#i had an office. i wore business casual.

[theduchessofnaxos]

I am at a strange point in my life where I am simultaneously a fully functional adult and a college student.

So I took vitamins and an omega 3 supplement this morning, but I washed them down with peach tea monster.

[gyuuberryy]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 !

pairing: venom!jay x reader

genre: venom au, one sided rivalry, loser!jay, office coworkers, superhero

synopsis: when a geeky coworker’s transformation catches your eye, curiosity leads to a discovery far darker—and more thrilling—than you ever imagined. now, blackmail has you entangled with jay and his possessive alter ego, venom, in a dangerous game neither of you wants to end.

warnings: kissing, fighting, venom??

note: where are my marvel girlies at whoo hoo! venom is so pookie and my biggest "hear me out" hehe he got me sobbing in the theatre. jay as venom would be SO hot kjvfbvnjb >< so i wrote this to make up for me going mia for a while, i have too much school work so writing will be slow. anyway enjoyyy reading!!

word count: 2.5k

your office life was a balancing act between emails, deadlines, and… keeping your one-sided rivalry with park jongseong alive. jay(as everyone else called him), with his slightly too-short ties and endearing but tragic fashion sense, was the clueless office geek. he was awkward, quiet, and too nice for his own good. yet, no matter how awkward he was, jay always managed to excel in everything he did, effortlessly snagging the praise you thought should have been yours.

what irritated you most was that jay never seemed to notice your rivalry. he was too busy offering you help or giving you his signature polite, bumbling smile. and sometimes, you’d even catch yourself watching him a little too closely, feeling a reluctant warmth for his harmless, good-guy charm.

one afternoon, you wandered over to his desk, smirking as you noticed his usual setup: notebooks organised to the millimetre, a stack of neatly sharpened pencils, and a sticky note that read “be confident!” in his looping handwriting.

he looked up as you approached, adjusting his slightly crooked glasses and giving you a shy smile.

“hey, park,” you began, leaning casually against his desk. “did you remember to double-check the new client report? i know how thorough you like to be.”

jay blinked, his cheeks turning pink. “y-yeah, i went over it twice… just to make sure everything was right.”

“of course you did,” you replied with a playful eye roll. “wouldn’t want our employee of the month slipping up, now would we?”

he smiled, looking down at his notebook. “just doing my best.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. for some reason, you loved seeing him blush, getting him all flustered with a few well-placed jabs. jay was sweet, awkward, and, despite your constant teasing, he never seemed to hold it against you.

but the next week, everything changed.

jay showed up to work that monday looking like a different person. gone were the slightly wrinkled shirts and too-short ties. instead, he wore a fitted, charcoal button-down with the top few buttons undone, revealing a silver chain against his collarbone. his sleeves were rolled up, showing his forearms in a way that made you do a double-take. and he’d traded his old glasses for sleek, dark-rimmed ones that suited him way too well, giving him a smouldering look.

you did a double take as he walked by, giving you a casual, confident nod. “morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth. the bumbling, endearing jay you knew was nowhere to be found.

you shook it off, convincing yourself it was just a fluke. but over the next few days, you couldn’t ignore the transformation.

he traded in his ill-fitting clothes for tailored shirts, stylish watches, and a few artfully unbuttoned collars that showed off his neck and a hint of muscle. it seemed like his glasses had now permanently changed, now sleek and sophisticated, accentuating his jawline in a way that made you, against your better judgement, find yourself staring a little too long.

and it wasn’t just his style—jay’s entire demeanour was different. instead of blushing and stuttering, he’d catch you looking, smirking with a confidence that left you flustered.

one afternoon, you approached him, determined to regain some control of the dynamic. “wow, park,” you said, crossing your arms. “fancy new look. trying to impress someone?”

he looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “why? is it working?”

your cheeks heated, but you forced a laugh. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“oh, i don’t need to,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “you do a pretty good job of that.”

his words left you speechless, your usual comebacks fizzling as he held your gaze with a smirk. flustered, you turned away, cursing under your breath.

when had park jongseong become… hot?

over the next week, his flirtations continued, growing bolder and more direct. every time you tried to tease him, he’d have a response that left you stumbling. gone was the stammering, geeky coworker you used to playfully bully; in his place was someone who knew exactly how to get under your skin, his newfound confidence throwing you off balance.

but one night after work, things took an unexpected turn.

you’d noticed him acting strange, glancing at his arms as though trying to keep something in check. he slipped out of the office quickly that evening, his face tense, and curiosity got the best of you. you followed him, keeping your distance as he made his way down the street, eventually ducking into a dark alleyway.

hiding behind the corner, you peeked around, pulling out your phone and hitting “record” just in case. what you saw left you speechless.

jay was standing in the middle of the alley, his body tense, his hands clutching his head. dark, inky shadows pulsed along his arms, twisting and curling like tendrils wrapping around him. his posture shifted, his shoulders straightening as the shadows coiled around his body, transforming him into something that was equal parts terrifying and mesmerising.

suddenly, jay let out a deep, guttural growl, his face contorting as sharp, gleaming fangs appeared, his once-soft eyes turning pitch black.

“finally,” a rough, raspy voice rumbled, oozing from jay’s mouth with a sinister excitement. “let’s go for a little… snack.”

a cold chill shot through you as you held up your phone, capturing the whole transformation on video. your heart was racing, but you couldn’t look away. whatever was happening to jay was unlike anything you’d ever seen.

as he turned, his gaze fell on the man who’d appeared in the alley, a figure holding a crowbar, his face twisted in anger. jay’s lips twisted into a wicked grin as he stalked toward the man, his voice dropping into a dark, predatory tone.

“ohhh, you picked the wrong guy to mess with tonight,” the voice sneered, dripping with a twisted glee. “i am going to enjoy this.”

the man froze, his face paling as jay’s shadows coiled around him, binding him in place. jay’s grin widened, his fangs gleaming as he leaned in close.

“run along, before i decide you’d make a nice little snack,” he growled, his voice a terrifying blend of jay’s and something far darker.

the man didn’t hesitate, stumbling away into the shadows. but as jay straightened, his gaze flickered over to you, and his eyes narrowed. in a heartbeat, he was in front of you, his inky black tendrils stretching out to trap you, pinning you against the wall.

you swallowed, trying to keep your breathing steady as he loomed over you, his dark, twisted grin sending a thrill of both fear and fascination through you.

“you… got that on video?” he murmured, his voice back to normal but tinged with a rough edge.

you held up your phone, smirking. “every second of it.”

his eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, and he leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “we could just… eat you, you know. save ourselves a lot of trouble.”

you raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “please. you didn’t even eat that guy. there’s no way you’d hurt me.”

he chuckled, the sound low and dark, his gaze flicking over your face. “hmm, true… i like you too much for that.”

the words left you breathless, your heart skipping a beat as you stared up at him, stunned. his face softened, a small, genuine smile replacing the sinister grin.

“so… about that video,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

regaining your composure, you smirked, crossing your arms as best you could with his tendrils pinning you to the wall. “i think i’ll keep it… as insurance. you know, just in case you feel like getting hungry again.”

he tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “so… what, you’re blackmailing me now?”

“exactly,” you replied, your grin widening. “you’re going to help me out with a few things, and i’m going to keep my mouth shut about your… secret.”

jay sighed, the shadows retracting as he released you, though he kept his gaze locked on yours. “fine. but don’t push it.”

you grinned, savouring the thrill of having the upper hand. “deal.”

over the next few weeks, you took full advantage of your “arrangement.” you had him running errands, fixing things around your apartment, and even carrying your heavy boxes at work. gone was the bumbling, geeky jay you’d known, replaced with someone who wielded both power and confidence—and didn’t hesitate to let you know it.

curiosity getting the best of you one day, you found yourself pulling him aside. “so… about your little… transformation,” you began, eyeing him carefully. “is he, like, a shadow monster or something?”

jay’s eyes widened, and he looked genuinely affronted. “shadow monster?” he repeated, crossing his arms. “he’s a symbiote. and he’s got a name, thank you very much.”

you raised an eyebrow. “a symbiote? i mean, he looks pretty shadowy to me.”

jay sighed, clearly unimpressed with your description. “no, he’s not ‘shadowy.’ he’s a sentient being that forms a bond with his host—me. he’s venom,” jay clarified, the name coming out almost reverently, and with a slight glint in his eye.

“oh, i see. so, he’s a person?”

“well, he has his own… opinions,” jay replied, wincing as he paused. “we’re a package deal, so to speak.”

“damn right, a package deal,” a deep, gravelly voice suddenly rumbled from within jay, and you felt a slight chill as the symbiote made its presence known.

you stared, both amazed and slightly unnerved. “oh… hey there, venom.”

venom chuckled, the sound reverberating low and menacing. “hello, sweetheart. i hear you think i’m a 'shadow monster.' "

jay rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly exasperated, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he said, “see? he doesn’t like being called that.”

you smirked, glancing at jay and then back at venom. “got it, venom,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice. “no shadow monster remarks. i’ll be sure to remember that.”

that evening, you called him over to help fix a squeaky window in your apartment. when he arrived, his sleeves were rolled up, and those dark tendrils emerged, forming into tools as he worked. you couldn’t help but watch, fascinated as he tightened the screws effortlessly, his movements precise and fluid.

he glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring. “see something you like, darling?” he teased, his voice low, laced with that familiar dark humour.

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “keep dreaming, park.”

jay smirked, his gaze flicking over you with a look that was anything but innocent. “oh, i don’t have to dream.”

your face heated, but before you could respond, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know, all you have to do is say the word.”

flustered, you quickly turned away, ignoring the smug grin on his face.

one night, as you were heading home from work, you felt someone following you. before you could react, a man grabbed your arm, yanking you into a dark alley. panic surged through you, your heart hammering as you struggled against his grip. but before you could scream, a low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows.

jay emerged from the darkness, his face twisted into a terrifying, fanged grin, his body wrapped in shadows that made him look both monstrous and mesmerising. he moved faster than you’d ever seen, dark tendrils coiling around the man’s arms, pinning him against the wall with a force that made your would-be attacker whimper.

“didn’t anyone tell you?” he snarled, his voice laced with dark satisfaction, his grin widening to show those gleaming fangs. “not to mess with what's ours.”

the man’s face turned ghostly white as he struggled against jay’s grip, terror flooding his eyes. jay’s smirk only grew, his shadowed form tightening its hold as he leaned in close, as if savouring every second of the man’s fear.

“i should just eat you,” jay’s voice growled, laced with menace and barely-concealed delight. “but you’re too pathetic for even a snack.” with a dismissive sneer, he released the man, letting him stumble away in blind terror, tripping over himself as he fled into the night.

when you looked back at jay, his inky tendrils had retracted, his monstrous form dissolving into something closer to the man you knew. yet his eyes still held that dangerous, possessive glint, and his breathing was still heavy, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, but with an edge of something raw and wild. his hand moved to rest on your arm, fingers lingering as if to reassure himself you were safe.

you nodded, swallowing as you tried to steady your breathing. “thanks to you…”

a wicked chuckle escaped him, his head tilting as his eyes darkened with a new, eerie glow. you could feel the presence of that “other” entity in him, lurking just beneath the surface. “oh, she’s safe with us,” it rumbled, making your skin prickle. “but i think she owes us something, don’t you, jay?”

jay’s gaze softened for a moment before that twisted smile took over again, his features shifting, the shadows flickering as he allowed his alter ego to take control.

“you really think i owe you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the thrill that coursed through you.

“absolutely,” jay, or rather venom replied, his grin widening. “we didn’t just save you. we protected what’s ours. and i think a little… reward is in order.”

you arched an eyebrow, unwilling to back down. “and what kind of reward does a shadow monster want?”

jay leaned closer, his breath warm and tinged with something dark. “i have a few ideas.” he chuckled, his sharp fangs glinting in the low light. “but don’t worry, sweetheart. we won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

your cheeks flushed despite yourself, but you kept your cool. “i don’t think you’re as scary as you want me to believe,” you teased, meeting his dark gaze. “you wouldn’t hurt me.”

his eyes gleamed with amusement. “oh, i could… but where’s the fun in that?” he tilted his head, observing you with a dark curiosity. “besides… jay likes you too much. and, maybe… so do i.”

the admission left you momentarily breathless, your heart pounding as you stared up at him. just as you were about to respond, his face softened, his gaze flicking to your lips before he leaned in.

without waiting another second, jay captured your mouth in a fierce, consuming kiss. the roughness in his embrace was offset by a possessive tenderness that made you melt, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you closer.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered between jay’s gentle warmth and venom’s dark amusement. “so, boss,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar, playful edge, “any other tasks?”

with a grin, you pulled him closer, “i think i can come up with a few.”

jay chuckled approvingly, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “good… because we’re just getting started.”

and with that, he leaned in once more, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that promised this was only the beginning of a thrilling, dangerous new game.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆����𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[natalievoncatte]

“What’s wrong with me, Alex?” Kara asked, swinging her feet in a childlike, nervous way as she sat on the exam table.

Kara watched her sister putter around the room. She’d activated the red lamps and taken blood samples, and the tubes were currently spinning away in centrifuges awaiting the various tests she would run. She’s listened to Kara’s lungs and checked her pulse and waved instruments about and taken her blood pressure.

Everything about her was well within Kryptonian norms. Her pulse was running around a hundred and ten at rest, which would be alarming for a human but was a tad slow for her, and her body temperature was at a perfect one-oh-one, again just right for the last daughter of Krypton. There was no issue with her processing of sunlight and no signs of radiation exposure, which had been her fear.

Specifically Kryptonite of the red variety.

Kara had been having intrusive thoughts. They’d started here and there months ago but she’d ignored them, writing them off as some odd byproduct of fatigue or stress.

“You can go for now, kiddo,” said Alex. “I’ll let you know when the results come in.”

Alex looked more bemused than anything- probably because Kara showed no signs of actual sickness and had been cagey and indirect about her symptoms. There was a reason for that.

It became unbearable for her yesterday when Lena dropped by her office. Lena had been dressed in Kara’s favorite work ensemble, a green sweater that bared deep cleavage, a pencil skirt, and sheer silk stockings. She’d had her hair up in a meticulous bun and wore a rich plum red lipstick and smoky eyes, looking more sexpot than CEO.

Kara had barely been able to keep a straight face and make conversation. The mere presence of the other woman in the room made her heart pound and created an unbearable tension in her belly and between her thighs. Her eyes kept falling back to the pale inviting column of her throat or the lush inner curves of her breasts. Kara couldn’t stop imagining a bead of sweat rolling down between them. She couldn’t stop thinking about pressing her tongue to the flesh there and catching it, tasting the pearly bead and following its slick trail up to Lena’s throat while her chest heaved against her.

That was a problem, because those were not normal Kara thoughts. Those were not normal Kryptonian thoughts. Kryptonians did not think about those things, especially with members of the same gender. It had come with that same aching feeling between her legs that Kara had been fighting since she arrived on Earth and was dealing with now, just thinking about thinking about Lena.

Worse, Lena would be there tonight at movie night. It was an all girl’s night so it would just be Alex and Nia watching movies with them; Brainy was busy and Kelly was out of town for an academic conference and they were really just keeping Alex company.

Kara’s mind was a train wreck. She couldn’t stop thinking about Casual Lena. When she dressed down in her big sweaters and leggings and let down her hair in soft waves, she was so tiny and cute and small and Kara just wanted to eat her all up and… feel her from the inside, listen to her cries of ecstasy as Kara got creative and *relieved that fucking pressure between her legs*.

Ack! Stop it!

She had to be sick, or infected with a transdimensional parasite, or under a magic spell, or microdosed with red Kryptonite because KRYPTONIANS DID NOT HAVE THESE THOUGHTS.

So, she went for a fly to clear her head.

She ended up going hypersonic and landing at the Fortress, where she picked up the fifty thousand ton key and let herself in. Thankfully, Clark wasn’t there, so she had the vast place to herself.

The Archive here had a simpler interface, she wouldn’t have to ask a holographic version of her mother why she wanted to know what Lena’s sweat tasted like and pin her down on the sofa in her office and do things to her.

“Greetings, Kara Zor-El. How may I assist you?”

Kara looked at the hovering holographic sphere and described her symptoms, holding nothing back. It hovered there all hovery for a moment.

“What you describe sounds similar in principle to afflictions that affected ancient Kryptonians, especially under a yellow sun. Our ancestors often embraced perverse and hedonistic lusts before embracing the perfection of logic and self-discipline. However, you cannot be experiencing these unnatural and incorrect attractions, as they had been bred out of our people by the breeding program. Attraction to members of the same sex and metamorphic reproductive capability have been deemed eradicated by the Science Guild.”

“Metamorphic capabilities?!”

“Some of the ancestors possessed the ability to adapt physically to their preferred partner with the aid of yellow solar wavelengths. This is no longer possible.”

Kara chewed her lip.

The words rang in her skull. Unnatural. Illogical. It made her sound like some… like some abomination, a monster from ancient times. A tightness formed in her chest tears welled in her eyes. Was she like this? Was she broken? An aberration? Some crude vile thing with the instincts and lusts of a Daxamite? Was she broken?

She left the Fortress in a tearful rush and again she flew, too fast. Her phone started going off in the hidden pocket on the flank of her suit and she lighted on a building in Seattle to answer.

“Kara, where the hell are you?” said Alex. “Lena showed up at your place and you weren’t there and we’ve both been panic calling you.”

“I’m sorry, I was at the Fortress, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Her voice was high and pained.

Alex’s reply was soft. “Come home, Kara. We need to talk.”

Kara nodded to no one. “I’m on my way.”

She made the trip back a bit slower, honing in on Alex’s heartbeat to find her at the DEO, still in the lab. When she walked in, Alex gestured to the exam table and Kara sat down.

“What is it?” Kara almost pleaded. “Alex, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Kara, listen to me,” said Alex, taking both of Kara’s hands. “Look at me, okay.”

Kara looked at her.

“There is nothing wrong with you. I shared the results of the test with Eliza and we went over it in detail. You’re completely fine.”

“I can’t be,” Kara protested. “There has to be a reason why I’m having these thoughts, Alex!”

Pulling her hands free, she jolted to her feet and began to pace.

“There has to be. I have to be sick or messed up somehow. Kryptonians don’t have feelings like this!”

Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

“Kara, listen to me, okay? You’re not sick. You’re not broken. Your best friend is a stunningly beautiful woman and adore each other. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on her.”

“It’s not a crush!” Kara almost shouted. “It’s more than that and it’s scaring me. What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt her? What if she sees me looking and she thinks I’m a monster that wants to prey on her?”

Alex’s expression softened. She took a few steps, arrested Kara’s pacing, and pulled her into a bear hug.

“I know how it feels, Kara. I promise you you’re not a predator and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Kryptonians can’t be gay.”

“Says who?”

“Everybody! The computer! The rules! I don’t know,” The last words came as a broken whimper, and Kara sagged against her sister.

“What about this, Kara. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara pulled back in a daze, staring at nothing. Since she came to Earth, she’d embraced it with her whole self. As loath as she was to admit it, she loved it here. This world was so free, full of wonders and majesty for all its problems. Kara had never once questioned her love for her sister. If Alex could be gay, why not Kara? There was no science council here, no one to ordain who she must marry and breed with.

Why not?

She felt dizzy, and strangely relaxed, as if she’d just heaved a massive weight off her shoulders.

Alex offered her a tissue and she dried her tears.

“Go get the girl,” said Alex. “I’ll call Nia and tell her you need some alone time.”

Kara nodded, and felt half in a daze as she left the infirmary. She stepped out onto the balcony and texted Lena, can I come over?

Lena replied immediately, Yes.

Kara’s heart hammered her ribs as she landed on the balcony. Lena rushed to the door and threw it open, ushering her inside. Kara stepped into the living room of the penthouse and stumbled to a stop.

Lena was dressed down and so soft, from the mop of her wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail to her cashmere sweater down the length of her toned legs to her bare feet.

“What’s wrong?”

As Lena asked, she darted forward, offering a hug. Kara gingerly let herself be pulled into the embrace, hesitant at first. Lena dove into her, throwing herself into the hug as if she wanted to climb inside Kara. Kara wrapped her in her arms and drew her cape around them both. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lena’s feet being cold, about wanting to make her warm.

Before she answered, Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed deep. Lena’s scent hit her like a train. It was like swallowing a mouthful of alien rum, filling her chest with a spreading warmth and making her head swim.

“I’ve been trying to work some things out, and I was scared, so I ran off to the Fortress. I’m sorry.”

Lena pulled back gently and looked up at her. They were so close. Lena’s big, pretty blue-green eyes were full of worry but dark, her pupils blown.

“What’s bothering you? I’ll throw money at it until it goes away.”

Kara swallowed, hard. “I don’t want it to go away.”

Lena arched a brow. “Oh?”

Kara licked her lips and as she did, Lena’s eyes darted and followed the motion of her tongue. Kara was suddenly away of Lena’s hands resting just above her hips now, the way that her hugs and touches always seemed to trend lower, the casual way that Lena leaned into her as she looked up.

She bit her lip and Kara almost died.

“I think I like girls,” Kara blurted out.

“You certainly like my girls, Kara Danvers. You can’t stop looking.”

“You noticed?” Kara squeaked.

“Kara, darling, you’ve been staring at them for thirty seconds just now.”

Kara’s gaze snapped up.

“I’m sorry, I, oh Rao oh God, Lena.”

Lena curled her fingers around Kara’s chin and tilted her head back down.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice? The day we met you paid more attention to my boobs than my business card.”

“You gave me a business card?”

“See what I mean?”

Kara swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Lena’s thumb grazed her jaw and Kara thought her heart might go off like a bomb in her chest. She shuddered and her toes curled in her boots.

“I’ve been teasing you for years,” she said, “I’d almost given up hope. I wouldn’t be the first disaster bisexual to nurse a futile crush on her best friend.”

Kara swallowed hard. “So should we like go on a date?”

Lena’s fingers traced down her neck, then along the ridge of her collarbone.

“I was thinking more Netflix and chill. I know and trust you, Kara. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count, I’m ready now if you are.”

“Ready?” Kara squeaked.

“So are you, I think,” said Lena.

She rolled her hips and Kara immediately realized what she meant and what the Archive meant by her body adapting.

“Ohshit,” Kara chirped. “Oh God Lena I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I didn’t mean to-“

Lena lunged and suddenly they were kissing. Lena’s lips were so soft and she was intoxicating. Kara pulled her into an embrace, almost lifted her off the floor as she kissed her back. Lena threw one leg up and hooked it wound her hip, and Kara instinctively scooped her up and felt a jolt through her body as Lena then wrapped both legs around her waist.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Lena panted. “Oh God, Kara. Bedroom. Now. Please.”

“You want…”

“Yes! What are you fucking waiting for?”

Later, hours later, Kara lay in Lena’s bed, while Lena slept blissfully next to her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. She looked over at her and tucked the sheets and blankets up close around her chin and smoothed stray strands of hair back from her eyes. Lena made a small sound, and curled around Kara’s side.

Kryptonians, it turned out, could be very good at being gay.

[ghsface]

I CAN SEE YOU - spencer reid

summary: You watched him from a distance, dreaming of a moment when you could muster the courage to talk to him beyond the professional.

warnings: spencer reid x bau!fem reader ,kissing and I think that's all, if I'm missing something let me know.

author's note: The only thing I can do when I listen to this song is imagine Spencer, idk why this reminds me so much of him. I hope you like it and I'm sorry if there are mistakes/misspelled words, my native language is not English.🎀

All the friction in the hallways when you found him going to get some files or when you were going to see Penelope, all the stolen glances that you noticed almost every day when you were at your desk, even when they were on the Jet, he never took your eyes off.

The FBI office in Quantico was bustling with constant activity, but you were always lost in thought while pretending to review a file. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander to Spencer Reid, the genius of the team, who was sitting at his desk, engrossed in his books or his work.

You saw it every day, noticing the small details that others overlooked. The way he bit his lip when he was focused, how his fingers played with his hair when he was nervous.

There was something hypnotic about him, something that made you feel an inexplicable connection. But you always lacked the courage. You didn't want to risk your professional friendship, or your place on the team, for feelings that might not be reciprocated.

That afternoon, after a particularly tiring day, you found yourself reviewing some reports at your desk, trying to keep yourself busy. Most of the office had already left, leaving you alone with your group mates, leaving the place a little silent. You realized Spencer was there too, working on a file.

"Hi, Spence," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached his desk. The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, y/n,” he responded, his tone relaxed but attentive. "I thought you had already gone"

"No, I don't have to do three reports yet, it's like it's never going to end," you said, smiling warmly but with noticeable tiredness on your face.

Conversation flowed effortlessly as you shared stories and laughter as the two of you completed your reports. You felt more and more comfortable around him, and the connection you felt was palpable. As the afternoon wore on, you noticed a growing tension in the air, an implicit desire that you both seemed to share.

But all this was interrupted when you had to go get a file. "I have to go get a file," you said, getting up from your chair. "Wait, I'll come with you anyway, I am missing a file to finish this," he said, getting up and following you to the room where all the files were.

The filing room was dark and lined with shelves, and the atmosphere was filled with a tension that had nothing to do with work.

As we reviewed the files we were looking for, the conversation flowed naturally. We talked about books, movies, and of course the case we were reporting on.

Suddenly, I found a file that looked promising, but it was on a high shelf. I asked Spencer to help me reach it. As he reached out to grab it, I lost my balance and fell backwards. Just before I hit the ground, I felt Spencer's arms wrap around me, cushioning my fall.

"Are you OK?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I nodded, feeling my heart beat faster than usual, not only from the shock, but also from the sudden closeness to Spencer. His eyes were shining with a mix of concern and something else she couldn't identify.

We stayed in that position for a moment, and the air between us was charged with a tension I had never felt before. Slowly, Spencer helped me to my feet, but his hands remained on my arms, as if he didn't want to let me go.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, a shy but genuine smile that made my heart beat even faster. Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned towards him. Spencer didn't pull away, instead he closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, filled with a suppressed emotion that had been building for a long time.

The kiss intensified quickly. We moved to a corner of the file room, out of sight of anyone who might enter. Our bodies joined in a dance of desire, the outside world fading as we gave ourselves to each other. Passion drove us to undo buttons and explore with trembling hands, desire growing with every second.

Just when the moment seemed like it was going to end in something more, a noise outside the room made us stop abruptly. We looked at each other, both out of breath and with flushed cheeks.

"We should stop," Spencer said, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

I nodded, trying to regain my composure. We made up the best we could and parted ways, knowing that what had just happened would change our relationship forever.

Leaving the archive room, we meet the team. Derek looked at us with an amused smile.

"Where have you been?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and a mischievous smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks blush, but before I could respond, Spencer took the initiative.

"Checking some important files," he said, with an enigmatic smile.

The team accepted the explanation, although not without some suspicious looks. As the night wore on, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the file room. It was an intense and beautiful, albeit interrupted, moment that marked the beginning of something new and exciting between Spencer and I, something I was eager to explore further.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Months later...

From that day on, Spencer and I began a secret relationship. We kissed in hidden places in the office, taking advantage of every opportunity to be together without being seen. Meetings became an excuse to brush hands under the table, and coffee breaks were furtive moments of quick kisses in deserted hallways.

One night while working late, we met again in the file room. The tension between us was palpable, and we couldn't resist. Spencer cornered me against a bookshelf, his lips meeting mine in a hungry kiss. His hands explored my body urgently, and I found myself responding with the same intensity.

"We have to be careful," Spencer whispered against my lips, his breathing ragged.

"I know," I replied, my fingers tangling in his hair, "but I can't help it."

Our secret romance continued, each encounter filled with the thrill of the forbidden. Despite the risks, neither of them wanted to stop. The passion we shared was too strong, and every kiss and caress only fueled our desire more.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly☆

[remlionheart]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[cheolism]

tilf: teacher i'd like to fuck

➳ former student! hoshi x professor! reader ➳ summary: the day after graduation, soonyoung visits your office to tell you about his secret feelings. ➳ wc is approx 6k ➳ warnings/tags: professor/former student relationship, use of the "professor" title sexually, hoshi leaning into the idea of the two of you fucking while he was your student. office sex, desk sex, pull-out method, fingering and oral (f rec.), confessions and relationship discussion. talk of having feelings for a student, for a teacher. marks and bruises, pussy slapping, crying during sex, hoshi is obsessed with you. good luck. lots of dirty talk from hoshi. mentions of breeding/mounting. reader wears panties, long skirt and blouse, but no gender is explicitly mentioned. panty sniffing, name/identity porn (iykyk). metaphors to sex being paradise, heavenly, etc. ➳ MDNI. if you don't like this sort of thing, do not read. ➳ author's note: no one asked for this but i got this idea and got. cough. fixated on it. pls enjoy!!

soonyoung had been looking forward to this day for over a year.

a lot of college students tend to look forward to their graduation. they were ready to take on the world, ready to become fully independent adults who no longer were totally reliant on the generosity of family members and the government. soonyoung, however, looked forward to his graduation day for another reason.

you.

you were, in soonyoung's eyes, the most perfect a person could be. you always smiled at him when he greeted you, always let him talk out his ideas without interrupting him. he adored the sheepish, coyish look you got whenever he brought you your favorite drink from the university's coffee shop.

but he also loved how you looked. he loved it when you wore more casual looks, trading in your business slacks for jeans. he loved when you would turn, showing off the shape of your thighs and ass and how your jeans seemed to hug the shape of you so tightly it was as if they were a second skin. he loved it when you wore that white blouse with the lace around the collar, how it showed the top of the valley between your tits.

but more than just being attracted to you physically, soonyoung loved spending time with you. he tried to be the first person to tell you hello every morning, tried to come up with reasons as to why he needed to meet you after class, as to why he needed to stop by your office for extra help.

because, unfortunately, you were his anthropology professor.

a year ago he had needed a social science credit, and so had signed up for a random class. it was, as it turned out, the best decision soonyoung ever made. because on the first day he walked into the classroom and he saw you.

he remembered how beautiful you looked on that first day. smiling brightly, hair falling around your face angelically. you had asked his name and he had eagerly offered it, so much so that chan, who was taking the class with him, laughed at him later.

"soonyoung's got a crush on the professor," chan accused that night. seungkwan had given soonyoung a disapproving glare, which cause soonyoung to gasp in offense.

"i'm not going to actually do anything," soonyoung said. "i don't want to get professor in trouble, anyways. i'll wait until i graduate like a good person would."

"a good person wouldn't get the hots for their teacher," seungkwan snapped back. but then again, seungkwan had been the one to go out and help soonyoung in picking out the flowers he would give to you, so obviously seungkwan wasn't too disapproving.

that first semester passed too quickly in soonyoung's opinion. he hated it. he hated how the more he seemed to adore you, the more his heart began to swell and warm at the thought of you, the faster time went. nonetheless, regardless of his affections, the semester ended and you took soonyoung aside.

"i know we're not supposed to do this," you had said, voice soft. you reached into your bag and pulled out a chocolate bar, offering it to soonyoung with wide eyes. "but i really enjoyed having you in class, soonyoung. you always seemed to brighten my day."

that afternoon soonyoung signed up for a different one of your classes the following semester.

and so a year had passed with soonyoung admiring you from afar, signing up for your classes at the end of each semester and trying to hide the way you made his heart flutter and his dick swell.

("we really didn't need to know that," wonwoo had whined, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed at his face in distress. "just keep your horny thoughts to yourself, thanks.")

but! it was now the day after graduation, which meant soonyoung was free from both the chains of the education system and the restraints that kept him from telling you of his feelings.

he was so excited that he nearly tripped going up the stairs of the social science building. someone called after him but soonyoung just waved them on, gripping the bouquet a little tighter and trying to regulate his breathing.

it was fine, he thought. either you would let him whisk you off your feet into an eternity of love and passion or you'd politely smile at him and turn him down.

it was fine.

it was all fine.

the halls were cool as he walked down them, nearly abandoned. most of the students were at their living spaces, packing them up and saying goodbyes to their friends. professors and faculty were busy at their desks, doing whatever it was that professors and faculty did when they weren't instructing.

and soonyoung was here, on his way to confess to you.

he wondered what he should say, exactly. he hadn't given it much thought, but at the same time he had. he had thought enough about how you would react to his words, to his heartfelt confession, but hadn't really thought about what those words would be.

maybe he should've asked jihoon to help him write you a song.

but then he was outside of your office door, heart hammering in his ears so loudly that he couldn't even think, and soonyoung swallowed down all of his panic and stress and raised his fist to the door.

"coming!" you called from the other side, and soonyoung felt himself smile. he couldn't help it, really. the sound of your voice was like fuel to him, fueling the flames of his heart.

wait -- that was good. maybe that's what he should tell you.

you opened the door, eyes immediately finding his. you smiled, your entire face brightening, and fuck if soonyoung wasn't in love then he would have been just by your grin.

"soonyoung!" you said, leaning against your door. "you're early! your email said you would be here closer to one."

"ah," he said, searching his mind for an excuse. in the end, all he said was something about being excited. you accepted his words nonetheless with a soft grin, nodding along.

your eyes flicked down to the flowers. soonyoung gasped, and then shoved out his hands. "these -- these are for you!"

"thank you," you returned, smiling still. you reached out for the flowers and took them, and soonyoung felt as if he was going to go crazy when he could literally feel the graze of your fingers against his. "they're beautiful, soonyoung."

"i remember you saying they were your favorite flowers," he said. you stepped aside, waving him inside of your office. soonyoung ducked in, immediately feeling himself relax once he was in your space. he had been in your office numerous times, enough to where he felt as if he knew it just as well as you did. "i hope i was right."

"you were," you murmured, looking down at the blossoms. soonyoung's heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird as you slowly lifted the flowers to your nose, sniffing.

"do they smell good?"

"well," you began, eyes flicking up to his. "they smell like flowers."

soonyoung laughed, feeling himself relax even more. he watched as you left the door, letting it slowly creak shut behind you. you went to your desk, gently laying the bouquet beside your computer. "thank you for bringing these for me, soonyoung. it was awfully sweet of you. then again," you said, your smile turning coyish, "you've been awfully sweet to me this entire time. bringing me drinks in the morning, walking me to my car at night."

soonyoung shrugged. your smile and eyes were doing something to him. "it's how a lady should be treated."

"ah," you said, biting down on your lip. he couldn't bring his eyes from your mouth, how your teeth played with it. "and that's what i've been this whole time, hm? a lady, not a professor."

soonyoung felt his face fall slightly. "wait -- i don't -- i mean -- yes, you're a lady, but you're also --"

you laughed then, loudly and brightly. soonyoung felt his panic melt away as you leaned into his space, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "it's all right, soonyoung. i know what you meant."

you began moving back and away, and soonyoung just couldn't help but reach out, grabbing your hand before you could retract it all the way. he squeezed your hand between both of his, feeling his heart rise up into his throat. "wait. i need to tell you something."

you blinked, surprised. "okay?"

"i -- you probably get this all the time," he said, laughing sheepishly. "probably get students telling you this every other week. but i want you to know i'm not like the others, you know? i don't want something that lasts just a semester -- that's why i waited, yeah? and not just for fun -- because i think we can have fun, but i don't want it to be just for fun. i think we can have something, the two of us --"

"what?" you gasped, breath leaving you in a rush. soonyoung glanced up at your face. your eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. "soonyoung, what are you talking about?"

soonyoung laughed weakly and awkwardly, loosening his grip on your hands. "uh. about my feelings for you?"

"your feelings for me," you echoed, brows furrowed as you tried to work out what he was saying. "which are -- what? just to be clear."

soonyoung sucked in a breath. "uh. i thought the flowers would've like, you know, done the talking for me."

you blinked at him, still confused. "the flowers? what talking, soonyoung? why did you bring me flowers if not as -- do you -- soonyoung?"

you gasped out his name as if he had done something scandalous which, all things considered, he had. a former student who waited a day after graduating to chase after his professor? what was he thinking?

"i --" he choked, and then soonyoung completely retracted from you. he made himself small, bringing his shoulders in and tucking his hands in his pockets. "i uh, you know. like you."

"you have to be very clear with me, soonyoung," you said. you moved towards him. not enough to be in his space, but enough to make his heart flutter again. "like me how."

"like -- romantically."

you echoed him, nodding slightly. then you brought your hands together, rubbing at your knuckles. "okay. so -- soonyoung --"

"wait," he called out, feeling his nerves spike. "if you're going to reject me, just like -- kick me in the ass and get me out, okay? don't try to sugarcoat it. i can take it. i'm a grown man."

"i'm not going to reject you, soonyoung," you said. "i just. i need to say something, okay? i just need you to listen to me."

soonyoung nodded, his heart speeding up in his chest. you weren't rejecting him. you were giving him a chance. "okay. i'll be quiet. promise."

you threw him a fond look, and then you schooled your face into a much more serious look. "okay. i need you to know that i'm -- i'm attracted to you, soonyoung. i have been ever since you helped me carry in those boxes last semester."

soonyoung mentally applauded himself for wearing a tank top that day. it was hot, the sun beating down on him. you had been going back and forth from your old office to this one, having been moved. and of course soonyoung had to help, doing all the heavy lifting so you wouldn't have to lift a pretty muscle.

"and i do think of you," you carried on, "i do. i -- it's stupid, it's reckless. but i think of you all the time. i nearly got you a tiger stuffie the other day just because you said they were your favorite animal, but that wouldn't be appropriate for a professor to get their student, would it?"

soonyoung opened his mouth. he would've loved a stuffed tiger from you!

but then you shot him a look, and he obediently quieted back down. "not done talking, soonyoung. as i was saying: i do think of you. i think of you a lot. when you wear those tank tops during class i can't think. and when you smile and your eyes crinkle, or when you get that serious look in your eyes? you're -- you're attractive, soonyoung. i'd have to be a fool to not see that.

"but, as attracted as i am to you, as much of a soft spot i have," you carried on, hands still fidgeting. "i think you might have a false perception of me. i'm -- you've only ever encountered me, been with me, in a professional teacher-student setting. you don't know me, soonyoung, not truly, and not as a person, as an individual."

soonyoung couldn't keep quiet. he took a quick step across the room, into your space, his hands swooping down to yours and holding them. "i want to! that's what dating is for, baby! i get to know you as a person, you get to know me. i learn about your likes and dislikes as a person and you forget about all the stupid grammar errors i made in essays! it's perfect!"

"and i am -- i was -- your professor, soonyoung," you murmured. you didn't take your hands from his, which he took as a positive. you shifted your hands so your fingers were laced with his, thumbs softly rubbing at his skin. "people aren't going to look too favorably on that, soonyoung. what about your parents."

he shrugged. "i'll tell them the truth. i kept my feelings to myself until i graduated from uni. there's nothing wrong with this, professor."

you shot him a look. he retracted, repeating the last sentence softly, tacking on your name at the end. it felt sweet, the taste of your name, felt right for him to use it.

he sighed softly. soonyoung moved closer, letting the tip of his nose pressed against yours. you let out a soft gasp and he couldn't help but smile. "i'm a grown man, y/n. let me get to know you, you get to know me. and then decide. let's have a chance before we throw it all away."

you breathed against him, eyes fluttering shut. he felt you nod against his head, and then you were pressing close, and who was soonyoung to protest? he was a man, weak with love, and so he took you into his arms and pressed his nose to your hairline, breathing you in, soaking in your embrace.

he had dreamed of this for over a year. a year he had kept his feelings away from you, not wanting to plague you with them. it was a burden he kept for a year, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with them.

but now --

soonyoung pulled away. you made a soft little questioning noise, and lifted your eyes to meet his. you were so soft, eyes sweet and mouth parted, pressed to him and, in that moment, his.

soonyoung lifted his hand and cupped the back of your neck, fingertips sinking into your hair. he guided your face to his, and when your lips met he swore it was destiny. for a moment the two of you just stilled, mouths pressed together in an innocent kiss.

but then you murmured his name, and soonyoung was hooked. he began pressing desperate, quick kisses to your lips, each movement of his mouth against yours slick. he kissed you with a year's worth of feelings bubbling over, one arm around your waist and the other on your neck, molding your body to his, letting him own you.

eventually you whimpered, breaking your mouth from his. his eyes caught sight of the string of saliva that connected your lips to his and he couldn't help but chase after it, press another wet kiss to your lower lip and suck.

"soonyoung," you mumbled, lashes fluttering. he continued to press quick kisses to your mouth, never letting up and not letting you speak. your mouth was addicting, he swore. he'd wanted to kiss you for forever, ever since that day you had whipped cream from your hot chocolate still on the bottom of your lip as you taught class, but he'd waited. he'd been a good boy and waited, and now he didn't have to and he wondered if that made the taste of your mouth and spit all the sweeter.

"'m here," he returned, voice just as slow. he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then he was trailing his lips over your face. he was mapping out the rise of your cheeks, the slope of your nose with his mouth. "i'm here, baby."

"my name," you argued weakly. both of your hands went to his sleeves, gripping at his t-shirt, and if his dick wasn't interested before it definitely was now. he loved how you held him, as if you were just as desperate as he was, as if you had battled with your feelings this entire time just as much as he had. "say my name, soonyoung. please?"

he whispered your name, letting it tumble from his lips like a prayer. and then soonyoung was chanting it like he was a monk and you were his god, his mouth hot against your skin, reverent, worshiping.

"soon -- soonyoung," you moaned, pulling back. your mouth was red from his kisses, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. you were absolutely gorgeous. "soonyoung, you said you wanted to have fun, yeah?"

and then he was kissing you again, mouth like a storm against yours. he shoved his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours. his hand went beneath your blouse, hiking it up and allowing him to glide his hand against your skin, grabbing at your stomach and waist. soonyoung walked you back until you were pressed against your desk, and then he detached his mouth from yours.

soonyoung made quick work of your blouse, fingers deftly pushing out the buttons. he let your blouse hang from your shoulders as his hands explored your chest, pressing against your breasts and grabbing at your hips. his mouth traveled to your neck, drawing out a loud gasp from you, and you tilted your head back, allowing him to make a mess of your throat.

he sucked and bit at your neck, marking it as his. he pressed heavy kisses to your skin, his hands quick against your body. your hands went to his shoulders, pulling at him, his name like a blessing as you chanted it.

then soonyoung pulled from you. he lifted you onto your desk, one of his hands forcing your long skirt up and up and up, baring your calves and then your knees and then your beautiful thighs.

"can i take your panties off?" he asked, breathless. he couldn't help but drink in your skin, eyes traveling over your thighs and stomach. "wanna stick my fingers in your cunt, professor."

you whimpered. "my name, soonyoung."

"sorry," he breathed, ducking to attach his mouth to your neck once again. he spoke between every kiss. "let me take your panties off, yeah? i've been dying to fuck you for months, baby. please? i'll be so good for you. promise."

you pressed your eyes shut, and then you were nodding. you lifted yourself off of the desk just enough to allow soonyoung to pull your panties (plain and practical, a pretty lilac cotton) down. he got them off of you and then, unable to help himself, lifted them up to his mouth and breathed.

you squealed, reaching out and smacking his arm. soonyoung ignored you for a moment, letting his eyes slide shut as he breathed in your heady scent. he was surrounded in you, breathing you in and out, your smell like heaven.

"soonyoung!" you protested, reaching for him again. you pulled at his arms and he let you, dropping your panties to the ground. "that's dirty!"

he laughed, helping you back on top of your desk. "i plan to do dirtier things than just smelling your wet panties, baby," he declared. you grinned, embarrassed and enthused at the same time. soonyoung couldn't help but press his mouth to yours again, languidly moving his lips against yours.

while he thoroughly kissed you, his hands went to your thighs. for a few moments all he did was massage your flesh, thumb digging in and fingers splayed. he felt the little hairs of your thighs, dipped his fingers in and brushed against your soft inner thighs. you were soft and plush beneath him, and he quickly found himself addicted to running his hands over your skin, brushing over your small hairs.

you whined at the back of your throat, and then you were opening your thighs for him. you moved your mouth from his with a slick noise, and, with a bashful look, grabbed his hand. soonyoung's breath left him as you guided his hand to your cunt. you gasped as his fingers brushed over your pussy, fingers tightening around his wrist.

soonyoung took over from there. he couldn't help but stare at your cunt, his fingers gently pressing against your cunt. "so fucking pretty," he mumbled, thumb and forefinger gently coming together on your mound and pinching ever-so-slightly. "even down here is pretty, professor."

you let out a small moan. the desk creaked beneath you as you moved back, hands bracing behind you. soonyoung couldn't help but take you in; the way your blouse hung from your torso, the hickies and bites on your neck and collar. you looked, to him, like paradise.

soonyoung went back to your cunt. he dipped his thumb between your lips, sucking in a heavy breath as your warmth trapped him. you were wet, and he couldn't help but bring his thumb up to his mouth and suck at your juices, groaning.

"soonyoung," you hissed. "that's  -- that's dirty!"

he laughed, and tucked his hand back to your cunt. his mouth went to yours, and he kissed you, hoping you could taste yourself on his tongue.

soonyoung's fingers dipped into your pussy. he took his time with your cunt and pleasure, unhurried. he stroked his hand down your cunt, gently pressed his forefingers into your quivering hole. your moans and gasps were music to his ears, and he played you beautifully. when he slipped two of his fingers into your cunt your mouth dropped open, eyes squeezing shut, and he couldn't help but wish he had a phone to take a picture of you.

your cunt was welcoming, eagerly guiding his fingers deeper and deeper, as if they were his cock and you were eager to be bred. he kept his mouth on your skin as he worked his fingers in you, spreading out your walls, gliding in and out, in and out, coaxing more wetness from your cunt.

he avoided your core, that special spot towards the front of your body. soonyoung took care to brush against it, a passing graze of his finger. he wouldn't let you cum, not yet.

"please," you whined after the nth time of him avoiding your core. "please, soonyoung. you're -- you're being mean."

he hummed, ducking his head and pressing his mouth to the top of your bra. "i don't think i am, sweet professor," he returned, voice sweet. "you're being so good for me, baby. whining and moaning, grinding into my hand. is it so bad that i don't want it to end? that i want you to keep fucking my fingers in you, that i want to keep hearing you beg?"

you furrowed your brows, looking up at him. your eyes were slightly wet with pent-up irritation, lips pressed in a firm line. despite your annoyance with soonyoung, when he drew his hands from your cunt your hips followed, eager for him to thrust them back in.

"please," you begged once more, sucking in your bottom lip. "please, soonyoung. i just -- i've waited so long, i want you to fuck me."

like a dog given a treat, soonyoung perked up. he grinned. he shifted his hand inside of you, drawing out a low moan. his thumb moved into your cunt, sliding between your pussy lips. "you've waited so long for me to fuck you," he cooed, voice sickly sweet, "tell me, professor. how long?"

you whined again, but when soonyoung refused to move, you relented. "the -- that day you helped me with the boxes. i felt so guilty, soonyoung. you were my student, and there i was ogling you like you were some -- some treat."

he laughed, using his free hand to brush back some hair that was beginning to stick to your forehead from sweat. "i'm happy you were so captivated by me," he softly murmured, thumb brushing over your lips. "thought i was a treat, did you? a special little treat for a good girl? a delicious little dessert for a little professor."

you shook your head. "no!"

soonyoung chuckled again. he worked his fingers in and out of you slowly, the sound of your juices lewd even to his ears -- but he loved it all the same. "poor little me," he taunted, "the unsuspecting student. just trying to help out my favorite teacher, just trying to be a good boy. and there you were, eyeing me like some piece of candy."

you whimpered. "i didn't -- i wouldn't have done anything."

soonyoung clicked his tongue. he moved his face to yours, pressing his forehead against yours. his breath was hot as he spoke. "you should've," he mumbled, voice low. "should've done something, professor. should've taken me to your office, should've locked the door and told me to fuck you. should've said you would've raised my grade if i fucked you well enough -- i would've done it, too.

"would've fucked you so good," he carried on, his words sinful. "would've fucked you on the floor, would've fucked your cute little cunt so good you would've cried."

he picked up the pace of his fingers thrusting inside of you, unable to keep himself from growing excited at the thought of you taking advantage of him. it never would've happened; you were too logical, too aware of your status above him. you never would've made a move on soonyoung as long as he was your student, and he would bet that if he hadn't come to your office and told you his feelings you would've bottled them up and set them aside, not wanting to burden a former student of yours.

not that you were ever a burden to him.

but, despite knowing all of this, soonyoung's mind continued to conjure up old fantasies, ones that plagued him at horrible moments and made his cock swell. "i thought about fucking you during class, you know. especially when you wore your skirts, professor. thought about pressing you over that desk in the front with everyone watching, jealous that it was me fucking our cute little teacher. would've fucked you so good and made you cry, too."

you let out a dry sob, and when his thumb grinded down on your clit, you came. your cunt tightened around his fingers, gripping them as if they were his cock instead. you fell back against the desk, arms collapsing. soonyoung hurried to wrap an arm around you, his fingers thrusting into you still, working you through your orgasm.

when he finally pulled his hand from your cunt, once you had begun shuddering and whining, his hand was soaked. he splayed his fingers, watching as thick strings of your juices and orgasm traveled, sliding down his fingers.

soonyoung let out a soft groan, and then he sucked his fingers into his mouth. he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut at your taste, loving how much you were. your cunt was fragrant, filling the air and his senses, and your taste was so delightfully bitter and sweet that he couldn't help but slide his tongue around his fingers, searching for more and more.

you whined, pulling at his hand. soonyoung opened his eyes, letting his fingers fall from his mouth with a pop. his heart thundered in his chest as you moved his hand to your mouth, pressing them into your warm heat and suckling.

"fuck," he groaned, voice going hoarse. your eyes slid shut as you ran your tongue over his digits, tasting him. "you --"

you pulled his fingers from your mouth. "me what?"

he laughed, and then his hands were on your body again. he maneuvered you roughly, pulling you off of the desk and before him. soonyoung turned you around, and with one hand began pressing at your back, guiding you to lay your front along your desk. with his other hand -- the one you had had in your mouth -- he pulled at your skirt again, bunching the fabric around your middle.

"gonna fuck you hard," he rambled, mind unfiltered at the repeating image of you sucking on his fingers. "gonna fuck you into the desk, gonna make you fucking cry, professor."

you whined, and then you were pressing your ass back to him. he couldn't help but pinch at the plumpness before him, drawing out a startled shriek from your mouth. soonyoung held your waist with one hand while he scrambled at his pants and underwear with his other hand. once his dick was free, red and angry from neglect, he used his other hand to guide it into your warm, drenched cunt.

soonyoung hissed as the tip of his cock caught against your hole, biting down onto his lip. he was going to fuck you. "can't believe i'm gonna shove my cock into your pussy," he murmured aimlessly, his words without any true intent (despite what that, his filthy words had your cunt fluttering and clenching, heart hammering). "fucking dreamed of this, baby. now i getta fuck your cute cunt, get to fucking breed you --"

his cock slowly pushes into you, and soonyoung thinks he's in heaven. he has to be. your warmth surrounds him, so tight that he swears he can't breathe. soonyoung continues to push into you as he rambles on and on, one of his hands on your hip while the other slides into your hair, twisting it around his fingers.

"fucking feels so good, baby," he breathed, biting down on his lip. "clenching around my dick like you wanna be bred. is that it? my little professor wants to be bred by their student? be fucked over a desk by a student. gonna own your cunt, professor, gonna fuck it and cream all over it and make it mine."

you sobbed, and then he was sliding all the way in. it felt so good, felt like heaven was in your cunt. you were warm and tight, and when he gave a little thrust into you your pussy clenched around him.

he pushed your body against the desk as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy. "fuck, baby. my cock is drenched in your juices. got my cock all wet like a good little professor, babe."

"soon --" you began, but then he fucked into you roughly, breaking you off. you moaned loudly, hands scrambling against your desk. you knocked over a mug of pens and markers -- a mug he recognized as one another student got you for your birthday.

a surge of heat rushed through him. it wasn't the heat he got from watching you teach, from watching your ass as you moved back and forth in front of the board. it was the heat he got watching that student present that mug to you like it was a fucking diamond ring or some shit.

soonyoung gritted his teeth, and then he was laying on top of you, pressing you against the desk. you sobbed at the shift in position, his dick thrusting into you sharply. soonyoung bit at your shoulder, voice muffled as he spoke into your skin. "wonder what the other students would think," he said, "seeing me mount you and breed you. seeing me fuck you into your desk, seeing you cry for my cock all desperate."

"soonyoung," you whined, turning your face. you had a tear caught on your lashes, lips red from where you had bitten at them. you were beautiful. you were perfect. "don't want 'em to see me," you babbled, "want only you."

a flush of pride traveled through him. soonyoung grinned, and he lifted himself off of you. both of his hands went to your hips, and then he was practically impaling you on his cock, shoving into you so roughly that the desk began rattling.

"that's fucking right," he hissed. your ass bounced from every thrust, the slap of his thighs against your ass beautiful. "only i getta see you like this, only i getta fuck your tight little pussy, professor. getta see you cry for my cock."

soonyoung reached down, feeling along your cunt where his cock fed into you. he slipped his fingers along your pussy until he was brushing along your clit. you cried out as he began roughly pressing at your clit, working furiously at you, demanding your release.

"fuck me," you sobbed, burying your face into your desk. "fuck me, soonyoung, fuck me, fuck me --"

soonyoung cursed, and then he was slipping out of your pussy. with rough hands he turned you back around, your knees on either side of him, chest heaving. soonyoung couldn't help but watch your breasts as you breathed heavily, watched them move. he rubbed at his dick, absolutely soaked and glistening with your pussy juices, drinking in the feast that was you.

he came on your body, long, thick spurts of spunk. you cried out softly as he painted you with his cream, covering your stomach and breasts.

soonyoung let his dick flop once he was done, and then he was moving you once again. he grabbed your knees and forced them up, so your cunt was visible to him. soonyoung couldn't help but whisper another curse at the sight of your drenched pussy.

and then he was diving in, his mouth slopping along your cunt. he moaned at the taste of your juices, sucking them in and drinking you like a parched man. soonyoung slurped at your clit, inhaling harshly as he licked along it feverishly, your taste a dessert he'd never give up.

soonyoung's tongue found your clit, and then he was lapping at it eagerly. you were moaning loudly, and when he pulled away to slap his hand over your clit your entire body shivered, legs going tight around his head.

soonyoung focused on your clit and pussy. he lapped at it, drank at it; he slapped your pussy, the sting countered by his eager tongue.

when you came you sobbed, legs tight around his head. he ate you through it, his heart swelling with warmth as your cunt gushed around him, juices staining his skin.

you chanted his name between sobs, and soonyoung wished he had his phone out so he could record it and set it as his ringtone.

when he finally pulled away, you were whining. tears stained your face, and you looked thoroughly debauched. you reached out for him all the same, and soonyoung took you into his arms gladly.

he lowered himself to the floor, happy to keep you on his lap. you curled into him, tucking your face into his neck. both of you were clothed, but no amount of clothes could conceal your dirty acts. your stomach was painted from his spunk, your blouse hanging around your elbows. your skirt was bunched around your middle, and the longer you sat on his lap the more of your juices and his cum leaked down onto his pants, dirtying them further.

the two of you were a mess. his hair was sticking to his face, and his fingers smelled like cunt. your neck was decorated in severe bites and hickeys, and your eyes were red from your tears.

but still, soonyoung couldn't help but think it was perfect.

[cherry-jamm]

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

[sherewrytes]

𝐻𝒜𝒰𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒟, 𝐸𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝐹 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

I knew possessive Eren was gonna win, so i wrote this fic anyway.

Prologue

Eren leaned back in his chair, his office dimly lit by the glow of his monitor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights stretched like stars beneath a dark sky, far away and insignificant. His focus was anchored on his screen, where a familiar face smiled back at him from a photo posted over a year ago.

She looked different then—bright-eyed and carefree, dressed casually in a photo with friends, her smile wide and genuine. It wasn’t a polished, professional smile like the one she wore in the office now. This was something real, a glimpse into a version of herself she didn’t show anyone here.

He shouldn’t have kept scrolling back, shouldn’t have let himself get sucked in so deeply. But here he was, poring over every post like he was unraveling a story, piecing together the parts of her life that she’d left public, unaware of who might be watching. Eren liked the challenge of putting it all together—the places she went, the friends she kept, the life that existed beyond the walls of their firm. A life he wasn’t part of. Yet.

His finger hovered over the screen, caught in a lapse of control. Before he could pull back, his thumb brushed the screen, tapping “like” on the year-old post.

He cursed under his breath. She would see that. The thought made him pause, fingers itching to undo the mistake. But instead, he left it.

Let her see, he thought, leaning back and savoring the unease that would flash across her face when she noticed. She’d wonder, worry, maybe even try to brush it off, but the seed would be planted. She’d know that he was watching.

It was time she understood that she was more than an employee to him, more than just another person on his team. The moment she’d stepped into his world, she’d taken root, lodged deep in his mind. And he couldn’t pull her free—not that he wanted to.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling his gaze away from her image on the screen. A message notification lit up: a reminder of tomorrow’s 9 a.m. meeting, one he’d called specifically so he could see her, watch her from across the room, close enough to reach out but far enough to stay undetected.

When he finally pushed back from his desk, the clock on the wall blinked past midnight, the entire building silent except for the quiet hum of his footsteps as he walked out.

Y/N POV

The office buzzed with a quiet, controlled energy, the low hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations merging into a backdrop of everyday corporate life. You settled into your seat, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension of another early morning. The building’s sleek, minimalist design, with its glass walls and polished floors, was both impressive and stifling. It was the kind of place that demanded excellence, and you planned to give it—nothing less.

It was barely 8:45 a.m., and your coffee was still too hot to sip comfortably. Jean, your colleague and occasional work confidant, leaned over your desk with his usual easy grin. He was one of the few people who made this office feel less like a pressure cooker. Tall, casually charming, with an air of confidence that bordered on playful, Jean had a knack for putting people at ease.

“So, did you see the email last night?” he asked, giving you a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Which one?” you replied, raising a brow, already scrolling through your work emails. Your inbox had exploded with new project updates and memos, mostly sent late at night. It was typical of Eren Yeager, your intense and demanding superior, to send out tasks and reminders well after business hours. The man practically lived in his office, a constant presence that seemed to watch over everyone in the department.

“You know which one,” Jean smirked, lowering his voice. “The meeting. 9 a.m., Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating himself presiding.”

“Oh, that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I saw it. Just didn’t have the energy to respond at midnight like everyone else.”

Jean chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to turn on those notifications if you want to keep up with the boss’s schedule. He’s got eyes everywhere.”

You scoffed, waving him off. “I’ll pass. I already see enough of Eren in daylight hours.” You knew he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the idea of Eren’s influence lingering in your personal life struck a nerve you couldn’t quite place.

Settling into work mode, you reached for your phone to quickly open Instagram, stealing a few minutes to catch up on social media before the meeting. You rarely checked notifications right away—they were turned off for most apps during work hours and even out of work—but this morning, a little distraction felt necessary.

As the app loaded, you felt your stomach drop. There it was: a tiny heart notification in the corner of a photo from over a year ago. You recognized it instantly—an old post from a weekend trip with friends, long before you’d joined the company. And the name beside the heart? Eren Yeager.

You blinked, scrolling to confirm, a chill settling over you as you stared at the notification. There was no mistaking it. Your boss—the same man who rarely glanced up from his work, who gave off an air of rigid control and professionalism—had been scrolling through your posts in the middle of the night. Not just any post, either. A photo from a year ago, a carefree memory buried far down your timeline, one you’d forgotten about.

“What’s up?” Jean’s voice broke into your thoughts, his brows furrowing as he followed your gaze to the phone in your hand. He glanced over, a smile forming on his lips as he noted your wide-eyed expression. “Oh? Someone sliding into your DMs?”

You quickly flipped your phone screen down, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling feeling that lingered. “No, nothing like that. Just… weird notification, that’s all.”

Jean gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. He was perceptive like that, often picking up on the things you left unsaid. You appreciated it more than you let on.

You tried to shake off the odd feeling and turned your attention back to your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the notification. The way his name seemed to linger there, like a subtle, invasive reminder that he was watching, that he knew details of your life you’d never shared with anyone here.

Stop overthinking it, you told yourself. Maybe it was a mistake, an accidental like. But that didn’t explain why he’d been scrolling so far back. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of unease.

9 A.M. Meeting

By the time you entered the conference room for the morning meeting, you’d managed to pull yourself together. Eren sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched each employee filter in and take their seats. His presence filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore, his gaze sharp, assessing, as if he were silently measuring the worth of everyone around him.

You slipped into your seat, feeling his eyes flicker over you for a brief moment. The memory of that notification resurfaced, making you hyper-aware of the way he seemed to watch you, a hint of something dark lurking beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

“All right, let’s begin,” Eren said, his voice a low, smooth cadence that carried authority effortlessly. His eyes scanned the room, resting on you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to the agenda displayed on the screen. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his subtle invasion of your privacy had affected you.

The meeting dragged on, a detailed breakdown of project deadlines, assignments, and expectations. You found yourself glancing up every now and then, catching Eren’s gaze lingering on you, an intensity there that made your skin prickle. He looked away each time, as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that his interest wasn’t merely professional.

Toward the end of the meeting, he spoke up, addressing the room but directing his gaze toward Jean. “Jean, I’m moving you to the new department project starting next week. You’ll need to focus on that exclusively for the time being.”

Jean looked surprised, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh—sure, that’s fine, but I was under the impression I’d be working with [Your Name] on the current project until the end of the quarter.”

Eren’s expression remained neutral, his voice calm and authoritative. “Things have changed. I need you on something more pressing. [Your Name] can handle the rest of the project on her own.”

You stiffened, shooting Jean a quick look of apology, but he simply gave you a reassuring nod. You’d grown accustomed to working closely with him, and his sudden reassignment felt… calculated. Eren’s actions were swift, almost surgical, like a move in a chess game, rearranging the pieces to his advantage. It made your stomach twist, a realization settling in: he wasn’t just assigning work. He was orchestrating the details of your environment, manipulating who you interacted with, controlling who had access to you.

The meeting concluded shortly afterward, and you gathered your notes, trying to avoid Eren’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“[Your Name], a moment?”

You froze, every nerve on edge. You glanced back, finding him standing at the head of the table, waiting for you as the rest of the team filed out. Jean shot you a supportive look before he left, mouthing a silent good luck as he exited.

You walked back to Eren, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

“I wanted to discuss your progress on the project,” he said, his voice calm but holding an edge that set you on alert. “Are you prepared to handle it on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been on top of it.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze drifting over you with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “I don’t want any distractions taking your focus away. Especially… social ones.”

The insinuation in his words was undeniable. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the weight of his stare made you feel exposed. He was waiting for a reaction, testing you, pushing boundaries that should’ve stayed firmly in place.

“Understood,” you replied coolly, refusing to let him see that his words affected you. “Is there anything else?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he were amused by your defiance. “No, that’s all… for now.”

As you left the conference room, you could feel his eyes on you, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. This was more than a mistake, more than a casual interest. You were part of something twisted now, something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. And somehow, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d claimed every part of you.

You walked back to your desk, heart racing, struggling to process the entire interaction. Eren’s stare, the way he’d pushed Jean out of the project, the invasive social media “like” that felt like a silent confession of his interest—it was all too much. You tried to shake it off, rationalizing his words as a reminder to stay focused, but a lingering unease settled in, something you couldn’t ignore.

Jean was waiting for you, leaning casually against your desk with an easy smile, though concern flickered in his eyes.

“Everything good?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you approach.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you settled in your chair. But your mind was elsewhere, still processing Eren’s intense gaze, the almost possessive tone he’d taken.

Jean didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so. Just say the word if you need backup. I know Yeager can be… a lot.”

You laughed lightly, though it was forced, glancing over your shoulder as you tried to shift gears and focus on your work. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Eren watching, even though his door was closed. The memory of that year-old Instagram notification lingered, like an invisible mark he’d left on you.

Why would he scroll back that far? It was a question that had no easy answer, one that filled your mind with possibilities that sent a shiver down your spine.

Later That Evening

The workday wore on, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Eren’s presence from your mind. By the time you left the office, the sky was already dark, streetlights casting long shadows across the city. You walked quickly, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the train station, paranoid even though you knew it was irrational.

Arriving home, you set your things down, finally able to relax in the quiet comfort of your apartment. But as you changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch, your phone buzzed with another notification. You glanced down, expecting a message from a friend or maybe Jean checking in—but the sight of Eren’s name on your screen made you freeze.

It was a message from his work account, the tone professional but terse.

Eren YeagerI need to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.

The message was short, but it felt weighted, as if it held an unspoken promise of more. You stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure if you should respond. There was no polite sign-off, no explanation for the early morning meeting. It was an order, one that demanded obedience without question.

You locked your phone, deciding not to reply. The idea of being alone with him, especially so early in the morning when no one else would be around, sent a pulse of anxiety through you. But you had no choice. If you ignored his request, you’d risk his wrath—a risk you couldn’t afford in your current role.

Just get through tomorrow, you told yourself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that settled over you.

The Next Morning

At 7:59 a.m., you found yourself standing outside Eren’s office door, heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock. The office was nearly deserted this early, the usual bustle absent in the dim, quiet corridors. You almost turned back, second-guessing yourself, but the door swung open before you could retreat.

“Come in,” Eren’s voice greeted you, smooth and calm.

You stepped inside, swallowing your nerves as you glanced around the room. His office was pristine, modern, and impersonal—just like him. The only hint of personality was the faint scent of expensive cologne that seemed to permeate the air, a reminder of how meticulously he controlled every aspect of his world.

He gestured for you to sit, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression as you took the chair across from his desk. You fought to keep your face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unnerved.

“I wanted to discuss your performance,” he began, his tone smooth but carrying a hint of something darker. “You’ve been doing well with the project, but I noticed that your focus has been… scattered lately.”

Your stomach tightened. Scattered? You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, caught between indignation and confusion. “I haven’t been distracted,” you replied, keeping your tone even.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he found your response amusing. “Haven’t you? Checking social media during work hours, lingering at your desk with Jean instead of focusing on your assignments… I’d call that distracted.”

You felt your face go hot, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath your skin. He was referring to your harmless Instagram check yesterday, something you’d done quickly during a break. And as for Jean—well, you couldn’t control his friendliness. But the way Eren spoke, it was as if he’d taken note of every small action, every minor slip-up, and filed it away for moments like this.

“Is that really affecting my work?” you asked, keeping your voice calm even as your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve met all the deadlines, and my reports have been on time.”

Eren leaned forward, his intense green eyes fixed on you, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just about deadlines, [Your Name]. It’s about your dedication, your priorities.”

You felt his words wrap around you like a trap, as if he were challenging you to admit something you didn’t fully understand. His gaze was heavy, penetrating, and you realized with a sudden, unsettling clarity that he wasn’t talking about work at all.

His next words confirmed it.

“People get distracted,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed you. “They forget who’s really in charge. And they let others”—his eyes flashed with something dark—“interfere.”

The implication was clear. Eren wasn’t just monitoring your work; he was watching every interaction, every minor connection you made in the office. He wanted your attention, all of it, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules to make that happen.

A surge of defiance rose in you, a determination not to be cowed by his intimidation tactics. “With all due respect, Mr. Yeager, I think I’m managing just fine. My work speaks for itself.”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you, almost as if he were savoring the challenge. “If that’s how you feel,” he replied smoothly, “then I expect nothing less than your full focus moving forward. No distractions. No side conversations with… co-workers.”

Your stomach twisted. You could practically feel the weight of his control bearing down on you, subtle but suffocating. Eren’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally leaned back, dismissing you with a nod.

“That’s all for now. But I’ll be watching, [Your Name]. Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You stood, your legs stiff as you resisted the urge to throw a sharp retort back at him. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as you reached for the handle, he called out softly, “And remember… if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t dare acknowledge the unspoken meaning behind his words. But as you walked away, a shiver ran down your spine, the realization sinking in: Eren was watching, his presence an invisible shadow that lingered over every corner of your life.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

Chapter 2: Eren's POV

I watch her leave my office, her back straight, the calm facade she wears never quite matching the storm I know brews beneath the surface. She's good at hiding it. Too good. But I see through her. I always do.

I could’ve pushed harder, pressed her more. I could’ve let the tension between us grow, let her feel it, but I know the rules. I know how to play this game. I’m patient. I’ve been watching her for months now—studying every shift in her expression, every flicker of emotion that betrays her cool demeanor. She thinks I’m just another boss, another man she has to deal with to keep her job. She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t understand that I own her. Not in a way she’d ever admit. Not yet. But it’s coming.

I’ve been in control of my life for so long, meticulously crafting every move, every interaction. But the moment I saw her, I knew I was losing that control.

That first day when she walked into the office, all poised and professional in her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt, looking completely out of place among the chaos of this company... I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood out, a beacon of grace in a sea of mundane. It wasn’t just her looks—though she’s breathtaking. It’s her aura, the way she moves, the way people gravitate to her without even trying. But what I couldn’t handle was how easily she laughed, how easily she made friends with everyone. Even Jean, that fucking rat. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them near her.

I hate the way she smiles at him. That warmth. I watch her in those moments, just a little too long. Jean doesn’t realize it, but every second she spends with him is a second closer to me losing my patience.

Her kindness? Her ability to make everyone feel like they’re worth something? It makes me sick. It makes me want to pull her closer, force her to realize that her place is with me, not with the rest of them. They don’t deserve her. No one does. Not like I do.

I’ve done everything I can to keep her focused on her work, keep her away from distractions. Jean? He’s been moved to another department. He’ll think it’s just for business reasons. He’ll never know the truth. I won’t let him have her. No one will.

I’d love to see how she reacts. I want to see her frustration when she can’t find that friendly face to laugh with during breaks, when Jean isn’t there to chat with her like some old friend. She doesn’t realize yet, but every little thing I do is part of the plan.

I’ve been following her on social media for a while now. It's not like I’m obsessed. No, it's just... research. I need to know what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, what interests her. I saw that post she shared from over a year ago. That’s when I liked it. A simple gesture, but I know she saw it. The notification. It was a crack in the door, a way to remind her that I see her, that I’m watching, even when she doesn’t realize it. She may act like she doesn’t care, like she’s unaffected, but I know the truth.

She noticed. I could see the way her fingers hesitated over the screen when she opened it, the way her eyes darted to the notification, the subtle way her lips pressed together, a sign of frustration or confusion. Good. She’s thinking about me now. I like that. I like knowing she’s aware of my presence, even when I’m not in the room.

And I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep moving those pieces, reshaping the world around her until there’s nowhere left for her to go except into my arms.

She doesn’t realize how much she needs me yet. She doesn’t understand what I could give her, what I could offer, the security, the control. The way I’d take care of her—physically, mentally, emotionally. She would never have to worry about anything. She’d be mine. And I’d make sure she knew it.

But patience, I tell myself. One step at a time. For now, I’ll keep my distance, make sure she doesn’t feel smothered. I’ll play the game, act like everything is normal. But every conversation, every interaction, is a calculated move, a reminder to her that I’m always in her periphery. I don’t need to rush this.

I’ll keep her on her toes. I’ll keep her questioning herself. And in time, she’ll realize that the only person who truly knows her, who truly understands her, is me.

I can already feel it.

She’s mine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself more drawn to her than I care to admit. Some might say I’m obsessive, that I’ve crossed a line in watching her every move. But they don’t understand. I’m not obsessed—I’m simply possessive of what’s mine. And she is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I've kept my distance, careful not to scare her off, keeping up the mask of the professional, distant manager. But the more I watch her, the harder it becomes. I see her subtle shifts in expression, the way her shoulders tense whenever I enter a room, as if she can feel me. She can feel that magnetic pull too. She must.

Today, she finally came to me, probably driven by the carefully crafted breadcrumbs I’d left for her. I could see the determination on her face as she knocked and entered my office, closing the door behind her. She’s nervous—trying not to show it, but I can see the tension in her stance. She’s bracing herself, as if she’s come to confront me.

“Mr. Yeager,” she begins, her voice steady. “Can I ask you something?”

I lean back in my chair, giving her my full attention, my expression carefully neutral. “Of course,” I say smoothly, as if she has my undivided focus—which she does.

She clears her throat, looking down briefly before meeting my gaze again. “I… noticed something strange recently.” She hesitates, watching me closely, as if gauging my reaction. “You… liked an old photo on my Instagram. From over a year ago.”

There it is. The spark of curiosity, maybe even a little irritation, hidden beneath her calm facade. She’s trying to find a reason, some logical explanation, but she won’t find it.

I keep my expression mild, letting a small, almost dismissive smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Oh? I didn’t realize. Must’ve been a slip of the finger,” I say lightly, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I probably just scrolled too far.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to see through my answer, to find the truth lurking beneath my calm mask. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I keep my smile relaxed, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, she speaks again, her voice softer, more hesitant.

“I see.” She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it just… seemed strange. I mean, it was a really old photo.”

I tilt my head, giving her a curious look. “Are you worried about what I think of your social media, [Your Name]?” I ask, my tone just slightly teasing, enough to throw her off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The color rises in her cheeks, a sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I can see her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She probably didn’t expect me to brush it off so easily, to play it so nonchalantly.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting the topic before she can dwell on it too long, “are you seeing anyone?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Just curious,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “You seem close with some of the others here… I was wondering if you were dating anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but… no.”

I already knew the answer. She’s kept to herself, no messy entanglements to interfere with the focus I want from her. I nod slowly, keeping my expression thoughtful, as if I’m filing away that precious piece of information.

“Well,” I say after a beat, looking back at her with a calm smile, “that’s good to know. Less distraction, right?”

Her eyes flash, a quick hint of irritation before she masks it, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she realizes what her reaction betrays, how her every movement, every flicker of emotion, only draws me closer.

She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. And one way or another, she’ll come to understand just how deep that connection goes.

For now, I’ll give her space, let her think this was just a fleeting moment. But in time, she’ll see. She’ll see that every step she takes, every decision she makes, is already part of my plan. And when she finally realizes it, she’ll understand that she’s exactly where she belongs—by my side, where I can watch over her, where I can protect her.

And no one—not Jean, not anyone—will ever get close enough to take her from me.

Y/N's POV

I head back to my desk, still trying to shake off the strange feeling lingering from my conversation with Eren. The way he brushed off that whole Instagram thing… it didn’t sit right with me. And then he asked if I was dating anyone? Out of nowhere?

I sit down, take a deep breath, and open my phone, deciding to vent in my group chat. Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah have been my rocks for as long as I can remember, and they always know how to put things in perspective.

Group Chat:

yn: Eren just asked me if I’m dating anyone…

kaylah: Your boss? 👀

kasa: Oh gurl, he tryna fuck 😏

annie: That’s her boss. 😑

kasa: And?? 👀 He’s still tryna get it.

kaylah: It’s not just “any boss,” though. It’s Eren. You’ve been saying he’s been acting weird for weeks, girl.

kasa: Exactly. That man is on some type of mission, and it sounds like it involves you.

annie: Are you comfortable with him asking questions like that?

I chew on my lip, reading through their messages. They all have a point. Eren has been acting strange, hovering a bit too close sometimes, watching me like he’s waiting for something. But Annie’s right, too. It’s not exactly normal for a boss to act this way, is it?

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to say. Then I type back.

yn: Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. He’s always so… intense. But maybe it’s just me overthinking?

kaylah: Girl, that’s not “intense”; that’s creepy. 👀 Bosses don’t just stalk their employees’ social media.

annie: Exactly. And liking a photo from last year? There’s something else going on here.

kasa: Sounds like he’s trying to mark his territory. 😳 Bet he’s trying to make sure no one else thinks you’re single.

I let their words sink in, and suddenly, it’s like I’m seeing my interactions with Eren from a different angle. That “slip of the finger” excuse sounds a lot thinner now. And asking if I’m seeing anyone? Was that a simple question, or was he trying to figure out if he has any competition?

The back of my neck prickles.

I sigh, typing out the next message, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing my girls will understand. There’s more to this situation, and I need their take.

yn: Oh, and there’s something else… He moved Jean to a different department. Just… out of the blue. He said it was for a “long-term project” or something like that, but now Jean’s basically out of my life at work for the foreseeable future.

kaylah: Wait, what?! Isn’t Jean like… your work husband?

annie: Your “project”? Yeah, right. Who’s he trying to fool? 😒

kasa: Soooo he removes the guy you’re closest to, then asks if you’re single? That man’s trying to clear the field. 👀

kaylah: Sounds like he’s… territorial. He probably hated the idea of you and Jean hanging out all day.

yn: It just feels so over-the-top. Jean didn’t even get a say; one day he’s there, and then Eren just pulls him into his office, and boom, he’s off on some new assignment.

annie: If this isn’t a huge red flag, I don’t know what is.

kasa: Honestly, girl, I’d be careful. This man doesn’t sound like he knows how to handle boundaries. 😬

I lean back in my chair, their messages washing over me, making my skin prickle. I keep telling myself that maybe I’m imagining things, that he’s just an intense boss, but each detail lines up too neatly. Jean was always the one person I could talk to freely, the only guy in the office who made me feel safe—and now he’s gone.

My stomach twists as I hear Eren’s voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the quiet of the office.

“[Your Name]!” His voice has an edge to it, and I jump, startled. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s standing right behind me, eyes dark and fixed on my phone screen. I can feel the tension radiating off him, and the realization slams into me—he saw everything.

“...My office. Now,” he says, each word clipped, his tone leaving no room for argument. My heart pounds as I quickly turn off my phone, shooting one last frantic message to the group.

yn: I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone—

I barely finish the sentence before shoving the phone back onto my desk. The vibration of new messages is already buzzing like crazy as I walk toward his office, each step slower than the last.

The entire office feels like it’s holding its breath, and I can sense my coworkers glancing my way, probably just as curious about what I did to earn Eren’s wrath. I swallow hard, focusing on keeping my expression neutral as I make my way to his office, heart pounding louder with every step.

As soon as I step through the door, Eren closes it firmly behind me, and the air in the room feels heavier. The calm facade he usually wears is gone, replaced by something sharper, something that borders on fury.

"Care to explain what’s so important on your phone, [Your Name]?”

“Mr. Yeager, with all due respect,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “my phone is my personal business.”

His expression hardens, his jaw clenching as he takes a step closer. “So discussing me is your personal business then?” he bites back, his voice low and challenging.

Without thinking, I snap back. “If you’re all up in it, then yes.”

The words are out before I can stop myself, and I’m immediately shocked that I actually said it. My heart slams against my ribs, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I should apologize, I know it, but something about the way he’s staring at me—like he’s both furious and intrigued—has me rooted to the spot.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. Because I don’t recall giving you permission to turn me into office gossip.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like everyone here’s a pawn in some twisted game, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

His lips curve into a cold smile. “Oh, so you think this is a game, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s close enough now that I can feel his presence looming over me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Trust me, [Your Name], I don’t play games.”

My pulse quickens as he steps closer still, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him. My instincts scream at me to back down, to apologize, but something inside me flares up instead, matching his intensity. I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“If you’re so sure of that,” I say, my voice just as quiet, “then why are you so interested in what I’m doing on my phone? Seems pretty ‘game-like’ to me.”

For a moment, his face shifts, and I catch a flicker of something almost raw in his eyes—something possessive, unsettlingly intense. But then it’s gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask he always wears.

“Careful,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, though there’s a warning underneath it. “You don’t want to push me, [Your Name].”

“Or what?” I challenge, my heart racing, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.

Before I can process what’s happening, I feel his lips on mine, fierce and unyielding. The kiss is forceful, intense, sending a shock through my system. It’s soft, yet possessive, hot and somehow tender all at once—a confusing mix that leaves me breathless. I barely have time to react, my hands frozen at my sides, as if caught in a whirlwind of everything I should and shouldn’t feel.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, his face hovering inches from mine, his gaze steady and dark as he studies me. He doesn’t look smug, nor does he look regretful. There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s barely containing.

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice rough but oddly soft. “They’re so brown and beautiful… just like I thought they’d be up close.”

I blink, still reeling, the intensity of his words sinking into my skin like embers, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I open my mouth to respond, to say something that might make sense of the mess of feelings swirling inside me, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare up at him, my mind racing with confusion, with anger, with something I can’t even name.

His hand lingers on my arm, and the weight of his touch is both grounding and electrifying. He’s close enough that I can see every shade of green in his eyes, every fleck of something darker that burns there, a kind of need that’s both alarming and magnetic.

“[Your Name]…” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as though my name is a secret he’s been keeping.

Eren’s voice is a low murmur, almost daring me as he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His gaze holds mine, and the challenge in his eyes makes my breath hitch. He’s waiting, watching for some sign that I’ll back down—but instead, my pulse races with a new determination, my words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

“Why did you really move Jean?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “Was it because of… me?”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, like he’s pleased I finally asked the question that’s been burning inside me. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he responds.

“Jean was… a distraction,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “You don’t need him taking up your time.”

My stomach flips, caught between disbelief and a strange, unnerving thrill at his bluntness. “So you’re saying you—moved him just to have me all to yourself?”

Eren’s mouth twitches in the faintest of smirks. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he says, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, a gesture that’s both tender and unsettling. “And whether you know it or not, you’re mine, [Your Name].”

The air thickens between us, charged with tension and something darker that I don’t dare name.

“Yours?” I say, my voice wavering between disbelief and defiance. “You don’t even know me, Eren.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but there’s something else there, something darker and more intense as he steps even closer. His gaze traces my face, studying me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Don’t know you?” he murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips. “I know you better than you think, [Your Name].”

My heart skips a beat as he begins listing things—little details I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

“You prefer coffee black on Mondays but switch to a caramel macchiato on Fridays. Your favorite color is emerald green. You call out sick on the third Thursday of every month to go to your hairdresser and then your lash girl.” His smirk deepens, his voice softening, almost proud. “Which is why I always approve your requests for those particular days off and pay you for the extra time. I figured I’d make it easier for you, since I know you’d never ask.”

I stare at him, speechless. It’s unsettling—no, terrifying—how much he knows. I’d thought it was a coincidence, a stroke of luck, that my days off lined up perfectly with my appointments. Now I’m realizing it was anything but. He orchestrated all of it. Eren didn’t just notice these things—he’s been planning around them, bending my schedule to fit into the life he believes he controls.

“You… you really did all that?” I whisper, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he replies, his tone calm, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I told you, [Your Name]. I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like the idea of you needing anyone else but me.”

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

Eren’s gaze never leaves mine as he continues, his tone low and smooth, yet laced with a quiet intensity that unsettles me.

“You think I don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous? Or how you twist your pen when you’re lost in thought?” His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I notice everything, [Your Name]. Every single thing about you. It’s only fair, given how much of my time you take up.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Eren’s gaze is so intense, it’s as if he can see right through me, through every facade I’ve ever put up. He steps forward, closing the last of the distance between us until he’s just inches away, and I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of his attention, like gravity pulling me in.

“You can deny it all you want,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, “but deep down, you’ve always known. You felt it, too. This connection.”

My heart races as his words sink in, leaving me both shocked and disarmed. Part of me wants to deny it, to push him away, but another part, the part that feels his touch lingering long after he’s gone, knows there’s some twisted truth in his words. Eren’s confidence, his calculated planning, his unwavering focus—it’s both overwhelming and alluring, a dangerous thrill I can’t seem to shake.

He tilts his head, his voice dropping even lower. “You keep looking at me like I’m the one crossing the line, but maybe you should ask yourself why you keep letting me.”

Eren’s eyes narrow, his voice a quiet, unyielding demand. “Now, ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s an invitation in his tone, a challenge in his stare that dares me to voice the questions that have haunted me since he first stepped into my life. My heart pounds, and I feel my pulse throb as I stare up at him, trying to decide if I should say the words out loud.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I finally ask, “Why… why me, Eren? Why do you go out of your way to control every part of my life?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s no warmth in it. Just a chilling certainty, as if he’s been waiting for me to ask this all along.

“Because, [Your Name],” he says, his voice dripping with that familiar possessiveness, “the second I saw you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And I don’t like the idea of anything or anyone else having you, even in the smallest way. Every detail of your life is mine to know, mine to control. Because whether you realize it or not, you’re already mine.”

The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a part of me terrified of him, yet drawn to the way he looks at me with that all-consuming need.

“So don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek, lingering for a moment. “Just accept it.”

“This is too much,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to pull away, desperate to put space between us. My hands move instinctively to push against his chest, but before I can make any real distance, Eren’s grip tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him with surprising force.

I stumble, barely catching myself as I’m drawn back into his presence, and before I can even react, his hand grazes the side of my jaw, his fingers cool against the heated skin of my cheek. The sensation is dizzying, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. He holds me there for a moment, just enough for his thumb to trace the curve of my jawline, sending a chill down my spine.

Then, without a word, he grips the back of my neck, his touch possessive and commanding as he yanks me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself trapped between the heat of his body and the pressure of his touch, unable to escape even if I wanted to.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he murmurs, his voice low, controlled, but with an undercurrent of something darker. “You can tell me no now, or you can let it happen.”

My heart slams in my chest as I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the tension so thick that it almost feels suffocating. A part of me wants to pull away, to run from the intensity of this moment, but another part—one that scares me—wants to stay, to see where this overwhelming pull will lead.

Eren’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and unwavering, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to remind me that I’m in his control, that I have no escape if he doesn’t want me to have one.

“What’s it going to be, [Your Name]?” he whispers, the question more of a command than an invitation.

"Eren… I—" I start, but before I can even finish the sentence, he cuts me off, his words sharp and commanding.

"Wrong answer."

His lips crash onto mine, and the force of it takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, fierce, as if he’s claiming me in a way I can’t escape. It’s overwhelming, and my body betrays me, sinking into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, grasping at him for balance. I can feel the heat rising between us, every inch of him pressing against me in a way that makes my heart race and my mind spin.

I can’t think, can’t form coherent thoughts, because all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him, his touch, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s determined to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

And then, without warning, I feel him bite down on my bottom lip, pulling it gently with a smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this—enjoying the control, the way I’m losing myself to him.

The sensation stings, and I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to react. His lips return to mine, more insistent, deeper, as if he’s trying to mark me, to claim me, until I’m not sure where I begin and where he ends. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me tightly as if he’s worried I might slip away, as if he’s afraid that one kiss won’t be enough.

It isn’t enough. It never will be. I feel myself craving more, my body pulling him closer, as if I’ve been waiting for this, for him, all along.

The realization hits me like a wave, and I almost want to pull back, to snap myself out of the haze he’s wrapped me in. But instead, I stay, letting myself sink further into the kiss, into him.

Eren pulls back slightly, his breath heavy against my lips. His eyes search mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t quite place.

“I told you, [Your Name],” he whispers, his voice low and almost satisfied, “you’re mine.”

As I make my way back to my desk, my mind is still spinning, heart racing with the lingering heat of Eren’s kiss. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot as I sit down, glancing at my phone. I open the group chat with Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah, my thumb hovering over the screen as I prepare to update them. The last message I sent was, I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone.

The messages from my friends are already waiting for me:

Kaylah: Girl, what the hell? He saw EVERYTHING?

Mikasa: Oh no, not this again. What’s going on?

Annie: No way. You need to be careful, Y/N. I’m not liking this.

I quickly type out my reply, still feeling the weight of Eren’s presence hanging over me, almost like he’s watching me through the screen.

Y/N: He pulled me into his office. I… I didn’t expect it, but he kissed me. Forcefully. He told me I’m "his" and that I should stop pretending I don’t know it. Then he made me come back to my desk to tell you all this.

I feel a rush of emotions as I hit send. Part of me wants to keep this to myself, to pretend it didn’t happen, but I know they deserve to know what’s going on, especially since it’s clear Eren’s intentions go far beyond just the office.

The chat explodes almost immediately:

Kaylah: Bitch, WHAT?! You just got kissed by your boss?? Omg, no, this is insane.

Mikasa: He pulled you into his office? Girl, this is so messy. You gotta be careful. This feels like a power move.

Annie: He’s crossing boundaries. I don’t care how much "power" he has—this isn’t okay. You need to set some limits, Y/N.

I feel a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance at the time, realizing I’ve been gone for longer than expected. Eren’s words echo in my mind, “You’re dismissed now.” The finality in his voice leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to handle this. I just feel… stuck.

Before I can read the responses, I hear Eren’s voice in the distance, calling out to someone else in the office. The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike again. His control over everything is suffocating, and I don’t know what to do next.

The messages from my friends continue, but my mind is already elsewhere, replaying every moment in his office, trying to make sense of everything he said and did.

Kaylah: Babe, you need to lay down some ground rules.

Mikasa: He’s not going to stop unless you make him.

Annie: You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let him manipulate you.

I stare at my phone, still in a daze from the events of the day. My fingers hover over the screen as I type my response, unsure of what I’m feeling.

Y/N: What if… what if I liked it? Well… shit. I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I should just move departments.

Before I can think it through any further, my phone buzzes again. I see a new notification from the group chat—Mikasa’s added two new members. I blink at the names: Onyankopon and Armin.

Onyankopon: Kasa, you add me to the wrong group or sum?

Armin: Why we in your girl group?

Mikasa: Y’all now know Eren. He’s acting crazy.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes as I quickly type the rundown of what happened in the office. It feels so surreal, like I’m recounting someone else’s life. But it’s mine, and it’s hard to ignore how Eren’s presence looms over me, even through the screen.

Y/N: Okay, here it is. Eren pulled me into his office, kissed me, told me I was “his,” and that I should stop pretending like I don’t know it. He’s acting all possessive and… weird. I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should just switch departments or something.

I hit send and brace myself for whatever they’ll say. It doesn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Armin: eye roll emoji* Is this Y/N LN, or am I missing something?*

I read the message twice before I realize he’s talking about me. It’s not a surprise, but it hits a little differently now, seeing it written out like that.

Then, Armin sends a series of screenshots. I glance over them, and my stomach drops.

Armin’s screenshot: Eren: "Bro, I kissed her. I swear, I went too far. I’ve been watching her since she started working here. I think I’m losing it."

I stare at the words for a long moment, my breath catching in my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own confusion that I hadn’t even realized how much Eren had been planning, how deep his obsession with me went. And the fact that Armin had these messages, these private thoughts of Eren’s, just adds another layer of unease.

Onyankopon: LMAO, Mikasa. So this is Y/N LN? Oh shit, this is funny as fuck.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest as I read his message. It’s like everyone can see it, but me—how out of control Eren is. I can’t stop myself from feeling… exposed.

Onyankopon: Armin, we gotta tell Connie about this. This is crazy.

I feel my stomach twist at their reactions, the way they laugh it off as if it’s some kind of joke. But it isn’t a joke. It’s my life, and I’m caught in the middle of this twisted game Eren’s playing.

Y/N: This isn’t funny, guys. Eren’s fucking with my head. He’s crossing lines I never thought he would.

But even as I send the message, a small part of me wonders if I’m being too dramatic. If maybe I do like the attention. It’s hard to tell, especially with all the confusion in my head. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Mikasa: You’re not overreacting. This isn’t normal. But I don’t think moving departments is the answer. Eren’s not just going to let you go that easily.

I stare at Mikasa’s response, my thumb hovering over the screen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Armin: I’ll talk to him. Eren isn’t... okay, let me not lie... anyway, Ony, if you’re free, we gonna have to go pay Eren a visit at work.

As I read Armin’s message, a strange feeling begins to twist inside me. The fact that he’s offering to talk to Eren is both comforting and terrifying. I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of relief knowing that someone might stand up for me, but it also doesn’t sit right with me that Eren needs a “talking to” in the first place.

 can’t help but shake my head, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the fact that Armin’s taking it so lightly or that I feel like I’m somehow becoming the center of their attention. It’s one thing for Eren to be possessive, but now it seems like everyone is getting involved.

Onyankopon: IDK, y’all want me in white folk business?

My eyes widen as I read Ony’s message, unsure if I should laugh or be annoyed. He’s right, though—it’s pretty ridiculous. But before I can say anything, Kaylah’s message pops up in the chat, and it’s clear she’s already found the humor in the situation.

Kaylah: LMAO! Y/N ain’t white, bro.

Ony’s response comes so quickly, I can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. I laugh a little despite myself, because it’s true—Eren’s behavior does feel a little… out of place. Like he doesn’t know how to handle someone like me.

Onyankopon: I know, that’s why Eren tweaking. He ain’t ever locked a baddie before. Lame-ass white boy.

The chat explodes with laughter, and I can’t help but chuckle as well, even though I’m still dealing with the weight of everything that just happened. Ony’s comment, as ridiculous as it is, actually makes me feel a little better. The absurdity of the whole situation is almost laughable.

Mikasa: Y’all wild, but for real, Y/N, you need to stay strong. Don’t let this get to you.

Kaylah: For real, don’t let his crazy ass try to claim you. That’s your work life, and you need to protect that shit.

I read their messages, my mind swirling. Their support means everything, but I still don’t know what to do. The fact that Armin’s going to “talk to” Eren doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t just sit around and wait for him to fix things. Eren’s power is too much, too overwhelming.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to fix this. I feel trapped, like he’s watching me all the time now. Everything’s so messed up.

I leave the message on read for a while, my thoughts drifting back to Eren. To his kiss. To the way he said I was “his.” It’s a bitter reminder that maybe things have gone too far already.

at the same time  

Eren’s hands are shaking as he types into his own group chat, his mind racing from everything that happened earlier. He can’t get her out of his head—Y/N, with her eyes so full of confusion, and the way she didn’t pull away from him when he kissed her, even though she probably should’ve.

Eren: Guys, I fucked up.

He watches the messages pop up one by one, his anxiety bubbling with every new response.

Armin: Jail time or a murder case?

Connie: Please tell me this ain’t about who I think it is.

Ony: Sure this is about Y/N again, bro? She ain’t want your white ass.

Reiner: Eren, what did you do... this time?

He slams his fist against the table, frustrated. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, but his thoughts keep racing back to her—her soft lips, the way she melted into him for just a moment before reality hit. He didn’t want to go that far, but when he kissed her, everything felt... right. It felt like it had to happen, like he needed her.

Eren: It’s Y/N. I kissed her. And I know, I know I fucked up, but it was just... it was too much. She doesn’t get it, man. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.

Armin: Oh boy, here we go. What exactly do you mean by ‘too much’?

Connie: Bro, what the hell are you doing? Did you force her?

Ony: I told you, man. She’s not your typical type. You can’t just make her fall in line like you want. She don’t need your controlling ass. You’re out here acting like you own her.

Eren clenches his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until it creaks.

Eren: I didn’t force her. But damn it, I don’t know... it’s like she’s got something in her that draws me in. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m more than this job, this life. She makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And now she’s got me thinking, shit, I don’t know if I can stop. I’m not letting anyone else get close to her.

Reiner: That’s some dangerous shit, Eren. You’re letting your emotions run wild, and you’re gonna fuck up your entire career over her.

Armin: Man, you already fucked up. But at least you’re being honest about it now. You know you can’t keep this up. You need to step back before you lose it all.

Connie: I swear to God, Eren, if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re gonna make it worse. You need to stop acting like she’s yours. She doesn’t owe you anything.

Eren feels the weight of their words, but they don’t hit him the way they should. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but he can’t help the way he feels. Y/N’s on his mind every second of the day, and he’s not ready to just walk away.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t. She doesn’t get it yet, but she will. She’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone else near her.

Ony: Bro, you’re wilding. She’s not some fucking trophy to claim. If you keep this up, she’ll be gone faster than you can blink.

Reiner: Eren... you gotta rethink this. You’re walking a thin line.

Eren sits back in his chair, his chest tight as the words sink in. But even with everything they say, there’s only one thing on his mind—Y/N. No one else. And no matter how messed up it is, he’s not ready to let go.

Eren: I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Ony: Well, Armin, good thing you're a lawyer. You gonna have to plead his case when Y/N drops charges on him.

Eren’s eyes widen at the thought, panic creeping up his spine. His fingers hover over his phone, unable to stop the flood of thoughts racing through his mind.

Eren: Fuck! Will she do something like that?

Ony: LMAO, bro, look at yourself. One whiff of cocoa butter and you're acting mad.

Reiner: Bro, you really out here trippin' over some lotion?

Eren's face flushes with frustration. He’s not even thinking about the damn lotion. It���s about her. He can’t stop thinking about how soft she felt against him, how her skin smelled, how her lips tasted.

Eren: It's actually shea butter and lavender, not cocoa butter.

The group goes silent for a moment, and then the floodgates open.

Ony: Bro, WTF?

Armin: Wait, what? You’re obsessed with her scent now?

Reiner: Eren, you out here getting fetishy with lotions?

Eren growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. But every word they type is making the pit in his stomach grow deeper. He wanted this—her—so badly, but now he’s in too deep, and they’re all calling him out for it.

Eren: I smelled it when I kissed her. Man, da fuck?

The silence in the chat is almost unbearable before it’s broken by a series of laughing emojis.

Ony: Bro, you a different type of crazy. I can’t even deal with this. You out here stalking this girl’s scent like you’re some kind of detective.

Armin: Yo, you need a therapist. This is borderline obsession.

Reiner: Damn, man. You really need to chill. She ain’t even looking at you like that.

Eren’s chest tightens at their words. He knows what they’re saying is true. He’s spiraling. He’s obsessed. But the way Y/N made him feel when she was close to him… that—he can’t shake that feeling. He wants her. Needs her. And he can’t let anyone take her from him.

Eren: She’s mine. I’m telling you, I won’t let anyone near her.

The group’s response is quick and harsh.

Ony: Bruh. You really need to stop.

Armin: If you don’t back off, you’re gonna ruin everything, Eren. You gotta calm down.

Reiner: You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like this. Just back off a little.

But Eren just stares at the screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He wants to prove them wrong, to show them that he can handle this. But deep down, he knows they’re right. His obsession with Y/N is unhealthy.

He types one last message.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t stop. She’s mine.

Armin: Bro, you're scaring her.

Eren’s chest tightens, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’s not sure how to react, his thoughts a mess of frustration and possessiveness.

Eren: How the fuck do you know?

Ony: Cause Mikasa added me and Armin to their group chat.

The weight of Ony’s words doesn’t quite hit him at first. The realization that Mikasa and the others are talking about him—about this—makes his stomach turn. His grip on his phone tightens, and he types with clenched fists.

Connie: Damn and I ain't get no invite lol.

Reiner: Connie, focus.

Eren doesn’t respond to Connie, but his mind races. If they’re talking about him in her group chat, if Mikasa and the others know what’s going on… that means Y/N knows too. And that thought alone sends a chill through him.

He wants to control everything, to make sure Y/N never slips out of his grasp, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how dangerous this is. His thoughts swirl between possessiveness, fear, and that nagging sense of guilt that won’t go away.

Eren: It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just… I just can’t stand the thought of anyone else having her.

Armin: Bro, you're not thinking straight. You need to give her space. You can’t keep acting like this.

Ony: If you really want her, you’re gonna have to play it cool. She’s not gonna stick around if you keep acting crazy.

Connie: Yeah, bro. I get it. She’s fine, she’s beautiful, but you gotta chill out before you push her away.

Eren stares at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s not used to this feeling, this vulnerability. He’s used to getting what he wants, but with Y/N… it’s different.

Eren: I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose her.

Armin: Then don’t fuck this up, man. You’re already on thin ice. If you push her too hard, she’ll leave. You gotta play it slow.

Reiner: Yeah, just relax. Don’t make it worse.

Eren leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. They’re right. He knows it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He types one last message, his mind clouded with frustration and desire.

Eren: I’ll figure it out. But she’s mine.

Eren sits at his desk, his fingers drumming the surface as his friends settle in around him. Ony leans back in the chair across from him, feet propped up on the desk like it’s his own office, while Armin and Reiner sit on the side, making themselves comfortable. The vibe is casual, but Eren can feel the pressure mounting as his thoughts keep returning to Y/N. He’s trying to relax, to not seem too “crazy” in front of his friends, but the tension is there, simmering under the surface.

The door opens, and in walks Y/N, papers in hand. She looks focused, her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches Eren’s desk. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge the guys, but her eyes briefly flicker to them as she places the papers in front of Eren.

Y/N: Here’s the paperwork you asked for.

Eren glances up at her, his heart pounding, his mind racing with the thoughts of what had transpired earlier. He’s trying to play it cool—trying to keep his composure with his friends here. But then, he notices the way Y/N’s presence seems to make the air in the room shift. It’s electric, and he knows it.

Eren: Thanks for this, Y/N. You’re a life-saver.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he decides to make the introduction, all too aware of the tension in the room.

Eren: Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends—Ony, Armin, and Reiner.

Y/N offers a polite but brief smile, nodding toward them as she quickly scans the room. The last thing she expects is to find herself in Eren’s office with his friends lounging around.

Y/N: Nice to meet you all.

Eren, for the briefest moment, feels a flicker of unease—like a possessive fire just beneath the surface—but he shakes it off and turns his attention back to Y/N. That’s when she lets something slip that makes him freeze for a moment.

Y/N: By the way, I saw you moved Jean to a different department. Couldn’t help but notice.

Eren’s heart skips, but he stays composed, offering a faint smile as his friends glance at him. He doesn’t want to act like a jealous lunatic in front of them. He clears his throat, focusing back on Y/N.

Eren: I’m sorry about that. I thought it was necessary for the project’s success.

He gestures to the papers she handed him, trying to shift the focus away from his internal frustration.

Eren: Thanks for the paperwork, though. You’ve been doing great. Actually, take the rest of the day off. Consider it a reward.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not fully buying into his offer. Her arms cross as she stands in front of his desk.

Y/N: I’m fine, Eren. I don’t need the time off. I can finish up the rest of the work.

Eren leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the tension in his voice show. His tone becomes slightly sharper.

Eren: Y/N, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. You’ve been running around nonstop lately.

Y/N scoffs, clearly not taking too kindly to his suggestion. She looks at him with an unimpressed stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain.

Y/N: I’m fine. I’m not some fragile thing that needs coddling, Eren.

Eren smirks, an arrogant edge to his smile as he leans forward in his chair.

Eren: You’re not fragile? Maybe, but you're definitely testing my patience.

Y/N’s eyes flash with something fierce, her gaze narrowing. She leans in slightly, her fingers twitching as if she’s about to snap at him. Then, in one swift motion, she raises her hand, as though she’s going to slap him across the face.

The tension in the room thickens. Ony and the others watch, intrigued by the standoff. Eren doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider, his gaze locked on hers.

Eren: Be my guest, Y/N. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

For a split second, Y/N hesitates, her hand still hovering in the air, poised to strike. Her chest rises and falls with each breath as her eyes flicker between his confident expression and the space between them. The moment stretches on, heavy with anticipation.

But then, something shifts. The fire in her eyes dims, and she lowers her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. Eren watches her, his expression unreadable, but there’s a satisfaction in his eyes that only he understands.

Eren: You’re stronger than I thought, Y/N. I respect that.

Y/N scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave, but not before shooting one last look at him.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Eren.

As she walks out, her exit leaves the room strangely quiet. Ony, Armin, and Reiner exchange looks but don’t speak a word. The energy in the room has shifted once again—this time, it’s palpable. Eren can feel it, the shift between them, the growing tension, the silent understanding that this dynamic is far from over.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches her go. His mind races. There’s something about her—something he can’t get out of his head.

And he knows, deep down, that he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Armin sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he watches Y/N’s retreating figure through the office door. He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Armin: I’m definitely gonna end up being your lawyer when she sues you, Eren.

Reiner laughs, shaking his head at the situation, the tension in the room still lingering from the encounter.

Reiner: Man, I’m not even gonna lie... you’re making this harder than it has to be. He pauses, glancing at Eren. Just ask her out for God’s sake. What are you waiting for?

Eren stays silent for a moment, letting their words settle. The thought of it is... strange. Sure, he’s had plenty of women—flings, casual affairs—but this? This was different. The intensity of it all, the pull he felt whenever she was near, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

But then, his mind drifts back to the kiss, the way she’d reacted. It was like she wanted to fight him, but also... something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Eren: It’s not that simple.

Ony, who had been quiet until now, raises an eyebrow. He lounges back in his seat with a grin that suggests he’s been amused by the whole situation.

Ony: Bro, it’s never that simple with you, huh? Just admit you want her, stop overthinking it. I’ve been hearing you complain about this girl for weeks, and now you're playing dumb?

Eren clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ony’s right.

Eren: It’s complicated. She doesn’t even... He trails off, the words coming out in frustration. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Armin and Reiner exchange knowing looks. They’d seen Eren go through this type of internal battle before. He could be aggressive, possessive—he was always the one to go after what he wanted, but when it came to Y/N... something about her made him second-guess himself.

Armin: Man, you think she doesn’t know what she wants? She knows. She just doesn’t want to be controlled by you. Maybe try showing her you’re not just some... I don’t know, crazy possessive boss for once.

Eren rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated.

Eren: I’m not crazy.

Reiner chuckles.

Reiner: Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But it’s not the crazy we’re worried about. It’s the possessive part. If you keep pushing her like this, she’s gonna run, Eren.

The words hit hard, but he knows they’re true. Every second he spent obsessing over her, every action he took to control her, was pushing her farther away.

Eren doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze now fixed on the papers Y/N had left on his desk. He still has her scent lingering in his memory—the sharpness of her perfume, the warmth of her skin from their brief touch.

Ony: Bro, we need to just go out for drinks tonight. You need to clear your head before you go off the rails with her.

Eren finally looks up, meeting Ony’s eyes, then Reiner’s, then Armin’s. His mind is still racing with thoughts of Y/N—her scent, her attitude, the challenge she presents. He could feel his patience fraying, but there was something else gnawing at him. Something deeper.

Eren: Fine. Drinks. But we’re not done with this.

His friends nod, understanding the weight of what he meant. As much as they tried to talk sense into him, they knew Eren would do what he always did. He’d chase after what he wanted, no matter how messy it got.

Eren leans back in his chair, still staring at the door Y/N had left through. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back in front of him. And when she did, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.

Later, the guys meet up for drinks, but Eren can’t shake the image of Y/N out of his head. The way she stood up to him, her confidence, her defiance—it was all too intoxicating. He couldn’t let it go.

Ony watches him, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ony: You know, man, I’m starting to think you’ve already decided what you’re gonna do next. Stop pretending like you don’t know what you want.

Eren just grins, taking another sip of his drink.

Eren: I’m not pretending. I’m just waiting for the right moment.

Ony turned to Connie, his eyes gleaming with mischief, his grin wide as he leaned in to make a bold wager.

Ony: I'll bet you 50K she sues him.

Connie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms.

Connie: Nah, she’s gonna end up fucking him and leaving his ass.

Reiner, who had been quietly sipping his drink, couldn’t help but join in.

Reiner: Lol, facts. Eren can’t handle all that. He acts like he’s built bad, but we all know he’s a mess when it comes to her.

Ony burst out laughing, practically cackling with amusement.

Ony: Bro, no lies detected! I mean, just look at him! Can’t even control himself around her.

Eren remained silent through all of this, the teasing growing louder, but he didn’t flinch. His thoughts were miles away, still replaying the events from earlier in the day. The kiss. Her defiance. Her eyes staring back at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it drove him crazy.

He finally broke his silence, his voice cutting through the laughter.

Eren: Are you guys done?

Ony grinned wider, clearly not done yet.

Ony: Nah, man, I’m serious. She’s definitely gonna sue you. At this rate, you’re gonna end up in court with a restraining order on your ass.

Eren scowled, his jaw tightening. He knew they were right, in a way. The way he’d pushed her, the way his obsession had been growing—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the moment. It was a message from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled it out, unlocking it and reading her message.

Y/N: I’m still thinking about the kiss. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets pushed around like that. You’ll hear from me soon.

Eren stared at the message, the words sinking in. A mix of guilt and desire swirled inside him, but his stomach tightened. He was used to getting what he wanted, but with her? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Eren: Shit.

He tossed his phone onto the table, meeting his friends’ eyes. They were watching him, waiting for his next move.

Reiner: I’m telling you, man, you’re either gonna lose her or you’re gonna lose yourself trying to keep her. You can’t control everything.

Ony snorted.

Ony: He’s right, you know. You gotta chill out, bro.

Eren leaned back in his chair, a frown settling on his face. He didn’t like hearing the truth. Not from them. Not about this.

He glanced over at Connie, Reiner, and Ony.

Eren: I don’t know what to do.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up, his tone more serious than before.

Connie: Honestly, dude? You gotta stop playing games. Either you’re gonna let her go, or you’re gonna go after her. For real. No more back-and-forth.

Eren looked at his friends, his mind racing. Connie was right. He was at a crossroads, but the pull he felt toward Y/N was too strong. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

Eren took a deep breath, slamming his drink down on the table.

Eren: I’m going after her. I don’t care what happens. This time, I’m not backing down.

Reiner, Ony, and Connie exchanged looks, and then a silence fell over the table as they all realized the gravity of what Eren was saying.

Ony: Well... that’s the Eren I know. Just don’t get arrested, bro. We got enough problems without you bringing the cops into this.

Eren’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was already on Y/N, already thinking of the next step. This time, he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what it took.

Eren: We’ll see about that.

Timeskip

Eren had been out of the office for the entire week. The sudden absence had given me the space I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for his presence to fill the air, to make the ground beneath me feel shaky with every word he said or every look he gave. It was a weird feeling, almost like something had been missing, but in a good way.

I texted my friends to update them. I couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

Me: Mikasa, I met Ony and Armin, the guys you added to the chat.

Mikasa: They’re cool.

Kaylah: How she know’s Eren’s friends?

Mikasa: High school.

Annie: So you know Eren then?

Mikasa: Kinda, we weren't really that close. More of a friend of a friend thing.

Kaylah: Aye, Ony, Armin. I know you bitches still in here.

Ony: What you want, Kaylah?

Kaylah: Anyway, why Eren ain't in the office?

Armin: He not catching a case.

Ony: He’s well...

Armin: Bro, shut up.

Annie: Nah, nah, spill now.

Ony: Leaves group

Mikasa: Adds Ony back to group.

Mikasa: You were saying?

I laughed as the group chat erupted with back-and-forth messages. They were like a well-oiled machine when it came to digging for dirt, and I was more than ready to let them have it. I didn’t want to keep this to myself anymore.

Me: Alright, alright. Here’s the tea: Eren’s been out of the office this whole week. But, like, he’s been working from home, so I don’t know what’s going on with him.

Kaylah: Damn, that’s a whole vibe. So, what, he’s just... avoiding you?

Me: I don’t know, girl. Maybe. He just started acting strange last week, and then... he took the whole week off.

Annie: Did he say why?

Me: He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. But it’s like I get the space I need... but I also miss him? I don't even know what to think about it anymore.

Mikasa: You like him. Don’t front.

Me: Maybe. I don’t know, Mikasa.

Kaylah: Girl, come on. You definitely like him. You just don't want to admit it.

I paused, biting my lip as I read through their messages. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone them, but the truth was undeniable. Every time Eren wasn’t around, I felt this hollow ache in my chest, like I was missing something vital. Maybe I was starting to get used to the tension, the way he made me feel when he was near. I didn’t want to, but it was there.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again with a message. It was from Eren. My stomach flipped when I saw his name on the screen.

Eren: Can we talk?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to do. I was still mad at him for the things he’d done. But I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say now. Why had he texted me out of nowhere?

Me: Now?

Eren: Yes. It’s important.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the nerves that were quickly setting in. He had a way of making everything feel so intense, so out of my control. But I was done with running away from this. I’d face him.

Me: Fine. I’ll come by in 15 minutes.

I could practically hear the smirk in his reply.

Eren: Good. I’ll see you then.

My heart beat a little faster as I closed my phone. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something about him—about Eren—that I just couldn’t ignore.

When I arrived at the address Eren had texted me, I was standing in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. It looked too nice for someone like him. Maybe I was just underestimating him.

I made my way up to the penthouse and knocked on the door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as the door opened, Eren stood there, looking like he belonged in a magazine. His usual intense gaze softened when he saw me, though, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his posture.

Eren: You came.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Me: You wanted to talk?

Eren stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

Eren: Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot this week. About everything.

I stepped into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. It was tastefully decorated, minimalist, and oddly calming. Eren closed the door behind me, his gaze lingering on me as I took in my surroundings.

Me: Well, let’s get this over with, then.

He chuckled softly.

Eren: I was an idiot last week.

Me: You think?

I crossed my arms, trying to hide how his admission affected me. He was right, I’d been suffocating under the weight of his attention, but now that he was pulling away, I couldn’t deny that something was missing.

Eren: I wanted to apologize. I was... overbearing.

Me: That’s one way to put it.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

Eren: I had to take a step back. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t deny what I feel for you, Y/N.

I froze. His voice had dropped an octave, and I could feel the weight of his words in the pit of my stomach.

Me: You can’t just say things like that.

Eren: Why not?

He was too close now. Too close for comfort. My breath hitched as he placed a hand gently on my arm, his thumb grazing my skin.

Eren: I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. But I need you to know that I can’t let you go. Not like this. Not after what’s between us.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Me: What if I don’t want this?

Eren leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered.

Eren: I don’t care if you don’t want it. I’m not going to stop.

My head spun. The mix of desire and frustration was overwhelming. But I couldn’t ignore how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making it feel smaller, tighter.

Me: You’re crazy.

Eren: Maybe. But I’m not backing down.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

Eren: I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.

His words hung in the air as he slowly tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But I melted into it, my hands moving to his chest as I pulled him closer.

When he pulled away, his face was inches from mine, and I could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted me, but there was something more there. Something deeper.

Eren: And neither are you.

I felt my knees weaken, the tension between us unbearable as I tried to resist, tried to push him away. But the pull... it was too strong.

Eren smiled softly, his gaze never leaving mine as he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with mine. The heat between us was undeniable, and his presence seemed to consume the space around us.

Eren: Stop me, Y/N. If you really don’t want me, tell me to back off, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop this whole thing right now.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was my boss, my manager. I was supposed to stay professional, keep my distance. But the way he looked at me, the way his voice dropped lower with every word, it was like I couldn’t think straight.

Me: Eren... you’re my boss, you’re my manager.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

Eren: Technically, I’m the owner and CEO, but I like this position more at times.

My eyes widened in shock.

Me: What on earth? I thought the founder was Zeke Yeager.

Eren laughed, a rich, confident sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Eren: Zeke is my older half-brother. He’s a co-founder. I just didn’t want my name plastered all over it. But... back to the topic.

I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the revelation. My mind was spinning, trying to wrap around the fact that he owned the company. He was the one who called the shots. The one who controlled everything. And here he was, standing right in front of me, making everything feel like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

Me: You’re... crazy.

Eren’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

Eren: Maybe. But right now, you’re the one who’s making me lose control.

I took a step back, shaking my head, but he didn’t back off. His presence was overpowering. Every step he took toward me made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Me: We shouldn’t do this.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable, before he took another slow step closer, closing the gap between us. I could feel the tension building, thick and almost unbearable.

Eren: Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll stop. Just say it.

I looked up at him, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. He was so close now, I could feel his warmth, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were locked on mine, waiting for me to make a choice, to decide where this was going to go.

But what was I supposed to say? Could I even say it? Could I walk away from this... from him?

Me: I... I can’t.

Eren’s gaze flickered with something darker, something more intense, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine again. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and it ignited a fire within me that I didn’t know I could still have.

I was drowning in it, in him, in the weight of everything unsaid, all the questions and fears I had about us. I couldn’t stop it. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

Eren: I told you, Y/N. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to stop what was happening between us. The lines between work and whatever this was had already blurred beyond recognition, and I had no idea how to find my way out.

Eren’s voice was rough, laced with hunger, as he groaned my name, the sound vibrating through me. His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head as he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. Every movement was calculated, controlled, making it clear just how much power he had over me in this moment.

Eren: Y/N... you don’t have any idea what you do to me.

I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat, my body frozen beneath him. His weight, his closeness, it felt suffocating in the most overwhelming way. But I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted this, wanted him, wanted the heat that radiated off him, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.

He lowered his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, the feeling sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched as his hands moved down, gripping my waist tightly as he slowly, carefully, slid me further back on the couch. The movement was deliberate, almost possessive, like he was marking me, staking his claim.

Eren: You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N. I can’t get you out of my head. And now... now you’re mine.

I gasped as he spoke, the words stirring something inside of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet... there was something thrilling about it. The way he controlled the situation, the way he held me down, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go—he wasn’t going to let me go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were starting to bubble up. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong. But the words never came. Instead, I found myself sinking deeper into the feeling, the heat, the intensity of the moment.

His lips hovered above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, his voice low, almost a command.

Eren: Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N. Tell me you don’t want me to take control.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was a blur, the only thing I could focus on was him, his body against mine, the way he was making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the pull between us. The fire in my veins.

But even as I gave into the moment, a part of me knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as this.Eren’s words were soft, almost a whisper, as he pulled back, releasing my wrists. His hands fell to his sides, and he exhaled heavily, like a man who had just been holding his breath for far too long.

Eren: I’ll stop... I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.

The sudden distance between us was almost more overwhelming than the intensity of his earlier actions. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding, unsure of what I should feel. His voice had been filled with something I couldn’t place—guilt? Regret? Or was it just his way of keeping control?

I tried to sit up, my body trembling slightly as I took in what had just happened. My hands moved to my throat, as if trying to steady the rapid breaths, but I could still feel the heat of his presence surrounding me, making me feel trapped in the tension that hung between us.

Y/N: Eren...

I couldn’t even get the words out, unsure if I wanted to argue, to push him away, or to confess that a part of me didn’t want him to stop. It confused me—this mix of anger, desire, and confusion all swirling inside me like a storm.

Y/N: You... you can't just... do that.

I stumbled over my words, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had pushed me, tested my limits, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized the depth of what he’d done. The emotional weight of it was suffocating.

Eren stood there for a moment, his back slightly turned, but he wasn’t walking away. He was waiting for me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I could feel his eyes on me, the tension in the air like a fragile thread.

Eren: I know... I know. I crossed a line. I just... I can’t be near you and not want more. But I should’ve never made you feel like you had no choice.

He turned back to face me, his eyes softer now, but there was still that edge, the intensity that never seemed to leave him.

Eren: I can’t promise that I won’t want you. But I can promise I’ll respect you, Y/N. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t want this... I’ll walk away. But I need you to tell me.

The silence hung between us, thick and heavy. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—what did I really want? Could I really trust him not to cross that line again? Could I trust myself not to fall deeper into this twisted game we were playing?

I looked up at him, his face a mask of regret and something darker, something deeper, and in that moment, I realized that Eren Yeager was a man of contradictions. But more than that, he was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was dangerous, because right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.

As soon as I left Eren’s apartment, my heart was still racing, my mind swirling with the confusion of everything that had just happened. The quiet hum of the city around me barely registered as I quickly typed a message to my group chat, hoping my friends could offer some clarity—or at least some comfort—after the whirlwind I’d just been through.

Group Chat:

Y/N: SOS, my place. Now.

It didn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Kaylah: Girl, what happened??

Mikasa: Are you okay?

Annie: You good, Y/N?

I didn’t know how to answer them. How could I explain the suffocating mix of emotions I was feeling? The tension, the heat, the confusion, the need... I was a mess.

I responded quickly, trying to catch my breath as I walked faster toward my apartment.

Y/N: It’s... it’s bad, guys. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know what to think right now.

The three of them went quiet for a moment, and just as I was about to send another message, my phone started buzzing again.

Mikasa: Do you want us to come over?

Kaylah: Don’t go back to him, girl. You deserve better.

Annie: He did what??

The words hit me harder than I expected, the reality of it all crashing down. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the way Eren had acted—how he pushed and pulled me, how everything had escalated so quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against mine, the way his body had pinned me, the desire, the intensity...

But the other side of it—the control, the way he’d dismissed me as soon as I started to speak—left me feeling small, insignificant. It made me question everything, even my own feelings.

I paused at a crosswalk, staring at the phone screen, trying to figure out how to respond.

Y/N: He told me to leave. Like it was nothing.

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly.

Kaylah: What do you mean?

Mikasa: He told you to leave?? After everything that happened??

Annie: What a piece of shit.

I almost laughed bitterly at Annie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. But something inside me twisted, because I didn’t want to think of him as that. Not after everything. Not after the way he made me feel, both good and bad.

I didn’t want to feel conflicted anymore. I didn’t want to feel trapped in my own thoughts. But the reality was, I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know if I was ready to walk away for good.

I finally made it to my apartment, but my mind was still spinning, the nagging thoughts swirling around Eren. I needed to talk to my friends. I needed them to pull me out of this spiral.

I quickly unlocked the door and flopped down onto the couch, letting my phone rest on my chest.

Y/N: I don’t even know what to do anymore...

Kaylah: Get some sleep. We’re coming over in a bit. Don’t go back to him, though. Not like this.

Annie: Yeah. You need to clear your head, girl.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to pull back, take a step back from everything, from Eren, from the intensity he had brought into my life.

But part of me knew that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed every moment from the apartment, every word, every touch.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next. But I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not ye

I sat down on the couch, my hands trembling as I told them everything. The kiss, the tension, the way Eren pushed and pulled, the way he’d given me an out and I still hadn’t stopped him. I hadn’t even tried. I couldn’t bring myself to, and that realization hit me harder than I expected.

Kaylah was the first to speak up, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Kaylah: Why didn't you stop him, Y/N?

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. The answer was simple yet complicated. I hadn’t wanted to stop him. The truth was, a part of me had wanted it. I couldn't lie to myself about that. I was drawn to him in a way that made no sense, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

But I didn’t know how to say that. I didn’t know how to admit that I’d wanted him, maybe even needed him, in that moment.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Annie: Omg, you wanted him to, didn’t you... holy fucking shit, Y/N.

Her voice held that amused, mocking tone, but underneath, there was something softer. Something more... concerned. Mikasa, on the other hand, was less playful and more serious as she looked at me, processing everything I’d just spilled.

Mikasa: Let's backtrack for a second. So, Eren is the co-founder, CEO, and whatever else of Paradis Inc. Not Zeke.

I nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything, but I couldn’t help but feel a little rattled by her words. It was hard to process everything. I had thought Zeke was the one pulling the strings, but now Eren had just flipped my entire perception upside down.

I had only known him as my boss, but now? The owner, the CEO, the guy who owned everything around me? It changed things in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I still couldn’t get over how he’d been watching me. The way he knew so much about me, the little details I hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like he had studied me, prepared for this moment—this power dynamic, where he held all the cards.

I was the one with no control, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or craved it more.

Kaylah: Wait, you didn’t know all of that?

I shook my head, the weight of the secret crashing down on me. Y/N: No. I thought Zeke was the one who owned the company. I had no idea Eren was...

I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How was I supposed to process the fact that this man, who had kissed me like I was his, was also the one with all the power? The one who controlled everything.

Annie: So Eren’s basically been running this shit behind the scenes?

Mikasa: And you didn’t even know. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.

I shook my head again, trying to wrap my mind around it.

Y/N: No, he didn’t tell me. But it’s more than that. The way he... controlled everything between us... made it feel like I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but when he kissed me, I... I didn’t want him to stop.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, and the room fell silent as my friends processed what I had just admitted.

Kaylah: Damn, Y/N. You want him. You’re hooked on him.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I could even deny it anymore. But that didn’t mean I was okay with everything that had happened. It didn’t mean I could just ignore the fact that I had let him get so close. That I had let him in when I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe, just maybe, I liked the way it felt. The intensity, the pressure, the way Eren had made me feel like I was the only one in the world for him. Like he was in control, but in a way that had made me feel wanted.

Annie: Y/N, I don’t know what kind of mind games Eren’s playing, but you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing. This could go left real quick.

Her words hit me like a cold shower. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she was right. There was something dangerous about how easily I had let myself slip into his control. Something that scared me.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts.

Y/N: I’m not sure what to do. He’s... he’s confusing. I don’t know if I should stay away from him or... or go back to him.

Kaylah: Girl, you’re playing with fire. He’s your boss, for one thing. You can’t just let him run shit like that. You deserve better.

Mikasa: Yeah, Y/N, if you’re not careful, this could get real toxic, real fast.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me.

Y/N: I know. I know it’s not healthy, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. Something that makes me want to stay close to him... even when I know I shouldn’t.

My phone buzzed suddenly, cutting off the conversation, and I quickly glanced down. The message was from Eren.

Eren: You know I’m serious, right? We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk to him again—didn’t know if I was ready to face what had just happened. But a part of me couldn’t resist.

I locked my phone and put it face down on the coffee table.

Y/N: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I’ll figure it out.

The room was quiet again, my friends’ concerned gazes on me as I tried to make sense of everything.

The tension in the air thickened as Mikasa held my phone, her fingers pressing against the screen, and she put it on speaker without a second thought. The moment Eren’s voice crackled through the speakers, my heart skipped in my chest.

Eren: Who are you?

Mikasa: Mikasa, why you calling her phone

Eren: what the fuck? Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: What the fuck are you on?

I could hear Eren sigh on the other end, clearly frustrated, but Mikasa wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if she could hear him through the phone.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: Answer the question, Eren.

I could feel the weight of his silence pressing through the room, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down either.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mikasa: Is your record broken in that throat of yours?

I could hear Eren’s breath hitch, probably trying to keep his cool, but the frustration was palpable.

Eren: Take me off speaker, Mikasa. I’m not stupid.

Mikasa didn’t hesitate. She let out a little chuckle, her fingers tapping the edge of the phone like she was playing a game.

Mikasa: Nope.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how this was escalating. It was almost like they were enjoying this back-and-forth too much.

Eren: You wouldn’t get it.

Mikasa: Get what, Yeager?

Her voice was sharp, and there was a dangerous edge to it now. Eren didn’t respond immediately, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. I could imagine him standing there, running his hand through his hair, annoyed at being backed into a corner by Mikasa of all people.

I leaned back against the couch, my heart still racing from the conversation, unsure of what was going to happen next. I hadn’t expected Mikasa to put him on speaker, but now that she had, there was no turning back. This was going to get messy.

Mikasa: Well?

There was another long pause, and when Eren finally spoke, his tone was more resigned than before.

Eren: I don’t need your fucking permission, Mikasa. I’m trying to talk to Y/N.

I could hear Mikasa’s sharp intake of breath.

Mikasa: And you think she wants to talk to you after what happened?

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I had to force myself to focus on the situation.

Eren: Look, just... just put her on the phone. I need to talk to her.

Mikasa: That’s up to her, not you.

There was a finality to her voice, and I could feel the tension mounting. But deep down, I knew Mikasa was just looking out for me, protecting me from whatever game Eren was trying to play.

I grabbed the phone from Mikasa’s hand, finally deciding to take control of the situation.

Y/N: It’s me. I’m listening.

There was a moment of silence before Eren’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it, finally came through the line.

Eren: Y/N...

His voice trailed off, and I could hear the mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, maybe regret or concern? I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out, not yet.

Y/N: What do you want, Eren?

Eren: I... I need to explain. Please, just let me explain.

Mikasa: Y/N, don’t do it. He’s just going to confuse you more.

I glanced over at Mikasa and the others. They were all watching me, their eyes full of concern. I knew they didn’t want me to fall back into this mess with Eren. But part of me... part of me wanted to hear him out.

Y/N: I’m listening, but this better be good, Eren.

Eren sighed, and I could almost picture him pacing.

Eren: I didn’t mean to push you. I got carried away, but I need you to understand. I want you, Y/N. Not just as my employee or some... business thing. I want you. But I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I listened. His words were raw, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was it just guilt talking, or was there something more to it?

Y/N: I don’t know if I can trust you right now, Eren. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I... I don’t know if I can just forget about that.

There was another long pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

Eren: I know. I get it. I just... I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. This was getting way too complicated. I wanted to hear him out, but I couldn’t ignore how badly he had hurt me. The push and pull of it all was driving me insane.

.

Y/N: I told you, Eren, but I was never yours.

Eren’s sigh echoed through the phone, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. It wasn’t just frustration; it was something deeper, like he had finally realized the truth.

Eren: You’re right, but I want you to be...

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him. It was almost like he was pleading, but there was still that cocky edge lurking beneath.

Y/N: But if I don’t want that?

Eren’s response came quickly, with a sharp edge.

Eren: Then stop telling me what-ifs and tell me straight up you don’t want me. Then I’ll back off, Y/N. I won’t push you anymore, but I need to hear it from you.

The finality in his tone hit me hard. He was right. All this time, I had danced around the truth, letting the situation unfold without really confronting what I wanted. He wanted honesty, and in that moment, I realized I had to give it to him, no matter how much it stung.

I stood there, phone in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about me too. What did I want? What did I really want?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Y/N: I don’t want you, Eren. Not like that.

The silence on the other end was deafening. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and I almost regretted saying the words. But I knew I couldn’t take them back.

Eren: Alright... I’ll respect that. But don’t think this is the end of it, Y/N. I’m not giving up so easily.

I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but this time, it didn’t feel as teasing. It felt like a challenge. Like he was daring me to stand by my decision.

Y/N: Maybe it should be the end of it, Eren.

There was a long pause. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Eren: You’re making it harder than it needs to be, Y/N. But if that’s how it has to be... fine. You don’t want me. But you’ll regret it.

With that, he ended the call. The finality of it hit me all at once, and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Part of me felt relief, like I had finally put an end to all the confusion. But another part of me... part of me wasn’t so sure.

Was I making a mistake?

The next couple of months blurred into a strange, quiet routine. Eren had placed Zeke as my new manager, which, in hindsight, seemed like a relief at first. Zeke was easy to work with—no pressure, no tension. It was smooth sailing, and I almost forgot what it felt like to have that weight hanging over me. But there was always a nagging feeling, an emptiness that I couldn’t quite shake.

Eren... had become more of a distant figure now. He had fully taken over Zeke’s role as CEO, and with that, the office dynamic shifted. The gossip spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t the kind of talk that made him sound like the ambitious businessman people had once admired. No, the rumors about Eren now painted him as a monster—cold, detached, and impossible to work with. People said he was ruthless in meetings, demanding more from the staff, never satisfied, never giving anyone a break. He was the opposite of the manager Eren had been.

I rarely saw him anymore. When I did, it was brief—a passing glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes locked for an instant. It was like he saw right through me, as if I didn’t even exist. His gaze would always shift away before I could even register it. It was almost like I was nothing to him, like he had erased me from his world completely.

The changes were undeniable. Eren’s appearance had shifted drastically. His hair had grown longer, messier, giving him a rougher edge. He had been working out, his frame more defined, his muscles more prominent under his usual attire. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the energy he carried now—hardened, cold, and entirely unapproachable. He had tattoos now, ones that were visible under his sleeves when he’d roll them up, and they only seemed to add to the mystery surrounding him.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Sometimes, I caught myself watching him from across the room, like I was some outsider trying to understand who he had become. And whenever I thought I had caught him looking back at me, there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if I had become just another face in the crowd, an unimportant memory from his past.

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed. But I didn’t. The space between us had grown too wide, too complicated. And I didn’t know how to bridge it anymore.

For the first time in months, I couldn’t help but wonder... Did I really make the right choice? Was I wrong to push him away when everything had seemed to be going in the opposite direction?

The silence between us was loud, deafening. And I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was the one who had caused it all.

Zeke gave me some paper work to drop for Eren. It was the first time I was gonna have direct contact with him in wht 6 months. I headed up to his office floor.

Eren was pacing his office on a call raising his voice at someone on the call. He locked eyes with me and eyed the paper work in my hand.

I stood frozen just inside the doorframe, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling heavier than they should. Eren’s presence seemed to fill the room, his energy, tense and coiled, pulsing through the space like an electric current. His gaze met mine—sharp, cold—and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was suspended.

He didn’t acknowledge me verbally, just motioned toward the desk where he clearly wanted the paperwork dropped. His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flicked over the papers in my hand, as if evaluating my every move. The call on the other end seemed to escalate, but his attention never wavered from me.

“I need this deal settled as of yesterday. Don’t make me fly out there,” he snapped into the phone. His voice was lower now, even more commanding, his frustration evident as he cut the call short with a curt “I’ll handle it myself,” before slamming the phone down.

The office went silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy weight of his stare. I stood there, unsure of what to do next.

He didn’t speak right away, just looked at me with a distant, unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched, the usual air of authority that had once been reassuring now felt like an impenetrable wall. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “You still working with Zeke?” His voice was flat, almost too casual, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Zeke gave me this to drop off for you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning over the paperwork in my hands again before he let out a small sigh and stepped toward the desk. “Put it on the table.”

I placed the papers down carefully, then turned to leave, but before I could even make it halfway to the door, I heard him speak again.

“You know, you could’ve dropped these off any time in the past six months.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement—a reminder of the space that had grown between us.

I paused, caught in the moment, and turned slowly to face him. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t reply right away, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he spoke again, this time softer, almost like he was speaking to himself. “I didn’t want to see you like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But the tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, it was enough to make me pause, to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I swallowed, taking a step closer again. “Eren... what happened?”

For a second, his eyes flickered with something—anger? Regret? But whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Nothing happened. Everything happened. But that’s not the point.”

The tension in the air thickened, and the silence stretched between us. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the one I had been trying to ignore for months. The same ache that told me things weren’t as simple as they seemed. That maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as done as we had both convinced ourselves we were.

I stepped closer again, this time determined. “Then what is the point, Eren?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something—anything that would make sense of this mess we were both tangled in. But instead, he took a step back, his expression shutting down again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice hardening once more. “You’ve done your job. You can go now.”

I stood there for a long second, my heart pounding. Everything about this felt wrong—his coldness, the distance, the way he was shutting me out like he had done months ago. But I didn’t have the words to bridge that gap, not anymore. So, I nodded quietly, turning to leave without another word.

I did something out of character and stepped closer and he stepped back.

I stepped closer, feeling the space between us grow heavier with every breath. Eren, for the first time, took a step back, and I could see it—he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I kept closing the distance. His eyes flickered toward the door like he was looking for a way out.

“Y/N,” his voice was strained, as though he was trying to push me away without actually wanting to.

I didn’t stop. I needed to understand what had changed, why everything felt so off. "What’s with the cold shoulder?" I asked, my voice quieter now, laced with confusion and hurt. I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Eren didn’t look at me, his eyes glancing toward the door again. I took another step, moving closer, but every time I did, he pulled back, like I was something to avoid. It was so unlike him, and it confused me even more.

“Y/N, please leave,” he said, the words harsh but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t name. Maybe it was a plea.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him push me away without understanding why.

“I’m not doing this, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “You told me you didn’t want me. I backed off. That’s what you wanted, right? I’m out your hair, out your way.”

I stood there, feeling the tension in the room tighten, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Eren was backing away, his walls back up, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as before. There was something raw in his expression, something deeper. I could feel it, like an undercurrent I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Eren…” I started, my voice faltering. “What happened to you? You look… different. You've changed.”

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze flicking to the door again, but he didn’t respond. It was like he was shutting me out completely, unwilling to even acknowledge what I had said.

I took a step closer, ignoring the instinct to back off. He took a step back too, but I wasn’t going to let him distance himself like this. Not again.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice more desperate than I meant it to be. “Why the distance? Why pull away now?”

“Yn,” he said, his tone tight, almost pained. “Please, just leave. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t just walk away when there was so much left unsaid between us. I stared at him, taking another step forward. He didn’t move this time, but his jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, a challenge in my voice.

Eren’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place, and for a second, I thought he might snap. But instead, he stood his ground, shaking his head slightly. “Then you’re just making it harder for both of us.”

I couldn’t understand him anymore. The distance he put between us—physical and emotional—was suffocating, and it was tearing me apart. I had told him I didn’t want him, yes. But that wasn’t all of it. That wasn’t everything.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, stepping even closer now, my heart pounding in my chest. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything... with you, with me. But this... this doesn’t make sense, Eren. What is this really about?”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his expression hardened again. He took another step back, his body language tense, like he was holding back something—something that was just about to break free.

“You told me you didn’t want this,” he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying that weight of finality. “You told me you wanted me to back off. And I did. You’ve made it clear. I’m not going to keep pushing when you don’t want me around.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that would change his mind, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know how to fix this mess. He was right—he had backed off, he had given me the space I said I needed. But now, it felt like I had been left with nothing. I wasn’t sure if I could walk away from him again.

I stood there, frozen, the words I needed to say stuck in my throat. Eren just stood there too, his eyes still avoiding mine, his body turned slightly away as if trying to create a barrier between us.

Finally, I took a deep breath, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you, Eren. I never wanted you to just… disappear. But you’re right. I didn’t know what I wanted either. But I do now.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed, stepping closer once again, this time with purpose. “I mean… I’m not ready to walk away from you, Eren. But I need you to stop running from me. Stop running from whatever this is.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes still guarded, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. Maybe we hadn’t completely destroyed what we had. Maybe it was still there, buried underneath all the walls we had both built.

“Just… talk to me, okay?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “Let me in, Eren.”

He hesitated for a long while, and then, just when I thought he might shut me out completely, he finally nodded, though his gaze was still distant.

“I’m sorry, yn. I really am.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried so much weight. “I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

I reached out, a small gesture, but enough to bridge the gap. I didn’t want to give up on him. On us. Not when it felt like there was still something worth fighting for.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said softly. “But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”

Eren looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’ll try,” he finally said, his voice a little stronger. “But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

I nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I know. But we don’t have to do this alone.”

If you guys want a part two with just smut imma write it and drop it. this was already 21.3k words

[kingkat12]

procrastination (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: FLUFF, biting, suggestive content, mentions of sex

summary: Roman knows exactly why you're up so late-- and now it's time to get you to admit it and go to bed

word count: 1,155

a/n: enjoy this oneshot i wrote at one a.m. yesterday to talk myself into going to sleep, and i hope it might work as efficiently for u as well<3333

"You should go to bed,"

I turned away from my computer, staring back at Roman with an annoyed look in my eyes-- still, I was sure he would spot the heaviness of my lids instead, along with the way my lashes moved in slow strokes as I continued to battle sleep. "I can't. I have to finish this,"

"You don't have to do anything at all," he murmured, taking off his reading glasses as he put today's paper down in his lap-- I was glad he finally wore them after I had dragged him to the optician to get a prescription. "This is just yesterday's argument all over again."

I cocked a brow; "We're not arguing, though?"

"... You know what I mean,"

"We didn't exactly argue yesterday, either,"

Roman sighed, the yellow hues of a lamp nearby dipping into the golden brown of his hair. "Yeah, you're right," He placed the paper next to him on the couch, crossing his legs as he stared back at me. I wasn't sitting too far away as he had allowed me to use his home office today, and he was on the couch a little further away from the desk. I loved being in this room; it smelled like Roman. It looked like Roman. Everything from the minimalistic style of the interior to the whisky glasses scattered all around the room which he had forgotten to put coasters beneath. He continued; "We didn't argue, and I'm not going to argue with you now either. I'm simply saying that you don't have to get that stuff done right now."

"But--"

"It's not life or death, is it?" Roman shifted, uncrossing his legs as he moved to the edge of the couch. "How much work do you really think you can get done at one in the morning?"

I shrugged. Being put on the spot like this wasn't my favourite thing in the world. Realizing I had to get real with him to get my point across, I let my shoulders slump as I rolled the office chair an inch or two away from my previous spot near the desk. I had to do everything in my power to not start spinning around on it like I usually liked to do with chairs like these. "I don't want to sleep, though,"

Roman nodded, ready to attack the root of the problem; "Why?" he asked, voice soft and gentle. 

I wanted to shut down. Go quiet again and get back to work. Still, I had a feeling this was coming from genuine concern-- and when Roman Godfrey is concerned about your sleep schedule, you know something is off. "I've procrastinated all day," I mumbled, tapping my fingers against the table as I grew uncomfortable with the truth I had suppressed. "I'm procrastinating now. And if I don't make my mind busy with something, I will think about the fact that I haven't gotten anything done today."

Humming, Roman folded his arms over his chest as he listened. Had he not been my boyfriend, I could've mistaken him for my therapist. "You staying up any longer won't change that, though,"

"Yeah," I breathed, no longer meeting his gaze. "But at least I'm not rolling around in bed right now feeling guilty about it." My sentence ended with a sigh, and it didn't take long before I drove my elbows against the hard wood of the desk and buried my face in my hands. Just talking about sleeping made me further exhausted-- was this what he wanted to get out of this conversation? My next words were muffled against my palms; "You don't have to stay up with me, if that's what you're doing. You should get some sleep."

Roman remained quiet, nodding to himself as he kicked back on the couch and ended up in a casual manspread. He grabbed the paper beside him-- "I'll make myself busy with this crossword. By the time I'm done, I hope you've come to your senses,"

I peeked at him through my fingers, and I couldn't help the confusion coursing through my veins as I spotted him reaching for a pen. Was he actually going to do this? Roman Godfrey... doing a crossword puzzle? I must've opened a portal into an alternative universe with my whining. "Come to my senses about what?"

Roman shrugged, filling in his first word on the paper as he no longer met my gaze. "How much nicer it would be to roll around in bed with me instead of doing whatever it is you're doing on your computer,"

Oh. He had a point. I hated when he did that. "Doesn't sound like we'd be getting much sleep that way either,"

Roman chuckled softly, mostly to himself, and wrote down another vertical word across the puzzle. "Perv,"

"... Me?"

"Yes, you," He tsked, pulling his pen away to think about which word to go for next. "Rolling around in bed doesn't have necessarily to mean sex."

I cocked a brow-- "Roman, are you perhaps having a stroke? Everything usually means sex when you're the one talking,"

"Well, tonight I'm a new man," He smiled as he found the answer for a word going across, finally meeting my eyes as he finished filling in the empty slots. "What do you say about making out like we're sixteen and sexually repressed?"

I nearly choked on air. "That's specific,"

"I'm not denying that,"

"How is that different from just... making out like usual?"

Roman leaned his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he thought out loud; "I think it'd just be messier. So uncoordinated that we'd constantly be knocking teeth,"

It was impossible not to laugh-- "You want to knock teeth, Roman?"

He turned his head to me, his green eyes meeting mine with the loveliest of smiles. "Fuck yeah. I'll even bite you if we get that far,"

"... Christ," With a giggle, I shut my laptop. "Fine! I'll go to bed, but only if you promise to keep your teeth far away from mine."

Roman sucked in a sharp breath as he got up to approach me. He spun the chair to make me face him, and he leaned down far enough for his hot breath to graze my cheek; "Actually, I'll bite you right now if you don't get out of my chair, young lady,"

Oh, I loved this mood of his. "Your chair?"

"Yes. My chair," His classic smirk made an appearance as his eyes darkened; "And my girl." 

It didn't take long before Roman scooped me up, hoisting me over his shoulder as I yelped. Still, I knew there was no fighting him. If I did, I'd get another one of those bite marks on my thighs that would linger for days, and I couldn't go through that again. To be frank, I planned to wear more short skirts going forward-- I was visiting his actual office tomorrow, and I planned to make my visit one he'd remember for longer than I had ever had a bite mark lingering on my skin.

[spookypete-94]

House Shopping with Simon Riley

Little drabble right before shift starts at work. Literally what the title says, but with public (not sure if you can call it that) but... having in a relations in a place you shouldn't?? SimonRileyxFemale!reader

Language, p in v, quickie

but just know NSFW NSFW NSFW!!!

Somehow, you had domesticated Simon "Ghost" Riley. It was baffling to everyone, including The Ghost himself. Not to you, however. Loving him was easy in your eyes. Someone so patient as you finding no chore in the task.

And that's why Simon literally bent over backward for you. Never at your request, though. You needed something? He was there with it shortly after you said it would help. Even when you wouldn't say anything. He noticed the tires on your car getting bald, paying for a new set, and replacing the worn ones.

It was the least he could do for you. So when it came to the next step, moving from a small flat to an actual house, he didn't hesitate. It had to be a place to make into a home. Strong, sound four walls to make sure you were in a safe place while he was away. With a nice view preferably with no close neighbors to be watching you while he couldn't shield you. A place with a kitchen for meals, and a big one at that. The bedroom needed to be large and spacious for your bed. Maybe even a few other rooms to fill later down the road with little bodies split of the image of you both. Only the best for his, Love.

Finally, a realtor had found a house with all the list of his demands. Taking the day, he told you to dress nice, business casual. You had dressed in a white crisp cotton collard shirt with a tight pencil skirt, and him in a white shirt matching with a black tie and slacks.

"Where are we going?"

"Lawyer."

"A lawyer?!" You asked, shocked, looking at him stunned while he backed up the vehicle, his arm draped over onto your seat.

"Lawyer." He confirmed.

"What for?"

"You'll see when we get there, calm down."

Fiddling with the hem of your skirt the entire time of the drive, you continued with the same nervous habit in the lawyer's office. Only now, you were bouncing your knee as well. Simon's hand reaching over and squeezing your thigh, his way of telling you silently to calm down.

The lawyer had sat down at his desk with a stack of paperwork next to him. It was about the third or fourth page in the stack that you understood that this had to do with a large sum of money. You just didn't understand what for. Your suspicion signified from a raised eyebrow to Simon, but all he wore was a knowing smirk.

"Just need you both to sign these pages," the lawyer you didn't even know his proper name said.

"What am I signing?" You asked

"Just trust me," Simon said, leaning forward pen in hand and sliding the paper over to you.

You sighed, frustrated, but his words enough to quell your worry and anxiety.

You tried to glance over the paperwork, still looking for any hints of what you were signing your life away too, but the jarble of the language too much to just get by skimming.

"Did you find one then?" The lawyer asked.

"Still have to look at it, but believe so." Simon answered.

Conveniently, all was said as you were signing the last page, leaving you unable to ask any questions. Simon stood up, hand out to you to grab. Feeling annoyed and left out, you did it anyway.

"Good luck," Mr. Unknown lawyer waved to you both as you left.

"Simon," your eyes burning into the side of his head.

"It's a surprise..." he said while laughing, watching you roll your eyes and groaning at the same time ,"I'm gonna show you."

"Show me?"

"Sit back," he said, giving you a side eye, tired of your questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shock you felt was unexplainable when he pulled into a driveway of a home with a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.

"Si-mon," dragging his name out for effect.

"I want us to buy a home together." Blurting it like it had been killing him to hide from you.

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Taking money out of a firm that I've had stored away for a while. This is the house closest that fits what I want to give you."

"SI-mon." The excitement you felt when he told he what he had been planning.

"Come on, realtor is waiting," he said, finally opening his car door. Quickly, you joined him, your heels clacking on the cement driveway with joy.

Just as Simon had said, there in the doorway stood a woman who was there to show the house. Holding a clipboard in a green pantsuit and large black rimmed glasses looking all prim and proper with a large smile. Ready to sell this house.

To say the house was stunning was an understatement. Vaulted ceilings, large kitchen with an island in the middle, pantry just off of it. Multiple bathrooms on both floors of the house. Natural light from the windows for days. Your attention was now looking over the bedrooms. Checking out a smaller closet that was between the master bedroom and guest room. The realtor you had learned her name as Peggy, walking around a room in the opposite direction.

What shocked you was Simon pushing you into this small linen closet and shutting the door behind him.

"Simon!" you said his name for the upteenth time today.

"Shhhhhh," he said grinning deviously as he stood before you.

The hot air from his shushing made your skin prickle, but him removing his black tye in a swift motion made your blood run cold. He made a swift loop after lifting your wrists above your head, wrapping it up around a wooden rod to hold hangers just above your head. Then, he pulled it tight as gently as your torso stretched perking your chest to him.

"So hard, not to touch you like this. " his mouth against your cheek and then into your ear. "Skirt looks so nice on you." Gasping, feeling his teeth nip into the pillar on your neck.

"Need ta' test the bones of this house, make sure it's good enough." Coy with a shit eating smile.

His fingers slipping up your skirt, pushing it up at the same time. There he rubbed against your core, making you moan.

"Shhhh," he said while chuckling. "Can't have Peggy hearing us. Worked so hard to find this house, can't ruin her work now." Teasing into your ear while he rubbed circles into your clit. Instead of taking the risk of getting caught, you leaned your head into his chest, masking your sounds there.

Pushing your panties to the side, his fingers rub your bare pussy. What he was doing was testing the waters, checking to see if you were wet enough to take him. Little did he know, your gates of arousal started to flood seeing him slip his tye off so quickly, revealing the collarbone you love to sink your teeth into.

"Dirty girl," he cooed into your ear while plunging a finger in. The stretch felt good but was pulled from you quickly. Your eyes narrowed at him in disappointment, but quickly changed to euphoria as his cock entered you abruptly.

You bit your lip trying to contain your moans, the whole situation hot to you. His large hands gripped your waist and set you on a narrow shelf, you assumed it was for shoes, but it was perfect for this. It allowed him to enter you faster and deeper. The position brought you closer to the brink, his pace perfect.

Your body was starting to catch fire, slipping your legs around him to pull him closer, sending you over the edge. Trying to roll your head back but unable to find anything to rest it on, let Simon see your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loved the feeling of being unable to move at his mercy and will. Thankfully, he was always into pleasing your needs quickly.

His chest lightly thundering with a chuckle watching you come undone.

His rhythm becomes harder, desperate for his own release. Slamming into you faster, you could feel his hot seed fill you making you whimper as your pussy clamped around him greedily taking it all.

"Good girl," he grunted, slowing down. Both of your shallow breaths filled the small space. Simon leaned down and kissed you as he pulled out. Quickly, you pushed your thighs together while he untied you from the rod. Once free, you pushed your panties back over to catch his cum before it dripped down your thighs and onto your black skirt.

"Like that?" He asked, still wearing his devil grin. Clearly, he was proud of the act.

"Very much so," you said helping him tie his tye.

"Hello??" Peggy said, while looking for you both.

It made you cringe a smile, and laugh amongst each other.

Simon tried to deflect the dirty deed you had just done together. Pushing the door open quietly, stating, "This is a perfect place to use, keep my tyes in." A statement that was a double-edge sword. It is a statement that not only you and Simon understood, but clearly, so did Peggy. Her jaw was slack mouth agape, making you both divert your eyes from her.

"It's perfect. We'll take it." Simon's tone almost boastful as he thought about the other places he would rail you in...or on.

Simon Riley Masterlist

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Package Delivery (Vox x Reader)

CW: Roleplay, Electric stim, Blowjobs, doggy style, p n v sex, she really corny porn dialog, oops I spilled a little angst Rated: Adult Summary: After working too many late nights and canceling too any dates, Vox decides to make it up to you with an unplanned surprise. New desires are unlocked and explored as two lovers who’ve been apart for too many nights fall back together. 

What’s more romantic than a stiff, cheap VoxTek delivery uniform and a new work laptop, anyway? 

Vox stood in the hall, laptop box tucked under his arm. The hallway was deserted, just as he knew it would be. The electric doors wouldn’t open for anyone trying to come into this hall. Not that many did. Most of the residents of this wing worked in the offices in other wings of the tower. 

Not you though. You worked from the comfort of your apartment most days. It was a unique privilege, one you had only been able to half heartedly argue against being granted. 

You rejected the offers of moving into his penthouse or a nicer apartment. You rejected the offer of an easier job or just not working at all. In truth, Vox liked that about you. You loved him, not his money, his status, or his power. 

Him. 

That was something he had never found in life. In hell, he thought, finding such a love was even less likely. Yet, here you were. You had shown up in his life looking for a job. 

Your disarmingly sweet smile was unphased by his attempts to gain ownership of your soul. Soft shell covered a steely core and a mind that was as smart as a whip. Vox owned the souls of the vast majority of the employees of VoxTek, but not yours. 

Overtime, things had shifted from trying to buy your soul to trying to earn your heart. It had snuck up on him, catching him blindsided as casual conversations between meetings gave way to movie nights in your modest apartment. 

And then something shifted. A friendship became more though neither of you had been brave enough to call it what it was. That was the first time he had almost fucked it all up. He had wanted to shelter this thing he had with you, keep it locked away in the apartment’s safety. 

And then you said you wanted more. He almost ran, thought about it. He thought about pretending he hadn’t heard you. Hell, for a bit he pretended, but then, he stopped pretending. 

Being with you was heaven in hell. It was a refuge in a sea of meetings and cutthroat business deals that often ended with a throat cut. Again and again, he was sure he fucked it all up. How patient could you be? How long would you wait? How many sorries would you accept when meetings ran late or dates got canceled? 

Vox pulled at the starchy white shirt, brand new and fresh out of the employee storerooms. Everything he wore was, from the jacket that wasn’t quite wide enough through the shoulders for him to zip it up and the slacks that fitted just a little looser than he had his tailored. Even the shoes he wore were standard VoxTek delivery uniform. 

One deep breath later and he was rapping his knuckles against your door. He could have placed his hand against the lock pad and opened it. Hell, he was wired into every aspect of the building. He could have opened it with a mental twitch of his fingers. Instead, he knocked again.

“Coming,” your voice was muffled, coming from deep inside the apartment.

“VoxTek delivery.” Vox called out, shifting the soundwaves of his audio outputs slightly.

“Okay,” you called out from the other side of the door, slipping an oversized sweater over the spaghetti strap tank top and shorts you had been wearing. The clingy clothes left little to the imagination, but they were comfortable for lounging in, keeping you cool so you could avoid running the air conditioner more than you had to. “Be right there!” 

There was a tump as you stubbed your toe on an end table. You had moved it, thinking the new location would look nicer and all it had done was look wrong and cripple you three times that day alone. 

“Fuck!” you yelled, voice carrying through the door to the delivery man outside who was surely being entertained by the fiasco unfolding inside the apartment. It didn’t take detective work to put together the events. The table rammed into the wall and the vase of dried flowers fell over with a thud. “Shit, damn.” 

The knob rattled as you grabbed it, standing on one foot and rubbing your toe with the other hand as you opened the door. Vox quickly muted himself as he watched you, head downcast, with your hair falling into your eyes as you checked your foot for blood. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest, silenced to preserve the surprise of his presence. 

“Sorry,” you said as you set your foot back to the ground, eyes trailing up the long legs of the delivery man. 

So many in hell were frankly offensively tall. As Vox watched your eyes trail up his form, he turned his sound back on, controlling his laugh. He stood with his back straight as your eyes made their way up. Now that he had his laugh, he was ready to commit to his bit. 

“Vox?” Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of your boyfriend, dressed in the handsome uniform of a standard delivery boy with a brown laptop box tucked under his arm. 

“Ma’am,” he tipped his head to you as his smile grew wider. “I’ve been sent to set up your replacement laptop.” 

“Oh?” You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face. This was a side of Vox rarely seen by anyone else. He was charming, that was well known. What you knew that few others knew though, was that Vox had a goofy side to him. He was a dork who loved comfortable clothes, trash tv, sharks and doing whatever he could to make you laugh. 

“May I come inside and begin the setup process?” Vox asked, doing his best impersonation of how he expected his employees to behave. 

“Be my guest,” you stepped aside, holding the door open as Vox walked inside. He carefully toed his shoes off as he expected his employees to do when entering a home, though he knew most didn’t bother. 

Your eyes ran over his back, taking in the charmingly poor fit of his clothes as he set the box on the counter, next to where your dead laptop sat. He opened the box and unpacked the shiny blue tinted laptop you knew damn well wasn’t standard issue. 

“I need to plug this in.” Vox turned to you, holding the plug in his hand as if he didn’t know where you always had your laptop plugged in. “Where would you like it?” 

“Oh?” You were enjoying how committed to the bit Vox was. It made you want to see what it took to break his resolve. What would it take to break the character he was playing. 

“Do you… do you have a lot of things you need to plug in?” You asked, voice turning sultry as Vox’s eyes widened. He knew that tone, it was one he was hoping to hear but thought he’d have to work a bit more for. 

“A few things, Miss,” Vox said as he turned to face you. 

You stepped up at him, running your fingers up the stiff shirt sleeve before pointing at the plug in down by the ground. “Right there.” 

“Oh?” Vox rose an eyebrow as he leaned down, bending at his waist and knees to plug the charger cord in. “This will need to charge shortly before I begin the setup process.”

You were closer to him as he stood, soft sweatshirt brushing against the stiff shirt he wore. “Really?” you whispered. “Is there anything else you need to plug in? Perhaps someone else that needs charging?” Vox’s screen glitched, bars flashing for a moment before he was back in control. “Oh, I misspoke- I meant to say, ‘something’.” 

“I do have a plug that needs a receptacle,” Vox hated the line as soon as he said it. It was cheesy and lame, something straight out of one of Valentino’s lower budget pornos.

The lameness of the line didn’t stop the smile that spread over your face or the laugh that bounced around the room. You were delighted with his little game, just as he had hoped you were. It made you happy, and you played along. Vox couldn’t have asked for more. 

“Do you?” you tried to sound sultry, voice struggling to manage it as you giggled. “I may have a receptacle for it.” 

“Is that so?” Vox turned, facing you as he wrapped an arm around your waist. It was a break of character, but he had been wanting to touch you since he had left the apartment days ago. 

“It is,” you nodded syllable, hands resting on his chest. “But I’m not sure if it’s the right receptacle for your plug. Would you be able to take a look and tell me?” 

It was Vox’s turn to laugh at the absurdity of the line before tightening his grip on you, lifting in his arms. “I’ll have to give it a through exam while the laptop charges.” 

“That would be good.” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, resisting the urge to rest your head against the hard plastic of his case. “If you just help me into my bedroom, you can examine it there.” 

He carried you to your room, setting you on your feet as he reached the bed. His lips hit yours as he dimmed the brightness of his screen. Vox knew you didn’t like the brightness up when he had his face so close to yours. His fingers ran over your skin, reaching under your sweater to lift it up and over your head. 

“We have to hurry,” you whispered as Vox kissed you again. “If we don’t, my boyfriend could get home.” 

“Oh?” Vox asked, fingers pulling the strap of your tank top down your shoulder, urging the neckline down to expose one of your braless breasts to his touch. 

“Oh,” you arched into his touch, “you wouldn’t like that. He’s- he’s a powerful man.” 

“Should I be sacred of him, Miss?” Vox leaned down, running a tingling tongue over your exposed nipple. Claws pushed your shorts down, knowing full well you wore nothing under them. 

“He’s your boss,” you gasped as electric lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “But today I- oh, fuck-” you moaned as fingers slipped through your folds. “Today I want the delivery m- man to plug in and charge me up.” 

“I can do that, miss.” Vox said, pushing you onto the bed. 

“Wait,” you said as he went to remove itchy stiff shirt, “Wear it,”

Vox laughed, “You like the uniform?” 

“What girl isn’t a sucker for a man in uniform?” you teased, pulling him to you by the standard issue VoxTek belt made of low quality leather. “And I’m not going to get fucked by the big, bad CEO of VoxTek.” 

“You’re not?” Vox watched, blue light from his screen washing over your hands as one worked his pants open. As your hand gripped his cock through the stiff fabric of his pants, caressing him as he sucked in a shaky breath. 

��Oh no,” you blinked up at him as you worked his cock out of the poor fitting confines of his pants, “my boyfriend is down in the corner office, third floor, working so very hard and surrounded by his shark tanks. He works so hard.” You squeezed his shaft, emphasizing that your boyfriend was indeed working hard at the moment simply to keep his screen from glitching. 

“Big boss leaving his gal all alone?” Vox choked out as you scooted toward the edge of the bed, slipping down to the floor. Big bright eyes looked up at him as you knelt, hands resting on his thighs. 

“He is,” you said, locking your lips, “letting me drain my batteries.” 

Vox couldn’t help the laugh that he barked out, but it died quickly as he was lost in you. It was his intention to tease you, play a game before going back to work. You had flipped the script on him, taking control and now he was the one struggling to keep up.

“But you have a charger for me, don’t you?” 

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking the dark blue length of it. He was always heavy in your hands. Leaning forward, you traced the prominent vein that ran along his length. The thin, velvety skin allowed the bright blue glow of the biomechanical blood flowing through his system to shine through. It provided you an easy roadmap to follow with your tongue. 

“Yes, Miss.” Vox struggled to breathe as you traced your tongue over the head of him, mouth open and hot breath washing over his sensitive skin. He was throwing already, twitching in your hand. “Do you know where to plug it in to-” his screen glitched for a second as your eyes flickered up, watching him as you ran your tongue over his slit, “to plug it in?” 

“Like this?” you asked as you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his head and sucking him in. Opening your mouth, you fed his cock deeper into the cavern of your mouth before wrapping your lips around him again. It didn’t take long for his shaft to be lubricated enough with your saliva that you could eagerly bob up and down his length. 

You moaned as he hit the back of your throat, taking him as deeply as you could. Each bob of your head had your breasts swaying, the bud of your exposed nipple catching Vox’s eye. 

All things considered, you and Vox had moved slowly in your relationship. Your sexual encounters had all been fairly tame. It wasn’t often you sucked on his cock, let alone with such showmanship and eagerness. Things had been tame, sweet between you. 

Reaching up, you gripped your breast, letting your fingers frame your nipple as you spread your legs. He couldn’t see the folds of your cunt or the way it glistened, but the way you moved your hips, rocking them slightly against nothing but air suggested it. 

You felt him twitch and grow on your tongue. Each bob of your head pulled him closer to his orgasm as he watched your hand make the scandalous run down your body and toward. 

“Fuck,” Vox groaned, fingers itching to dig into the hair at the back of your head and shove your mouth down over his cock, nestle your nose against his base and fuck into your mouth until he reached his finish. That was too rough for you, his darling, but fuck, the way you looked at him when he was so close, then let him fall from your lips made him want to. “Fuck, doll.” 

“I don’t think the plug is working,” you said, licking your lips as you looked up at him. “I don’t think it’s charging me up. Could it be the wrong place to plug in at?” 

“Fuck, babydoll,” Vox’s heart skipped a beat at her commitment to the bit. He wasted no time pulling her to her feet. “I guess we should try putting the plug in a different spot, shouldn’t we?” 

“I think we should,” you said, turning to rest your back against his. Long arms hooked behind his thin neck. The curve of your ass pushed into him, grinding the wet length of his cock. 

“You going to bend over for me?” Vox asked, reaching around to pull the other strap from your shoulder, letting the clingy black tank top fall below your breasts. They were heavy, full and plump in his hands, just the way he linked them. “Bend over so I can plug in?” 

“Yes,” you breathed, bending forward over the edge of your bed. The position put your cunt on display for him. Puffy folds glistened with the wetness that was pouring from your opening. Any other time, Vox would feast on you. He would drink from you like a man starved. 

Instead, he simply lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. He pushed inside, moving slowly as your unpropped opening quivered, slowly spreading to swallow the lightly glowing, bright blue tip of his cock. He would light you up from the inside out. 

“Oh,” you moaned deeply as your body slowly spread over him, “Oh, fuck, Vox- you’re so-” 

“Vox isn’t here, remember?” Vox laughed as he pushed forward, moving deeper and deeper while your body trembled with the stretch of him. “I’m just the delivery guy.” 

“Fuck, so big.” You moaned, the game momentarily lost to you as he nestled the head of his cock against your cervix. Then he pushed deeper, pushing your cervix back as he forced you to take that last half inch of his length while you chanted that he was too big. 

He knew your body would adjust, muscles pulling the canal to be deeper for him as you grew eager to have him inside you. It was just a matter of encouraging your body to shape itself to him. 

“Do you feel it?” Vox asked, grinding his balls against your cunt as he nestled deep inside you. “Feel anything charging up?”

“Fuck,” your elbows struggled to support your weight. He pulled out slowly, letting his cock drag lazily through your folds. “Fuck, I think I do.” 

“I’ll make sure you do,” Vox promised, thrusting hard into her. At first, he kept his pace slow but forceful. Each thrust of his cock sent his hips into your ass with a thump, rocking your body forward against the bed. Large, strong hands wrapped around your waist, claws clicking against eachother under your abdomen as he pulled you back against him to meet each thrust. 

Each thrust came a little faster than the last. Vox listened as your bodies made music together. Gasping moans fell from your lips to mingle with the groans that slipped from his throat. The slapping of his wet balls against your dripping cunt set the beat to the carnal song you were playing together. It was his favorite duet. 

“Fuck, fu-fuck,” you cried out again and again as his hand reached up your chest, using the globe of your breast as an anchor to pull you back against him. “Faster.” 

“Are you charging up?” Vox whispered in your ear as he pulled your back to him. Your feet hardly grazed the ground, body supported by his hands on your torso and the powerful cock thrusting into your sopping cunt with a squelch.

“Yes,” you answered, “Please, fuck. Vox, I’m close.” 

The coil inside you was winding tight. Your legs trembled as they sought anything to brace against, to use as leverage to spread themselves wide and finding nothing. Vox shuffled one foot in front of the other until your knees braced against the bed. It wasn’t doing much to support your weight, but your legs spread wide, knees resting on the bed to hold them open. 

“You wanna cum?” Vox asked, electric tongue running up your neck, leaving a expanding trail of electricity. It ran down your shoulders, static charge dancing over your nipple. Vox watched the blue sparks of electricity dance over the bud, causing your cunt to clench painfully tight around him.

“Please,” you begged, back arching into the electric sensation. Not once had vox used his power on you during your encounters. You knew he could command electricity, often lighting candles with blue sparks or leaving roses made up of dancing static on tables. “Please, Vox- Please, I’m so close.” 

“Not Vox,” Vox answered, hand running down your abdomen. He supported most of your weight with the hand gripping your breast, nipple caught between knuckles. It was painful and yet the pain was far from a distraction from the pleasure Vox’s thick cock gave you as he thrust harshly in and out of you. “Just some delivery boy, fuckin you while your boyfriend works.” 

Reaching down, his clawed finger carefully caressed your clit. Your core squeezed him so tight that each thrust into you was almost painful, skin being pushed back even with the oozing slick around him, running down his balls and dripping onto the stiff pants hanging low around his hips. Your slick gathered in the white starched fabric of the shirt too, turning it soft and translucent in places. 

“Going to cum on the delivery man’s cock?” Vox asked as your body tightened, each breath having to fight its way into your lungs. 

“Yes, yes- please,” 

“Come on then,” Vox moaned, letting static seep from the tips of his fingers and run over the sensitive nub of your clit. “Come on my cock.” 

You did, body shaking in Vox’s arms as you screamed his name. Each wave of convulsions gripped his cock, pulling him deeper than he all but threw you to the bed. In all the times he had made love to you, he had fucked you, never had he felt you cum this hard. 

He braced himself against the mattress, hand still between your legs as he stroked your clit, sending static over the twitching bud, prolonging your orgasm. Tears ran from your eyes and drool smeared from the corner of your lips onto the bedspread as he wildly fucked into your hole.

It took less than a minute for him to reach his own finish, dragged over the edge by your walls, which had yet to still. He had fucked you through one orgasm and right into another, keeping the static stimulation on your clit as you struggled to breathe. 

“Fuck,” Vox roared, voice more garbled and glitched as he fucked into you with bruising force, hand leaving your clit to grip your hip. He used your waist for leverage, pushing you back against him painfully as he fucked his cum deep into you, riding out the waves of his orgasm as yours finally faded. 

Vox fell over you, narrowly avoiding smacking the back of your head with his bezel. Both of you gasped for air, twitching where your bodies remained connected. Cum dribbled out from your hole, Vox’s softening cock not able to continue to keep you plugged. 

“For the record,” Vox said as he pulled your back to his chest, shifting so you both laid on your sides. “I really was only planning on delivering the laptop and spending time with you.” 

“We spent time together,” you said, cunt still twitching violently around his soft cock. “We’re still spending time together.” 

“I’m sorry I’ve been working so much,” Vox braved saying, finding bravery in the post orgasmic bliss and knowing your back was to him. “But I’ve got a chunk of the afternoon off.” 

“I think you just made it up to me,” you laughed lightly, mind still floating on a cloud of endorphins. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Vox whispered, ignoring the way his neck ached from the angle it was forced to sit at to compensate for the wide screen. “I promise, after this deal, I’ll start taking more time off.” 

You knew he wouldn’t. There would be another deal. Something else. Vox loved his work and while it hurt, you loved that about him. You were an independent woman. You could be on your own while he was busy.

You could make this work. It could work. 

You hoped it would work.

“I love you, Vox.” 

“I love you too, Babydoll.” Vox said, and you almost asked him if he loved you more than VoxTek before deciding you didn’t need to ask. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know the answer, anyway. That was okay, though. You could be second best to the company, couldn’t you? 

You could. 

You loved Vox enough to be his second love.

Right?

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[pynkgothicka]

Ｋｉｌｌ Ｆｏｒ Ｙｏｕｒ Ｌｏｖｅ ＭＹＧ

Synopsis- Yoongi tried his hardest to keep his crime life away from you, but some people really test him.

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Mobster! Yoongi x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - No one!

Word Count - Around 1k

Tags and Warnings - Death, Murder, Fluff, Slight Gaslighting

Authors Note - Just something small I was working on. I believe I want to do more one offs since I’m offically done with school for the summer.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Staring at your reflection in the mirror you could only feel some sense of remorse. Mourning for the old person you were before you met him. Now you wore light makeup and put on dresses that hugged your body.

You would have never seen yourself looking like this if not for him.

The vanity was littered with photos he took of you and ones you took of him alike. He consumed your every waking thought and every hour. Even finding yourself trying to keep busy instead of sadly waiting for him to get home.

However today he wanted you with him. It was rare that you were allowed to go with him when he talked business. To be honest it just felt good being able to be with him and not just within his home.

You smiled at yourself before getting up and heading downstairs to see your boyfriend looking at his phone, a focused look on his face. “You look so hot like that.” You say walking past him and into the kitchen. You grabbed a box of cereal and poured it into a bowl.

Yoongi snickered looking at you. “Mhmm, and I love it when you get dressed up for me,” he says resting his hands on your hips as you pour milk into your cereal. You could feel your face heat up before his head rested on the small of your neck. He kissed it, taking in a deep shiff of your natural smell. “I love it when you wear this scent.”

“Aw stop it, you know I do it for you Yoongs.” You say turning to the side to place a small peck on his lips.

🚬

With his hand on your thigh and your head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but be more bored with the droning talk of deals and territories. You popped on and off your phone case, as Yoongis's voice rumbled in your ears.

“Yoongi, m’ ready to go…” You mumble, head-turning into his chest. Your boyfriend lets out a sigh before leaning over to kiss the crown of your head.

“Just a few more moments alright, then we can do whatever you want sweetheart,” Yoongi promised into your hair. You could tell the man he was talking to was becoming more agitated by your presence.

The man groans, Yoongi lifts his head to look at the man, his face is stern. “Are we gonna do business or not? I don't see why your girl has to be here.” The man complained. Yoongis eyebrow twitched at that. “She's being a fucking distraction, and I came to talk business. Are we doing the drop or what?”

You were slightly offended by the man's comments. You liked being around Yoongi, and he liked having you around for once. You didn't see why he had to be so negative.

Yoongi leans forward resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at the man. “You don't have enough respect for her, so you don't respect me, or my fucking business. So don't come at me talking about business.” Yoongi retorted raising his voice at the man. You were grateful for a man who would defend your honor.

“Dude you're all up in he-”

“Apologize.”

“What?”

Yoongi grabs your chin making you look at the man. You groan at the feeling, cheeks pressed in by his fingers. “Apologize to her,” Yoongi said, face showing little to no expression. You could see in his other hand, his gun rested casually. Thumb brushed against the barrel, an engraving of your name in gold. He got it done for your two-month anniversary. “Or you could get your brains blown out. I don’t care for either option.”

The man quickly begins to speak. “I'm sorry, Ma'am I'm very sorry.” Yoongi turns to look at you.

“And what do you say?”

“T-Thank yo-” But you cut off with a loud bang. And then your own loud scream.

🚬

Yoongi had planned a dinner later on in the car. Mainly as an apology for killing the man in front of you. Especially after he realized how shocked you were looking at the body afterward. You’d never been that close to that side of his life anymore.

You leaned on the island watching as he moved. His hand moved the wooden spoon gracefully as he sauteed the beef tips and potatoes. Your stomach groaned at the smell, however, his cooking always smelled this good.

“Yoongi, can I at least taste the seasoning you used?” You plead, doing your best puppy dog eyes for him. He only let out a chuckle, passing you a small bowl of beef tips with potatoes. You took a fork and began to eat, humming at the flavor. “You’re always such an amazing cook. Thank you… I know I usually cook but I appreciate the break baby.”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything tonight. I want you to rest your nerves and chill out. It's the least I can do as an apology.” He says setting aside the finished entree. He turned to look at you, a genuine expression on his face. “I promised to not kill anyone in front of you when I first got you, and I broke that agreement over my anger.”

You practically swooned over that. He was so sweet in his own twisted way.

“I appreciate that so much. Maybe I should let you kill someone in front of me more often” Yoongi chuckled at that and nodded smiling at you.

“Nope, don't test it, baby.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Thirteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Lots of historical stuff happening, but don't worry, I have little endnotes explaining each with links to more information at the end of the chapter!

Spoiler Warning: Be careful if you flip between the end to read the notes as you read the chapter. There is a major spoiler at the end of the chapter you might accidentally read!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Thirteen - The Truth

Content Warning: Spoilers after the end of the chapter; mentions of physical and psychological abuse, panic attack (let me know if I missed any!) MINORS DNI!!!!!

(107 years ago, Heaven) 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

“Enter,” the Seraphim’s voice called from behind the wood. 

Your head held high, your shoulders squared, you entered your father’s office. The sword strapped to your side knocked against your hip as you walked. Although you wore your casual blue robes and not your metal armor, the sword never left your side. You tucked your golden wings in, your blonde hair cut short to frame your face, the wisps of your bangs barely brushing your collarbones. 

Stopping before Father’s desk, you nodded to the others in the room in greeting: Adam, the Seraphim, and a few of Father’s personal guards who filed out of the room after you entered. 

“Father,” you stated, waiting for him to begin. 

From a worldwide flood to raining frogs in Egypt, a meeting in this office always meant serious business. After all, out of all your siblings, you were the most trustworthy. “Father’s Golden Girl,” they all called you - and not just because of your looks. You were his warrior, his right-hand man, his perpetrator of action. You carried out God’s will. 

“You are aware of the current events of Earth,” a statement, not a question. 

It was January 1917. The mortals were in the middle of a war to end all wars. Who didn’t know? 

“Just yesterday, our Ishim delegates intercepted a telegram from Arthur Zimmerman to the Mexican Government proposing an alliance between Germany and Mexico to invade the United States.*” Sera slid a piece of paper across the desk. You glanced at it but didn’t give it much thought.

The Ishim were low-level Angels, more human than divinity, really. They carried out more menial endeavors. Father dispatched a hundred to Earth a year before the war broke out. Why? You weren’t sure, but you were about to find out. 

“This war is the mortal’s problem, is it not?” You asked. 

Adam caught your eye from the corner of the room he stood in, his usual cockiness replaced with… you sniffed. Guilt? 

“Not anymore.” 

That caught your attention.

“We believe this telegram was sent by Eve.” 

You took a step back, clenching your jaw shut to prevent it from falling open. Instinctively, your hand found the hilt of your sword. “She escaped?” You looked at Adam, but he didn’t look back, his gaze downcast as a wave of emotions weighed down his shoulders. 

“Some years ago, yes,” Sera answered.

But why didn’t they… Oh, they couldn’t have sent you right away. No one knew she had escaped, and they weren’t about to let it get out that the evil Evelyn of Eden had bested Heaven’s topmost security prison. Technically, it was the only one Heaven had, and it only had one prisoner, but still. Especially after the whole Lucifer and Lilith incident. Rumor had it they were in love. 

You eye the telegram on the desk. “What do you need from me?” 

Wouldn’t be the first time you hunted down a human. Cain went into hiding after he murdered Abel. You found him not long after - even with the magic he used to conceal himself from you. 

“Find Evelyn and bring her back.” 

You nodded, taking the telegram. It smelled of roses, how fitting for the Second Lady of Eden. 

“Mikaela,” Father called after you. You paused. “Do not disappoint me.” 

You nodded before shutting the door behind you. 

Time to go to work. 

____________________________________________

(1917, Russia)

This tux was killing you. It was itchy, it was hot, and more importantly, it was suffocating. You didn't have much time to find a suit that fitted, so you grabbed whatever the tailor had. Unfortunately for you, the collar was way too tight, and it constantly rubbed against the injury on your neck.

The music echoed off the ridiculously decorated walls of the Palace. Gosh, you did not enjoy the pianoforte. It was like the instrument was screaming every time one of the strings was plucked.

Just find her and get out. You've been chasing her nearly a year and this was as close as you had gotten to capturing her. Eve was slippery...

You pushed through the crowd, making your way around the dancefloor.

"Шампанское, сэр. Champagne, sir?" A servant thrusted a tray in front of your face. You turned up your nose and pushed onwards.

Ugh, alcohol, you've never touched the stuff.

Sniffing, you could smell the roses. The room was filled with the scent of them, the aroma so pungent you could reach out and touch it. So, she was here, but where exactly?

Making your way to the front of the room, you stopped when you finally spotted her. "What is she doing?" You asked yourself.

Evelyn, her brown hair done up in a mass of stacked curls atop her head, was whispering in the ear of the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. The feather sticking out of her hair wiggled as she laughed.

What is the Second Woman doing playing fairytale at a royal Russian Ball? She even had the dress to go along with it all.

Whatever, all you had to do was grab her and get out.

You pulled your sword from the Void and took a step forward - wait, no. You couldn't work like this. Ripping off the bowtie, you undo the top two buttons, freeing your neck. You rubbed at the black and blue bruises, the action soothing but also painful.

Okay, let's do this.

"У него есть меч! Он собирается попытаться убить царя! He's got a sword! He's going to try and kill the Tsar!" A woman screamed.

Oh, crap. Last time you were down here, everyone carried a sword. Now, nearly two thousand years later, they don't seem to like it so much... Oops.

The room plunged into chaos.

Briefly, you made eye contact with Evelyn. Her brown eyes flashed with confusion before they changed to recognition and then acknowledgment - she recognized you and knew why you were there. Evelyn smiled, mouthing the words, "Hello, Mikaela," before she disappeared into the crowd.

You tried to follow, but you were tackled by a guard. The sword went flying out of your hand as you hit the ground, a bear of a man sitting on top of you.

Great... You were hoping this was going to be an easy in-and-out type of mission...

Pushing the man easily off of you and collecting your sword. Shoving it back into the Void, you huffed, blowing the hair out of your face. You had cut it so short that the seamstress laughed when you walked into the boutique shopping for a dress. She thought you were a man. You’d be mad but, it wasn’t the first time humanity has made that mistake.

Jesus' Disciples named you "Michael" instead of "Mikaela." Ever since then, humanity thought you were a man. It was kind of insulting when you read the first draft and a little sexist...

Alright, let's get out of here and see if we can track her down.

A wall of guards stepped into your path before you could make much progress.

You groaned. It was going to be a long night...

____________________________________________

(1923, Chicago)

“Another?” The bartender asked. You nodded and watched as she poured you a glass of soda water and lemon. Taking a long sip, letting the bubbles dance across your tongue, you went back to twirling your glass. 

“You sure you don’t want anything else to drink? Any alcohol?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Not one for the taste, I’m afraid.”

She finally let you be, busying herself with dirty glasses.

You were growing restless on the barstool, the smoke from the cigarettes giving you a headache. Drinking in public for women was scandalous in this day and age - even though you technically weren’t drinking, you were a woman alone at a bar - and you had caught your fair share of male attention. You broke the last bloke’s finger, and the men finally got the message. The bar girl let it slide - she most likely has her own history with the opposite sex that paled in comparison to yours. 

But this wasn’t just any old bar, and you were hoping that, eventually, word of your presence here would attract a different kind of attention. 

The aroma of roses hit you before her voice did. 

“This seat taken?”

Right on schedule. 

“Not at all, Evelyn,” you motioned to the stool. “Please.”

The brunette settled in next to you, her iconic brunette hair chopped and curled around her face. Other than that, she looked exactly the same as you left her, save for the wardrobe change - a string of pearls and a grey silk dress that left her ankles exposed. She was always a fashion rebel, pushing the iconic clothing of the decades to the point of scandal. Speaking of, you tried hard not to look at her cleavage - it would take another few decades before that became appropriate in public. 

“Please, call me Eve. To what do I owe the honor?” She sang as the bar girl poured her a gin and tonic. 

“Come back,” you ordered. 

She huffed, “Oh, come on. This is the first proper conversation you and I have ever had, don’t bore me with the self-righteous bullshit propaganda your father feeds you.”

You've been chasing her for six years now. Every time you met, it was all action before she slipped away. How she managed to disappear every time, you didn't know.

She stirred the ice around in her glass before gulping down the entire drink. “You and I both know I am not going back willingly.”

You had to give her the option. 

“You’re going back either way.”

“I want you to meet someone,” she smiled, changing the subject. “Al!” Eve waived to a rather portly man at the back of the establishment. The mortal was dressed to the nines in a blue pinstriped suit and accompanying fedora. 

“Hey, dollface,” the gentleman kissed Eve on the cheek before taking his hat off and tipping it in greeting. “Pleased'ta meet’ya miss, Al Capone at your service."

Ugh. 

You stood, grabbing Eve’s upper arm as you attempted to lug her towards the main entrance. The motion sent a sharp pain through your bruised shoulder. “Let’s go,” you winced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Eve giggled. The sclera of her eyes flashed black before she turned back to the bar and screamed. “Al! She’s with the fuzz!” 

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The echoes of guns loading rang out across the bar. 

Fucking Mafia. 

You didn’t drop Eve’s arm. 

“We can do this the easy way, toots, or the hard way,” Al said, holding a pistol to your face. Despite being no taller than you, he did his best to look threatening. 

“Between you and me,” Eve leaned in and whispered. “I’m pretty sure the fat one’s got syphilis.” She motioned to Capone. 

Why, Eve? Why was that important right now? 

She giggled before pulling out an extremely small pistol from her cleavage. The Angel pointed it at your head. You held your hands up as if feigning surrender. “That won’t kill me, Eve.”

“I know,” she laughed, smiling wildly. 

Was this fun for her?

“But it'll kill them,” she motioned to a random man before turning and shooting him straight in the face. 

The bar plunged into chaos as you ducked for cover. Rolling your eyes, you mumbled beneath your breath, “The hard way it is.” 

____________________________________________

(1937 Lae, New Guinea)

You rolled open the hangar doors. It was late, well past midnight. An oil lantern hung from a mobile post, illuminating the opened engine of a two-seater plane. 

Ensuring your sword was strapped to your side, you trudged inside, cautiously approaching the single soul inside. As per usual, the room smelled of roses.

You were but one step in the door when Eve called out, “Mikaela!” Her head popped out from behind the engine. “Good to see you! Been a while, hasn’t it? Chicago, good times.” She dove back inside the engine, half her body sticking out of the contraption. A blue tarp had been laid at her feet, to capture oil as she worked, you assumed.

“You shot up a bar, nearly set it on fire, and almost burned the city to the ground - again… I wouldn’t exactly call that fun.” Keeping your distance, you circled around to the front of the plane. You had better chances of catching the plague than predicting her next move. Eve was wildly unpredictable. 

“Oh, my friend,” her sclera flashed black as she smiled over her shoulder. “Chaos is always fun.”

“Why are you doing this, Eve?” And more importantly, what was she doing?

“Can’t a girl love power and chaos with absolutely no motive?” She played dumb, her voice echoing from within the metal compartment. 

You crossed your arms, your silence communicating that she had asked a dumb question. 

“I’m sick and tired of Heaven, of them always telling me who I am and what to do.” She shrugged, ripping out a piece of the engine. “I’m taking it back.”

“Stop messing around with the airplane, Eve.” You felt like you were scolding a child. 

She paused, a metal component in her hand, oil coating her fingers, as she backed out of the engine. Eve waived the metal part around as she spoke. “Aren’t you sick of being their puppet? Of… Of being a part of their machine? Of being told to jump and asking how high?” Grabbing a brown saddle bag, she stuffed the components inside, the tarp crunching beneath her feet.

Oh good, she was sabotaging the plane. Great. You didn’t know why she did half the things she did, but sabotaging Amelia Earhart’s plane? Just... Why? What did that accomplish? 

“I’m an Archangel - a soldier - and soldiers follow orders,” you responded, watching Eve clean the oil off her hands. 

“And if they don’t?” She raised an eyebrow, motioning to your wrist. 

As if on instinct, you tugged on your sleeves to hide the bruises. 

“Adam was a dick,” she continued, “but he never touched me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you felt the blood drain from your face.

She sighed as she got to her feet. You watched the conflict play out on her face. Did she push the topic? Did she change it completely? 

"Do you know how they caught me the first time?” she smiled.

“Adam.” You answered, your eyes following her every move. She was planning to bolt. You could feel it. She wouldn't get away this time.

“They used him as bait,” she grabbed her satchel and threw the loop over her head. “And trapped me in a Pentagram.” Eve kicked the edge of the blue tarp beneath your feet to reveal the edge of a chalk line.

She was smart; she kept you distracted and annoyed just enough to keep your eyes off the floor to the lightly drawn star and circle hidden beneath your feet. 

Here's the thing about being a General. You knew how to organize armies, how to train soldiers to fight, how to strategize on a battlefield. You were not a covert spy trained to track down rogue Angels. Sure, you went after Cain, but he was sloppy. Despite going to the Goetia and bargaining his soul for a bit of magic to hide him from you, he left a trail for you to follow. All you had to do was hunt down the Goetia he talked to, and, presto, you had a lead.

Eve wasn't really trying to hide. If she was, she'd have found a way to hide the potency of her power: roses, her magic smelled like roses. You could scent it miles away. The downside to chasing Eve was that she was unpredictable. Her moves didn't make any sense or have any logic to them. She was scattered with her actions. Map it out on a battlefield, and it would seem like random nonsense. There was logic to war but not to Eve. Which made it hard to capture her.

Like trying to trap lightning in a bottle.

“Tootle-loo, Mikaela,” Eve sang. The Angel skipped to the hangar doorway, stopping before she closed it. Something flashed in her eyes. Sadness? Pity? Worry? “Don’t be a stranger,” she smiled softly, and then she slammed the door shut. 

____________________________________________

(1945, Germany) 

The sirens were deafening as you rounded corner after corner, your fire illuminating the tunnels as you ran. 

“Come on, come on,” you huffed, out of breath. You’ve been sprinting through battlefields all night long to make it here before the Russian army, but you were cutting it dangerously close. 

BANG! The echoes of a gunshot had your ears ringing as you emerged into a well-lit bunker. A dead body lay at Eve’s feet, scarlet pooling beneath it. Another - a woman - sat slumped at a table in a pile of vomit. 

Gross. 

“Oh, hey!” She lit up, her brunette curls bobbing.  

You sidestepped the blood, trying to catch your breath, “Eve, this is getting old.” You were quickly finding out the Angel had a proclivity for violence - specifically guns. What was with her and modern weaponry? 

She did a double take, not of the man moaning on the ground, but of your face. You ignored her questioning look, choosing to bend over and suck down gulps of air. It wasn’t that the running took a lot out of you. By golly, you could run days before getting tired, go weeks without food, go months without water, but broken ribs always made it hard to breathe. 

Her happy demeanor turned down a few notches as she holstered the gun. “Hey,” she put a hand on your back in comfort.

You shoved her off. 

You did not need her pity. 

Eve blinked. “Why don’t we head up top and get some fresh air?”

The Russians were expecting to arrive at any minute, they’d most likely bomb the crap out of this place and bury the two of you alive. You nodded, wincing as you stood. 

Eve led you out of a secret tunnel hidden behind boxes of supplies. You followed behind her, summoning your sword as support as you limped to the surface. Ugh, your ankle was so swollen. 

Eve pushed open a wooden door, leading you into the morning sunlight. The two of you emerged at the edge of a small lake. The sun was rising over the water, the ruins of Berlin surrounding the park.

Eve sat at the edge of the water, watching the sun rise as armies marched and chanted toward the Capitol behind you. The dichotomy was iconic. 

You looked between her and the sword and made a silent decision.

Slipping your sword back into the Void, you joined Eve in the grass - wincing as you sat.

“Germany wasn’t my doing. I just wanted to make that very clear,” she laughed awkwardly. “I’m only here because I wanted to end the bastard myself…” Her voice trailed off, the tension becoming… weird. 

You could feel her staring at your split lip and black eye. 

“Why?” You asked. 

She huffed, turning towards the sun, bathing in its morning warmth, “Because fuck heaven and fuck their design.” 

“People are dying because of you, Eve.” You gritted.

“So?” She scoffed. “People are always going to die, more will be made. Either they go to Heaven, or they go to Hell. There’s life after this, so not like I’m robbing them of anything. Besides, they’re nothing but puppets fulfilling some predetermined mapped-out plan Daddy designed. Regardless of their free will, they're powerless to fate. They're just machine parts, Mikaela. Just like you and I were designed to be.”

She huffed. “I mean, look at me. I was literally created from Adam’s rib - designed to be the perfect little wife. That’s all I am. That’s all Dad made me to be. I’m changing that!”

“By messing with Father’s design?”

She nods. 

“And you do this how?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion, choosing to humor her behavior. 

“The Book of Knowledge.” 

You laughed, “The book Lucifer stole and then gave you?” 

She nodded. 

“Why not use it to do good?”

“Because who the fuck cares if I do good? I mean, if I save a few hundred lives or help further a society what does that really accomplish? I’m only further giving in to God’s will. He wants them to succeed, to become better. It’s all a game, Mikaela, don’t you see that? I mean look at this!” She gestured to all of Berlin. “What kind of fucked up, power-hungry arsehole allows this to happen!? Just so humans can rise from the darkest moments of history, to learn and become better than they were before. All this to teach them a lesson!? I mean… Wow.” 

You shut your mouth. She had a point. This was messed up. 

The two of you sat for a long while, the orchestra of war playing in the background. 

Eve’s demeanor changes. “I saw the bruises in Russia.” Her words were sharp. 

Your blood ran cold. 

“At first, I thought they were just from training, but then why would a soldier have bruises around their throat from training?” 

Please don’t go there, Eve. Her rants about Father you could handle, not this. You didn’t deal with personal emotions, you bottled them up and shoved them deep down and quietly forgot about them - like a good soldier. 

“They talk, the guards in the prison. I’ve heard the rumors of Dad’s Golden Girl and her mysterious injuries, of the screams behind closed doors. So, in Chicago, I looked again. You had bruises on your shoulder.”

You shot her a questioning glance. 

“When you grabbed me part of your dress slipped just a bit… Mikaela, they looked like hand prints.”

You turned away from her, pulling in your knees and hugging yourself. 

“So in New Guinea, I tested my theory. Your reaction told me everything.”

Were you that easy to read?

Eve turned to you then, clearly eyeing the bruises on your face. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. 

“I don’t know how you do it. To obey his every command for thousands of years… You, out of all of us, have a right to be pissed.”

“It’s my job,” you gritted, your hands were shaking, all emotion absent from your voice. “Besides, my failures are my own fault.”

“What?” Eve jumped to her feet. “How could you say that!? You don’t ask to be beaten. You don’t ask to have your bones broken and your face bloodied!?” 

“My failures are my own fault,” Your entire body was shaking now, your voice cracking. 

“Mikaela…” Eve planted herself on the grass next to you. Bombs exploded off in the distance, cheering echoing off the buildings. The Russians have arrived. 

“My fault.” You whispered, the words imprinted on your brain like ink on paper. “My fault. My fault. My…”

Eve brought you into a bear hug, holding you as tight as she could as the panic attack overcame you. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” 

You sobbed. 

"Listen to me - no one ever deserves to be abused, and it is never your fault. Abuse is a deliberate, cruel choice made by the abuser, and it is entirely on them. You are a strong, beautiful woman deserving of respect and love. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Eve turned you to face her. “Say it, Mikaela. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” Her words were sharp and to the point, trying to jam the message into your mind. To cut out the toxic and replace it with the new. 

“It is…” You choked. “It is not my fault.” You cried.

“Louder!” She demanded. 

“It is not my fault,” you repeated, your voice shaky. 

“Louder!” 

“It is not my fault!” You screamed. 

“It is not your fault!” She echoed. 

And you hugged her back. 

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

“You turned against Heaven and joined, Eve?” Alastor asked. He’s been eerily silent the entire time. 

You smiled, your yellow irises glinting mischievously. “I joined, Eve.”

The demon summoned his own chair and settled in next to you. Together, you stared off at the silhouette of Pentagram City, its lights shining like beacons into the red sky. 

“We spent the next thirty-something years traveling. London, Korea, Russia - we went everywhere, sowing seeds of chaos in our wake. She started me on the little stuff, and I worked my way up from there. From swearing and alcohol to stealing and, eventually, murder. Eve was like a gateway drug; just once wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but it was enough to get you hooked. And, somewhere in that time, Eve became my friend.” 

You sighed, your eyes swimming in memories. “But, like any drug, at some point in time, it isn’t enough anymore. You need more to keep going, to stay satisfied…” 

____________________________________________

(1974, London)

DING! 

“Order up!” The chef behind the counter yelled. 

SLURP! You found the bottom of your milkshake. “Fuck,” you cried. “I’m out.”

The two of you, after an extremely long plane ride from America, stopped at a lunch counter for a quick snack.

The time in between master plans was always your favorite but also your most hated. It meant a time of scheming, of plotting something new and exciting, but it was also a time when Eve tended to channel her energy into other matters. Most notably sex, drugs, and music. It's like she needed an outlet for her restless energy.

You put your newspaper down, the title reading "Nixon Resigns!" and turned to Eve. The brunette wasn’t paying attention, her mind on the cute human boy sitting at the end of the counter. 

You analyzed her as she daydreamed. The itch was there again, the temptation to bring up what you’ve been keeping silent on for so long. 

Eve was fine with toying about on Earth. You didn’t blame her; she’d been locked up for so long, and all she wanted to do was live and do as she pleased, but frankly, you were growing bored. Sure fucking around with the humans was entertaining, but the fact of the matter was you accomplished nothing from it. 

Eve believed she was messing with Dad’s grand creation, but if you paid attention, Heaven found a way to fix everything she undid. After all of her meddling, things always returned to normal: war ended, economies stabilized, rulers were replaced, and laws were rewritten. Anything Eve ever did was fixed. And that was starting to bother you. 

You wanted bigger. You wanted more. You wanted permanent. And you had an idea to make it happen. 

“Eve,” you lightly tapped her hand. Dreamily, she turned to you. 

“Oh, you’re done already?” She pouted. 

“Yeah… Listen,” you cleared your throat, preparing your speech. “I want to propose a field trip. Maybe a change in scenery?” 

Eve blinked. “A change in scenery? What’s wrong with the scenery here?” She motioned to the cute British boy, her voice a little too loud for comfort. 

“Nothing! Nothing! I just…” You hesitated. You needed a hook, a reason to get Eve interested. 

The truth was, you tried broaching this topic before, but she always blew it off. Eve was content. You were not. She didn’t want a change in the status quo - you were growing bored of the status quo. 

So, this time, you were going to baby-step her into your plan - turn her opinion around. Perhaps, help her see the fun she could have by finally doing something your way for once. 

“There’s this festival I’ve always wanted to go to,” you suggest. “Lot’s of cute boys. There will be music, dancing, drinking… It’ll be a good time!” 

“A festival,” she lit up. “Sounds fun!” 

“Cool. Cool… It’s in Wrath.” 

She choked, “What!?” 

“I know, it’s in Hell, but can we just check it out? If you hate it, we can leave right away. I just… I’ve never been. I thought maybe it would be a new adventure for us?” You shrug.

Eve thinks a moment. 

“Plus, we’d be breaking so many rules. Angels aren’t allowed in Hell, after all…”

“Done.” She stands. “Let’s go!” Eve grabs your arm and pulls you out of the restaurant. 

In a side alley, you summon a portal and are whisked away into what you would look back on and consider to be the beginning of the end. 

____________________________________________

(7 years ago, Pride Ring, Hell)

"I'll be there momentarily, Al," Lilith hung up the phone as you entered the room. "Mikaela, Eve," she greeted.

You step into the office and close the door behind you. “Lilith,” you nod to her in greeting.

Your plan worked. Eve and you spent the better part of nearly fifty years partying your way through the Rings of Hell. It started in Wrath with the Harvest Moon Festival - Eve enjoyed the Pain Games far more than you expected - and resulted in a series of debauchery moving up from there.

You hadn't really spent time in Pride - you've had enough of mortals and their petty problems for a good while. However, your next plan - the ultimate plan - required you to be here.

Nearly 50 fucking years... It took you that long to convince Eve of your plan... and to make it seem like it was her idea. You had discovered that, yes, Eve was a schemer, but her plans were always limited in their size. You were thinking bigger.

This was your third meeting with Lilith and if everything went to plan, it would be your last.

The Queen of Hell stood next to the window, the view overlooking Pentagram City. She didn't want to meet at her home - understandable - which was tucked away in a pocket dimension. So, you met here, at her... office? I guess if you want to call it that, sure. It was an office in the City.

Even took a seat on the desk, her fingers rummaging through everything and anything set before her. "Awww," she grabbed a photo. "The three of you are so cute!"

You tried not to groan. "Eve..."

"Sorry," she dropped the frame, pulling her hands into her lap like a scolded child. The Second Woman turned on her charm before addressing existence's First. "Are we ready?"

Lilith continued to stare out the window, her eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. Her horns looked rather shiny today, her purple dress perfectly pressed - she dressed for the occasion. The woman smoothed her dress, a nervous habit of hers. The Queen turned to you, her plum eyeshadow sparkling in the light. "Yes."

In a flash, you had Eve pinned to the floor, your hands wrapped around her throat.

Confusion swam in her eyes as you squeezed. "Mikaela?" She choked out.

Lilith leaned over. Making eye contact, the First Woman commanded, "Do not move. Do not fight back."

And Eve froze.

The power of Lilith's voice... It's what makes her singing abilities so powerful; it's how she convinces the masses and rules over Hell so easily.

"I'm sorry, Eve, but I can't have you holding me back any longer."

Confusion turned to fear as you channeled your fire into your hands and began to burn - Holy Fire. You've killed members of the Angelic kind before - mostly lower-level Angels prone to corruption, like the Ishim. It was easy to erase lesser beings, and surprisingly, it was easier to take down Eve than you originally thought. Especially considering she never thought you turning against her was a possibility.

Eve screamed as she died, and when her body was nearly ash, you were left with not a soul before you but the physical embodiment of power: a book. not just any book, but the book. It was ethereal and partially incorporeal as you collected it in your hands.

"Having second thoughts?" Lilith asked.

"No," you immediately responded. "No, just... I've been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than when I originally approached you and proposed the idea. Now it's finally here... It doesn't feel real."

(In hindsight, this wasn't just one of the hardest decisions you had ever made but a defining moment that had left a mark on your very being. If you were willing to kill one of the most important people in your life, what else wouldn't you do?

So, no, dear reader, you did not tell Alastor how much this killed you. You did not tell Alastor how much you cried. You did not tell him the real reason why you needed music to sleep at night was not because the screaming disturbed you but because when you fell asleep, those screams morphed into that of Eve's.

There would be a day, however, when you told the Radio Demon how much this hurt, and he would see you cry and completely fall apart. A day when you would broach this topic and eventually heal this ugly part of you.

But - as we all learned from the Full Moon episode - years of trauma does not get resolved in one conversation.

Alastor, however, could see it in your eyes. You didn't need to tell him. He may not have ever killed Vox, but there was something there, something that happened with which he could relate to what you were feeling right now as you told him your story.

And you were thankful for it, because he gave you a look which said you did not have to go there right now - he understood.)

Hesitantly, you brought the golden, glowing book to your chest and felt the power fuse with your being.

Printed text exploded across your skin as the magic accepted its new host. The energy flooding your veins, the high unlike anything ever before.

Fuck, is this how Eve felt all the time? No wonder she was always so restless with energy.

"Okay," you turned your back on Lilith and unbuttoned your shirt. You would NOT let yourself revel in how good this felt. You would NOT let yourself drown in the ecstasy of power.

Pulling ink and a quill from the void, you stood there as Lilith etched a rune across your back. When she had finished, the text across your skin was pulled towards the rune and locked beneath the seal.

You breathed deeply, feeling the weight of the power lift from your shoulders, "It worked."

It had to be contained until the time was right. You couldn't have anyone sensing what you carried. The potency of power is how you managed to track Eve down on Earth - it made her a target. Plus, you didn't know what that kind of power would do to your head - it made Eve scatterbrained and impulsive. Constantly chasing the high. You needed clarity to accomplish what you and Lilith had planned.

Power is a dangerous thing. You saw what it did to God, and no part of you ever wanted to have any similarities with that man. So, long ago, when you made the ultimate decision to take the power from Eve, you decided it needed to be locked away as well.

"This is written in Leviathan," Lilith observed. "Didn't Dad -?"

"Yes," you cut her off.

It was before the dawn of man, during Dad's experimental age. The monsters were violent and could not be controlled. He ordered you to corral them into a pocket dimension: Purgatory. You raised and led an army against them, and still, it had taken you years to subdue and capture them all. Your reward? Father pushed you in behind them and locked the door.

"Find a way out," he ordered - punishment for disappointing him. How had you disappointed him, you ask? You took too long.

"I have some... baggage to take care of before I leave." She began, noting the pile of ash on her carpet. "Your contact in Pride is no longer an option."

Fuck. You'd put considerable effort into vetting the Overlord Lilith had pointed you towards - Husk. Now, you were going to have to start over with someone else.

You'd later learn Husk fell from power, losing it in a game of cards to Alastor, of all people. The demon had become a thorn in your side long before you ran into him at the Hotel.

"Whom do you suggest?" You rebuttoned your shirt.

"Rosie, she's a wonderful woman. She'll be good to you, and I trust her."

You had no choice but to take her word for it. Question her now, on the eve of the beginning, especially when you sensed hesitation within her, might just tip her over the edge. She was leaving her husband and child behind, after all.

You held out your hand. "Shall we?"

Lilith considered your offer for a moment. Although she agreed to help you double-cross Eve, you never finalized the contract. You agreed not to, pending how killing the brunette played out, but Lilith came to play.

Your heart held no sympathy for the Queen. She was about to lose everything, but it was temporary. Lilith would be returning home to a husband and a child - to a family. You? You had no home, no family anymore. Lilith could handle a few years away.

Eventually, the demon shook your hand. The room exploded in blues and purples, marking the contract you two just made.

You smirked, "I guess it's time for my grand entrance." You made for the door. "You'll be fine?"

Lilith sighed, "If anyone knows how to handle Adam, it's me."

Right...

"Goodbye, Lilith."

She stopped you, her fingers wrapped around your arm rather tightly. "No harm comes to her." The purple in Lilith's eyes flashed.

She was talking about Charlie. Her daughter was part of the deal: no harm comes to her or her family.

"Of course..."

She let you go. "To power and chaos."

"To power and chaos," you responded as the door shut behind you.

You nearly landed on Rosie a few hours later...

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

Alastor leaned forward in his chair, his elbow on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands. His eyes bore into you with every word of your story. The demon listened intently, paying attention to every detail, every flicker of emotion on your face. 

Was he expecting you to lie? Was he expecting deceit? You had offered up nothing but the truth - for once. You told Alastor the entire story.

“You killed Eve.”

“I did.” 

“For power?” 

“Yes.”

Alastor’s eyes finally leave yours, his gaze wandering to the City before you. 

“I know why you’re at the Hotel, Alastor.” 

That caught his attention. Surprise fills his face as he raises an eyebrow at you, ears perked at attention.

“Oh?” He purrs.

“I know about the deal with Lillith, but it’s more than that. You’re looking for Roo.*” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a sly smile worming its way into your crooked grin. Finally, you could let the demonic side of you shine - the curse of Knowledge slipping through. 

“Is that so?” He intertwines his fingers, his hands coming to rest in his lap. The Radio Demon is clearly amused with your statement - yet his radio static is nowhere to be found. 

Interesting.

“Power and chaos. Isn’t that always the story?” You stand and take a step towards him, cautious yet curious to see how he will react.

“And what would you know of Roo?” His lips curl.

There it was. There’s the Radio Demon. The power-hungry murderer. God, that look gave you chills. 

“I know that’s not her real name,” another step. 

Alastor sits up straighter.

You can’t believe he hasn’t put it together - or he has, and he’s toying with you.

“Oh?”

“Rule number one of Hell, don’t go by your God-given name.”

He waits for you to elaborate. 

“Roo’s real name…” You take another step, his eyes flicker over your form, noting the proximity. Was he anxious? You leaned forward, your hands on the armrests of his chair as you towered over him.

You stopped close enough to feel Alastor’s breath on your face, his eyes automatically dropping to your red lips. You smirked, “...was Eve.”

You feel the tattoo on your back shift as you break the rune which was sealing the magic within.

Words fly across your skin, roaming the unclothed flesh. Your sclera turned black, your hair coming undone by the power surging through every fiber of your being. Horns grew atop your head, your spiked tail unfolding from your backside. Your wings popped out, their black feathers shining in the light. The Radio Demon watched as you let the power of the Book of Knowledge, hidden deep within you, flow freely for the first time in nearly a decade.

He could feel it, he could smell it - the power so potent he could taste it on his tongue: roses, the Book forever carrying a remnant of its original owner, Eve.

You were the epitome of power - the Root of All Evil.

Roo.

After Lucifer ran off with Lilith, he returned to the Garden of Eden with a gift: the Book of Knowledge. He granted it to Eve before he left. Eve never said why he did it, but she was grateful. She would do anything to get away from Eden. Eve took the book and attempted to flee, but Father lured her back, using Adam as bait. Despite what the Second Woman claimed, part of you always believed she had feelings for the First Man...

But, before Eve was taken, she merged herself with the power from the Book so it could never be separated from her. They’d have to kill her for it.

Instead, Father had her locked up and contained. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, and he didn’t want to risk that power passing on to a different hand only to breed a more powerful enemy.  

Eve stewed in isolation for thousands of years before finding a way out, before she made her way back to Earth to brew chaos and destruction. 

That’s when you were sent to find her. That’s when you befriended her. That’s when you killed her and took the power from the Book for yourself.  

Alastor’s smile widens far past what you thought was possible for the demon. His eyes meet yours, his gaze exploding with fire. 

“Interesting.” From the Void, Alastor pulls a blade - Velvette's blade. He palms the handle, gripping it in greedy temptation as you, the object of all his desires, stand before him. 

You couldn’t recall when the Angelic blade had ended up in his possession, but you weren’t surprised. You knew he was going to try and kill you when he found out - he’d need Angelic steel to do that.

The demon cups your face, his thumb running across your cheek. You could see the hunger for power in his eyes, the constraint with which he fought to maintain composure. Briefly, his pupils flashed into radio dials. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor breathed, his voice absent of static. His lips found yours as he kissed you long and gently. You let yourself melt into him, memorizing his smell, his warmth, the way his lips felt against yours for one final time...

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... and then Alastor plunged the blade deep into your belly. 

Could you imagine if I just ended the series right there? That would be HILARIOUS, right? …right? Ha, ha, don’t worry, the story goes on. 

-> Chapter Fourteen

History Guide (if you read any of this, read the red at the bottom; it's super important to understanding the fanfic):

1917, Russia - A month after Eve and Thestral's meeting in Russia, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich and the rest of the Romanov family were taken prisoner during the February Revolution in 1917, which ended Russia's involvement in WW1 and the Imperial reign of the Tsar. They were executed in July 1918. Yes, I am implying Eve had something to do with this. Link to Wiki

1923, Chicago - Al Capone (also known as "Scarface") was Chicago’s infamous Prohibition Era gangster. He was famous for bootlegging, illegal gambling, and violent crime. He ran one of Chicago's largest and most infamous gangs: Link to Wiki

1937 Lae, New Guinea - Amelia Earhart's - the famous American Aviation pioneer who attempted to become the first female pilot to fly around the world - last known location, before they found her plane in the sea, was Lae, New Guinea: Link to Wiki

1945, Germany - Did I just imply that Eve killed Hitler? Yes, yes, I did. Fun fact, Russia beat the USA to the Capitol of Berlin by only a few hours: Link to Wiki

1974, London - Although our protagonists (arguably antagonists at this point, am I right?) are in London and not Washington D.C., the major event of this segment is Nixon's resignation. I am implying that they had something to do with Watergate without directly stating it: Link to Wiki

*The Book of Knowledge: Okay, go back and watch Episode One, "Overture." In the beginning, when Charlie is reading the story of Heaven and Hell, there's a point where she says: "Together [Lilith and Lucifer], they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted." The scene shows Lucifer handing Eve a book. The idea here is that knowledge = power, and Lucifer handed over the most powerful well of magic to Eve unknowingly. Knowledge = power = literal physical power = power corrupts = Roo is born.

BOOM. The entirety of my fanfic was birthed from one scene in Hazbin Hotel! But, in actuality, I do think Eve is Roo in canon. Link to Transcript

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[taleeater]

Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos. 

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles. 

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason. 

You were still scared. 

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance. 

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground. 

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

 “….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands. 

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed. 

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.” 

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch. 

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair. 

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean. 

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.” 

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen. 

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?” 

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. 

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly. 

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions. 

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed. 

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit. 

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth. 

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink. 

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[sundew199]

Quiet

a/n: uh based on this thought I had 🤭

tags: f!reader x reiner, oral f!recieving, slight voyeurism, smut, Reiner's a freak but we already knew that. Barely any plot

3.2k words

Running a fairly successful company at your age was no small feat. After the dedication to took to earn the respect from other business moguls and prove that you weren't just another wannabe dreamer, going out of your way to prove you were capable of running a successful company. There were ups and downs, which were to be expected, but there was one person who kept you steady and focused on the end goal.

Reiner had been working at one of your competitor's companies at the time you met him, leaving a lasting impression. Your initial plan was to use him for insider information, because who doesn't do that in the business world. He gladly accepted for whatever reason you didn't know at the time, later finding out it was because he liked you and saw your potential. The friendship grew into something more when he left the competitor to come work for you, giving your company that extra kick to solidify your name in the business world. You gave him the position of vice president without a second thought, Reiner was smart and very well rounded when it came to the economy and trade values, without him it was hard to say where your company might be today.

Of course the business relationship the two of you formed didn't end there, blossomed into something more. After about a year of working together, Reiner asked you out on a date and you had no inclination to decline. That night was the beginning of your romantic relationship with him, now living together and engaged, running the company you started from the ground up, together.

Recently, you've been working from home, hosting meetings with your board and valuable employees, saving you so much time from having to drive downtown every morning. Reiner would go in more often than you would, but he had the day off today and what a stroke of luck it was that it was the same day as your monthly board meeting.

"You're not going to take all damn morning are you?"

His breath tickled your ear as he spoke, holding you to his chest in a loving squeeze, not ready for you to leave bed just yet.

"Hopefully not, but I can't make any promises." Turning to kiss his lips, running tender fingers in the back of his scalp. He hummed lowly, beginning to haul you onto his lap before you placed a gentle hand on his chest.

"I need to get ready."

"Just real quick." Palming your ass cheek while giving it a squeeze, an attempt to entice you to stay in bed and help with his morning problem. You would any other day, but you missed your first two alarms and any longer in bed could result in you being late to your own meeting,

"After." Giving a breathy laugh and sliding out from his arms and off the bed to the bathroom to look halfway decent for your employees. You could hear Reiner huffing from the bed still, dramatically expressing his annoyance with you leaving his grasp so quickly. He always played it up for fun, never doing it to be manipulative only to get a few laughs.

Since the meeting would be held over Zoom in the quietness of your home office, there wasn't really a need for you to dress up all the way, a nice shirt and some jewelry would sell the facade of you being dressed completely in business casual. You made a point to peck his lips on your way out of the bedroom, intentionally swaying your hips in the scandalous short shorts you wore to be a tease and biting back a laugh.

Grabbing a quick cup of coffee and the notepad with company docs paper clipped to the side, you sauntered to the office, deciding to leave the door open a crack. There were just about five minutes to spare to get logged in, open the portal for everyone to join and make this the quickest monthly meeting yet. You would admit the thought of Reiner having his way with you like he always did most mornings made you antsy to get this done quickly.

"Morning everyone!" Chirping as soon as the last person was seen to join the meeting, forcing yourself to be a bit more cheery today in hopes it wouldn't drag things on for too long.

Everyone greeted you back, some forcing a happy face as it wasn't exactly how they wanted to spend their mornings, while the rest seemed to be chipper or doing a better job at faking it.

All you needed to go over with them was the budget for the remainder of the year and a few upcoming projects that needed a few approvals before getting them up and running. Your lead marketing and public relations for the company took the initiative of getting you up to date on whether the marketing strategies suggested by none other than Reiner were working and playing in the company's favor. She droned on, reading directly from a report she put together before this, making it impossible to focus on what she was saying. Based just on this, the meeting unfortunately may take up a good portion of your morning, exactly what you didn't want.

All you could do after marketing wrapped up and the chief of accounting began his own spiel was scribble on the notepad next to your desktop, pretending to be writing notes. In truth you were thinking about Reiner and how badly you wanted to climb back into bed and ride his dick till he couldn't cum anymore. Fuck, that would be nice right about now, ease the ache rising between your legs the more you thought about splitting yourself on top of him.

"If we can improve sales and beat the monthly quota, there would be room and more leverage for giving the green light to these potential marketing projects, don't you agree?"

Snapping up at the question from your chief of accounting did you realize you were daydreaming, barely catching what they were discussing. Quickly you pushed aside your notepad and forced yourself to focus and come up with a believable answer.

"Yes absolutely. How are we looking for sales this month." Diverting the conversation to the head of sales, ensuring there'd be less of a chance to make a fool of yourself from the lack of attention you had at the moment. He nodded on the other side of the screen, clearing his throat and reaching for the report he had to present this month.

Letting out a small breath of relief at your save, you reluctantly brought the notepad closer again, to actually take notes. And you did, conjuring up ways to help the sales department exceed the monthly quota until you noticed your office door being pushed open. A tuff of blonde made the heat rise in your veins, personal desires pushing forward and drowning out the discussion currently being held.

He stood on the other side of your desk, behind the monitor and out of view, mouthing a question to you. Reiner asked if it was going well, briefly switching to business mode and then back to the fire simmering inside him, lips curling in a smirk. You gave him a subtle nod, one only he could make out and forced your eyes back to the screen to dial back into the discussion.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him leave, shutting the door halfway and giving the impression he was off to do something else. But the moment he left, you wish he stay for some reason, just seeing him walk in shirtless in low hanging pajama pants had you clenching your legs together. You wanted - no needed him. Needed him down between your legs eating you out like he was starved. God he could work wonders with that fucking mouth of his, have you trembling and forcing multiple orgasms out of you without breaking a sweat.

Focus.

You needed to focus. The more you let your mind wonder, the longer this meeting could take and keep you from satisfying the hunger.

The glare from the sun peering in from the windows behind you casted onto your monitor, prompting you to pull the blinds down and dim the room a bit. Tucking one of your legs under you, adjusting in your seat, you saw the door open again, refusing to look knowing it was Reiner and listen to the conversation between your head of sales and marketing. Right, you were still discussing how to beat the monthly quota, Jesus this actually might take forever.

Without warning a hand grabbed you by the ankle, startling you and making you jolt. No one seemed to notice in the meeting, giving you a second to look down and see Reiner crawling under your desk to you. What the fuck was he doing? And why now of all times.

With one of your ankles still in his grasp, he reached to grab the other, untucking it from where you sat on it, spreading your legs apart wide. You felt incredibly hot all of a sudden, watching his face inch closer and closer to in between your spread legs. Reiner let out a small sigh, releasing one of your ankles to pull at the waistband of your shorts.

Quickly, you looked back towards the screen, gripping his wrist to stop him and to turn off your camera and mic, telling your staff to give you one moment and to carry on.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hissing, an edge of irritation in your words.

"Nothing. Just...pretend I'm not here, and don't be too loud alright? Can't keep yourself muted and off camera for long sweetheart." Kissing your inner thigh deftly, twisting his wrist out of your hand and pulling your shorts and panties down. Thankfully you hadn't reached to turn your mic and camera back on as he did so or the expression on your face would be a dead giveaway. Reiner sighed again at the sight of your glistening folds, tucking his bottom lip into his teeth and releasing with a whisper of a chuckle. Experimentally, he rolled his tongue out, bringing it to swipe over your slit. You shuttered, gasping and hooking one of your legs over the arm of your desk chair while he held the other away.

"Get back to your meeting baby." Reiner instructed, kissing your slit and flicking his tongue over your entrance.

God you were teetering on the edge of killing him or shoving his face into your pussy, not even sure how you were going to make it the rest of the meeting with him down there. Sure the easiest solution would be to shove him away and make him wait, but he was already down there making out with your pussy in such an oddly tender way, there was no way you were going to stop him.

Reluctantly pressing the mic and camera options, you adjusted slightly in your seat and cleared your throat.

"Sorry, had to take care of something real quick." Bashfully apologizing with a white light, feeling the vibrating chuckle from Reiner on your folds.

"No problem. We came up with a plan to inexpensively bring in more sales and would like to know what you think." The head of sales spoke with a proud smile.

"Sure go ahead. After if we need to, go over what project management has and HR." Forcing out as steadily as you could, keeping the needy whine at bay as Reiner swirled the tip of his tongue over your clit, slowly.

"Great." A couple people said in unison, turning all their focus back to the head of sales. He spoke enthusiastically about the plan to you and everyone else and from what you could focus on, it all sounded great so far.

Reiner's mouth moved away from your clit, and back down to your now dripping entrance. You were good at putting on a face and you hoped in this case no one suspected anything, even though your legs were beginning to shake off camera. He hummed into your flesh, dipping his tongue around and in your entrance, lapping up your arousal with hunger. He was purposely taking his time, teasing you with light touches and slow movements, driving you to near insanity.

"Taste so good." He whispered, shoving his tongue inside, pressing his face into your cunt with the tip of his nose bumping your clit.

All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek, strain your face to remain unfazed to stay professional. The hand not holding your leg back came into play once he had his fill of fucking you with his tongue, middle finger swiping over your slick folds, toying with the idea of shoving it in. To muffle the moan nearly slipping out, you cleared your throat, reaching down to grip his hair harshly, only for him to roll his eyes into the back of his head and quietly hiss. He knew what he was doing by showing his enjoyment and you decided that you were going to kill him once this meeting wrapped up.

"I think that plan is excellent, I say we implement it immediately after this meeting." Steadying your voice perfectly much to your surprise, smiling warmly to your staff. "Do we have anything from product management?"

"Just a few items of discussion, I won't take long, promise." The man chuckled, seeing some of the others rolling their eyes and trying to keep yours from doing the same, for one reason or another. As soon as he began to speak, Reiner slipped his middle finger into your entrance, pulling it back out to start a rhythmic pump. You clench his hair harder instead of moaning, hoping and praying the head of product management kept his promise.

Daring to sneak a glance down between your legs, you regretted it once Reiner's glazed over eyes met yours, appearing drunk and holding himself back. He slipped his finger out, dipped it into his mouth to suck it clean and only to shove it back in with his ring finger this time. Maybe instead of killing him you could fire him, or write him up. He wouldn't care, he was getting too much enjoyment out of this to worry about if you'd actually reprimand him. Deep down you knew you wouldn't, but it was tempting.

Looking back up to the screen and seeing mouths move but no words reaching your ears, you knew you were fucked. Monthly meetings were important, but not that important, not with the way Reiner's two thick fingers pumped in and out of you slowly as his tongue flattened over your clit repeatedly. You couldn't see him, though you knew he had the dirties smirk on his face right now and your emotions were at war with each other or whether to be mad or not.

The next five minutes went by painfully slow, product management continuously getting side tracked in his own words, allowing you to redirect the irritation to him instead of the man sucking on your clit. Reiner alternated between harsh sucks and gentle, keeping his fingers moving in and out with ease, using the slick arousal to his advantage. Your legs were violently trembling, a tell tale sign you were close, along with the constant chewing of your bottom lip. You wanted to cum yes, but you wanted to cum screaming Reiner's name and not swallowing it for the sake of the meeting still going on.

"You can cum if you want, I'm not stopping you." He whispered coming off your clit, meeting your eyes and catching his slick cover lips and chin, how he swiped his tongue on his bottom lip to greedily taste it.

At your breaking point with just about everything, you released the tight grip on his hair, sucking in a sharp breath.

"I'm going to have to cut this meeting short." Sternly interrupting product management. "If you have any question please email me, have a great rest of your day."

Faster than you could process, you clicked the bright red "end" button on the corner of your screen, leaving absolutely no room for anyone to say anything. If they had a problem with it, oh well, you didn't care and you owned the company entirely and could do what you want.

"Fuck, please I'm so close." Whining as soon as the you closed the last of the zoom tabs on your screen, slouching deep in your desk chair nearly to the edge.

"Mm, missed hearing you." Chuckling back and wasting no time latching back onto your clit, bending the fingers inside of you to flutter in a 'c'mere' motion, sending you arching off of the chair.

Reiner groaned right on your clit when you gripped his hair again, pushing him harder into you. He swirled and flicked his tongue behind closed lips, locking eyes with you and moving his fingers to search for that spongy spot deep inside you.

"Right there, oh my god, fuck!" Exclaiming right as he found your g-spot, having to hold onto the arms of the chair for stability as the lower half of your body raised entirely. Reiner's hand holding you back by the thigh moved to hold you down at the hips.

"That's it baby," Encouraging with a raspy satisfied voice, coming off your clit with a pop and a deep chuckle, working his fingers even fast, causing your slick arousal to stream down his palm and down to his wrist.

Everything in your body was shaking, mind going blank and vision hazy as an intense orgasm approached closer and closer. You whined and writhed in the chair like you were trying to get away, like it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

"Doin' so good, need you to cum sweetheart." Almost growling out the sentence, going back to your clit to harshly suck, tipping you over the edge right then and there.

Stars littered your vision as you came, going slack in the desk chair and feeling a hand prevent you from slipping off entirely. Reiner waited a moment before slipping his drenched fingers out for you to gain your bearing a bit, removing them slowly when you began to sit up. He swiped his tongue over both just barely before pushing your chair back to give him room to stand.

"Open." Softly instructing, dipping the two fingers coated in your arousal into your mouth to clean them off. His lower stomach tightened, the muscle there clenching noticeably as you sucked his fingers like you would his dick, giving him that dangerous doe eyed expression as you did so.

"Sorry about the meeting." Uttering softly when you popped his fingers out of your mouth.

"No you're not." Amusement dripping in your words as you reached for your abandoned shorts and panties from under the desk, smacking them to his chest.

"You're right I'm not." Wrapping an arm around your waist and hoisting you up to lock your legs around his midsection, carrying you out of the office. "In fact I was trying to find a way to fuck you during that meeting, but couldn't think of how"

"Reiner!" Feigning the disapproval in your tone and laughing as did he, heading for the bedroom to fuck the absolute life out of you, but that didn't need to be said to know.

[user211201]

Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”