and "#umineko -" / "#umineko spoilers -". if you need me to tag anything else, let me know!

───⌈ for your info ⌋───

◆ i observe reblog / ask game courtesy and request it in return! i don't do chain reblogs / mail, though, but i still appreciate the thought!! 💗 ◆ chronic illness makes me slow to reply to and reblog things. i'm not ignoring you; i just need time to put my thoughts together. i also don't follow-back often bc i've hit my personal limit. feel free to send asks or replies, though! and i LOVE reading any f/o tags people leave on reblogs!! 💖

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emepe · 3 years ago

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— Pairing: Eren x Reader, one-night stand

— General info: 18+, modern AU, one-shot, fluff, smut, light angst

— Summary: “We found each other, like strangers, you and I.” (Like Ships, from Over The Garden Wall)

— Content warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, mentions of cheating, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of rough breakups, implied depression (mild), one-night stands, mentions of failed meet-ups/relationships, mentions of unhealthy relationship, lots of yearning.

— Notes: A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger for being the best beta reader I could ask for. Thank you for taking the role of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, you are so brave :’)

Links: AO3 | Masterlist

Whoever said dating apps were a cesspool of people for every taste clearly needed higher standards.

You’ve been swiping left for the past hour. It’s hard to find the perfect candidate for a one-night stand in the midst of cringe-worthy gym pics, corny lines for a bio, misogynist mantras, and people who refuse to show anything that can allow you to get a good enough idea of what they look like.

You’re not at all shy about being picky. Although, when you first started swiping, you did try to be a little more open-minded, find a guy just decent enough. Meaningless sex — supposedly — implies that there’s not much importance given to the physical appearance of your partner. So why put so much effort into finding someone who you think you’d look good with if that’s not your ultimate goal? Because morals and lustful ambitions are screwed when you actually want to enjoy every part of the libido-driven experience. So, basically, you’re dead set on finding someone that can fulfill all your rigorous criteria.

The minutes tick by as does your hope to find someone who’s both nice to look at and doesn’t give you the wrong vibes.

You talk along to yourself as you swipe, your room musicalized by a continuous string of no, ew, nope, definitely not.

Until you come across his profile.

Well, at first, you don't really know who he is, given that the first picture has two people. A brunet and a blond. The brunet has green eyes and the blond has blue ones. Weirdly enough, they both have their hair styled with an undercut, though the brunet has choppier bangs while the blond’s cover his forehead.

Normally, you’d instantly swipe left on a guy that doesn’t show himself exclusively in the first picture — do they not know the basics of a quality profile? — but they’re both cute, so you continue snooping through the profile. You only hope they’re not a couple looking to open their relationship for a third person. You’re not in the mood for that much action.

But as your eyes move from the picture you see that the profile reads only one name.

Eren, 23.

13 miles away.

You tap through his pictures, inevitably smiling as you find him kind of cute. It turns out Eren is the brunet. He’s got no more than four pictures but they’re enough for you to take a liking to him. There’s a picture with his golden-retriever-like friend, one where he’s standing on a hiking trail — though he’s not posing ridiculously or trying too hard to seem manly. The third picture is of him sitting on the floor playing guitar. The last picture is of him sitting crisscrossed on a sofa, holding a calico cat while he smiles into the camera propped a few feet away.

Cute.

There’s not much else to his profile other than the tiny blue icon that’s meant to back up his honest existence on the app. But, if you're truthful, you’re kind of already picturing an encounter.

You swipe right.

Somewhere 13 miles away.

“Come on, man. Just one girl,” Jean begs as he pushes himself off the sofa and walks over to get a soda from the fridge. “We’ve been on this app for an hour. Are you seriously telling me none of these girls are good enough for you?”

Eren sighs heavily as he looks at a new profile and shakes his head. Armin, his best friend sitting beside him on the couch holding his phone, swipes left.

“It’s not that,” Eren murmurs. “I just don’t think this is the right way to get over… her.”

Armin glances behind him to share a meaningful look with Jean. Though his blue eyes carry more of a stern warning than an inside joke or an aggravated eye roll.

It’s been around a month since Eren broke up with his girlfriend. Or rather, she dumped him. Since then, speaking the girl’s name has been taboo. Jean and Armin have been walking on eggshells for four weeks, trying their best to survive the complicated minefield of conversational topics that could drive Eren to think of the girl that broke his heart after five years of what he thought was the happiest time of their lives. Apparently not. Because apparently, Eren was too sensitive for her.

But he couldn’t help that he fell in love with her from the moment he laid eyes on her when she walked in late for the first lecture to their Intro to Philosophy class freshman year of college.

She looked like an angel. Dark, silky hair falling over her milky skin and the prettiest brown eyes that took his breath away. How was he not supposed to fall for her? Eren never thought about having a type but when she walked in, he just knew he wanted to get to know her.

He couldn’t stop smiling when she said yes to a date, and he was over the moon when she accepted to be his girlfriend two months later. Sure, looking back, he might’ve been a bit clingy once they put a label on it, and now he’s slightly embarrassed by it. But she had his heart. He showered her with kisses every day, drowned her in praise, and did everything in his power to make her happy. He’d make her laugh, take her on the most elaborate dates, and stick little notes in her bag so she’d find something nice to read at the end of her day. At night, whether it was in her dorm or his, he made love to her in the most tender way.

He thought he was set. He thought “this is the girl I’m going to marry”. They moved in together after college, but only a year later she was calling it quits and carrying a suitcase out the door to never return.

It was too painful to stay in the apartment after that. He could barely get through a week without crying. And so he moved in with Armin and Jean, his two closest friends. It was a good thing they had a spare bedroom or he would’ve felt like much more of a burden than his ex-girlfriend made him.

About an hour ago, Jean and Armin somehow got him to say yes to creating an account on a dating app.

“You need to get out there! If it’s not for something serious, at least learn to have a little fun,” Jean said.

Eren frowned.

"I don't know. I'm not that kind of guy. Besides, I'm not sure if anyone would even find me interesting.”

Jean gave him an incredulous look. Armin simply observed him with concern.

Eren was a good-looking guy. Although he only ever cared what she thought of him and that was always enough. Ever since the breakup, Eren lost his confidence. One month wasn't the longest time but after seeing how fallen and small Eren had become, his friends refused to let him wallow any further.

"Dude, objectively speaking, you're a fine piece of ass."

Eren cringed at Jean's choice of words and turned to look at Armin, who in return just shrugged. "And you can't know you're not that kind of guy unless you give it a shot."

Eren remained quiet.

Jean sighed. "Not everything has to be so serious, you know? If a one-night stand doesn't work, you can always go back to wallowing."

"I don't want that, either," Eren mumbled.

"Well then you have to do something," Jean said as he took a sip of his soda and picked up Noodle — Armin’s calico cat — on his way back to the couch.

Noodle wasn’t a big fan of Jean — he always smothered him — but there were times when he allowed the tall ash-brown-haired man to carry him around the apartment. He let out a screech of surprise when Jean picked him up but then fell limp in his arms until they reached the sofa and proceeded to abandon him for Eren’s lap.

“Traitor,” Jean mumbled as he watched the picky cat curl into a ball.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Eren,” Armin offered kindly. “We just don’t want you to lose yourself. Maybe experiment other things?”

“What happened to taking some time for myself, huh? Learning to be alone?”

Armin grimaced, Jean looked the other way.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Eren, but you never want to go out even if it’s with just us. It’s different to be alone than to be lonely. In any case, being alone doesn’t seem to be working for you,” Armin explains with as gentle a tone as he can manage.

“And what makes you think I’ll be any better going out with a complete stranger?” Eren huffed, getting a little more defensive.

“I don’t know, dude!” Jean groaned with twice as much frustration. “You’ll meet new people? Get a reminder of what it’s like to be human?”

That seemed to shut Eren up. Jean shrunk in his spot as Eren’s gaze was lost in Noodle’s fur, his shoulders fallen from Jean’s pointed accusation.

Armin gave Jean a stern look, silently ordering him to apologize. Jean opened his hands in front of him as if to silently say “what? I’m only being honest”. But Armin raised his eyebrows in further attention, echoing his last silent message.

Jean sighed. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive with that last part.”

Eren thought about it for a while and then some. Jean could’ve been nicer but the point was that his friends both thought he could use this. And he trusted his friends so he might as well follow their advice.

“It’s fine,” was his ultimate answer. “What’s the name of the app again?”

With Eren’s blessing to sign him up for a dating app, Jean and Armin proceeded to explain the differences between each dating app they’ve ever tried, the do’s and don’ts of constructing a decent profile, and they scoured his camera roll in search of the best pictures that, in Jean’s words, would “make the ladies go crazy”.

Jean was very strict with his rules but Armin was more forgiving, allowing Eren to have more room to choose what he wanted.

“Dude, you’re never supposed to put a picture of someone other than yourself as the first,” Jean instructed after Eren picked out a photo of him and Armin. “People need to know who you are right off the bat.”

“Well, won’t they be able to tell from the other pictures?” Eren turned to look at the blond, who only nodded as a father does to his son when he doesn’t have the heart to turn down his choices.

“Okay, fine,” Jean mumbled as he continued scrolling to find more profile-worthy pictures. “But you have to let me pick the rest. What about this one and… this one?” Jean said as his thumb hovered between two pictures.

Eren stiffened. The first picture was of him standing on a hiking trail and the second was of him strumming his guitar on the floor — both taken by his ex-girlfriend.

“Um… I don’t know. They’re not really that good,” Eren murmured sadly.

“Don’t give me that,” Jean sighed. “They’re great pictures, man. Let me add them.”

Eren looked down at Noodle and shrugged as he chewed on his bottom lip; Jean took that as a yes.

“Let’s get one last picture. You have any with Noodle?” Jean asked.

“I don’t know, probably. Why?”

Jean tossed him a Cheshire cat grin. “Trust me,” was all he replied with.

Strangely enough, Eren had no decent pictures with Noodle. After instructing Armin to move out of the frame and moving at awkward angles to snap the right shot, a smiling Eren and a curled-up Noodle captured by Jean were added to his profile.

“Alright,” Jean said as he and Armin returned to either side of Eren on the couch and gave him his phone. “Let’s start swiping. Left is a no, right is a yes.”

Jean and Armin hovered while Eren swiped left on the first three profiles shown to him. On the fourth, Jean’s eyes widened at the sight of a cute girl in a swimsuit. His enjoyment was cut short when Eren swiped left.

“Woah! Why’d you swipe so fast?” Jean whined, completely forgetting they weren’t doing this for him but rather Eren.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eren said meekly. The sign-up to the app made him nervous enough; he didn’t want to make the wrong moves with his friends watching over him.

“It’s fine. Just don’t— Wait, no!” Jean yelled in a panic as Eren swiped right with the intention of looking back to the profile he just rejected.

“What? What did I do?” Eren asked, just as flustered.

“Okay, you’re off swiping duty,” Jean said as he plucked Eren’s phone from his hands and tossed it to Armin so he could take charge. “Just tell Armin who you like.”

And just like that, an hour passed by with dozens of swipes to the left.

“Maybe just ten more profiles?” Armin suggests kindly, not wanting to fall into the topic of Eren’s ex-girlfriend.

“Sure,” Eren says, though his interest in the app has faded since thirty minutes ago. Not that it was ever that strong, to begin with.

Jean hovers behind the sofa, looking at Eren’s screen over Armin’s shoulder as he finishes the contents of his soda can.

“What about her?” he points out. “She’s pretty.”

He reads aloud your name, age, and distance. “She’s your age, too,” he adds. As if Eren hasn’t said no to at least two dozen other girls that fit the suggested criteria.

But for some reason, he finds something that piques his interest in you. Maybe it’s your charming smile or the mischievous look in your eyes. It’s ridiculous that a photo of someone he doesn’t know makes him feel like he does — like he knows the person will be nice to talk to. Maybe it’s just a really good picture.

“Show me her other pictures,” he tells Armin.

Jean and Armin both turn to look at him with slight shock written over their features. It’s the first time he’s asked and the first time he hasn’t immediately said no. It’s the first time he doesn’t look bored or take more interest in Noodle.

“O-okay,” Armin stutters as he taps through your pictures. Eren watches his screen closely.

“Um… Right,” Eren whispers, almost embarrassedly.

“A-are you sure?” Armin asks, cautiously keeping his thumb at a safe distance in case his friend changes his mind at the last second.

For the first time, Jean waits for whatever Eren has to say.

Eren warms under their scrutiny. He scratches his temple as he softly says, “yeah. Swipe right.”

“Well, you heard the man. Do it!” Jean exclaims.

The three men perk up at the sight of an emergent message that announces a match.

“What does that mean?” Eren anxiously asks, his gaze flickering between his friends.

Jean grins widely and punches Eren’s shoulder. “It means she swiped right on you, too!” he laughs.

The boys throw their arms over the brunet, congratulating him as if the girl from the only intentionally accepted profile represents a miracle.

They trust Eren to uphold a conversation through the app’s message function, allowing him to retreat to his room to talk with you about trivial introductory things but harping on him later that night to fill them in.

“We’re gonna meet up on Saturday,” Eren says shyly over dinner, to which his friends cheer.

Somewhere between 0 and 13 miles. Saturday afternoon.

A light breeze brushes against the skirt of your dress as you make your way to the agreed-upon cafe.

There are a few tables and chairs set out in front of the establishment, and the closer you get, you realize that one of the tables is occupied by the young man you’ve spent the last couple of days talking to through the dating app on your phone.

You check the time; he’s early.

He hasn’t noticed you walking toward him. As you travel closer, you notice him nervously bouncing his knee as his gaze wanders and his bottom lip suffers the pain of his anxiety.

A smile finds its way to your face.

“Eren?” you ask once you’re close enough.

His eyes snap forward and the chair scrapes the pebbled front of the cafe noisily as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. The table in front of him wobbles with the sudden movement and lightly shakes the two drinks set on top.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling.

How cute.

“Hi… hi! Yeah. I’m Eren,” he talks nervously as he offers you his hand to shake.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you say as you shake his hand, not bothering to speak your name as that’s completely unnecessary in this case.

“I uh… I ordered a drink for you. Is that okay?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he gestures to the extra drink on the table with the other.

“That’s more than okay. Thank you,” you say as you take a seat across from him.

He breathes a sigh of relief before sitting down. You can still see his knee bouncing through the glass of the table.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking up at him with concern.

“Uh… yeah, yeah. I’m fine… just a little nervous, is all,” he says.

You giggle. You don’t know why he’s so awkward; you’ve probably broken a record with how much you’ve talked through the app. It’s quite endearing, though.

“Is this your first time meeting up with someone from the app or something?” you suggest teasingly, but the intense blush that paints his cheeks tells you all you need to know. His gaze falls to his lap and you can see him fiddling with his fingers.

“Oh,” you say, feeling a bit like a jerk for putting him on the spot. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous. Really, no pressure, we’re just two people having coffee. Think of it as talking on the app… except we’re kind of face-to-face now,” you say, cringing at the end when you realize your advice doesn’t really help at all.

But he laughs. And when he does, the green of his eyes seems brighter. You release a few chuckles of your own.

“It gets easier with every encounter, trust me,” you add, but you wish you hadn’t.

“Really? How many people from the app have you met up with?” he asks.

You stiffen at his innocent question; you’re not sure you can come up with the exact number, you’ve lost count. There’s nothing shameful in exploring and having a bit of fun, but you think that there is something quite shameful in the reason you signed up for an account in the first place.

There are numerous ways to react to a college boyfriend of two years that you discover cheating with the excuse of “well, you never want to. I got tired of waiting”. And you’re well-aware — you’ve been told several times — that he was in the wrong, that someone who declared his love for you only three weeks prior to the act never loved you honestly. But you couldn’t help but spiral into trying to make up for your sexual deficiencies even after he was long gone. Because maybe, after getting your first experience over with, engaging in sex would become easier. And then you could finally make them stay.

If only you knew nobody you would come to meet through an app cared about your feelings, either.

“A few,” you reply with a shrug and take a sip from your drink.

“Oh, cool,” Eren says in genuine awe of how casual you seem about it. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you why you joined the app,”

You gulp down the sip you took of your drink, the cold brew hurting your throat as you do.

“Um… what about you?” you ask, determined to flip the conversation so you don’t have to answer or make up an ambiguous statement. “Why did you join the app?”

It’s Eren’s turn to still as he ponders whether it’s a good idea to be honest or not.

You watch the light from his eyes dim, and you feel bad for putting him on the spot again, but at least now you’re somewhat even.

“Let’s talk about something else,” you prompt. “Do you want to go somewhere after this?” You lightly shake your drink in front of you.

The tension in the air vanishes as he whips out his phone and a tiny smile etches its way on his face.

“Actually, I got us reservations at that sushi place you talked about. Well, I called and they said they didn’t take reservations but I asked them to make sure there was a table for us today. And I was thinking that later we could go to this bar my friend Jean recommended. He says there’s live music every Saturday, but if you’re not in the mood for that, then I thought we could…”

His voice fades into the background noises of chirping birds and bustling people.

Over the past two days, you’ve shared several things through the app. What you like, what you don’t like, from your favorite color to your favorite foods to the things you do in your free time. What each of you majored in in college, what you do for work now. What his roommates are like and how they met.

And in the midst of all those messages, you happened to mention a time you went to a hole-in-the-wall sushi place with your friends and that you really enjoyed the food. The same place he called to ask for a table even though their service isn’t that formal.

You have no reference point to determine if Eren’s careful planning is a bare minimum effort, but no other person you’ve met up with has given your encounters this much thought, and it makes an overwhelming pressure squeeze at your heart. Truth be told, there was no thought at all, it was all straight to the point. And when you would try to push them into something more meaningful, they would always look bored. So Eren’s excitement definitely falls over you like ice water on a hot summer day.

“You planned all of this for me?”

He pauses his list of options for your day together.

“Well… yeah,” he says, smiling shyly. “I want you to have a nice time. And that sushi place! You made it sound like the food was to die for so I figured…” He trails off once he notices you aren’t reciprocating his smile. “Do you not want to go there?” he asks, shrinking in his seat.

You shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind. “No, I do,” you chuckle. “Everything you mentioned sounds great.”

Relief softens his features — something you watch in fascination.

“Okay, then,” he grins. He stands and tilts his head in an adorable, puppy-like way. “Why don’t we get going now? I have something planned before sushi.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you stand up and follow him to grab a bus.

You end up at a pottery paint bar. You marvel at the wide selection of blank pieces you can choose to paint. You both end up choosing mugs and as you both share a set of paints, Eren tells you random anecdotes that involve him and his friends doing wild things and getting into trouble when they were kids. He makes you laugh to the point of tears. You tell him about some relatively funny events you can remember, and he laughs too. It’s a nice sound, his laugh, but you don’t think you’re that funny and instead encourage him to tell you more stories.

When you finish your masterpieces, you take one look at yours, and one long look at his. His mug turned out much better. When you tell him that, he says “you can keep it, then” and he offers you his ticket for pickup in exchange for yours.

His ticket equals precious cargo in your purse as it's zipped up in its own little compartment. You don’t know why you take such good care of it like that instead of just tossing it inside with the rest of your things, but the slip of paper feels somewhat special.

You head to the sushi place. You don’t talk much, but it’s a good sign given that Eren is way too focused on devouring the rolls he ordered. At the end of the meal, he looks at you and says he’ll only trust restaurant recommendations if they come from you.

Jean’s bar is next and final. You don’t drink much, only one or two shots, but the music is great and Eren refuses to have more than a beer. He tells you it’s because he can tell better stories sober, but when you walk out of the bar and he gently pulls you so you’re not walking on the side of the street and he stands tall next to you, you figure it might have something more to do with being a gentle protector.

When you reach your apartment building, not too far from your last stop for the night, you let him walk you up to your door. And when you reach your door and he starts telling you that he’s had a really nice time, you ask him if he would like to come inside.

You offer to prepare tea because he says he’s had enough caffeine with the coffee from earlier. But as you begin to set some water on the stove, he comes up and asks if he can help.

Eren’s presence in your apartment feels different than those of the other men that have stopped by casually. And for once, you actually enjoy the company you’ve acquired for the night.

You sit side by side on the sofa, silently sipping on your tea. The silence is comfortable and easy, but you wish to strike a conversation. You like hearing him talk.

“Hey,” you say, lighting up at the sudden idea for a topic. “You never did tell me why you decided to give the app a try.”

You instantly regret bringing that up again with how quickly his face turns grim, though it softens soon enough. For a moment, you think he’ll get up and leave. But he stays, finishes his tea, and speaks.

“Um… I had a really bad breakup about a month ago,” he confesses quietly. “We were together for five years,” he explains, staring at the empty cups that now rest on your coffee table. “And we were very happy… until she wasn’t. And she left.”

Your heart sinks.

“Oh,” you murmur, washed over with heat as you realize you’ve crossed a line. “I’m sorry. Five years is a lot. You must have really loved her.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I did.” The past tense feels bitter on his tongue. He’s been in limbo, with no clear direction or indication of how he feels about his ex-girlfriend now that she’s gone and he’s had a while to process her leave. All he knows is that he loved her as much as he could. An awkward laugh slips past his lips. “But I’m trying to get over it! It’s a work in progress though. I can’t lie, it’s been painful.”

He then sighs heavily, shaking his head in self disapproval, cringing internally at the topic at hand. He never did intend to bring her up.

“I know that probably sounds like a lie because… well it’s only been a month… and because I’m here with you but—”

“I believe you,” you say, taking him by surprise. “You’re probably the most honest guy I’ve ever gone out with,” you add through forced laughter.

He chimes in with a few bittersweet chuckles of his own. “Really?” he asks, his features expressing doubt.

But you smile at him — a smile that’s tainted by a hint of sadness and a long history of disappointment — and nod.

“Really.”

No other words are exchanged for a moment as you simply look at one another. The silence is light and there’s no discomfort or awkwardness as you both appreciate the beauty in each other’s faces. Two gazes locked with equal amounts of sadness and longing though not necessarily toward each other. Although, you’d be willing to admit you hate the girl that broke this sweet man’s heart and he’d be lying if he said you deserved to never know honesty.

You admire the thin streaks of blue in the green pools of his eyes, and his gaze traces over the line of your nose. You follow the subtle arch of his eyebrows and he admires the gentle curve of your cupid’s bow. When your eyes reconnect with each other, you both smile.

“Eren?” you whisper, your smile fading as you swipe your tongue over your lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is just as soft, just as low, barely audible if you weren’t inadvertently leaning closer to each other.

“Can I help ease your pain?” you say as your eyes flit toward his lips. His do the same with yours.

It’s an almost imperceptible nod, but it’s there. And you take it. You capture his lips in the most tender first kiss known to be.

The four-week-old weight feels lighter on his shoulders as your hand cups his jaw and you sigh against his lips with equal relief. It’s been a long time since he’s been kissed like this. Like the other person wants to take all the time in the world to caress his lips with their own. Toward the end of those “happy” five years, her affections always seemed distant. Forced, even. Not that he would ever demand too much of her, but he never wanted to admit that her heart was no longer in it despite the clear signs.

But this. You. It’s all new, it’s all sweet and you’re treating him so carefully through a simple kiss that he can’t help but feel his heart ache just a little. And yet he can sense something in him bloom upon the act of kissing a stranger. A beautiful stranger he’s exchanged several messages with over the last two days.

It feels good.

“Is this helping?” you murmur as you break the kiss and rest your forehead against his.

“Yeah,” he says as he softly brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “It is.”

A warm hand slides around the back of your neck to reconnect your lips as your arms drape loosely around his shoulders and one of your legs swings to the other side of his lap. The skirt of your dress crumples into the crease of your thighs as you deepen the kiss and swallow a strained whimper from his mouth.

A liberating sigh escapes you both as you hold onto each other and steal one another’s breath. His hair is soft between your fingers and your exposed thighs smooth under his calloused touch.

The room spins and your mind grows numb to your surroundings as you press your crotch onto the hardened evidence of his arousal. His thumb strokes at the skin of your thighs tenderly in contrast to the passionate kiss you share as he wonders if the first makeout after a breakup is meant to feel this good, this relieving, this liberating.

You pull back, breathless as you hold his face between your hands and stroke his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. The corners of your lips tug into a faint smile as you hold his gaze. Your hands abandon his face to reach behind your back and tug at the zipper of your dress, the straps falling down your shoulders to reveal your breasts.

Warm hues paint his cheeks as his gaze inevitably falls from your eyes to admire your chest. But it’s only for the briefest second as he returns to look at your face almost immediately, embarrassed he let his eyes linger on your exposed skin for what he believes was a moment too long. You want to laugh at his bashfulness, make a joke about it, but the words are caught in your throat with how intensely he’s looking at you — and not just because he refuses to be deemed a pervert.

“You’re very beautiful,” he murmurs.

Stillness.

An unfamiliar but pleasant wave of warmth washes over you upon his words. For the longest moment, you can’t function, can’t bring yourself to react in any other way than staring at him dumbly. As if his words are foreign and it’s the first time you’ve heard that string of syllables being spoken.

But then, when the sincerity dripping from his spoken thoughts settles in your mind, a shy smile appears on your face as you dip down to kiss his cheek. He looks at you in awe, wondering if all first dates after a breakup involve these shy grateful smiles that tug at his heartstrings and make him ache.

You grab hold of his hand to lead him to your room, but not before abandoning your dress on your living room floor as soon as it pools around your feet when you stand.

Eren’s back hits the bed after your gentle push and a hand settles on your waist while the other wanders into your hair as you press your body on top of him and kiss him, bite his bottom lip, suck on his tongue.

Your hands creep under his shirt, tracing the firm shape of his abs. Your eyes widen in surprise when he breaks the kiss and flips you over so he’s on top. A swift tug over his neck leaves his shirt a clump of fabric on your bedroom floor before he reignites the kiss and lets his hands roam over your chest.

But then he stops, remembering he’s never slept with you before, that he has to confirm everything he’s used to doing is okay with this new person that’s almost fully naked under him.

“Touch me,” you say. “You can do anything you want. I’m all yours tonight.”

Those are the words you speak to each man that has the decency to check in on you halfway — not that you ever committed to something you didn’t want, but it was nice to be asked. And yet when you give that response to Eren, the words feel mildly sour and out of place. And you hate to think you’re voicing your convictions with a trembling heart as you watch that beautiful young man hovering over you.

He catches a light of something unknown in your irises as you look up at him with… lust? No. Admiration. Tenderness. Want.

You’ve granted him full permission, full control. And yet his eyes still search for an answer when his cautious fingers inch toward your underwear.

Overwhelmed by his consideration, with your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you nod.

His eyes never leave yours, and when you gasp and clutch onto his back at the feel of his fingers carving into you, he rests his forehead against yours.

Moans dance in the air, his and yours, as his fingers curl inside of you at the sweetest pace. Not too slow, not too quick. Just the right pace and right pressure to make your toes curl and your eyebrows upturn in pleasure.

You grind up into his hand as your eyes fall closed at the nearness of your orgasm. With trembling limbs, you let go of your tight grip on his back to palm him over his jeans. You feel him twitch but you don’t know it’s because your touch has taken him by surprise. Like he didn’t think you would try to return the favor.

Nervous fingers undo his jeans and clumsily free his erection so you can stroke him freely with your hand. In the short hours you’ve known each other face-to-face, you’ve come to really like his eyes. But there’s something slightly more fascinating and invigorating when he’s screwing them tightly as his whimpers fan across your lips.

It pushes you to cum around his fingers, tighten around them as your hand forgets it’s supposed to be moving and not just hold him.

“Do you have a condom?” The question is barely comprehensible given how little shape there is to your voice as you slowly come down from your brief high.

You catch the flicker of his eyes opening but no further movement, leaving you to question if maybe that’s not where your night is headed.

But he — apologetically — says, “um… no, I don’t.”

A sudden hurt burns in your chest, but not because he didn’t come prepared or because you think he might not want to have sex. It’s rather because he felt like he had no need to bring a condom. Because he attended your rendezvous with nothing but pure intentions. And he’s been wonderful all this time, planning a genuine date, making conversation, and calling you beautiful and saying it so sincerely.

“Th-that’s okay,” you say. Embarrassment looms over your features when he pulls back slightly to observe you. “I…” You prop your weight on your elbow as you reach for the drawer from your nightstand. “... I have some here.”

His eyebrows rise but he makes no comment other than a breathless, “Oh, okay”.

You glance at him quickly, calculating how big he is, before reaching into the drawer and pulling out a foil square from one of the boxes inside. You offer it to him.

“Is latex fine?” Your cheeks flare with heat as you focus your gaze on the base of your bedside lamp.

You feel the condom packet slip from your fingers.

“Latex is fine,” you hear his kind voice say.

And just like that, what had begun to morph into dying sparks reignites as intense flames.

You strip off your underwear as he rolls on the condom. When his focus returns to you, he asks “are you sure?”.

Again, that odd urge to laugh rises. As does that aching burn in your chest.

��I’m completely sure,” you murmur, confident this is the first time you’ve ever been so firm on your decision.

He readjusts himself between your legs as he guides your arms to wrap around his neck. Your fingers comfortably find a home in his hair.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he whispers.

“I will,” you whisper back with a nod, though you’re sure you’ll have no need to put a pause to his ministrations.

He slowly pushes his tip inside while he gauges your reaction, before confidently burying himself inside you. He places a kiss on your cheek as he gives you time to adjust.

The seconds pass you by as you look up at him and he looks down at you. And then, you both smile. And that smile then takes the shape of laughter. And you’re not really sure why either of you is laughing but it feels nice. Like you’re sharing a private joke, like this moment is much more intimate than what it is — two strangers having sex.

His hand reaches behind his head to take one of your hands that's tangled in his hair, and he presses it onto the bed next to your head. You watch your interlocked hands for a moment, marveling at how small your hand looks encased in his. You squeeze his hand lightly. In that brief instant, your chest swells with something delightful, something comforting, something warm. Something you didn’t think you’d have a chance to feel in today’s casual dating climate.

“You okay?” you hear him ask; you know you’ve taken far too long looking at your hands.

You turn to him and nod.

“You can move now.”

Eren starts out slow, building up the speed of his thrusts with every little moan, every breathless “faster”, and every sudden bucking of your hips to meet him halfway.

As much as it embarrasses you to acknowledge from time to time, you’re not used to someone taking their time, making sure everything feels alright for you. Somehow, your body has adapted into finding a sliver of pleasure between mindless, sloppy jackhammering.

But Eren. Eren, with the way he slips in and out of you with calculated movements and mind-reeling angles, reminds you of just how pleasurable sex can be.

His cock stretches you out and fills you up with the most gratifying sensation. His hand never lets go of yours and only holds on tighter as you tug at his hair and pull him down for a kiss. Whimpers and moans drown in the back of one another’s throats.

Beads of sweat form along the nape of his neck, and the air grows thicker the faster he ruts his hips against yours. He hits the deepest spots inside you with every thrust, the thick veins you took note of before brushing that delightful spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head and draws the most sinful noises from your mouth. His free hand travels down every curve of your body up until it lands where your bodies meet. He leaves enough room to draw circles on your clit with his thumb as he tells you how good everything feels, how he didn’t imagine he’d be doing this tonight, how he hasn’t felt this good in a long time and he asks — begs to know — if it feels good for you, too, because dammit, he can feel himself going crazy.

Your nails dig into the back of his hand as you feel the coil that’s been tightening in the pit of your stomach threatening to snap.

Eren’s only ever loved one woman in his life and he did so for years. He’s only ever slept with one woman, too. The only way he knows how to be intimate is to pour his heart into every encounter. And that translates into every deep stroke, every fervent touch, every velvet kiss. He’s the kind of man that makes the person under him feel loved even if there’s no history between them — because that’s the way he learned how to please.

You’re the kind of girl that’s pleased as long as you finish. And yet, there’s something that permeates in the way you move and the way you cling onto him that makes him think you want to be loved desperately. And deep down, you know it to be true.

Because the truth of it all is, no matter how good it feels to have sex with no strings attached, there’s a disheartening hollowness to every encounter you’ve had that you’ve tried your best to ignore. You’ve succeeded for the most part, but right now you feel everything. Light and warmth and tenderness.

“Eren,” you breathe into his ear as his lips press against your neck and sear your skin with soft kisses.

Rough fingertips leave a burning trail along your thigh as he motions you to wrap your legs around his middle and he voices your name sweetly into the crook of your neck.

You’ve met up with several men, had sex with half, and followed up with almost none. And even in the case that you did see them again, it was never meant to last. There are several things you’ve had with Eren just today that you’ve never had with another. You’ve held his hand, you’ve felt vulnerable, felt beautiful, felt wanted for your all. You’ve called his name, you’ve kissed his cheek, he’s kissed yours. And that damn ache in your chest. Since when do you feel so emotional when entertaining a one-night stand?

The pressure in your chest builds at the same time it does in the pit of your stomach. The coil snaps, he stiffens. You scream his name, your toes curl, and your back arches. He finishes, and yet he still continues to thrust into you even after you no longer feel him twitch inside you, emptying his arousal into the condom.

He keeps going until your legs are shaking and the arm that’s not pressed on the bed feels too weak to stay thrown around his shoulders as your fingers lose their grip on his soft, sweaty locks.

A comforting bliss washes over you as you come down from your high and he unexpectedly cradles your body into his chest after he lies beside you on the bed. You’re not sure if you should wrap your arms around him, reciprocate his embrace — they usually just get up and leave. So you lay there, allowing him to hold you and relishing his warmth for as long as he’ll stay.

“Was everything okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?” he asks as his hand mindlessly strokes the delicate curve of your back.

“No,” you chuckle airily. “Everything was… very nice.”

He doesn’t stay for long, and you feel sad that he has to leave but it’s your unspoken rule to not let a hookup spend the night. Besides, the warm smile he shoots in your direction while you both get dressed eases the pain a little.

“I had a nice time,” he says as you open the door for him to leave.

“I’m sure you did,” you reply teasingly. But his face turns serious.

“No, I mean it.” He blushes. “I mean… that part was nice… But talking to you and spending the day with you… that was really nice, too.”

You’re rendered speechless for the umpteenth time since you’ve met in person as he shyly rubs at the back of his neck and clears his throat.

“I should get going. Have a good night,” he murmurs with a gentle smile before turning on his heel and disappearing from your view.

Later that night.

Outside of your window, the night is pitch black, and more stars have littered the sky since you got home. The air is tranquil but you lay in bed with your heart aching at the fact that you might never have a night this sweet again.

Thirteen miles away, a young man lies awake as his body recalls the warmth of the beautiful girl who helped ease his pain, if for even just one night.

Masterlist

taglist: @piecksz @pina-chan @cherrysakusa @pr1ncessm00n @sparklekitteh

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager x y/n #eren jaeger fluff #eren x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager fluff #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot x reader #aot smut #snk x reader

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hellfirevecna · 2 years ago

Text

Just Steddie Shenanigans

"Harrington, here!"

Steve had no other option at this point, but to let himself be tugged over by an overly-enthusiastic Eddie Munson at the sight of the little but brightly coloured stall that sold some brightly-coloured candy floss.

"My treat!" He added in hopes of dulling the faint grimace that had seemed to permanently settle on Steve's lips at this point. It had been Steve's idea to start with; them checking out the fair that had come to their quaint little town, just as a little something to unwind from the happenings in Hawkins — everybody could use a break, to be honest. Eddie had been wary of the idea at first — uncharacteristically so — mostly because he hadn't been too keen on having their little night out ruined by another hushed accusation from one of the dudes at school over what had happened with Chrissy Cunningham. He had given in soon enough though, finding himself unable to resist the prospect of hopping on the most random rides at the fair, and perhaps, winning his *darling friend* a little something, if they had those kinds of things at the fair. Steve was well aware of the risks that came with boldly going out for a stroll in the fair with none other than Eddie, but the glimmer in the latter's eyes at the proposal was something that Harrington had trouble looking past, and had ended up following through with his plans for the evening.

He had asked Eddie to keep the excited rambles to a minimum, but it had all gone down the drain the moment Steve had parked the BMW 733i a little further away from the ground where the fair had been set. The brunet couldn't find it in himself to scold the other though but had initially settled for not reinforcing his golden retriever behaviour. But now, as Eddie made some casual small-talk with the older, plump man behind the counter who got their orders ready. Steve wasn't too sure if he had even wanted one in the first place, but Eddie's endearing little offer was too sweet to just up and deny. And so, with a soft 'thank you,' the brunet was gently holding the end of the stick of the sweet, glancing between the sugary but fluffy pink cloud before him, and the raven-haired man. "Thanks! We'll be back!" Eddie had said then, paying the man hurriedly before he was tugging Steve along to one of the carousels, just to simply watch it as they gobbled away the candy floss. Steve was taking a tiny bite out of the fluffy, sweet cloud, giving Eddie's hand a small squeeze.

"Mhm, it's good."

Steve hadn't talked much during the span of the evening, for mainly two reasons. One, he was on the watch out for anybody remotely suspicious of coming up to Eddie and saying all those utterly nasty things to him, and two, he very much enjoyed listening to the adorable metalhead. He was a literal puppy with the way his eyes shone in delight and Steve had to stop him from running off into the crowd at the sight of the brightly-lit ferris wheel, and in the way he was so affectionate and just simply, a happy little thing. It was cute, very much so.

"Isn't it? I don't remember when was the last time I had some great candy floss like this one."

Eddie had finished the candy floss in record time, now idly toying with the wooden stick that was left behind, as he watched Steve nibble at the confection, leisurely so. "Why are you so slow? We don't have the whole damn evening, Stevie!" Grabbing onto both of Steve's shoulders, Eddie was shaking him lightly, not-so-sneakily taking a bite out of the candy floss, a big one at that. "Hey!" Steve was scolding half-heartedly, the little smile tugging at the corners of his lips giving him away soon enough. "Sorry not sorry, just a little punishment for being a slow-eater."

Winking, Eddie was pulling away fully, but not before ruffling Steve's hair just *slightly*, just enough to mess up his neatly-done hair. The combination of Eddie stealing a bite out of his food and messing up his hair was enough to have Steve devouring whatever was left of his candy floss then, gently tugging the wooden stick out of Eddie's hands before tossing it and his own into the trashcan a few feet away from them. This time, it was Steve's chance to tug Eddie along as they navigated their way through the crowd, a sly smirk plastered on his lips and a confused curve on Eddie's own.

"Care to tell me where we're headed?" Eddie prompted, glancing down at their interlaced hands.

When exactly had they gotten this comfortable with each other?

Eddie struggled to remember, really, because he wasn't too sure. It had all just happened, without either one of them minding it much. The cool metal of Eddie's several rings was a stark contrast to the warmth of his own hand, and the slight tremble to it as he led Eddie over to one of the stalls, pausing right in front of it. One full of stuffed toys, and stuffed toys only. Glancing up at Eddie with a little smile, he cocked his head, nodding at the stall.

"Do you still have any questions?"

Eddie was taking his time with gazing at the stall and the several toys that littered it's walls and counter alike, knowing just what Steve had brewing in that head of his. The both of them knew better than to say it though, instead plenty content in simply portraying it all through their actions; it was much easier that way without having to talk about it. "Not quite, no." Eddie smiled, letting his thumb caress Steve's knuckles for a bit before the latter was gently pulling his hand from Eddie's tender grasp.

"Perfect. Now, watch." It was all that Steve had said before he was slapping a bill on the counter, giving the man a curt nod when he was handed the faux gun he'd be aiming with. He hadn't chosen on a target yet, still busy deciding on what Eddie would prefer; whether he would even like a stuffed toy in his room or not. But it was too late for that, Steve was already aiming at the little Winnie The Pooh on the shelf in the middle, just at eye-level; an easy target really. Throwing one last glance at Eddie who was currently behind him, just close enough for his breath to be fanning the back of Steve's neck as he breathed out a soft sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Gonna win something for me, Harrington? Good luck," Eddie teased with a soft chuckle, letting a hand come up to rest on the brunet's hip in one swift motion.

That was plenty enough to have Steve losing his aim and accidentally firing the first shot, ending up hitting nothing in particular but the wooden wall of the stall.

"Fucking hell, who said anything about me winning something for you?" Steve countered, albeit weakly, shaking his head at his own folly, at letting Eddie distract him so horribly. But he had to admit; Eddie's hand felt good, where it lay. "Shut up and let me focus, dammit," Muttering, Steve was aiming at the bear once again, only to end up missing terribly yet again, thanks to his thoughts that were currently wilding like there was no tomorrow.

Fuck you, Eddie Munson, for ruining my aim like that.

Setting his eyes on the target yet again, the brunet was planting his feet firmly on the ground, as though he hadn't done that already. Really, he was just trying to come up with reasons that did not concern Eddie, with respect to the unsuccessful attempts at managing to win the bear for a certain metalhead — said metalhead being currently busy brushing the hair out of Steve's eyes as he attempted to focus on the target for a third time. The final chance, and hopefully he'd succeed this time.

He did not.

On a normal day, Steve would have knocked the faux gun straight into the forehead of the person that dared distract him from his aim, but how could he ever do that to this golden retriever of a man that stood behind him, snickering to himself? He would have taken offense then, if it wasn't for the soothing patterns that were currently being drawn into his side and a little pat to the head. "You really seem to want to win this. Want me to try it for you?" Eddie offered sweetly, only to earn a stubborn shake of his head and a scoff from Steve. "Hell no, just you wait." And wait Eddie did, for the next twenty-five minutes, and four more rounds. A wad of bills on the counter that the skinny man behind the counter did not bother putting away just yet in hopes of earning more as a result of Steve's stubbornness, Steve was huffing out a very frustrated exhale at the sight, and the way his wallet practically felt much lighter than it had been an hour ago. The damned Pooh.

"Let me try, please?"

This time though, Steve was giving in, because what else was he supposed to do? He badly wanted to win the Pooh for Eddie, but he had failed, and if Eddie somehow managed to win it — which Steve was sure was not going to happen because hell, even he hadn't managed to do it — he'd just try and forget about the whole episode and have Eddie keep it. Holding out the faux gun for a very excited Munson to take, Steve stepped to the side, allowing Eddie to take aim and just fucking shoot already, and get it over with.

"What do I get if I win?" Eddie was challenging, an attempt to sweeten the deal since Steve had looked rather displeased with the way things hadn't been in his favour at all.

Steve was slapping another bill on the counter, glaring at the man behind the counter, only for his expression to morph into something much more cocky, and confused, at the same time. "You're so confident. But to answer your question; whatever it is that you want." Interesting, Eddie found himself thinking as he mulled over Steve's words for a while, finding it to be oh-so-interesting. Maybe he could have Steve kis— focus, Eds. And focus he did, his expression darkening significantly as he took aim at the toy Steve seemed to want to badly.

BAM!

The yellow bear was toppling off of the shelf, and the skinny man had padded over to the site to pick it up and place it on the counter for Eddie to take. The man was far from done though, not just yet. He turned to glance at an awestruck Steve, his mouth agape and eyes slightly widened; just utterly shocked and impressed at the same time. "I'm not done yet though," Eddie found himself whispering as he nudged Steve playfully, aiming for the little box in the corner. Another shot; and Eddie had succeeded in bagging his prize yet again, the victory only pushing him to grab the third opportunity to try and win something more. Steve had had enough at this point; fully believing that Eddie was just flexing his skills and nothing more. Of course, it wasn't that, not totally at least; the both of them knew it. And so, to mess this third chance up, Steve was turning his back to the counter and leaning against it, facing Eddie, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"I'll give you a kiss for winning Pooh, that okay with you?"

That was horribly timed, mostly for Eddie who had pressed the trigger somewhere in the middle of it all, barely having any control over his own actions as a result of Steve's words. It hadn't managed to hit any of the prizes, simply ricocheting off of the wooden ceiling of the stall and falling to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, Harrington?" Eddie's voice held a weird kind of a shakiness to it as he asked, carefully placing the gun back on the counter as he grabbed the Pooh bear and the little, decorative box. "Come on now, you're very, very embarrassing right now," He was chiding, red in the face and akin to a damn cherry. Steve, on the other hand, had been having the time of his life, never quite having seen the Eddie Munson this flustered. Guiding Steve over to one of the benches in the distance and away from the fanfare of the fair, Eddie was practically shoving the yellow bear towards Steve, a silent request for him to take said toy. "Eh?" Steve was mumbling out stupidly, reaching out a tentative hand to hold the bear as he met Eddie's gaze, which seemed much prettier in the various lights of the fair.

"You... you wanted it, didn't you?"

Eddie reminded, his voice so soft, it was making Steve want to kiss the fuck out of this man then and there; why did he have to be so goddamn adorable?

"I did want it, but not for myself, just so you know. I sorta lied back there, I wanted it because well, I wanted to give it to you. But then I failed miserably and it was embarrassing and yo—" "You wanted it for me?"

Eddie was interrupting, not even finding the patience until Steve could finish. He was just really, really surprised. "Right, I wanted to win it for you so you know... You could always remember this evening. A little something to commemorate our uhhhh friendship? I guess?" A nervous chuckle, and Steve was scratching the back of his head as he glanced down at the box in Eddie's hand, who had tightened his hold around it.

"So you can have the Pooh, even if I did not end up winning it for you and kee— " "I won us matching keychains. I don't know what they are, but the box says matching keychains."

Eddie was turning the box in his hand, nodding at the bright red letters on the navy-blue box. It was now Steve's turn to blink stupidly at Eddie when he had indirectly revealed what the tiny box had contained. "They're little astronauts really, and uhhh, hold on..." Eddie trailed off, moving to sit down on the bench, and Steve was following suit, without thinking much. Tearing open the plastic wrapper on the box, Eddie was impatiently tugging open the lid, only to reveal a couple astronauts in colourful pastel-hued spacesuits. "Oh, whoa, they're cute I guess," Eddie murmured, slipping his finger through the keyring of one of them as he tugged it out of the box, letting it dangle off of his finger. "It's cute, it really is," Steve was quick to affirm, letting the pad of his thumb delicately run along the front of the little astronaut.

"Here you go."

Letting the keyring slip off his finger and into the palm of Steve's hand, Eddie was fishing for his own keys in his pocket, to change his keychain right then and there. "You don't have to like... change it or something. I just wanted you to have it." Eddie had made sure to state that, not wanting to pressure Steve into changing his keychain or something. But his words weren't taken seriously at all, because Steve was already slipping on the astronaut among the total of three keys in the keyring.

"Oops, too late."

Steve smiled, his thumb absently caressing the keychain as he clasped it in his hand. Eddie, who was still busy changing his own keychain, was completely oblivious to Steve's next moves, however; as he leant forward just enough to be able to peck Eddie's cheek. "This one's for the keychains," Steve whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Eddie's forehead, this time. "And this one's for Pooh." The metalhead was sure left a stuttering and sputtering mess as he hunted for the words, for something that he could say in response to Steve's words and his actions, both of which had made him feel all funny inside, warm and fluttery.

Damn you, Steve Harrington.

"Well then, this one's for bringing me to the fair, I suppose." Shoulders lifting in a light shrug, Eddie was slipping his keys into his jacket pocket before clearing the box out of their way, leaning in to ever-so-gently kiss Steve's lips, smiling into the kiss. Steve hadn't moved away, like hell he'd want to break the sweet little kiss Eddie Munson had decided to bless him with. Maybe he'd saved the world in his previous life or something to be able to experience something so beautiful as this, tonight.

"So, what does this make us?"

Eddie had pulled away first, not quite, though. His hand had somehow ended up on Steve's cheek, the thumb running along Harrington's cheek sweetly as he gazed at him as though he'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Boy...friends?"

It was unsure, but he definitely didn't mind naming their relationship that; it had a nice ring to it. "Boyfriends," Eddie echoed, biting into his bottom lip to stifle the stupidly bright smile that threatened to grow on his lips then. "Boyfriends. Yeah," Steve was stating with a certain kind of confidence in his voice, his arms looping around Eddie's neck as he toyed with the unruly curls idly, just simply gazing at the beautiful man before him. He could do this all day every day, with no complaints whatsoever. Eddie, on the other hand, could and would do too, but not tonight, not when he could practically hear the ferris wheel calling his name.

"Come on Stevie, we're yet to check out the ferris wheel!" And Steve had obliged of course, how the heck was he ever supposed to deny this lovely human of anything that made him smile so brightly? With a simple kiss to the tip of Steve's nose, Eddie was standing up and tugging Steve over in the direction of said ride, grabbing the Pooh bear for his new boyfriend. With a soft sigh, Steve had complied, beginning to follow wherever Eddie would lead him.

Even if it were to the ends of the earth, Steve Harrington would always follow Eddie Munson, there was no doubt.

author's note: this fic is also available on ao3, and comments and/or kudos are greatly appreciated! thank you <3

[ https://archiveofourown.org/works/40139556?view_adult=true ]

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electracraft · 3 years ago

Text

no but why are the heartstopper guys a brunet who’s cat coded good at maths plays the drums is fast at running and a blond who’s golden retriever coded takes gay quizzes has a sexuality epiphany WHO LET THIS HAPPEN

#like sure i am mentally unwell but im not seeing things #there Are some coincidences here

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rainysflowers · 6 months ago

Text

I need to get back to writing so badly, haha ^^💧 Anywho this seems fun, how about this section from One More Time, a GetBackers fic where the stoic, money-minded smoker's habit catches up with him.

CW: Blood, Personal Disregard of Injury, Coughing Up Blood, Hurt! Ban, Smoking References Snip under the cut, as well as character & fic explanations :3

Blue eyes flick up towards the tree, intent on at least seeing if he was right before the brunet takes his turn to retire. His back pops into place, eerily clear in the air of the evening. Something red flashes across his vision. He stops. The tips of Ban’s fingers are utterly covered in bright, wet, bubbly blood. It rolls down his skin and over his curved joints like a waterfall down a mountain, dripping softly onto the ground where his lost cigarette had taken its final position. Against the snow, they stand out as clearly as the lights of a cop car. The Evil Eye wielder’s expression doesn’t change a bit. In fact, all he does at the revelation is flick his hand, watching the shower of crimson stain even more of the white piles all about him, and turn around.

Its in its, like, second editing round??? Needing to go over again, basically, haha. Anyways when this is actually done it'll be a hurt/comfort between Ban (Brown-haired, blue eyes, smokes, womanizing, more stoic than his partner, can give ppl nightmares by looking at them, black cat energy) who's coughing up blood and passes out in the snow, and his partner Ginji (Blond, brown eyes, cinnamon roll with a BAD coping method, electricity powers, golden retriever energy) finding him and cuddling in the car (they are homeless and live in a small car) for warmth. Maybe some conversating. Who knows ;))

Anywho, here's some links to Ban whump GIFs I made and have a great day/night/whatever!!

WIP Snippet: Blood

Starting a thing because I need a distraction:

Reblog (or make your own post and link to this one) with a snippet from your WIP that involves blood or bleeding.

Have fun and be well!

#🌧rb #🌧op #🌧eviltag #🌧wrt #whump #GetBackers #yeah idk what to tell you #blood #bleeding

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captains-simp · 3 years ago

Text

(Not me accidentally posting this when it was half done)

I knew I could count on you @wndrcarol for a jock!Carol request🥳 also....👀I heard you like Sharon

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

1.9k words

Warnings: harassment, degrading, face slapping, strap on sex, spitting, choking and hints of overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You groaned in frustration when you finished checking the kitchen for your girlfriend. Everytime you went to a party with her the same thing happened.

You'd arrive, take a while to get comfortable and as soon as you did Carol would be whisked away by her friends leaving you to stand awkwardly in the corner. You really needed to get more friends. The ones you had never seemed to come to those parties.

You wandered outside onto the wooden decking area to get some fresh air and leant against the fence as you lazily scanned the area for Carol. You knew she wasn't out there, you had already checked.

Your eyes landed on a brunet who had been watching you carefully but the moment you locked eyes he scurried away back inside, not wanting to be seen near you. You smiled at the memory of the last time you had met at a party.

"There was only 10 seconds of the game left but I kicked the ball as hard as I could and it was on the last second of the game that it scored and we won!" Tyler exclaimed before taking another sip of his bear and gleamed at the memory.

"That's great." You said as you continued to scan the room for Carol.

"It was, you should'a been there." Tyler said as he looked back at you, or more he looked above the line of your low hanging top. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I was at Carol's game." Tyler didn't react to the mention of your girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't know you were dating, everyone knew. Carol made sure of that.

"Unlucky, mine was a lot more interesting." He declared with a smug grin. A brief memory of Carol fucking you in the showers after that game flashed through your mind and you couldn't contain your smile at knowing how wrong the guy infront of you was.

Unfortunately, he thought that smile was at him.

"I had a pretty great game before that too. But it's getting kinda loud in here, wanna go somewhere more private?" He smirked in an extremely unattractive way.

"I'm good, I need to go find Carol." You said quickly, wanting to get the hell away from Tyler.

You hadn't seen Carol in a while. It was her idea to go to the party, it was an environment she thrived in. You, however, did not. It wasn't your scene and you didn't know anyone there, not well at least.

At some point through the mass of bodies, loud music and numerous people trying to get Carol to do shots with them or be on their beer pong team, you had been seperated from the Captain and you hadn't seen her since.

"Come on, I'm sure there's some spare rooms upstairs." There was a slight slur to his voice that made it even worse when he approached you and put a heavy hand on your waist.

"Get off me, Tyler!" You snapped and pushed his hand away but he continued with a frown.

"What? Don't you want this-" He was cut off when a fist shot out beside you and punched him across the face. Tyler staggered back, gripping his bleeding nose, as the people around you cheered loudly, oblivious to what had happened prior.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend." Carol demanded as she continued to advance towards a cowarding Tyler who could only hold his hands out in defence. You pulled Carol away with to turn her towards you and Tyler scrambled to his feet to flee.

"Are you okay?" Concerned and familiar eyes met yours that instantly eased your worry. Carol brought her hands gently up to your face as she scanned you closely and you were surprised to see that she looked completely sober.

You nodded your head and breathed out a yes before you took her right hand away from your face to examine it carefully. The dull lighting in the room made it hard to make out but you could feel that there was nothing out of place.

"Come on." Carol said as she took your hand. "Let's get out of here."

Tyler had a bandage across his nose for a while. He had avoided you like the plague ever since, clearly have some sense in him.

"Want some company?" Came a voice from beside you. You glanced sideways and saw Sharon fall easily into place next to you. She mirrored your position of leaning against the barrier and gave you a knowing smile.

"Thanks." You breathed out, feeling kind of embarrassed someone had noticed Carol always seemed to ditch you at parties.

"No luck finding the girlfriend?" Sharon teased.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked but weren't sure you really wanted to know.

"You look like a lost puppy without her." Sharon chuckled making you flush. Maybe you were too clingy.

"She's the golden retriever lesbian." You corrected making Sharon laugh more.

"That seems about right." She went to move closer to you but a group of jocks spilled out onto the decking, without Carol among them.

"Fuck this." She huffed and took your hand to lead you over to the garden swing bench. Your hand felt like it was burning when she held it to pull you along. Although her hands were physically soft, they weren't the kind of softness you felt with Carol. It didn't make you feel warm inside, it made you feel uneasy. But it was a party, you had to hold onto people to move about.

Part of your brain pointed out that there was only a few people in the garden so there was really no need for Sharon to navigate you through it, while the rest of you really did just want some company.

Sharon sat down on the bench and you followed, feeling as though you could relax a bit more on the edge of the garden.

"You know, I think Carol's a very lucky gal to have you." Sharon said as she watched you closely. You laughed nervously as you noticed how close she was. You found yourself searching the garden for Carol again but Sharon lighting held your jaw and turned it back towards her.

"Pretty thing like you must surely be a lot of fun to play with." She smirked as her other hand crept onto your thigh.

"Um I d-don't-"

"Shh, you don't need to talk." Sharon cooed as she tilted your chin up more when you struggled to keep eye contact. The blonde glanced at your lips and licked her own before leaning forward slowly.

Until a strong hand wrapped itself around your bicep and yanked you from the bench.

You stumbled into a fuming blonde who was glaring at Sharon. You blushed deeply as you realised how it looked at what Sharon was most likely trying to do.

"You keep your fucking hands off of my girlfriend, Carter." Carol spat as her fists clenched.

"You really shouldn't leave her unattended?" Sharon said, amused by Carol's anger. "Who knows what could have happened." She winked at you and looked away instantly.

Carol scoffed simply as she continued to glare daggers at the woman infront of you.

"In your fucking dreams, she's mine." She all but growled as she pulled you away. You yelped as you felt her nails dig into your skin but didn't have the nerve to ask her to loosen her grip.

Carol pulled you through the crowded house and up to an empty bedroom that she shoved you inside.

"Did you enjoy that? Whoring yourself out to Sharon?" Carol asked as she threw you to the bed and started undoing her belt.

"No I-" You started as you went to sit up but Carol put a firm hand to your chest and pushed you back flat against the bed.

"Shut up, slut. I don't want to hear another sound out of you unless you're saying my name." She warned as she pulled her strap out and pulled your panties down.

You looked at her wide eyed, never seeing her so worked up before sex. Sure, you'd have a lot of needy, desperate sex and the occasional quickly, but she never showed so little regard to you before.

"What? Think I'm going to be nice to you and take my time? Want me to touch you gently? Whores don't deserve to be treated nicely. You don't get to prep my cock either." Carol taunted as she pushed the tip of the head in and kept it there as she stared down at you. "You'll have to just take it how it is, not that you'll have much of an issue. You've always got such a sloppy cunt."

"Please, Captain." You found yourself whining earning you a harsh slap to your left cheek. Your head whipped to the side and your cheek burned but Carol didn't seem to care.

"Who are you begging to fuck you?" Carol asked as she rocked her hips slowly as a reminder that you only had the very tip inside you.

"You Carol, I want my Captain's cock!" You cried out desperately.

"Only mine?" The blonde mused as she inched a bit more of the strap in.

"Yes Carol, only your cock. I only want you." You whined truthfully. Carol knew that of course, she knew you were incredibly loyal. That's what made the game so fun.

"Please! Please Carol I need you so bad. I want my Captain deep inside me, please please." You begged and felt as though you could cry in frustration.

"You really know how to plead like a whore, don't you. Did you learn that somewhere? Or are you just a natural cock slut?" She asked as she slammed her hips forward and filed you up with the strap at every angle.

You moaned loudly and threw your head back against the pillows as Carol set about her harsh and unrelenting pace. The thick strap filled you up entirely with every thrust. It didn't take long for your eyed to water from the sheer amount of pleasure she was giving to you so roughly.

Carol grunted as she pounded the strap into you and her grip on your wrists tightened, letting you know she wouldn't let go anytime soon.

"See? You've got such a sloppy pussy. And it's all mine." Carol spoke as she glanced down to look at your pussy taking her strap so well.

"You're gonna cum for me now. You're going to cum all over my cock." Carol demanded as she noticed your signs of approaching orgasm.

You cried out at the force of each of Carol's thrusts until it became too much to bear and you crashed over the edge without much to hold on to. As you did so, Carol brought her hand up and wrapped it tightly around your throat before giving it a quick squeeze.

"You belong to me, slut." Carol said as she continued thrusting mercilessly. She noted your blissed expression and open mouth and gripped your jaw tightly, much rougher than Sharon had. She pulled your face down with your mouth still open and spat. You moaned as you tasted her saliva on your tongue and around your lips. You swallowed it eagerly making Carol beam internally, not that she could let you know that.

"Cum again for me whore. I get to do what I want with you. So you're going to keep cuming until I get bored. I don't give a fuck if you get tired." She spoke next to your ear, poison dripping from her words.

"So fucking cum."

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