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lilhughesy · 2 months ago

Note

The Luke piece ground my heart into dust. Yes I will spend the rest of the day daydreaming about Luke now in the apartment alone, making one cup of coffee in silence, eating alone, and realizing that he did still love her. What can I say, I like men being pathetic, begging, and groveling.

I Remember Everything | Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

part one. part three.

warnings! angst!!!! reminiscing old memories, dealing with a break up, and I think thats it? word count: 3.1k

summary: He hasn't been the same since the last time you spoke. He's been playing terribly, his coffee doesn't taste right, and it's been too quiet. Everything in his life reminds him of you and he doesn't know where to go now and it doesn't help that he remembers everything about you.

a/n: eek! part 2 to Look at You Now!! I was so surprised to see how much attention that fic received considering it was something that I wrote without any plan or idea of what I wanted it to be. Thank you so much for the love and support, you have no idea how much it means to me! I hope you like part 2!! <3

He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up to a cold and empty bed and found it normal. Like when he used to cherish having a large bed to himself in high school. His body instinctively rolled over to reach for you, only to find nothing there. Your pillow remained untouched and in its original upright position, the comforter laid perfectly. He frowned to himself, feeling his heart sink slightly at your absence.

It had been just over a week since he came home from morning skate to see all of your belongings missing from your apartment. Your matching shoes were no longer on the rack by the door, your fluffy throw blankets gone from the couches, the stack of your read books all evaporated into thin air. He was confused at where you had put everything, maybe you were doing some cleaning.

“Hey baby?” He called out, placing his wallet and keys on the kitchen counter before his eyes started to scan over the space. He took his shaker bottle from his bag and rinsed it with water from the sink before putting it in the drying rack. He went to open the dishwasher to start putting away the cleaned dishes, as he typically did — only to realize that they were already put away.

He opened the cabinet doors to see the plates stacked up, but he also noticed how your various mugs that were stored in the cupboard were gone.

“Babe?” He repeated, cautiously closing the small door and heading towards your shared bedroom. He pushed the door open, only to see it vacant.

The bed was perfectly made, the sheets all tucked and the pillows stacked in place. But the spare hoodie you always left on your side of the bed for easy access wasn’t there, and the candle on your side of the bed wasn’t there either. In fact, there was nothing on your night stand other than the singular lamp.

Panic set into his gut, he immediately went to your side of the bed and opened the small drawer where you kept your journal, past cards he had written you, lip balm, photos of the two of you and a few other trinkets. They were all gone. The drawer was empty.

He rushed over to your shared closet, to see the racks bare, dresser was empty and not a singular trace of you was left behind.

Other than his old UMich hoodie that you loved so much, folded and placed on the top of his dresser. Along with a small piece of paper which read:

I can’t do this with you anymore Luke. I can’t keeping waiting for you to love me back. I went back home. Don’t try to call me or to find me. Good luck with everything, I hope you get everything that you deserve in life.

His feet carried him to the kitchen where he started to make his morning coffee. He stood by the coffee machine, watching it slowly pour the steaming dark liquid into the only clean mug he found at the back of the cupboard. The bitter scent of the coffee filtered into the air of the kitchen, the faint steam swirling around the machine as it brewed.

He held the warm ceramic in his hands, taking an inhale before a sip of the drink.

It didn’t taste right, even though it had been the same coffee pod that you always bought. He had used the same milk and creamer, but the ratio hadn't been the same. It didn't taste the same as how you made it for him every morning. It left a taste in his mouth that was a little too bitter. It was a bit too strong. He sighed, placing the mug on the counter whilst sitting on the cold bar stool. Like muscle memory, his body twisted towards the left, only to see your seat empty.

“What are you gonna do while I’m gone this weekend?” He asked you, as you rested your head on his shoulder. You shrugged in response,

“There’s a new cafe that opened a few blocks away that I wanted to check out,” You told him, glancing up to meet his eyes, “And maybe do some shopping… Artizia released new colours for their sweat fleeces so maybe I’ll treat myself to a new sweat suit.”

A smile filled with adoration grew on his face, “That sounds nice. Maybe you should get us matching sweat suits so we can be cozy together.”

You perked at his suggestion, “You’d wear an Artizia sweat suit to match with me?!”

“Yeah, they’re super comfortable.” He chuckled, relaxing into his seat, “I wear that black hoodie you got a while ago all the time”

“What?” Your eyes widened, placing your mug near his, “I’ve been looking for that hoodie for so long! You’ve had it this whole time?”

He grinned, fully amused at your reactions, “So it’s fine whenever you take my clothes and the second I take one of your hoodies, it’s a crime?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and pouted, “I’ll get over it if you let me pick the colour for our matching sweat suits.”

“Fine by me.” He reached for his phone and fiddled with it for a moment before placing it screen down, “I’m going to miss you this weekend.”

“I’ll miss you more,” You sighed, “It’s always so quiet and lonely when you’re on your roadies.”

He leaned to you, planting a tender kiss on your lips, “I know baby, I’m sorry. I’ll call you the second we land.”

“I love you.” You smiled against his lips, “I’m always so proud of you.”

“I love you, my gorgeous girl.” He said softly before standing up from his seat, “I have to get my things ready, Jack’s probably coming soon.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

He finished the rest of his morning coffee, walking over to place it in the sink before wandering towards your shared bedroom. He looked over his shoulder to see you pulling out your phone as he entered the room. He grabbed his suit that you had steamed for him the night before that was hanging on the door. He quickly changed, buttoning his shirt before going to the bathroom. He ran his hands through his hair a few times to adjust his curls. They didn’t look right, so he opted for a black beanie to hide the mess of his curls before starting to brush his teeth.

“Babe? Why did you send me $300?” He heard your voice coming from the main room.

He chuckled to himself, placing his toothbrush on the edge of the sink, “For your shopping!”

“What?!” You exclaimed, “You do realize I can pay for my own things right?”

“It turns me on,” He laughed, shaking his head slightly while grabbing his toothbrush again, “I like when you spend my money, babe.”

“You’re so weird.” You giggled, now leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom and admiring your boyfriend, “Thank you, my love.”

He rinsed his mouth, using the hand towel to wipe his face before approaching you. He kissed your temple, “You’re welcome, sweet girl.”

You helped him slip on his suit jacket, your hands smoothing out the material on his chest. Your hands rest on his shoulders, “I like this suit on you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at you with his hands falling to your waist.

You hummed, eyes shamelessly scanning your boyfriend’s body, “Yeah.”

He kissed your hair, “I should get going.”

His fingers interlaced with yours, guiding you towards the front door where his travel bags were. His strong arms wrapped around your middle, embracing you tightly, “I love you and I’ll miss you.”

“I love you.”

He leaned down to kiss you, before kissing your forehead.

His eyes lingered on the empty chair, nearly visualizing your typical morning self sitting next to him. Your gorgeous legs crossing over, your fluffy socks clad feet, his shirt or a hoodie fitting large on your smaller frame. Your hair twisted on the top of your head, the smaller strands falling from your claw clip to frame your beautiful face. The softness in your eyes when you looked at him, the constant warmth in your smile whenever you spoke to him.

He remembered it all.

His phone screen lit up with a text notification from Quinn, likely checking up on him. But he wasn't focused on his brother's message, rather being fixated on his lock screen photo that he has yet to change since setting it six-months ago. It was a photo of you cuddled into his side on the boat during the summer, you were engulfed in your favourite UMich hoodie that he gave to you. The warm summer air blowing your hair across your face, but it didn't take away the bright smile that you wore while looking at him. His favourite smile shining at him and he looked like the happiest he's ever been. And ever will be.

It was the picture perfect summer day. Mid-July, the sun was radiating in the sky during its peak hours which brought out the freckles on his face, made his hair a few shades lighter, and brought his skin a sun-kissed coloured tan. The breeze from the lake running through their hair as music and laughter filled the air.

The sun had started to set, bringing out the beautiful hues of pinks and oranges across the sky like a watercolour painting. It was a tinge colder with the night air trickling in. He was worried about you getting cold on the water, especially with the additional wind created as the boat drove around the lake. Luckily, he made sure to have packed your comfort hoodie which you were currently wrapped up in.

He had an arm lazily draped over your shoulders as you leaned into his side, laughing at whatever Cole had said from across the boat. You were nursing a High Noon in one hand, the other resting comfortably on his knee. He leaned down to press a small kiss on your shoulder and then one more on your temple.

Jack was watching the two of you, his heart softening at how his younger brother stared at you with such love in his eyes. Jack had watched him grow up, yet he only started to act with this level of softness and care when he started dating you. You grounded the hyper in your boyfriend, allowing him to be calmer, at peace, and move through life with a new level of ease. Jack claimed that any one, including those who have never experienced love, would be able to see how in love his younger brother was. It was written all over his face.

Your hair was whipping around your face, causing you to giggle at yourself from imaging how ridiculous you looked. You turned to face your boyfriend, a goofy smile drawing upon your lips, "Help me," You laughed as another strand of hair flies into your face.

He chuckled, his two hands moving to brush your hair out of your face then moving to gently caress your temples. His larger hands cupped your cheeks, they turned rosy as he looked at you deeply with that sparkle in his eyes.

"Hi my gorgeous girl, there you are." He said to you softly, his finger occasionally moving away another loose strand.

"Hi Lukey." You beamed, admiring how perfect he looked with the slight sun burn on his nose, his summertime freckles more evident than ever, how his hair appeared almost golden with the amount of sun its received. Not to mention the most amazing array of colours that were streaking through the sky.

Jack, in that moment, pulled up the camera app on his phone and sniped a photo of the two of you.

He snapped out of his daze, finally reading the notification that was displayed on his screen.

Q: Hey Lukey, just checking in to see how you've been holding up

Q: You know that you can call me whenever you need me. Always here for you bro

He sighed, placing his phone screen down on the counter. His hand ran through his curls and dragged across his jaw as old memories flooded his head. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for his own liking. It gave him too much freedom in overthinking, about you, how terrible he had been playing this past week, how Nico and Jack have been on his ass lately. He didn't like the silence. He had grown accustomed to the sounds of your show playing on the TV quietly or your voice humming to music or how you would call out his name when you missed him.

The only sounds in the entire apartment was the hum of the fridge and the quiet patter of rain outside the windows. He frowned, reaching to turn on the speaker that lived in the kitchen for those mid-cooking dances. He turned on his usual playlist, hoping that overriding the silence with music would resolve his trip down memory lane. He waited a few moments before realizing which song was playing: your favourite one.

His heart twisted, multiple memories of you singing and dancing your heart out to your song overwhelming his sense. So, he skipped it. The next song wasn't any better, it brought back memories of the two of you singing it together on late night drives. Old Morgan Wallen was always played on those occasions, it got skipped. The following song was one that the both of you held very dear to your hearts. It was the song that was playing in your dorm when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

The two of you hung out pretty often whenever he wasn't at Yost. He enjoyed your company, you were always able to match his energy. Whether if he was amped up before a game or tired from a long practice, you were always able to make him feel comfortable. He was able to be himself around you.

He found himself being drawn more towards you than any one else that he knew. He liked how his heart would flutter at the sight of you, or how his stomach would do summersaults the you leaned closer to him to whisper something at the library. He loved how you were so authentically yourself.

The two of you were laying on your bed as the two of you listened to 7 Summers, as you claimed that it was the summer song. He just loved hearing you talk. He swore you had honey dripping from your voice which made it so addictive.

He was fully aware that you had him wrapped around your finger, he had been completely enamoured by you since the first moment you met.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked, interrupting your explanation of the song.

He watched as you face turned pink and how you stumbled out a response, "I- Wha- I just- Did- Actually? Like really?" You stuttered, your hands clamping over your blushing cheeks.

He nodded, "Yeah, I've been wanting to ask you for awhile now."

"I'd love to be your girlfriend, Lukey." And so the song of the summer was suddenly given a whole new meaning to you.

It felt so wrong to listen to all these songs without you. They used to bring him his favourite happy memories that revolved around you, but now all they do is hurt him. He remembered everything, every detail, every memory of you. They haunt him for what he messed up on.

The thought of you was the only thing that was keeping him company in the void that you had left in his life and his heart when you left a week ago. He didn't know how to navigate through life without you by his side. You were always such a constant that it was normalized for you to be there for him every step of the way. You cheered him on, you celebrated the wins, you held him up during the lows, you relit his flame when things got dark, you supported him when no one else did, and you loved him so deeply and weren't ever afraid to show it.

He missed you more than anything. He knew that he had taken you and your love for granted, when you were one of the people who helped him get to where he was now. Without you, he wouldn't have had the courage to move to New Jersey to achieve his dreams. He was always scared of the backlash he would get or the comparisons he'd receive between him and his super star brothers. But you understood him, and you saw him. You told him that you believed in him and that you were proud of him. You told him to go get that dream that dreamt ever since he was a little boy.

All you ever shown him was love and kindness, your love was soft and tender yet it lit his entire soul on fire. You loved him from multiple state lines away for years and he never felt concerned about the strength of your relationship.

He felt hollow and empty without you.

He was himself when he was with you, you brought out the best in him. It was your love that brought colour to his life; he only realized now that you lost your colour with the absence of his love. You were once all the colours at full brightness and vibrancy, but day-by-day he turned away from you. He focused towards things that he couldn't even remember now, and the vibrancy dimmed and your brightness faded and you became a shell of the woman you used to be. Just like how he was now just a shell of the man he used to be.

He knew he shouldn't, you asked him to leave you alone. He was selfish before. But he knew he couldn't continue to move through life the way he had the past week, so he decided to be selfish again.

Luke: Hey, do you have time to talk?

Luke: I know that I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but please this is important.

part three.

#luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x you #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils x you #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #umich hockey x reader #hughes brothers x reader

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myth1cs · 7 months ago

Text

Love Warning (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

A bit longer, a little more story with smut at the end to wrap it up.

Word Count: 5,428

"Y/N you can't be serious! Do you know how much I pay you?!"

"Momo it isn't about the money."

You were Momo's secretary ... well not for much longer. You decided you wanted to do more with your life and get a different job. You weren't leaving because your new job would pay more but because it was something you were generally interested in. Being a secretary behind a desk all day every day just wasn't your type of life style.

When you came to that realization you submitted your 2 week notice to Momo and that's what led you to this situation.

"Come on Y/N just name your price and I'll get it for you. Just please don't leave the company you're the best secretary I've had."

"Its not about that. I'm just so tired of spending my life behind a desk looking at the computer."

Momo grabbed your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye. "Y/N please I can't lose you. I don't think I'll ever find someone with half of the expertise that you have."

A soft sigh left you. You fully understood the company was pretty much being carried by you and it would likely see a loss of income if you left but didn't want this to be the reason that you continue to live a boring life.

"My decision is final Momo. I won't change my mind, please understand my decision." You pushed Momo's hands off of your shoulder and left her office.

As soon as you closed the door Momo clenched her fist. "You filthy swine Y/N! After everything I've done for you this is how you repay me? I helped you pay off your student loans, helped you find your first house, I even extended your deadlines which made all the investors yell at me. You won't be leaving the company."

The following day

You walked into work just like any day. You wanted to avoid talking to Momo as much as possible. It's not that you didn't want to see her its just that you didn't want to have any more unnecessary arguing between you two.

"Y/N it's good to see you. How have you been?" Your coworker Han Ji-sung greeted you. It was strange though. Usually Han is someone who keeps to himself. Usually he doesn't interact with you or anyone for that matter so why was he suddenly being talkative towards you?

"I'm fine Han and you?"

"I've been doing well Y/N. I've finally decided to start talking to others instead of being locked inside my cubicle all day."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

"Want to grab a snack in the break room with me before you get to work?"

"Sure why not. I skipped breakfast this morning so I could go for a quick snack."

You walked with Han into the break room only to realize it was different from the last time you saw it. Now there were a variety of things in there from vending machines, arcade games, a TV, consoles, and even a variety of board games. "Since when did this room get a renovation?"

"Didn't you hear? Momo actually went ahead and renovated the break room after we all left. It must've cost her a lot of money huh?"

"Momo did all of this?" To say you were a bit shocked would be an understatement. You weren't dumb you knew that she likely did all of this to encourage you to stay but you didn't know she would go this far.

"Honestly I'm glad to know that our boss actually cares about our well being. I always felt like she gave off cold vibes but I'm glad I was proven wrong."

"She probably doesn't care much for you, she's likely just doing this to convince me to stay." You thought to yourself. You didn't have the heart to tell Han that Momo likely wasn't doing this out of the kindness of her own heart.

"Yeah ... she really is a great boss huh?"

"Are those my two favorite employees Han and Y/N? It's so nice to see you two here." Momo went up to the both of you and put one of her hands on Han's shoulder and the other on yours.

"Han go ahead and go home today you deserve it."

"A-are you sure Mrs. Hirai?"

"Of course now go ahead and go home."

You waited for Han to leave before you spoke up. "Momo isn't this a bit too much?"

"Mhm? What do you mean Y/N?"

"Don't act dumb. I know you did this to try to keep me here."

"Y/N this isn't about you. I did this cause I thought that the break room could use a renovation."

"H-have you been sleeping?" You noticed Momo sounded tired. You could tell she was acting energetic. Was she really neglecting sleep over you leaving?

"What? Of course I have! What kind of question is that?!"

You let out a sigh filled with concern "Momo I understand you want me to stay but still you shouldn't be doing this to yourself."

She let out a soft chuckle "I already told you it isn't about that. I respect your decision. I'll be in my office if you need me."

What should you say? Should you stop her? "No there's always the chance I'm wrong. Her business doesn't involve me." is what you thought to yourself but you couldn't shake a nagging feeling in your head. You had a feeling you'd find out what it is sooner rather than later.

That Night

You were supposed to have clocked out an hour and a half ago. But here you were hiding under your desk waiting for everyone to leave. You wanted proof, you had to see it with your own eyes. Was Momo really neglecting sleep?

The last employee Yu Jimin (Karina) left and you peaked over your desk.

"She's the last one. Now I'm alone, what could convince Y/N to stay? Ah I know but I need to start now or else I won't finish in time."

Momo grabbed her keys for her car and left the office.

"Sh-shes really doing this to keep me around. Shit this is bad I have to make a choice where neither option is good I either stay and continue doing a job I hate for the rest of my life or I leave. But I can't stand watching this. She is probably stressed out because of me so leaving isn't an option but neither is staying here!"

Unsure what to do you stayed around and waited for Momo to return. "Shit, shit, shit what do I do? Why are you stubborn Momo just give up on me I'm not worth it."

After waiting a while you finally heard the doors open.

"What are in the bags she's carrying?"

"Fuck I got lost in the store. I need to get started now."

Momo rushed into the office and started to get what she bought out of the bags. It was ... decorations?

She went around and decorated the office to make it look nice. "But what could possibly be the occasion?" You questioned yourself. You couldn't do anything but watch as your boss ran around putting up decorations.

As much as it pained you seeing your boss run around even though she was clearly tired you were also getting tired. "No not now." you thought to yourself. But it didn't last long eventually your tiredness got the best of you and you fell asleep.

Morning

Momo finished decorating the office. She never noticed you hiding under your desk likely due to her exhaustion. You woke up sitting on the cold floor cramped under your desk.

"Ouch I'm never sleeping on the floor again."

You picked yourself up and looked around. You quickly noticed the decorations in your office and decided to check the time. It was still before opening hours. You started to wonder where Momo was in all of this and how she didn't find you when she was decorating your office.

But did you really have time to ponder that? Shouldn't you try to leave before Momo catches you in the building?

As if right in queue Momo walked in the building carrying bags. "Hopefully they should stay warm until Y/N gets here. If not I hope he's okay with reheated food."

"She brought food? But why?" Many questions raced through your head and you considered if you should confront her about this. "Should I confront her? No if I try to confront her now she'll likely be more defensive. If I want to get a real answer from her I'm going to have to do it at the right moment but when would be a good moment for me to get her to tell me the truth." For you this was beyond trying to keep you in the company. Momo must have ulterior motives for trying to keep you around. "Even if she thinks I'm a good employee worth keeping around she wouldn't go to this length to get me to stay so what is it?"

"Maybe I should try to get her to come out and drink with me. But if I do it suddenly she might get suspicious. Ah I got it I'll do it on my last day here at work and will just use the fact that it's my last day as an excuse."

You finally had a plan in mind to get the "truth" from Momo. Now you just had to keep hiding until your shift started so you could "suddenly" show up.

Momo was walking by putting in the finishing touches but suddenly your stomach growled. Since you skipped dinner by staying in the office and hadn't had breakfast you were hungry and your stomach was trying to tell you that but it unintentionally alerted Momo that someone was in the office building. "Is someone there?"

You tried to think of something to do but it was too late she was already heading towards your location. You did the only thing you could think of and that was to pretend you were still asleep.

"Y/N?!"

She found you sitting under your desk.

"Guess he must've fell asleep. But why did he choose to sleep under his desk?" She had many questions but didn't want to disturb you. "Come on Y/N let me put you on the couch." Momo picked you up and carried you to the break room.

But you did notice something while she was carrying you. It was almost as if your heart was speeding up when she laid her hands on you. You also noticed her smell, she smelled perfect. You wanted to be able to smell her scent all day long and were a bit sad when she finally laid you down on the couch in the break room.

"I should've gotten a blanket for the break room" Momo thought to herself. She decided on taking off her jacket and used it to cover you in order to keep you warm.

Momo got a good look at you "Ugh Y/N why do you have to be so ... wait he's sleeping and no one is around so before he wakes up I could ... no wait what am I thinking?! I shouldn't think this!"

She ran out of the break room and that was your queue to "wake up."

Before you got up you took a moment to compose yourself. Your heart was still beating fast from when she carried you to the break room. "All she did was carry me so why is my heart beating fast?"

After a few minutes you were able to compose yourself and left the break room. It was 20 minutes before the office opened.

You didn't see Momo anywhere so you decided to check her office. As you made your way to the office you noticed how the building was decorated. She must've put in a lot of effort while you were sleeping. Honestly you were surprised she did all of this on her own.

Walking up to her door took a deep breath and lightly knocked on her door. "Y/N is that you? Come in."

Opening the door you saw Momo behind her desk working. "I see you finally woke up. Were you crunching numbers too hard yesterday and decided to take a nap under your desk?" You weren't expecting her to have the current demeanor she had but decided to go along with it.

"Yeah I guess I was overworking myself. It didn't help that I stayed up until 1am the night before."

"Geeze Y/N you tell me to get better sleep when I think you should be focusing on yourself."

"Actually I saw the building was decorated did you-"

"No it wasn't me. I actually hired people to come and decorate it."

"You're lying." You thought to yourself.

"What's the occasion?"

"Well today is Karina's birthday. I think it would be a nice change if from now on the building was decorated for peoples birthdays."

"Oh really? Well that's nice but what event should we hold to celebrate?"

"Event?"

"Well yeah, Are you a boring person? I bet you're the type of person that held the most boring parties during college."

"That's not true Y/N! I am a fun person to be around!"

"Prove it to me then."

"How do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Mhm ... How about we go to the bar on my last day. It'll be my treat."

"Fine, I'll show you just how fun of a person I can be Y/N."

"Well I'll see you then Momo."

"Y/N wait do you want to get breakfast with me?"

"Breakfast?"

"Since it'll be a few more minutes before work starts I thought it'd be a nice gesture."

Before you could answer your stomach growled and Momo took that as a yes before you said so. She grabbed your hand "Alright let's go!"

There it was again the butterflies you felt. As Momo was leading you somewhere you were stuck looking at her face, her warm soft hand was wrapped around yours and you were hoping she wouldn't let go.

"We're here Y/N. Let's eat inside!" She let go of your hand which made you a little upset inside.

"Welcome, What would you two like to order?"

Both of you were seated at a table waiting for your food. Momo was looking around the area and decided to look at the ceiling.

"Y/N look we're under a mistletoe! Should we kiss?"

"I - I - uhm..." Your face was turning red. You looked up and confirmed that you both were sitting under a mistletoe. You knew she said it in a joking manner and likely wasn't being serious but a part of you was hoping she was being serious.

Momo was leaning forward slowly. You noticed and also started to lean forward.

Before your lips could meet the waiter came to deliver the breakfast you both ordered.

They set your food on the table and smiled "I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

That was enough to snap both you and Momo back into your current situation which caused both of you to jump back on your seats.

"No wait it isn't what it looks like!" Momo exclaimed.

"Don't worry couples come here to share romantic moments all the time."

Unsure of whether you should correct them you looked at Momo to see if she would take the initiative to do but she gave you the same look.

"Well if that's all I'll leave you both to it."

"Y - Y/N I'm sorry I got carried away."

"No I don't mind."

Eating in silence you were waiting to see if Momo would break the silence or if maybe you should.

"Uhm anyways Y/N ... how would you suggest I dress for when we go out drinking?"

"Just anything you want."

"So just whatever I find comfortable?"

"Yeah, It's supposed to be a relaxing event for us so just whatever you want to wear will work."

After finishing breakfast you both returned to the office.

5 days until Y/N's last day

You wanted to talk about one of your coworkers to see if anyone else has noticed Momo's change in behavior.

"Mina sorry to bother you while your on break but do you have a minute?"

Myoui Mina was the one directly below you. She was also the person who'd most likely replace you once you left.

She put her phone in her pocket before looking up at you "Go ahead Y/N what's up?"

"Have you noticed Momo's behavior change in the past week or so?"

"Yeah I thought that much was obvious."

"W-wait you knew and you haven't done anything about it?"

"Y/N our job is to sit behind the computer and type some numbers in every now and then. It's better not to get involved in things that don't relate directly to us. You might find something you don't like."

"What are you saying?! Momo could be going through some hard times and you're okay with doing nothing?"

"Even she's replaceable."

"You piece of-"

"Calm down Y/N everything is going to be fine."

"And I'm assuming you know more than you're letting on."

"Of course, but you already know you won't get that information out of me."

"Pft ... bitch."

"Y/N if I may ask why do you care so much? After all your leaving in five days, whether or not this company burns to the ground shouldn't be of any concern to you."

"I - I just care alright? It's basic human sympathy."

"No it's not that. You have never been that type of person. Wait don't tell me you have a little crush on our boss don't you Y/N?"

"What?! No I don't!"

Mina smiled at you. She walked up to you and you started taking steps back until you hit the wall. Her arms trapped you against it and you felt her breath hit your neck.

"Let me give you a piece of advice Y/N. Give up or you might regret what you find."

"What are you-"

In a swift motion Mina kissed your lips briefly. They were soft and moist but as quickly as they came they left.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

"She? Mina what are you-"

"Sorry Y/N but I'm on the clock again. Consider my kiss a "good luck" charm."

Mina left the break room and went back to her office and you were still against the wall in shock from the events that had just transpired.

"Y/N did you just see a ghost or what?"

"Huh?! Karina when did you get in here?"

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn't realize Karina walked in the break room.

"You didn't notice me? Now I'm really wondering what's been on your mind."

"What do you know about Mina?"

"Oh I see what's happening here."

"You do?"

"You have a crush on Mina and you blew it just now."

"No you have it all wrong!"

"That's why Mina left looking like that. She was probably pissed off at your lackluster attempt of a pickup line. Don't worry Y/N since I'm such a good co-worker I'll teach you what to do so you can get a date with her."

"Would you look at the time I should actually get going."

"Nuh uh Y/N your staying with me."

Karina proceeded to grab your shoulders and kept you occupied for the rest of your break.

Day 0

You were at your house getting ready for the night with Momo. You dressed in what you thought was a nice mix casual and somewhat professional.

Heading out to the bar you were hoping that Momo would open up about what's been troubling her in a more casual setting. If anything else her getting drunk should get her to be more honest.

Finally you arrived and called Momo "Hey I'm here where are you?"

"I'll be there in a bit, just hang on tight for me Y/N."

You let out a sigh and decided to go ahead and go inside. Picking a table in the corner you waited for her to arrive and you didn't have to wait long.

Momo finally arrived but you were a bit surprised by her choice of clothing. From the hat, to the jeans, the jacket, and the tie that covered her cleavage it was all very expressive of her body. Something that you never thought you would catch your boss in.

"Ah there you are Y/N."

She sat down next to you and you had to use every ounce of will power to avoid looking at her chest.

"Y/N I really hoped you would have changed your mind by now but you haven't."

"Mhm yeah sorry but my decision is final."

You noticed something in her eyes once you said that. Almost as if what you said triggered something in her.

"Well besides that let's celebrate you, tonight goes to a better future for you Y/N!"

"Let's go ahead and order our drinks."

She has a better alcohol tolerance than you thought. Every time you tried to change the conversation she changed it right back to whatever you were talking about before.

You knew she was still sober enough and you felt like you couldn't drink anymore before you started to get seriously drunk and forget why you invited her out to begin with.

"Are you done Y/N? Do you want to call it a night?"

"No I'm not done yet. I'll get myself another drink."

"I'm not making this night go to waste!"

As you sipped down another glass you started feeling dizzy. But when you looked at Momo you realized she was also starting to feel side effects from the alcohol.

"Hey anyways Momo why don't you want me to leave so badly?" You had to ask now or else you would risk letting yourself get wasted.

"Because I said so!"

"Oh so she's that type of drunk." you thought to yourself.

"I bet I can drink more than you Momo."

"No you cannot Y/N and I'll prove it!"

She grabbed another glass and drank it completely in a few seconds. To see just how drunk she was you wondered if you could hand her one of your glasses and get her to drink it.

Without hesitation she grabbed the glass you handed her and downed it.

"Give me more Y/N I'll drink it!"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"No now give me more!"

Momo was starting make a scene so you decided to get her to out of their. "Yah where do you think you're taking me I wasn't done!"

Ignoring her yelling you paid the bill and dragged her out of the building despite her protest.

"Where do you live Momo I'm taking you home."

"I'm not telling! Bring me back to the bar I wasn't finished."

You sighed and figured you'd have to bring her back to your place instead.

The usual small walk to your home felt more like half an hour. "Y/N let me go!" Momo repeated all the way back to your home.

Finally you arrived back home while holding her arm. "Can you calm down?!"

"Nooooo Y/NNN I'm not calming dowwnn!"

"Can ask you something Momo?"

"Not until you get me my drink!"

You sighed and got the bottle of alcohol you had. Getting it out and pouring her a shot and handing it to her. "Now can I ask questions?"

She took a sip before answering you "Fine Y/N-ie just cause you gave me this."

"Cause I looovve you Y/N. Do you know how annoying it is to try to convince your favorite employee that you have a crush on to stay only for them to end up leaving?!"

"You have a crush on me?"

"Of course Y/N but I don't think I'll ever tell you though."

You were shocked. Your boss was in love with you this whole time? "Momo I don't know what to say."

Out of the blue Momo got up and made her way to you. "You know how fucking annoying it is to go and do so much and not have it pay off Y/N?"

"Momo I-"

Before you were able to finish talking she used her finger to squeeze your cheeks. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak Y/N. I don't like the defiant type."

As she spoke those words a memory came back to your mind.

"If you insist on pursuing what you're doing even after my warning then get used to listening and obeying. She doesn't like the defiant type."

Quickly you shut your mouth not daring to speak.

Momo saw what you did and chuckled.

"Did Mina tell you that you should obey me?"

"H-how did you know?"

"How about I show you instead of telling you?"

She quickly shoved you to the floor before you could process her words. A loud "thud" sound echoed through your house and you started to feel pain.

"Ouch!"

Momo took off her top and tie but left her jacket on. Her breasts were now fully exposed for you to see.

"I would let you play with these but since you're no longer my employee then I guess I can't let you." She said this with a grin on her face. Playing with herself and the only thing she let you do was watch.

Momo could see your eagerness to touch her in your eyes. "P-please?"

"Is my baby that desperate to touch a girl's breast? But I thought you said your decision was final or did you change your mind?"

"I changed my mind! Please Momo I can't take the teasing."

"Your erection is growing baby. Want help with that."

"Yes!"

"Hm no. Well at least not on your terms."

Momo was having a power trip. Flaunting her big breasts in front of you and not letting you get the relief you wanted. She laid on you, her breast were being pressed up against you and she started kissing your neck.

"Tomorrow let everyone know who owns you."

"But I have to go shopping tomorrow I don't want everyone to know-"

She grabbed your throat and squeezed it making you unable to breathe. "Disobey me one more time without permission and I'll make you fucking regret it Y/N. Do you understand?"

Tears fell down your eyes and you felt yourself losing consciousness. "Yes I understand please let me breathe!"

"Good now, regarding your statement, I don't care. Let everyone in public know what happened today."

She continued marking you and she didn't stop until your whole face was covered with hickeys.

"Any statements you want to get out before I continue Y/N?"

A little confused on why she was suddenly allowing you to ask a question you asked the first question you could think of "Why are you still wearing the hat and jacket?".

"I like this hat. And the jacket excites me. It makes me feel like we're in my office and I'm fucking you. Obviously I wouldn't dare to actually do it there but it adds to the role-play I guess. By the way want anything else? Maybe a drink or a snack?"

"N-no I'm fine Momo."

Although she was clearly in control over you she still took the time to make sure you weren't in total misery. She still cared about your well-being and a part of you felt slightly relieved that even in an intoxicated state she would still consider your feelings.

Momo took off her pants revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Finger me." Not one to question her authority you put 2 fingers in and went at a moderate pace so not to discomfort her.

"Mhm so obedient Y/N but slow down the pace a little bit it feels uncomfortable."

You listened to her and slowed your thrust into her pussy. "Yeah just like that Y/N keep that pace for me."

She pulled off your pants and underwear then proceeded to slowly move her hand along your hardening cock.

Her fingers were so soft yet they ignited something in you. Your sensitive cock was hardening with the feeling of her precious hands running along your cock.

"Speed up your pace and I'll pump your cock faster."

Wanting to release your cum you thrusted your fingers into her wet pussy. Keeping her word she pumped your cock faster as your speed increased.

Momo started playing with her nipples and moans came out of her. "Ugh ~ Ah" Twisting and turning her body from the feelings she was getting you were also getting harder from the feeling of her weight shifting on you. "I can't believe I am fingering my boss while watching her play with herself on top of me!"

"I'm cumming!" Your boss released her cum all over you. Her fluids stained the shirt and fingers and shortly after your semen ejaculated from your cock.

Momo moved, now she was sitting on your face "Lick my pussy while I'm still sensitive!"

You inserted your tongue into her pussy and you licked all around her insides. You got a little daring and tried to grab her breasts.

Out of nowhere she grabbed your wrists all of a sudden.

"You piece of shit. Did I allow you to touch me?"

Fear filled your body and you were unable to move. The room was silent for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds.

"Speak to me you fucking bitch!"

"No you didn't!" Your voice was shaky. Momo could hear the fear that was in your voice.

"Left or right?"

"Right?"

Momo let go of your right wrist and twisted your left wrist so hard until it broke.

"Ow fuck!"

"Maybe this will make you learn your lesson. Now lick my pussy."

Not wanting to lose your other wrist you licked her pussy like your life depended on it. Tears fell down your face from the pain you felt.

Moans fell out of Momo's mouth not caring about whatever pain you could be in. After a few minutes her juices flowed out of her pussy and went in your mouth.

The stream lasted so long you were choking on her cum. Eventually you were able to cough up her cum and avoided death by Momo's cum.

"You taste amazing boss." you said while panting.

She got off your face and kissed you. Taking in her own fluids with her tongue, you were able to taste the sweat dripping off of Momo's face.

Momo got off you and laid on the floor before she went to sleep.

Being too tired you slept on the floor with Momo by your side.

You were woken up by a loud scream.

"Y/N what happened?!"

Being too tired to respond you just stayed silent.

Momo started to piece together what happened as she saw her breasts and your cock out along with her mouth tasting like alcohol.

"Oh Y/N I'm so sorry I don't know what came over me!"

"Can you drive me to a hospital? My wrist still hurts after you broke it."

"I broke your wrist?!"

You and Momo arrived back at work shortly after your hospital visit. She insisted you don't work due to your broken wrist and with your face being covered in hickeys but you felt guilty for making her drink with you.

As you were walking to your office you heard someone call your name. "Long time no see Y/N."

Turning around you saw Mina

"Momo convince you to stay?"

She ignored the hickeyes all over your face but you weren't about to bring them up.

"Y-yeah."

"Was part of convincing you breaking your wrist?"

"You could say that."

Mina strutted towards you going next to your ear "It's not fair Momo got her turn with you. She won't mind if I share you with her so come to my office during your break Y/N."

Giving you a peck on your cheek before she walked away. She left you standing in the hallway.

"Wait how does she know so much about Momo?"

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

This was actually supposed to be a shorter smut (2,000-ish words) but I got carried away with the story which caused me to delay it.

Not sure if anyone caught it so I'll say it. In the beginning Y/N said "I'm never sleeping on the floor again" but ended up sleeping on the floor again. I just thought it was funny.

Unfortunately this wasn't a 20 chapter series. (I really wanted it to, but there's no way I would fit smut in every chapter.)

#twice smut #momo smut #momo #twice momo #kpop smut #fanfic #smut fanfic #girl group smut #smut #female idol smut #twice #twice imagines #twice x reader #hirai momo

704 notes · View notes

nanpecan · 6 months ago

Text

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 6

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt. 5

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you’ve now had two three four extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento, but who's keeping count.... You're preparing for your morning date at your place when you get some unexpected company.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, nanami gets a little jealous but don't worry bc I can't stand miscommunication tropes, explicit smut towards the end (mdni)

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 8.6k SORRY LOL

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: lemme start by saying im sorry for taking so long to post the next part but i have been going through it :D i am so grateful for all the positive feedback and messages i've gotten in my absence, i've missed my fellow nanami freaks, so this one is for all yall<3 also i posted this on A03 yesterday...i just feel like its faster posting it there bc im lazy. thank you to everyone for reading!

taglist at the end and feel free to let me know if you want off or if want to be added!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After about thirty minutes of scrubbing you came to accept that the pink frosting stain wasn’t going to come out of your shirt. You sighed and put down the wet fabric. Another shirt lost to your shenanigans with Nanami. You laughed to yourself as the realization hit you. You’d lost three shirts in the last four days…you should probably plan to go shopping soon. You grimaced, maybe you should have saved that extra money you’d sent your mother earlier in the week.

You went around your apartment cleaning here and there, you had found it in better shape than you remembered, but compared to his apartment you felt that yours was definitely lacking in cohesive design. Your eclectic furniture was a little bit of every style, the art on your walls didn’t really follow a theme, you just framed things you liked. You tidied up more than you think you ever had and smiled as you looked around. It may not have been much, but it was home. You felt safe here.

The building as whole was another issue. You’d frowned when you had seen the elevator was still out of order. Nanami would have to take the seven flights of stairs just like you had. You looked down at your phone, maybe you could reschedule? Meet somewhere else to have breakfast? No, he had been looking forward to seeing your apartment. It was such a silly thing but you could tell he really wanted to. You wiped down your kitchen countertops one more time before cleaning the small dishes in your sink.

You were planning on going to bed a bit earlier than usual. You were going to prep breakfast to make some pastries for him in the morning. It had been a while since you’d baked. You looked around, satisfied at your cleaning streak. You decided to shower before continuing, maybe you’d be able to catch anything you had missed afterwards.

You stepped out of the shower and walked up to the sink. What a crazy few days you’d had. You hadn’t really had the chance to be alone and process everything. You stared at your reflection as you wiped the mirror. You’d never really thought of yourself as someone worthy of being desired. An odd thing to admit, but you had also never really had the luxury of having the sort of life where that would matter. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery was a fast paced one and every day could be your last, so you often found yourself discouraged from participating in things people your age did. Dating, partying, traveling…it's not like you could afford it either. The only reason you’d really ever gone out was because of Akari. She would invite you to go out to places where she could relive her delinquent youth. She was also the reason you had gone on any dates in the first place. That reminded you, you needed to text her and see when she was free to hangout. You had a lot to catch her up on.

You walked out to your living room and sat on the couch, picking up your phone. It suddenly dawned on you that you had never gotten Nanami’s number. You seemed to remember Akari saying she gave him yours. You opened your messages and scrolled to confirm.

Something made a noise in your kitchen.

Your blood ran cold. Was it an intruder? A curse? Had something broken in? You slowly reached under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat. You sat up and looked towards the noise, but didn’t see anything. A cup holding your washed silverware had been knocked over. Okay…maybe it had just come unbalanced. You got up holding the bat up and slowly approached the kitchen. You cautiously made your way around the counter looking down and jumped.

It was your neighbor's cat.

You sighed in relief and lowered your bat. “Messi, what are you doing here?” You picked up the orange cat who meowed in return. “How have you been? It’s been a while.” He meowed again. “Really?” Meow. “I’ve been good. I met someone.” Meow. “Well he was someone I already knew.” You walked out of your apartment, cat in tow, and made your way next door. Your window had a tear in the screen and Messi had made a habit of going through it and somehow prying open your window (which didn’t lock) and wandering into your place. You didn’t mind, you had actually set up a little water bowl for him in your apartment.

You knocked on the door. “Hi, it’s Y/N. I'm returning Messi, I haven’t been home for a couple of days, so I don’t know how long he’s been in there.”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly an older lady opened the door. You had never seen her before. She looked at you and then at the cat. “Keep the damn thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice from behind the lady, your neighbor. She made her way to the door and you saw she was crying. She took the cat in her arms and held him close, starting to cry again. “Thank you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Osuke had his second trial today and was convicted,” she said through tears. Osuke was her husband.

“That stupid lawyer, I should curse his entire family,” the old lady muttered. You had a feeling she was Osuke’s mother.

“I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You had known about the trial, it had been ongoing for a couple of months now. He had been arrested after being framed for a robbery. The story you had been told was that his boss had been the one to frame him. He was a bottom tier worker, and the perfect scapegoat for the crime.

“No, thank you though,” the woman said.

“You can take the damn cat. She’s moving out of here. After the lawyer’s fees and the loss of his income she’s moving in with me, I don’t want to take care of that thing,” the older lady said.

“I’ll take care of it, please,” the woman cried.

The lady grumbled something else and went back inside. “Thank you for bringing him back.” She wiped her tears and offered you a hug. “We’ll be out by tomorrow, I can't afford the rent. I’m already behind on the last two months.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope everything works out. You have my number, call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” You smiled at her and she nodded and closed the door.

You stood alone in the hallway. Everything was so silent. You heard the women arguing again and you sighed. You went back into your apartment, sitting on your couch again. You hoped everything would work out for them. The couple next door had been so nice. Osuke and Makiko and their cat Messi, they’d lived here longer than you had. You sighed and rubbed your temples. There really wasn’t much you could do for them.

You reached for your phone again and went to text Akari.

-sorry i meant to text you earlier, and then i got distracted again. messi was in my apartment and scared me to death. -when are they going to fix that damn window for you? -i don’t mind, i love that cat. -but if he can get in so can other things, my skin is crawling just thinking about it -someone is on the road to getting uninvited from my place. -no way, you owe me from all the times I’ve let you crash at my place -damn…speaking of, when is your next free day? we need to hang out. -i can do the day after tomorrow, i have a half day, does that work? -perfect, i’m also just coming in in the morning -you can tell me all about your adventures with the old man. have you said yes to being his girlfriend yet? -he hasn’t asked me yet -boooo

You started typing when you received a notification from an unknown number.

-Did you make it home okay?- It read. You smiled. -is this who I think it is? -Y/n it’s me, it’s Nanami Kento. -then it is who I thought. I did make it home safe, I found my neighbor's cat in my apartment so I’m glad I came to check, they’re moving out tomorrow morning. -So you’re free now? -…yes ? -That’s good, get some rest. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow.

Hmm you thought he was going to ask something else. You looked at the clock. It was 7:53, earlier than you thought. I should probably get started, you thought to yourself. You pulled yourself off of the couch and went into your kitchen. You would make your dough tonight and let it proof overnight.

Overnight proofing is the best way to make bread.

You were shot back into a memory.

The best things in life are worth waiting for you know. And what’s better than fresh bread? Nothing! Ask anyone that comes in tomorrow, I dare you.

You smiled fondly as you rolled the dough into a little acorn shape before rounding it out and setting it in a glass bowl.

As you finished up you checked the time. You had gotten done pretty quickly. You just needed the topping for the melon bread, which you could make as the oven heated up in the morning. You checked your pantry one last time for brown sugar and you realized you didn’t have any. You frowned. You’d run out for some in the morning. If you didn’t go to bed soon you weren't going to want to get up in the morning.

You sat for a moment and noticed the silence again. It’s not like it wasn’t ever quiet around here, but maybe after the events of the last four days something about being alone bothered you. It surely hadn’t before.

You moved into your bedroom and lay on the bed. You usually felt stuffy in here, that’s why you preferred to lay out on the couch, at least it seemed more of an open space compared to your bedroom. But now it felt nice. You felt safe.

You stared at your ceiling. “Maybe I should call him,” you said out loud to yourself. You closed your eyes and imagined his smile. The way his perfect teeth shone, the way his nose crinkled a bit when the corners of his mouth lifted, his lips on yours. You swallowed and opened your eyes. If you let your mind wander any longer you’d be in trouble. You groaned in frustration. You missed him, how pathetic. You had always been one to make fun of how quickly people in your field tended to get together, but here you were.

You heard your neighbor and her mother in law faintly arguing through the walls. You frowned trying to think if there was really nothing you could do.

You had too much “compassion”, you had been told by one of the old professors at Jujutsu Tech. There’s no way to save everyone and to try is to doom yourself. You scowled as you remembered what he had said to you. The arguing died down and you hoped to yourself they worked it out. At least they had each other going through this. Things were tense now but hopefully they’d adjust. You made a note to check in on them tomorrow. You went to set your alarm when you remembered Shoko had wanted you to stop by her office early in the morning. You groaned and set your alarm for earlier than you had intended. Nanami said he’d be by around 7, it would have to be a quick breakfast as you wanted to get to the school by 8, you hoped he didn’t mind. You finally drifted to sleep.

You groaned as your alarm woke you up, but you quickly sat up and went to wash your face. You needed to split the dough, and lay the cookie topping over it and let it proof for another 30 minutes at least. You could run out to your corner store while they sat and you preheated the oven.

As you opened the door to exit, you almost tripped on a pile of items placed in front of your place. Cat toys, a litter box, cans of cat food, a small bed, and a note.

Messi got out again last night and I’m afraid we just don’t have time to look for him. I think he’s better off with you anyway. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If it’s too much I've contacted a shelter that would take him. Here is the number.

You frowned a bit. You loved Messi but you didn’t want a cat. You dragged the items into your apartment and quickly went out the door. You’d deal with this later, you were already running behind.

As you stepped back into the hall, winded and trying to catch your breath after returning and climbing the seven floors, you looked up to see a man in a suit knocking on your neighbors door. This wasn’t your man in a suit, quite the opposite.

You approached him cautiously. He had jet black hair, his suit was dark, and he reeked of alcohol.

“Please, just let me apologize- I did all I could. I won’t charge ya any money, just please, I’m sorry.” He stumbled as he continued to knock. You were going to have to get past him to get to your door. There was no avoiding him.

“Excuse me,” you said, announcing yourself behind him. The man turned to look at you. His eyes were tired and sleepy, he had deep bags under his eyes and his sharp nose was red. He was definitely drunk. “If you’re looking for the residents, they’ve moved out.”

“What?”

“They’ve moved out, what did you need to tell them?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?”

“I need to apologize to them. Osuke was jailed. It’s not fair. The whole system is corrupt. I should-”

“Were you their lawyer?” you asked.

“Yes,” he turned back and started pounding on the door again. “Please let me speak to you!”

“Tell him to stop that before I call the police!” an old man from down the hall had stuck his head out of his door to yell.

“Sir, no one is in there. You have to go, it’s too early to be causing such a ruckus,” you said.

“I need to apologize,” he whined. You noticed a buzzing coming from his pocket, his phone was ringing.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to you before turning back to the door. The caller ID said Shimizu. You grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him away from the door as you answered with your other hand.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello… is this Higuruma’s cellphone? Who’s speaking?” A woman spoke on the other end.

“Ah, he just handed me his phone. He’s very drunk and knocking at someone- I think maybe one of his clients' doors.”

You heard her curse, “Would you be able to tell me where he is? I apologize for the disturbance, I’ll come by to get him as soon as I know where to go.”

“Ah, yes-” he pulled himself from your grip and started going towards the door again. “Sir-”

“There is no justice!” he cried out.

You stared at him a bit shocked, what was he on about? You told the woman your address.

“I can be there in around 25 minutes. Would there be any way you could keep him put? I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

“I’ll try my best…” you looked at the man as he collapsed onto his knees, staring forward at the door. You walked over to him and handed him his phone. “Shimizu is on her way to get you,” you said. He just stared. You looked at your apartment and sighed. “Would you like to wait for her inside?” You pulled the man up to his feet and unlocked your apartment. You held the door open as he stumbled inside. You reached inside and grabbed a couple of cans of cat food to hold your door open. The last thing you wanted was for Nanami to get the wrong idea.

Once inside you rushed over to your kitchen to check on the bread. The man walked around not looking at anything in particular, but just moping. “Have a seat,” you motioned to the small table and chairs. He sat down and you turned back to your baking, unpacking the sugar you had just bought. You quickly grabbed a plate and spread the sugar, then you rolled the diamond patterned tops in the sugar. You placed the six little buns you had made back on the baking sheet. The oven still had a couple of minutes before it was ready.

You turned back to the man and were shocked to find him staring at you. “You just let a strange drunk man into your apartment, while alone?”

“I left the door open…” you muttered. “Besides, I think I could take you in a fight. I’ve dealt with worse.” He gave you a questioning look. “Would you like some water? Some tea? Coffee?”

“Water.” You poured him a glass and walked it over to him. He began rubbing his temples with his hand. He seemed to be sobering up quickly. You grabbed a couple of crackers from your shelf and handed them to him too.

“Eat something, get a grip before your friend comes to get you.”

You heard the oven ding and you walked over to put the pasties in the oven. You set a timer for twenty minutes. Looking at the clock you had about 30 until Nanami showed up, probably less since he seemed to be pretty punctual. You turned back to the man and saw he had chugged the water and was gingerly taking a bite out of the crackers. You started cleaning up the kitchen, putting the bowls in the sink and clearing off your small drying rack.

“Who is coming to get me?” he asked.

“Ah, your friend, I think her name was Shimizu,” you answered. He muttered something under his breath. “More water?” you asked.

He nodded. You went over with a pitcher and filled his cup, this time sitting down across from him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“So…there’s no justice in the world, huh?” You asked. He frowned. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to hear from my lawyer,” you eyed him curiously.

“I apologize for my outburst.”

“No, no I understand. From what I know Osuke was innocent. It must be frustrating to lose a case, especially when what happened was so unfair.” You thought back to the old woman grumbling about the lawyer. “That old lady was very angry, I can’t imagine that’s easy on you.”

His hand gripped the cup tightly. “People have no sense of understanding right or wrong. Everything is so black and white to them. But there are so many complications before you can see one or the other clearly.” He stared at the cup. “Most only see the bad, the ugly, that’s the easiest thing to pick out, the easiest to understand. I think most people assume that others are inherently bad, so expecting bad things to come from them is second nature.” You stayed silent as he contemplated his words. “It doesn’t help when your client looks like a bad guy, it’s an uphill battle, but I try I really do.”

He sighed, taking a drink of water before continuing. “ If I lose a case, it's easy to blame me. I'm much more tangible than blaming some higher power for not being in your favor. No one wants to believe that I do this out of a want to help others, they see me as wanting money, as taking advantage of those in dire situations. They only ever see me as greedy when I lose. Another bad guy. I want to help, but when it comes down to it, who am I to a jury, to a judge? I’m another bad person, defending a bad person who did a bad deed. They think if they were truly innocent I wouldn’t have to work as hard, I wouldn’t have to find such cunning ways to prove their innocence, but I try. Not out of trickery or malice, but because I want to believe that not everyone is bad. But again and again people only see me as a bad guy defending bad people, and I'm afraid I'm losing sight of what this all used to mean to me.”

You looked at the cup he was holding. “I see…” you thought about everything he had just said. You thought a part of him was just feeling sorry for himself, but other points he made were valid. There was a time when you thought everyone in the world might have been bad too. “When I was sixteen…I left my home because of an incident,” you started. “I was alone and scared and I thought that it had happened to me because I was bad.” You frowned slightly as you recalled the events. “And because I thought I was bad, I justified a lot of the things I did. I snuck onto buses and trains to get to Tokyo, away from where I was because I didn’t feel like I deserved to be there, I didn’t deserve to be close to my family. And I stole…a lot…not big things, not precious things, food mostly. I was hungry and had no place to stay and I saw others do it…and so I became ‘bad’. I became what I thought I was, what I believed the world wanted me to be.” You looked up at him, he was staring at you trying to figure out where you were going with this. “But then I met someone, someone who was good, someone who only ever saw the good in people no matter what and that…changed me.”

“Who did you meet?” he asked.

“I went to a bakery,” you smiled fondly and looked down at your hands on the table. “I had known about it since I arrived in Tokyo, the line was always out of the door by 7 am, but I had never had the chance to go in. I mean, I never even had the money for it and the owner, she was this sweet old lady and even though I was already stealing food from other places, I felt like if I stole from her I would be too far gone.

But as it goes, the more I stole, the more I felt entitled to, and after a month of fighting it, I finally gave in and made a plan.” You shifted in your seat, you had never told anyone this story. “I made a plan, and woke up early, to be one of the first in line. I was sixth or seventh outside the door, and when I finally got to go in I felt like crying, it smelled so good and it was so warm. She greeted everyone with such kindness and it was just her that day. I had seen a granddaughter with her before, but this morning it was just the lady.

“I pretended to look around, considering what to buy. I let people go in and out before I finally decided on a single piece of Melon bread, delicately wrapped in plastic. It was the most beautiful thing I think I’d ever seen. I grabbed the piece and tucked it under my arm and started heading towards the door. I turned to check if anyone had seen me and I saw her staring at me.” You laughed and shook your head. “She was just staring at me and her eyes went to the piece of bread I had tucked under my arm and you know what she did?” You looked up at him. “She looked back into my eyes, smiling the whole time, and said to come back soon. I ran out of there, terrified for my life. I thought she was going to call the cops, but there was something about her smile that just seemed so genuine.

I think I got about ten steps down the road before I stopped. The guilt was too much, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t deserve to have something so nice. I was bad, and I had done a bad thing.” You scrunched your nose. “I went back immediately. I pushed past the people in line and went right up to her and I handed her the bread back. She looked at me confused and just shook her head. ‘You can have it, it’s your first time here right? Take a seat, let me know what you think of it.’” You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I sat down and just cried while I ate it. I bawled, like people stared at me out of concern.” The lawyer stared at you. “When I finished she came up to me and asked how it was. I started apologizing profusely and she just handed me another one, and asked if I’d like to learn how to make my own,” you shook your head incredulously.

“She offered me a job and a place to stay. I still don’t understand how she was able to see right through me.” You heard the timer go off and you shot up to get the bread out of the oven. You smiled as you saw how perfectly the six little buns had crisped up. You transferred them over to a plate and grabbed one for the lawyer. You placed it in front of him. “There are bad people out there, but there are also good people. There has to be a natural balance otherwise everything would fall apart, don’t you think?” You looked at him as he stared at the pastry before him. “I can see that you really care about your clients. Even if this was a bit inappropriate to do, drunkenly asking to speak to them and all, but the right sentiment is there.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “The world needs more people that are willing to look past everything and find the good. I hope you can keep doing that.”

You heard laughter from the hallway and looked over the lawyer’s shoulder at the open door to see Nanami and a sharply dressed woman stepping out of the stairway. The woman suddenly looked at you and then at the lawyer. “Higuruma!” She quickened her step towards your place. Nanami followed behind her. “Pardon my intrusion,” she said as she entered. She stomped up to the man checking on him before turning to you. She bowed slightly. “I apologize for his behavior. This is completely out of character for him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, he explained some of what’s been going on. Do you work with him?”

“Yes, my name is Shimizu, I’m a colleague of his, I’m also a lawyer.”

“I’m Y/N, sorry we have to meet like this.” You turned your attention to Nanami who was staring at the man. “Sorry our breakfast plans got thrown around a little.”

Shimizu turned towards Nanami and then back to you. “Ah, I see...” She smiled at you. “I’ll take over now, thank you again for your help. Here’s my business card, let me know if there’s ever anything you need.” You took her card and smiled. Fancy, you thought to yourself.

“Wait,” Higuruma said. “Have my card too,” he felt around his pockets for them but couldn’t find anything.

“Don’t tell me you lost your wallet,” Shimuzu said, annoyed. She pulled out another card and handed it to you. “Here’s his card as well.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for listening to me…” Higuruma looked like he was trying to remember your name.

“Y/N,” you repeated.

He smiled at you. “Wait!” he said again as Shimuzu started pushing him out. “My melon bread…” he muttered, turning back and grabbing it off the plate. Shimuzu sighed and continued to push him out.

You watched the two bicker as they went down the hall and into the staircase. You became aware of Nanami’s eyes on you. You reached down to move the cat food out of the door frame and let the door shut. “If I ever got called to fetch you out of some stranger’s apartment after you had a drunken night out, I don’t think I’d be as calm as she was,” you said. You turned back to him after he hadn’t said anything. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea. I helped him out and we just talked.” You frowned. “I feel like saying that makes me seem more guilty, but I don’t even know why I’m defending myself here.” You turned to him and stared for a bit. “Are you mad at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“Oh.” You turned back towards the door. “You were just being so quiet…I mean I heard you guys laughing…the lawyer lady, Shimizu. She was really pretty. She looked so professional..” You smiled half heartedly. “You looked good together.” You muttered. You frowned as you realized how ridiculous you sounded. “Anyway…” you turned towards the kitchen and started walking to the counter. “I made some pastries this morning. It’s not much, but we’ll also have to be quick because I forgot I promised Shoko I’d meet her early. So I only have time to change and then we probably need to head out. Sorry for rushing things.” you frowned again. “I should have told you to stop by earlier, but I got a little distracted.”

“Are you jealous?”

“M-me?” You felt your face grow red. “No-no I’m not- why would you- why would you think that?” you laughed awkwardly. “I was just saying she’s super pretty and I’d just never heard someone laugh with you like that before I mean other than me- but I mean I guess I don’t really know you-I mean I know you but not like I know you now- and she’s-I mean she’s super pretty you have to admit-“

“I wasn’t a fan of the way he asked for your name at the end of your conversation,” he said looking down at his wrist and fiddling with his watch. “I know that look he gave you… I’ve given you that look.”

You smiled and felt relief. “Seems like we’re on the same boat.” You shook your head and went over to him, looking up with a playful frown. “Was she really that funny?”

“She was the only one laughing, I don’t think anything I said was particularly interesting.”

You thought back at the way her eyes had turned from you to him and back to you. Oh I see, she had said. “She was into you,” you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ve done that before, laughed like an idiot at someone who’s not funny because I thought they were hot.”

“Have you done that with me?” He asked.

“No, you’re actually funny. It’s never forced with you.” You looked up at him again. “It’s your fault, you’re so handsome. We have to do something about your face.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do about yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“He was quite taken with you.”

You made a face and shook your head. “Men will rant about their problems to you and then think they’re in love just because you listened.”

“Did he rant about his problems? His alcoholism? His brutishness? What was he thinking coming into someone’s apartment in that state? He’s lucky he didn’t-“

“He was having a rough time of it actually. I do feel a bit bad.” You turned back to look at the door and then the cat items. “He was my neighbor’s lawyer. They’re a young couple, the husband was arrested on some unfair charges and he seemed devastated by the outcome.”

“That’s not very professional.”

You shrugged. “I think it’s been a long time coming. Hopefully my pep talk keeps him back on track for a while longer, but I have a feeling he’s going to snap one day,” you said darkly. “There was something unhinged in his eyes.”

Nanami pulled you back and hugged you tightly again as you buried your face back into his chest. He smelled nice.

“Speaking of my neighbors. Do you like cats?”

“I don’t dislike them.” You nodded, backing out of his arms. “Why?”

“They left me in charge of their cat, Messi. Well not left me in charge, it’s more like they gave him to me. They left me all his stuff, he got out of their place yesterday before they left and somehow he always ends up at my place.”

“How does he get in?”

“Oh I guess I should show you around my apartment. Though there isn’t much to look at.” You ran a hand through your hair as you looked around. You pointed at where he was standing, next to the table. “Dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom door, bedroom door, ta da!” You smiled cheekily as you pointed back where you started. “Bet that’s the fastest you’ve ever had a house tour, huh.” He looked around slowly, taking in the frames on the wall, the knick knacks on your shelves and the books piled all over the place, stacked not so neatly. “It’s- it’s really not much but it’s home,” you said feeling a little insecure again. Maybe you should have cleaned more.

“It’s lovely,” he said. “It feels very much like you.”

“Thanks…” you said. Your eyes went to the clock in your kitchen and you perked up. “Oh wow, is that the time…”

“May I see your bedroom?” He asked. You felt your face go red again.

“Oh, sure,” you started walking towards it. “I need to change anyway, hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.” You felt the blush grow and your stomach get tingly.

You opened the door and gestured briefly. “This is it, again it's not much... I think the bed is too big for this space, but it’s comfortable.” you went around to your closet pulling out a pair of black slacks and a white button down. You laughed to yourself. “That pink frosting was not coming off of my shirt. That’s two shirts you owe me, Kento.”

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he said as he looked around the room. “What about this weekend? Are you free? I could take you shopping.”

You laughed again, “You’re like the main lead in a drama series. You’re too much, you know that?”

“Sorry?” He offered.

You smiled at him.“Thank you, but I’ll take a rain check on the shopping. I can get my own stuff. I’m hanging out with Akari on my half day, but Sunday I’ll be free,” you said as you buttoned your pants. “That is if you want to meet up on Sunday… if you’ve available.”

You turned to him and saw him blush this time. “Sunday…works.” You smiled victoriously as you walked over to him in just your bra. He stared at your face and you nodded briefly as if to give him permission to look. His eyes trailed down. “It’s a shame we have to hurry to campus. Are you sure Shoko can’t wait.”

“She’s doing me a favor by offering to teach me, I can’t do that to her,” you said. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you forward. You looked up expectantly and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled.

You finished getting dressed and you felt his eyes never leave you as you moved around. He walked behind you out of the room and into the kitchen where you proudly showed him the bread you had made.

“This is a very secret recipe, I doubt you’ll ever have one as good as this.” He looked down at the bread and smiled fondly. He picked up one of the little buns and slowly bit into it. You watched his face carefully for a reaction. You saw his eyes water slightly as he savored the treat.

He smiled and nodded. “Good.”

You were a bit confused. “Yeah…you okay?” He seemed to be lost in thought. “Kento?”

He smiled again and blinked a few times. “Yes, sorry, it brought up some memories. This is very good, Y/N.”

You smiled, deciding to not push it. “I worked at a bakery for a short time.” You looked at the buns. “They're good but you should have tried the ones where I learned… I guess people are masters for a reason.” He nodded and continued to eat.

“Did you want coffee or-” Suddenly your phone rang. You pulled it out of your pocket and read the name, Shoko.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, Y/N. I’ve been called out to do something so I won't be at the school this morning. Is there any way you could come in during your lunch?”

“I think that should work,” you said. Nanami looked at you curiously.

“Great, see you then.”

“Ooo~ is that Y/N?’ you heard Gojo’s voice in the background before she hung up.

You looked at your phone and then back up at Nanami. “So it looks like we have time after all, Shoko just rescheduled.” You sighed and leaned against the counter. “Sorry for rushing you before. Did you want some coffee or anything? I need a little pick me up.”

He shook his head, “Sit down, you’ve had a long morning. Do you mind if I make us some coffee?”

“I can make it for you, it's no problem-”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and nodded.

“Fine, let me atleast get the ingredients out for you.”

“I’m sure I can find what I need,” he said, gesturing for you to go sit at the table.

You obliged and sat down with a happy sigh. You watched as he moved around the kitchen, looking for ingredients. The coffee, the sugar, etc. You smiled as he grumbled to himself as he searched for items and he would occasionally look over at you for some guidance. You pointed at your cup drawer and he looked over at you as he pulled out two mugs. He held one in his hand and read the text.

He frowned. “I used to work at this company,” he said.

“Ah, I got it as a freebie after signing up for their newsletter or something like that, I don't remember now.” You laughed, “I wonder if you were at that event. It must have been around the time you worked there. Before I had this apartment I used to rent one close to their headquarters, so I would walk by almost daily. We were so close and had no idea.”

Nanami smiled, bringing over two cups of coffee and the tray of bread. “I don’t think you would have liked me then.”

“What do you mean?” You took the warm cup from him.

He sighed as he sat, “I feel as if I was a soulless shell of a man focused on money”

“Was?” you teased.

He gave you a look, “Am I still?” You blew on your cup and smiled slyly. He smiled, “I guess I am still focused on money, but soulless?”

“Definitely not, I can tell by the way you made this coffee,” you said, taking a sip. He shook his head and looked down at his cup. He had taken the one with his old company logo.

“Would you have liked me?” He mumbled.

“Probably not, if I’m honest,” you said bluntly. You smiled, “I hate stiffs in suits and I don’t have much money so I doubt you’d have given me the time of day anyway.”

“Stiffs in suits? Isn’t that what I am now?”

“At least you’re helping people, now. That company always had a fishy vibe, there was always a tan blonde man in sunglasses who would try to pick me up with bad English phrases.” You scrunched your face. “Sound like someone you know?”

He laughed. “Unfortunately I know who you’re referring to.”

The two of you finished up your breakfast and Nanami offered to do the dishes while you tidied up. You wiped down your counters as he rinsed the cups. You moved on to the table.

Laying on the table were the two business cards the lawyer had handed you. You examined the sturdy ivory rectangle and the elegant gold lettering of the man’s business card. Hiromi Higuruma, it sounded like a name out of a tv show. You looked up and saw Nanami staring at the card in your hand with disdain. You smiled, laughing a bit at his expression.

“Here,” you reached out and handed him the card. “Hold on to this for me, you never know when I might need a lawyer.”

He begrudgingly took the card and scanned the writing, the scowl still on his face. “I’ll keep you out of trouble.” He tucked the card into his pocket.

“Did he really bother you that much?”

“Please, enough about him,” he said with a sigh.

“I kind of like that you’re jealous,” you teased. “Anyway, what are you so worried about?” You reached out and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” You felt his cheek grow warm as a blush came over his face.

Nanami looked down at his watch, he seemed to be calculating something in his head. “We have about thirty minutes until we have to leave right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He suddenly moved closer to you, putting his hand on either side of the table around your waist. “Should we make use of our morning?”He gave you a cocky smirk as he gently moved one of his hands under your chin, tilting your face upwards.

You felt your face burning now. “What can we even do in only half an hour”

He tilted his head as he thought. “Well we really only have twenty minutes, I would allow us another ten to compose ourselves.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” you asked, laughing.

He shrugged as he brought his face closer to yours. “We can make it work.” He closed the distance between you, delicately placing his lips on yours. He was so warm, so soft. You pulled him closer, placing your hand on the back of his head and lacing your fingers within his silky blonde locks. His lips moved softly against yours, his hand gently placed on your back as he settled himself between your legs. You pulled back for a second and looked up at him. His lips were glistening with your mixed saliva and face was flush. You smiled.

“Seeing as I haven’t really had the time to do laundry, and the fact that I’m down a couple of shirts, and that we have a record of being…messy. I propose we move this to my bedroom.”

He smiled and nodded. He placed another soft kiss on your lips before backing up to let you move forward away from the table.

“I’ll try to not let it become a habit.”

“What?”

“Ruining your shirts.”

“To be fair you only ruined two, the other one was that monster.” You shrugged, “Some things are just inevitable.” You turned towards him once you were in your room and started unbuttoning your shirt. “Should we set a timer?” you joked.

Nanami set his blazer aside and loosened his tie. “We can be quick about it. We made do in that bathroom.”

You felt your cheeks go red, “Oh my god,” you buried your face in your hands and sat on the bed. You heard him chuckle and you looked up. He placed a hand down onto your cheek and you smiled at him. He slowly lowered his face down towards you and kissed your forehead. He pushed you onto your back as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. You shifted your weight as you reached down to pull your pants down. You slipped them off of your legs and suddenly felt him grab your right ankle. He smiled coyly as he placed it up onto his shoulders, you felt your face go red as you looked at him. He held your leg firmly as he lazily unbuttoned his pants and shuffled them down to expose himself. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he moved forward and ran his cock over your underwear. He moved forward, placing his knees on the bed as he brought your legs up onto his thighs. He picked up your left leg and pressed it against his side as he moved forward to kiss you. You groaned as you felt your right thigh stretch against his chest. You moved one of your hands onto his shoulder and the other laced into his hair bringing him closer. Your tongues danced as you desperately kissed him. He continued to buck his hips, running his cock over your now soaked panties. He grunted at the friction and quickly moved back suddenly. You whimpered again as your leg moved back up with him. He let go of your left leg and moved it over opening your legs wide before him. He looked up at you, his pupils wide and his mouth wet with your spit. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down your body. “Y/N…I don’t know how to explain what you do to me…” He licked his lips as he thrust his hips forward against your clothed cunt. “I apologize in advance if I’m being too rough.” He looked back up at you. “Please let me know if I’m too rough..” He moved a hand down and pushed aside the wet fabric easily.

He pressed his tip lightly against your opening. You moved a hand forward and pressed it against his abdomen stopping him momentarily. “Kento…”

His head snapped up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

There was a desperation in his gaze that made you feel a warmth in your chest. “It’s okay.” You moved your hand back and lifted your arms over your head. “Be rough with me, please…” you moaned and arched your back as you felt him dip a little deeper inside you.

Nanami quickly grabbed your other leg and pressed it back against you as he moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. You let out a yelp, which was muffled by him devouring your lips. He pushed his hips roughly against you, desperately, quickly, as he held your legs further back. You were folded over yourself and you felt the head of his cock bully the deepest parts of you. You gasped everytime he pushed into you, becoming a mumbling mess under his touch. He slipped an arm behind you and brought you closer to him and you gasped at the change in position. He had you trapped in a mating press and all you could do was mutter incoherently. “Kento!” you cried, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure. He moved his mouth from your lips and trailed sloppy kisses down to your jaw and into your neck. You felt him bite your skin gently before latching onto the side of your neck. He was going to leave a mark, you were sure. You moved your arms forward and hugged his large torso towering over you. He wasn’t slowing down and you were reaching your limit. You dug your nails into his back and you heard him hiss as he released your neck. He smiled snarkily before moving to the other side of your neck and biting down on it. You dragged your nails along his back again and he bit down harder. You cried out as he desperately moved his hips with more force, his knees slipping and forcing him deeper as he temporarily let his weight drop on you for an instant. You moaned loudly and clenched your entire body as you came. He grunted into your ear as he thrust his hips one more time before releasing with a roar.

You were both breathing heavily as he stayed inside of you for a while longer, twitching against your contracting walls. He kissed your face gently as he tried to catch his breath and you smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. After some time he finally moved back, releasing your legs which had been trapped between the two of you. He took a moment to massage your thighs in his hands. You hummed in appreciation.

You felt him move back and pull out of you. You winced as you felt warm liquid ooze out of you. You pointed to your bedside table and he quickly fetched a handkerchief to clean you up.

“I might have gotten carried away again.”

You laughed and sat up sorely. “It's only 8 am.” You mumbled. He smiled at you and you saw his eyes trail to your neck. You put a hand over the spots he had leeched on to. He smiled satisfied as he made his way off the bed.

“I’m going to take a quick shower…would you like to join me?” You nodded and scooted off of the bed. You looked at him as he turned his back towards you and winced. He turned to look. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Your back,” you said with a frown. “I didn’t realize how hard I was scratching.”

He peeked over his shoulder at the sharp red lines. “Nothing you can’t fix,” he said. He went over to you and scooped you up in his arms.

After your quick shower together you went back into your bedroom to get dressed. You looked in the mirror at your body. He had left a mark at the base of your neck, just low enough to be covered by the collar of your shirt. You looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw he was staring with a smile on his face. “I might have been caught up in the moment, but I made sure I was careful.”

You smiled back and looked at the mark again. You looked back up at him. “This…this doesn’t have anything to do with you being jealous does it?”

He blinked and you saw his eyebrows furrow slightly. “No,” he huffed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve.. “Why would you- No, I’m not-”

You laughed. “Sorry, I had to tease. I love when you get flustered.”

He sighed and came up behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do you have the lady lawyer’s card? What was her name? Shimizu? I think I should hold on to her card as well.”

You frowned and leaned your head into his. “I knew it. You’re leaving me for her.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you bringing you closer to him. He buried his face into your neck and took a deep breath. He pressed a kiss into your shoulder before moving up to kiss your cheek. “We should get going.”

You turned to look at him. “Okay.” He took your hands and lifted them to his lips to give them a gentle kiss.

“Make sure Shoko doesn’t go too far, she has a habit of getting carried away…”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5.

˚₊✩‧₊thank you for reading my way too overly complicated fic, i have so much planned and its all really self indulgent but I'm glad I can share it with other nanami lovers. i'll try to be better about posting the next part without a three month ghosting period, but in my defense the end of 2024 was out to get me....anyway much love to you all and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't -Nana

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r @naturalismi @kimkimoruo @thatvintagefanboy @lavenderdaydream97

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iridescent-flowers · 7 months ago

Text

Heating Up (Ao3 Repost)

Diavolo x GN!Reader/MC

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | sex, aphrodisiacs, oral, breeding, creampie

Word Count: 3,854 words

Summary:

[Diavolo x GN!MC] After mistaking a unique brand of Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup for human world whiskey, Diavolo falls sick and you help him feel better.

[✨Likes, Comments & Reblogs are supper appreciated!✨]

Note: This is a repost from Ao3. Please feel free to leave kudos, comment or read there if you're more of an Ao3 type of person ❤️

AGAIN IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED PLEASE CLICK OR SCROLL AWAY. If else, the fic is under this cut! Enjoy!

It’s been a few days since you visited Diavolo, but oddly enough, he hasn’t made the effort in contacting you. In fact, you were worried because you hadn’t seen him in RAD that much, and you would only catch glimpses of him before he vanished. The last time you saw him was when he invited you over to the palace to share a bottle of human world whiskey, something Barbatos brought him as a present from his ongoing 2-week stay in the human world. Even Lucifer— his confidant— had yet to hear from him in the past few days. Understandably, he might not tend to his phone due to the stacks of paperwork he must prioritize. Still, there’s something off-putting about this silence since he’d often relay his exhaustion to you, even apologizing to you about how much work needs to be done before he could see you.

Ultimately, you decided to visit the Demon Lord’s castle to do a quick check-up. A selfless and innocent choice, yet it was one that would lead you to some messy consequences in a few moments time. Entering the castle, you noticed that it's a lot quieter than usual. When you called out for some presence, you would only receive your own echoes in response. While Diavolo’s home is well known as a large estate, this was, perhaps, the first time you've felt its silence, and it brought concern to your mind.

You left him a text saying you were coming in to check on him, but it seems he hasn't even read or received the message.

As you made your way to Diavolo's room, you noticed that a very faint sound of moans could be heard from the hall entrance. So faint that if you weren’t paying attention, you might’ve just missed the sound.

Feeling uneasy, you make your way to his room and slowly open the door. Peeping through the side, you were already expecting to see him.

But instead, the room was empty. The curtains to his bedroom window, which always opened itself to the view of the Devildom, were closed. His lights were dimmed as well. You could only scratch your head in confusion at how unusual the scenario felt. Was Diavolo here… at all?

You knew the moans came from here, though, so was he hiding? You called out for your lover's name, no response.

You decided to investigate the room for a while, just to see if there would be clues to where he was at the moment. That's when your eyes landed on the bottle of whiskey you shared with Diavolo a few days back. You remembered how you drank lightly because you had some leftover paperwork to go through. Diavolo, on the other hand, decided he would drink it while working since human drinks didn’t affect him. It seemed he didn’t live up to that decision given that the bottle was still relatively full. Only portions of what you both drank that day were drained from it.

It was odd enough for you to pick up the whiskey and read about its contents. Your heart would drop upon turning the back label.

While it appeared to be whiskey, you realized that you both made the error of drinking a special brand of Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup. While it didn’t have any effect on you, you were sure it would affect him. The thought of his unwellness combined with his disappearance made you feel uneasy.

Before you could call out his name, you felt a pair of arms pull you into a tight yet warm embrace. You were startled, but instead of jumping or fleeing, you gasped with a sense of relief and delight knowing it was just Diavolo.

“My love, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

Still in a bit of shock, you let out the first thing that came into your mind.

“Dia, you scared me for a second there.”

When he let out a shaky laugh, you felt something was off... no… you knew it. You felt cold droplets fall on your chest and shoulders. He must've gotten out of a bath just recently. He coughed awkwardly before shying away from his actions.

You turned around to look at his face, his eyes glinting with something you couldn't figure out yet. Being the ever caring person you are, you began to feel his face and neck for any sign of a fever. You understood that even with a deceitful smile, he couldn't fool you when it came to hiding illness.

He let out a soft yet unintelligible sound in response to your hands touching his skin.

“What are you doing?” He asked, a bit confused.

“Feeling your face for a fever, duh. How are you feeling? How come you haven't talked to me or Lucifer in the past days? We worried deeply about you. Lucifer's holed up with work though, so I volunteered to see you instead.”

Your hands cupped his face, squishing his cheeks slightly. You were clueless to the chills being sent down his spine. You focused on how Diavolo let out a laugh while placing his hands on top of yours. He moved to pull them away from his face, then peppered kisses from the palm of your hands to the veins of your wrist.

“Does that answer your question?”

You were about to retort something in response. But then, you realize how long he might have spent trying to stave off the effects of the syrup. It seems that, like Lucifer, Diavolo prefers to hide how affected he is by the substance. He does well to do so. He's not acting any differently than usual, if he wants to be loving, he showers you with affection, and it often happens in the spur of the moment, especially when you two are in private spaces. His actions were normal, as if he was holding back.

You began to recall the properties of the syrup. The only way to neutralize the effects is to wait it out… you didn't have a pact with Diavolo to begin with, which makes it even more worrisome that he ended up drinking it. But as off-putting as he is today, he seemed fine. No fever, nothing. Perhaps the effects have died down already, but you need to be alert and catch him off guard. Knowing how Diavolo was, he’d want to tough it alone, behind closed doors.

“…Does Barbatos know about your situation?” You moved to caressed his arms as a reflex, watching as he ever so slightly flinched at your touch.

“I know you and I accidentally drank something with Golden Hellfire Newt Syrup the day I visited you here. So… don’t lie to me.” You purse your lips together to figure out what else to say, because half of your mind is filling in with the atmospheric tension.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

As soon as he nodded, he held you tightly and nuzzled his face into your neck. Your nerves tingle with the sensation of his warm breaths. However, they seem to gradually become heavier as time passes.

“MC… I'm sorry… I should've asked for help, but I didn't want to worry you all.” Diavolo said, “I informed Barbatos just today, but it may take him a while to return and aid me.”

You felt him grind against your body, your heart leaped when you felt the contagious aura of his deep seated lust. The thin fabric of his towel barely formed any barrier that could hide his excitement.

Your hands feel his body as they move up from his arms to his chest.

“I missed you Dia, is it weird to say that?” Your voice wavered slightly as your mind ran with excitement. You were trying your best to keep calm for Diavolo's sake. You didn't want him to feel as though he was being made fun of.

Diavolo simply smiled, “not at all, with how little time we always have together… I’ve missed you too… maybe even more…”

You placed a hand on Diavolo's hair, that's when he let out a low hum. You leaned outward even more so that Diavolo had easier access to your neck. You hoped he took it as a sign to keep going, and he did. You heard a deep chuckle as he kissed and sucked on the skin in your neck.

“Your skin is so supple… so smooth…”

Diavolo let out a groan, it seemed to be a mix of pain and need. Before pulling away, you whined at the sudden lack of warmth.

He coughed awkwardly and shook his head.

“As much as I miss you, you need to go back to the House of Lamentation.”

“What?! Dia…”

“If we do this right now, I might hurt you.” His voice was quiet and he turned his face away, like he wasn’t allowed to look at you or your eyes.

“Diavolo, you're obviously in pain. And besides…” You placed a finger on his chin, turning his sight back at you.

“I trust you, and I know that you'd never hurt me.” You leaped onto him, and he caught you by your waist. You tiptoed to the height of his neck, drawing a small streak against his neck with your tongue. The action was highly unexpected from Diavolo's end. He let out a moan unguarded, and you let out a small laugh.

“Please let me take care of you.”

Diavolo couldn't fight the blush from rising to his cheeks. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to compose himself.

“The way you want to spoil me feels like a blessing… I’m truthfully glad to hear you say that.”

The moment he said that, he swiftly hoisted you upwards, moving his hands from your waist to your thighs, and gripping you tightly as he pulled in for a deep kiss. You held onto him, trying to match his strong hold on you, not wanting to let him go.

You felt your own heat starting to take form.

“Please bear with me, my love. You don't know how hard this week has been for me.”

He spoke in between kisses, before switching from your lips to your neck. He was less gentle compared to a while ago. He was more hungry than he was needy.

“Vent it out on me, inside of me.” You pleaded as you gave him a deep and passionate kiss. You felt your own heat starting to take form. Like his was contagious and quickly spreading to you as he runs your fingers through your body.

In such a quick speed, Diavolo carried you to his bed, more droplets falling from the tips of his hair onto newly exposed skin each time you took off a piece of fabric.

And there you both were, taking in each other’s view. His true form towered over you and his eyes glowed with love and need. Your own body felt excited yet vulnerable to his eyes.

You kissed each other to quickly sate all the desire you can. His kisses overpowered your own, until he was the one drawing out your breath each time your lips touched. He moved downward, meeting your pooling heat with his lips kissing and sucking your most sensitive spot.

He was confident in knowing what you wanted, the right place, pressure, and pace. His simple touch could drive you crazy. In fact, with the very movement of his tongue, you knew you were close. His hands held you down tightly, as you tried to squirm and avoid your own climax.

This can’t be about me, you thought to yourself. You needed to assert some level of dominance so that he wasn’t focused on pleasuring you. Even if Diavolo was stronger than you, and even if you were on the brink of an orgasm, you still had to turn the tables.

With the aid of a spell, you bound Diavolo’s hands together tightly.

“Sorry, Dia… but you should be letting me help you, remember?”

You watched as a smirk sneaked onto Diavolo’s face. He’s now watching you go down on him.

You started by kissing and licking the head of his cock, right before taking as much as your mouth could fit or handle. He would try to thrust upwards, but with whatever restraint he had left in him.

“MC…” he groaned “…p-please be careful…” you could only moan in response as you bobbed your head up and down, pleasing him with the friction of your lips against his size. Try as you might, you couldn’t fit him all in, so you rubbed him with your free hand.

You knew that, at this point, he would be grabbing your hair to either pull you away or thrust deeper, it satisfied you a little that he seemed so subdued being bound together in this way.

“I’m going to put you inside me.” You said, watching as he nodded and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, maybe half of it was for encouragement since it’s not so often you topped him like this.

He looked down at the place that connected you to him, his eyes fluttering closed, listening to your stifled moan as his cock entered you. You were going at a slow pace until you took all of him inside.

He was struggling to be patient, that much you could tell. He took your left breast in his mouth and soothed your back with his hands. You feel it as his hands move down to your hips, they would tighten slightly, as if trying to guide your movement.

Your breath dwindled slightly as you leaned closer, you wanted to leave your own marks on him, in the very same places he always does. You decorated kisses onto his neck down to his chest, an attempt to claim him as your own the way he had every night he spent with you.

But as soon as you decide to play with the lobe of his ears, he felt something inside of him shift. Then, in an inhuman level of speed, he grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over, he was on top of you once again.

“The binding spell…” it broke. He’d broken it, leaving you dumbfounded. But then again, you should expect this much from a demon lord.

“Sorry… I couldn’t wait anymore. Please tell me if it hurts you, okay?” Diavolo holds your legs upward and begins to enter, making sure he hits the right spot as he rammed into you with such speed. Unprepared for the sensation, you began to moan uncontrollably, digging your nails into his skin as you embraced him.

“Lord Diavolo!” You exclaimed unintentionally. The pleasure and shock made this feeling more intense, and it made matters worse when he decided to stroke your sweet spot with his fingers.

He’d only laugh in response to the incoherent words that you try to form, only to come out as broken moans of indescribable euphoria.

You came right after he decided to move his fingers faster, your own want spilling out. You immediately move a hand to cover where it came from. But Diavolo switched your place again so that you were on fours as he thrusted from behind. He placed his fingers onto you once more, all you could do is moan, any movement could make the pleasure worse.

“Diavolo, wait! I just came, please!” You whined as he thrusted into you. He knew he could hit your inner sweet spot in this position, oh how he loved to drive you crazy.

And with the syrup in full effect, he wanted your mind to break the same way he’s losing his own sanity to it all.

The weeks of intense emotions, having to hide from you every time he smelled your cologne or heard you a mile away. It was so much he couldn’t bear it.

Even as he heard you, he wanted to hide and protect you, but he couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him anyways. And now, you’re here. Being turned into his own personal fleshlight.

“Please bear with me MC, I’ve had to masturbate to the thought of fucking you as hard as this for days…”

“Use me as you like Dia… I want you to feel good with me…” Your legs shook as you spoke, feeling for a second orgasm on the rise. Diavolo pulled your body upward so that he was grinding against you, his tongue tracing your skin before letting it dance with yours.

Your hands balled into tight fists, not sure how to react to this level of intensity. You could only hope that your brain wouldn’t melt from how sensitive you felt right now.

“Diavolo… please.. I’m so close…” you felt the movement of his hand return to its favorite part on your body before it begins to quicken.

“Say it again… tell me how badly you want to cum for me…” He thrusted himself deeper into you, feeling the tightening sensation of your insides as he does. He lets out a moan with each thrust.

“I want to cum so badly please… I’m so close Diavolo… please keep going… I’ll cum…”

“Oh fuck… I’m cumming…” you repeatedly chanted as your orgasm surges through you. Diavolo follows quickly and you feel as his liquid fills you up. He twitched slightly and his hips were jerking, as if trying to release more of his cum into you.

All you could do at the time was let out a cry as your essence fell onto the sheets together with the rest of your body. The pleasure continues into you like electrifying shockwaves, even after it’s done you are still trying to catch your breath, and regain some level of control.

Then, you begin to feel the weight of his body leaning back into yours, and his hard-on aligning with your entrance once again.

“Not yet, love. Please hold on a little longer.”

From there on, you knew he was going to stretch out the definition of “a little longer,” but it never bothered you. Still, you couldn't detail how many times both came, or how many rounds it has been since you started. You couldn't even tell if it was already nighttime or the next day. The pleasure seemed endless, to such an extent that you felt that your mind might have broken at that point. All you could think of is the torment between wanting more or stopping before you broke completely.

By the last round, you tried hard to fight your sleepiness because every time your skin connected was so precious to you. This time together is fueled with life and irreplaceable. But no matter how much you want to stay awake, it is as if the pleasures were luring you into a deep sleep. At this point, it perhaps took milliseconds, after Diavolo came for a final time, for you to pass out in exhaustion.

You realized two things after you woke up: First, you weren’t in your own bed. Rather, you were in Diavolo’s room. And second, you may not have been able to finish with him because of your exhaustion.

“…The liquor.” you recalled out loud. You feel startled realizing that your voice has gone. It was now only a whisper, else it would sound raspy. With what strength your body had left, you turned to see if Diavolo was beside you. And there he was, passed out beside you. Perhaps it was an exhausting experience for the both of you, especially you.

You lifted the sheets to see if he managed to calm down. You mentally hoped he would, otherwise you might have to go for another set of rounds for the morning. Normally, you wouldn’t mind it. But considering how inhumane sex could be with the future King of The Devildom, you might be immobile for a little while.

Before your brain could think up any other wild scenarios, you noticed that he had relaxed. You let out a sigh of relief, at least you and your beloved can take a bit of a breather now.

Maybe it was because your brain was fully awake at this point, but you suddenly recalled everything that happened last night. Your hand searched for the places he touched you. Every touch, every look, bite, and kiss… for an exhausting experience your heart felt quite giddy about it. You had no idea Diavolo could be so unhinged. But maybe it was the syrup talking.

You are snatched away from your thoughts when you feel Diavolo’s arm pull you closer to him, and his eyes land on you.

“My MC… were you longing for me?” He teased, his voice seems rough from sleep. He must’ve said that because he caught you looking under the sheets.

“How are you feeling?” You said putting up a palm against his forehead. His fever went down, that’s the most important part.

Diavolo grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his forehead. He reached out with his hand to trace the hickeys he left the day before. A pleasant chill moved down your spine.

“I should be the one asking you that. I must’ve exhausted you yesterday. Even your voice seems to be giving out.” He smirked a little to himself as he mentioned your voice.

You blushed, not knowing how to respond at first. You didn’t think he’d be open to talk about what happened yesterday, yet here he is doing the opposite of what you thought.

“You… I’m fine… I… enjoyed you being rough anyways.” You covered your face to hide your embarrassment, but you watched as Diavolo reacted like a puppy wagging its tail.

“You really mean that MC?”

“Y-yes. But please don’t drink weird fluids without checking the label again. It’s like the pudding incident all over again. It could be dangerous. A-also I’d rather not fuck like our lives depended on it.”

“Mm… the difference is that you were the one that was dangerous to be close to at that time.”

“You…” he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Shh… What do you say we have breakfast together as an apology?”

You nod, shooting upwards from the bed… bad idea. As soon as you stood up, you dropped to your legs. Seeing this, Diavolo rushed to your side and carried you in his arms. He chuckled awkwardly.

“Sorry… Was I really that rough yesterday?”

You looked away in response. You felt the heat on your cheeks rising at the situation that was currently unfolding. Diavolo just smiled, a smile full of love and infatuation for you.

“Let me pamper you for today. I’ll help you bathe and we can have breakfast together.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his lips.

“Thank you.”

Diavolo touches the part your lips touched, a blush dusts his cheeks and he coughs his throat.

“And maybe, if you're feeling up to it, we can go for one more round?”

You smack him playfully and he laughs, planting a kiss onto your forehead.

“Of course I’m only joking, my dear.”

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #diavolo obey me #obey me x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me smut #obey me diavolo

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feyascorner · 1 year ago

Note

So might have noticed i have read all your fics and I absolutely love them all!

If your open to taking this request for a fic, i would love like 4 times astarion was jealous and 1 time you were! (I dont know if your familiar with the prompt). Tav sleeping with someone before they get together (act 1) he’s catching feelings! After relationship is established: Act 2 Halsin showing his interest (whether its reciprocated is up to you!). Act3 Shar’s caress, the owner talking about Tav’s interest and drow twins!

Finally, Tav being jealous! Astarion fully enjoying it!

Or just anything with jealous astarion i would LIVE for! Love your work either way 😆

a/n. THEYRE SO CUTE IM IN TEARS I LOVE JEALOUS ASTARION/TAV

also this is not proofread unfortunately, and I'm not 100% if i did this right but we rock and roll!!!1

As much as Astarion boasts (and resents) his familiarity with seduction, you're an anomaly he's yet to understand despite his centuries of experience.

Never once in his courtship, even when he'd been alive, had he felt so tested that he was jealous, over someone. Not really, anyway. Sure there were bits of bitter feelings here and there, but most were trivial and about something involved in the relationship, not the person themselves.

He's counted four times since the two of you met, where he had to resort to his better judgment to avoid resorting to pettiness. The first one, was out of necessity--so much so that he didn't even realize what it was at first.

He had watched you snuggle up to Shadowheart of all people, just when he thought he'd finally manipulated enough to have you wrapped around his finger. Instead, he had to hear you laugh as you let the cleric lead you to a nearby lake, making him question if somehow, he'd gotten rusty. Especially when the rival in question was clearly too busy having a religious crisis to properly court you. Sure, you technically didn't belong to him, nor did he belong to you at the time, but he went to sleep feeling oddly irritated. He made sure to flirt with you even more, apparently, the next morning.

The second time, he had accepted the strange feeling in his chest whenever he saw you. And Gods he should have done it earlier. He made sure to show plenty of public affection, kissing your cheek or hand randomly as you and your companions explored the shadow-cursed lands. He got a mouthful from Lae'zel a few times, but he couldn't care less. And just when he believed he'd eliminated any potential rivals, the damned druid suggested that you had feelings for him. Here, he felt that same churning feeling he had weeks ago at camp, and found it was one that he didn't long for. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd considered it--especially since the two of you stopped being physically intimate after his confession. But he could deny how much he hated this feeling. Pretending he hadn't heard, waited for you to approach him that night. When you reassured him you'd said no, he could breathe again.

The last time was weeks later, at Sharess' Caress, where the two of you were approached by the drow twins. And when he'd confessed he wasn't ready to become intimate again, as much as it scared him, you only smiled at him and nodded. That cursed warmth he felt from such a simple act of kindness would follow him to the end of his days. But he hadn't had enough time to revel in it, because the drow twins assured you only you would be enough, even if he wasn't a part of it. The moment you refused, he was already dragging you out of the room, cursing the twins under his breath.

But for the first time, he thinks you're the one experiencing that dreadful feeling of insecurity.

"Your measurements are perfect for this new selection that just came in! Here, let me just check if the rest would fit."

He'd thought little of the harmless touches of the tailor, but as he notices your expression through the reflection of one of the mirrors, he thinks differently. Your lips are pursed, eyes following the tailor's movements like a hawk as you tighten the arms crossed over your chest. Astarion himself is no stranger to touch, especially to innocent ones like this, but if your body language means anything, the sentiments are not mutual.

The tailor reaches up to measure his arm span, inevitably bring their face a little to close to his neck. He just tilts away, nodding mindlessly at what the tailor is saying, but his attention is fully on you. You're fidgeting, and your anxiousness is impossibly obvious to him, but the more mischievous part of him stops him from doing anything about it. Instead, he revels in it.

"Did you get my inside leg?" he asks the tailor, grinning widely. "I think you might have to redo it. I was leaning a bit."

The tailor agrees though all he sees is a nod of a head and a voice in his ear going right through the other. He observes as your face falls, and just as the tailor crouches down and leans close, you're immediately across the room at record-speed, hand latching over the tailor's wrist.

Astarion barely manages to hold in his laugh. His smile, however, is another story.

"I'll do it," you mumble to the tailor. They look to you and back up to Astarion before seemingly realizing what's going on, nodding.

"Very well."

He never thought you could look even more alluring than he already finds you, but the way your jaw clenches and your brows furrow makes him think otherwise. You lean down and take the measurements as needed, stomping on his foot in the process.

He snorts.

Once the tailor leaves for the stock room, he finds you sighing. "You did that on purpose."

It's not a question. He laughs, and while he could just apologize, he takes your hand in his, tilting your head with the other so you'd look at him. He might even consider the glare you give him as cute.

"Jealous, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"I was starting to think you weren't capable of jealousy."

"Why not?" you say, feeling his thumb rubs the top of your hand. "I've been plenty jealous before."

At this, he raises a brow. "I'd surely remember that."

"When we first met," you recall. "You flirted with practically everyone in camp. Saying you wanted to drink from Wyll, or something like that."

"You must know that I was--"

"I know what it was," you roll your eyes. "Not at the time though, and I thought you'd lost interest in me."

His jaw falls agape. "You're jesting."

"Why do you think I started flirting with other people? I figured you didn't like me as much as I liked you, so I moved on. Tried, at least."

"Is that what your visits to Shadowheart were?"

You scrunch your nose. "Oh Gods, I forgot about that. I'd rather not remember sleeping with one of my closest friends, thanks."

He can't help the grin stretching on his lips, and you notice, feeling yourself smile with him. "You're enjoying this far too much, Astarion."

"Please, tell me the next time you're jealous, so I'll know to keep an eye on you."

"Don't ask such ridiculous things," you retort, feigning annoyance before lifting his palm to your cheek and pressing a kiss to it. He swears his undead heart might've felt it. And just like that, the tailor returns, and you drop your intertwined hands, and he sees you shoot him a warning glare.

Acknowledging he's had enough fun teasing you today, he shrugs, and when the tailor begins showing him an array of outfits, he's not listening. Instead, he toys with the ring behind his back, making sure to commit your expression to his memory.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

Text

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine.

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool.

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn.

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed.

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time.

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting. Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.”

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie.

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom.

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,”

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs.

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again.

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand.

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time.

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance.

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here.

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand.

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8.

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.”

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

#and then eddie realizes wtf steve is wearing and promptly goes feral #i'm not sure about this one gents /gn #i think it's fun but also like it's a whole long ramble where nothing happens 🙃#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #he's a runner he's a track star #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #meet cute #meet ugly?#pre-canon #pre-season 3 #steddie but make it s3 #noelle writes

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filtheopathic · 4 months ago

Text

ode to a situationship — otoya eita

PART 2 - the sixth time

WC - 4.3k

SYN - The ball is in your court now.

CW - [18+!] afab!reader mentioned to be wearing makeup and heels, alcohol mention, dubcon (bc of alcohol), oral (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, premature ejaculation, orgasm denial sort of - [terms used : babe, baby]

SERIES MASTERLIST — PREV — NEXT

the sixth time:

You and Otoya are a match made in hookup heaven, that much becomes clear rather quickly.

It’s easy, it’s fun. You’re hot and you banter with him. You laugh at his jokes despite calling them lame. And you’re kind of a freak (but Otoya is into that).

Most importantly, you don’t expect much from him besides a few mind-shattering orgasms like every other week or so. And even that expectation isn’t much of an expectation at all, seeing as you’ve never texted him first to hook up. The ball has been in his court this whole time.

Day-drinking with the girls is what changes that.

When Otoya receives a string of text messages from you in the middle of the day, his immediate reaction is something between fear and fascination. But once he sees that they start with ‘I’m 4 mimosas deep at brunch’ and end with ‘I’m so horny’, he lightens up significantly. Without a second thought he sends you his address (something Karasu has told him to not fuckin’ do anymore, since the last scorned woman who showed up seeking retribution through vandalism mistook his car for Otoya’s) and returns his attention to his video game.

You’re outside his complex within the hour, lipgloss rubbed off and legs on display.

On your way in, you realize hazily that this is your first time in his apartment. It’s spacious and well-furnished. Definitely a “man apartment” but everything is stylishly minimal and clean, the layout clearly thought-out. The walls are mostly empty except for a massive tv and a couple framed pieces of art, one of which seems to be some sort of action movie poster. Your eyes fall to a shelf where a cluster of pictures stands beside a small row of books.

All of the pictures are of men in soccer uniforms. Otoya is easy to spot amongst the group, if only because he seems so mellow compared to the imposing energy surrounding him. If their auras are loud and fiery, some even quite dark, then his is quiet and chilled, but still striking in its own way. Your attention gravitates to it immediately, just as it had when you first met. That makes you smile to yourself just a little.

One of the photos features him and a couple other teammates, all with medals hanging around their necks. Their uniforms are littered with grass-green scuffs, sweat glistening on toned skin, and you can see hints of a stadium in the background. It’s obvious that they’ve just won a match, and by the looks on the other men’s faces it was an important one. Otoya’s face is impassive as always, but you recognize the pride there only because you’ve come to know that shine in his eyes.

You knew he was a professional athlete, but the gravity of it all hadn’t really hit you. You made it a point to avoid googling his name and it simply wasn’t in your nature to fawn over the men you messed around with, especially ones with obvious egos.

(“You play soccer?”

“Yeah,” Otoya says coolly, leaning back against your kitchen counter with a post-sex sluggishness.

“Are you, like, good?”

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes shine with a boyish sort of pride. “Yeah. They call me ‘the ninja’.”

You scowl at him, amusement barely concealed beneath. “Sure they do.”)

You settle into his couch while making idle conversation. You tell him of the day’s drunken shenanigans with your girls, and he informs you that he’s leaving the country tomorrow, traveling for a match. It’s all very casual and comfortable, even if you are buzzing with anticipation. You came here to get railed and he’s asking if you want to watch a movie (one he’d heard about from a teammate and thought you’d like) — you suspect he’s toying with you on purpose.

It’s fun for him, you think, to mess with you like this. You’re not the type to blush easy, so instead he settles for frustrating you. It’s irritating, of course, but you can’t deny that the push-and-pull is entertaining. There’s a charm to it that has kept you coming back these last couple months.

Otoya throws his arm over the back of the couch and aims the remote at the tv, but you don’t let him get very far before you’re running your hand up the side of his neck and into his hair. Forward. Suggestive without speaking a word.

His eyes cut over to you. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Ignoring the moniker, you press on, now toying with the jewelry in his earlobe. “Thought my texts were clear.”

“I prefer face-to-face communication.”

You grip under his jaw and gently force him to look at you. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Wow. At least buy me dinner first.”

But his words have no weight like his greedy hands. They find your hips and pull you smoothly into his lap, and at the same time your mouth — impatient and still tasting of citrus — envelops his. Movie officially forgotten, you begin making out in earnest right there on his living room couch.

Kissing Otoya has become familiar in a way that sheds uncertainty. It’s no longer clumsy like the first time, and not so experimental like the next few times; there’s a comfortable ease settling in now. Still hungry, still undeniably lustful, but easy. A smooth flow, a familiar rhythm.

The heat steadily rises between you, kisses getting wetter, bolder. You bite and pull on his lower lip the way you know he likes, smiling at the groan you get out of him. And with a force he knows you like, he palms the back of your neck and deepens the kiss, his tongue pressing forward to slide against yours.

A hand searches up under your shirt, smoothing over the curve of your lower back. The skin-to-skin contact makes you even more impatient. You know he’s taking his time with you, exploiting your eagerness to bring you to desperation — and it’s working. All the light groans and chaste touches are making you throb. You need him to touch you — really touch you. In a subconscious search for that friction you bare down on his lap and roll your hips back, gasping lightly into his mouth when the hard shape of him presses into you.

“You have to take responsibility for that, you know,” he says, breathless but still smug.

You want to call him an asshole, tell him that he’s the one who should be taking responsibility, but his hands are already gripping your hips, fingers sinking into plush skin and holding you still as he grinds up into you.

Fuck.

You know you say it out loud by the way his eyes light up like a fox on a hunt. His hold on your hips tightens.

“You want it that bad?” His lips are close to your ear now, voice low and teasing. Hands guiding you to grind down on him again, and again. “What was it you said in those texts? You miss my dick and you’re so horny?”

Otoya shifts his grip, palms smoothing over your ass and squeezing hard. You’re so wet you can feel the stickiness of it when he grabs you, the slip of your panties when he guides you over his cock. You’re turning to jelly in his lap and he knows it.

“I wanna hear you say it. Don’t get shy now.”

He’s right, of course, you do want it that bad, you did say all that shit — but you don’t want to say it out loud. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction a second time — not yet, not like this.

You need to get the reins back.

Otoya gives them up easily, making no moves to resist when you untangle yourself and shift your weight. Crawling down to the floor, you hook both hands in the waistband of his sweats as you go and pull lightly in request — “Take these off.” You ignore his question, and he forgets it immediately.

In a smooth, quick motion, he pulls his sweats and boxers down and kicks them off to the side, baring himself to you with a thinly veiled excitement. Spreading his legs wide, he slides his hips down further on the seat of the couch. There’s a cool confidence ever present in his body, bordering on cocky as he settles back into the cushions and looks down at you expectantly. Like he’s waiting for you to put on a show for him. It’s as infuriating as it is arousing, and it’s exactly what you were seeking out by texting him in the first place.

His cock stands long and hard, arching back towards his abdomen, almost mocking in how pretty it is. Smooth and milky in color, not thick but more than satisfying in length. You take him in your hand, squeezing and giving a slow, experimental pump as you shift closer. He smells like men’s body wash and a light, natural musk that clings to his skin. It fills your head, makes you feel drunk all over again.

Heavy-lidded and hazy, you rub your cheek against his dick like a cat with its favorite toy. Up, down, then across to the other cheek with a firm grip on the base, disregarding the way it might sully your makeup. You’re taking your time – returning the favor. Otoya keeps himself steady, and you know by the way his gaze keeps flickering to your lips that he’s fighting the urge to take over and press himself past them.

You smack him gently against the side of your face just to feel the weight. His stomach tenses, his grip on his patience weakening by the second.

“Been thinking about this all day…” you admit, your voice a low drag of arousal, “Could barely focus at brunch. I just kept thinking about how badly I needed to suck your dick.”

You run your lips up the side of him, breath warm on his skin. “It made me so wet to think about. Almost wanted to touch myself right there under the table. If I had gotten any more drunk I might have.”

Otoya curses under his breath. You smile.

His tip is nice and flushed now, glistening with precum that’s been steadily leaking with each pulse and twitch. You wet your lips with it, still teasing, before dipping your tongue in to taste. Otoya breathes in, tense.

“Stay still,” you tell him, “Be good.”

Arousal clouds your mind after that, and you feel his hand gently push your hair out of your face as you finally suck the tip of him into your mouth. You rest there for a moment, sucking and massaging the underside of it with your tongue until you feel his body tense even further, then you let yourself drop down.

The cockiness melts away with Otoya’s head falling back between his shoulders.

The satisfaction of it is indescribable. Not just the power trip that comes with hearing him moan into the open air of his living room, but the feel of him. Maybe it’s the bit of alcohol still swirling in your system, or your own oral fixation, but the fit of him inside your mouth makes your head swim. His skin is warm, practically radiating, and firm pressed against the flat of your tongue. Thick enough to form your lips around nicely and long enough to make you strain.

You take him as far down as you can without gagging and suck all the way back up. The act pulls a pleased little mmm from your chest, like having him in your mouth is quenching some animal thirst.

Your gaze finds Otoya’s again, lashes fluttering as you take him deeper this time. He’s watching you greedily, eyes a shocking green in the bright light of daytime, even with his hair in his face and his lids heavy.

Your mouth is getting wetter now, drool gathering around his cock and leaving it shining when you pull back up. Down, up, down — a steady, rhythmic bob of your head that’s quickly getting sloppier and louder. Down again, with your throat as open as you can manage to try and take him to the base, hand coming up to cup his balls as though you may just stuff them into your mouth once you swallow the rest of him — and you gag loudly right before you make it. It’s a lewd, wet sound that leaves you looking pleased when you pull off. Otoya breathes out a curse.

“So good,” he murmurs as he gathers your hair in his hands, holding it away from your face, “You’re so fucking good.”

You’re the cocky one now, the feeling curling around your body and guiding you to… well, put on a show. But it’s not to entertain so much as it’s a compulsion. You just feel so sexy. The sensation pumps through your veins, hot and euphoric, and you continue to feed it with his reactions. You’re good at this; even without the explicit praise you could tell by the squeeze in his voice. The way he hisses through his teeth and his thigh flexes under your palm.

You know how you must look — on your knees, still fully dressed besides the kitten heels you left by his door. Your eyes sparkling with the tears that have sprung up from your gag reflex. Your cheeks hollowed, lips forming a tight wet ring around his cock, leaving the last hint of your lip gloss on his skin. If your mouth wasn’t full you might just tell him to pull out his phone and take a picture so you can admire the sight too – the way he so clearly is, with your hair in his hands and his gaze fixated on your face.

Down again, with a loose jaw and hungry determination, and when you feel him hit the back of your throat you push.

“Holy shit—”

You pull off with a dramatic intake of breath, replacing your throat with a hand and pumping his length. Pursing your lips, you push out more of the saliva that’s been flooding your mouth and watch it fall onto the head of his cock, dripping and disappearing into the mess. It wets your palm, singing out loud schlick-schlick-schlick sounds with your movements.

Otoya can’t help himself now, so it seems, as he reaches out and swipes his thumb over the shine on your lips. It slips in after a moment and you suck, missing the feeling, your hand still twisting up and down his cock.

“Pretty little mouth…” his thumb presses down, running along your tongue as you drop your jaw open and stick it out for him, spit dripping from the tip. Nasty, messy. “Fuck, come here—“

He’s kissing you before you’ve even climbed back up, leaning forward and over where you’re still resting on your knees. It’s deep and wet. Hungry. He guides you with one hand on your throat and the other on the back of your head, making you pliant as he licks and sucks and tastes himself on your tongue. So sloppy and shamelessly horny that your attention is drawn back to the sticky throb between your legs.

In a sudden rush of hands, you end up standing with your bottoms peeled from your skin and thrown off to the side. He kisses over your stomach, your hips. There’s a hunger there that you’re too impatient to feed, instead pushing him back lightly so you can straddle his lap.

You’re kissing again, getting lost in the rhythm of his mouth on yours. Otoya is a good kisser — so good that if you were anybody else and here for any other reason you’d be suspicious of him. Instead you just moan when he sucks on your tongue, and lift your chin for him when he begins to wander down to bite bruises into your neck.

It’s a practiced sort of maneuver, you think, to get down towards your chest — one he’s performed so many times that it’s become muscle memory. But you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s carefully pulling your top down under your breasts and finally fitting them into his palms. He squeezes and pushes them together, then greets your hardened nipple with his tongue before enveloping it in his mouth. Your back arches into the heat.

As if just remembering what you came here for, you sit down fully on his lap. You’ve been hovering over him, distracted by his mouth after putting your knees to the cushions, but now you let your weight settle down — and trap his cock right beneath your pussy.

Immediately, you want to feel some friction. To soothe that desperate ache that’s swelled between your legs. With an assured roll of your hips, you drag your pussy up along the underside of his cock. It slips deliciously against him, wet skin on firm wet skin, and Otoya releases your nipple with a moan, face twisting at the sensation.

Something sadistic dances on your lips.

“You’re gonna take responsibility for that,” you pull his attention up with a firm grip on his jaw, your faces so close you can feel him pant, “right?”

You grind back and forth, agonizingly slow, so warm but not warm enough – so wet but he knows it could be wetter. A breath pushes out from his chest, something between a laugh and a pained huff. “Whatever you want, babe.”

His tip catches on your entrance and his breath catches with it, but you change the angle and continue your smooth glide along his length.

You smirk. “Tell me you want it.”

Where you may have reservations about begging to be fucked, Otoya has none. He’d bark and do tricks if it meant you’d put his dick inside you faster.

“I want it.”

“How bad?”

Green eyes flutter closed at the next roll of your hips, satisfaction clear on his features despite the position he’s in – perhaps because of the position he’s in.

“Really bad.”

The pleasure is already building, desperate and swollen as you drag your clit against him.

“I’m gonna use you to cum.” You brace a hand on his knee and hook the other around the back of his neck, giving him a delicious view and pulling his head down to appreciate it. Like this, you also have better leverage to really move your hips the way you need. Getting nothing but sweet, mind-numbing friction on your clit that you chase greedily.

And like a perfect, willing toy he lets you. Watches the head of his cock appear and disappear from between your legs, all wrapped up in your slick heat without being fully satisfying. His chest is flushed and heaving, little mms and ahs pushing from it with each breath.

“Gonna use you to cum just like this,” you repeat, voice going tight with pleasure, “and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Otoya has nothing to say to that, no protest or saucy response. He just cups his hands under the fat of your breasts and enjoys the view of you unraveling.

And unravel you do — quickly. You’ve been sexually frustrated all day and it shows as your body quivers, movements becoming sloppy. His cock is throbbing, so hard it’s pushing up against you with resistance and giving your swollen clit just enough pressure to send you careening towards the edge. You gasp out a little oh and his eyes dart up to your face.

“Yeah? Already?”

Otoya’s hands are back on your hips, forcing you to keep grinding like earlier but now with no clothing to separate you — now with your bare cunt on him, slippery and hot and so, so sensitive. It’s agonizing. You can feel your body chasing and running away from the sensation in equal parts, but he holds you tightly down on him even as your nails begin to dig into his skin.

“Do it,” he tells you, leaning back into the cushions so he can watch. “Come on, baby. I’m— ah, dying to fuck you. I’ll say please, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t have the chance to take him up on the offer.

In a flash-bang of pleasure, you throw your head back and cum. Loudly, selfishly. Waves of heat overtake your senses and pour right out of you as your pussy floods itself over his cock. It coats him in fresh arousal, adding even more slip. Otoya keeps you moving, hands pushing and pulling as you ride out your orgasm to oversensitivity, but the added lubrication gives you both what you’ve been dying for — his cock finally slipping into your still-spasming cunt.

A synchronized groan fills the living room.

There’s only a split second of pause before Otoya is wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down, then burying himself up inside you to the hilt. And your cunt doesn’t resist in the slightest, so wet and ready from your orgasm that it’s practically welcoming him home. Another pause — your entrance stretched around the base of him, your insides squeezing his hard length — and then he begins to move.

His pace is immediately brutal, hips meeting yours in hard, precise smacks, teeth gritting in your ear as he holds you against him. “If you’re gonna use me, you gotta use me completely right?”

The couch creaks with the weight, both arms tight around your waist to keep you steady while his hips snap up into you. Your pussy drools down over his length as it pumps in and out, making it shine in the weakening daylight, giving him all the lube he needs to give you exactly what you came here for — to be fucked.

Spurred on by the overwhelming pleasure of finally, finally being filled, you begin to bounce on his lap to meet his thrusts. It feels so good, everything you’ve been wanting, his cock spearing you open and reaching up inside you, dragging against your walls and sending euphoria licking up your spine. He fills you up perfectly, something you’ve become accustomed to. Just enough to make your toes curl but not too much to make it hurt. The perfect size to squeeze around and cum on.

And you’re going to — oh god, you’re going to any second now. You’ve given yourself over to the chase at this point, lost to the pump of his cock inside you, shameless in your pursuit of your next orgasm — uncaring of the way he’s suddenly gone still beneath you, his hands death-gripping your waist and his eyes flying open in panic.

“Oh fuck— wait, fuck—“

He pulls you up off of him, hurriedly slipping out of you and reaching around your thigh to squeeze— but he’s too late. Hot cum splatters up onto your ass and lower back. It shoots from his dick in hard spurts, his fist wringing the rest of it out as he makes a whiny sound of defeat. His hips buck a few times, rubbing his tip against the fat of your ass like he can’t help it while the last of his load dribbles out and smears onto your skin.

Otoya slumps into the couch beneath you, eyes closed and panting. You blink, the initial shock settling, and then you can’t help but snicker. If he’s embarrassed about cumming too fast he doesn’t show it, still the picture of self-assuredness with his cock going soft against your ass. It’s better than tripping over an excuse or needing to be reassured. Plus he’s cute like this, you think, all flushed and boneless.

Feeling your gaze, he peeks up at you with one eye and you card your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Wordlessly, he pulls you down for a kiss soft enough to be mistaken for an apology.

“You wanna go again?” he asks quietly into your mouth, hands already beginning to wander.

You nip at his lower lip. “I don’t wanna break you.”

“I’m resilient.”

“I don’t wanna tire you out before your flight tomorrow.”

His tone goes faux-serious. “My training has prepared me for this.”

You giggle, and it chimes pretty in his ears. Something stirs to life in his stomach that he can’t quite put a name to. Like, if you made that same sound and pushed your tits up against him a bit more he’d very quickly get hard again. Or something like that.

“It’s ok, I still had fun,” you assure him, understanding the unsaid and appreciating the concern for your pleasure. Your cunt is still throbbing dully, deprived of it’s second orgasm but—

“I really have to go.”

The explanation stops there. No ‘I have work in the morning’ or ‘I have an appointment’ or even a lame-ass excuse like ‘I think I left the stove on.’ It’s a wide open statement that, for some shadowy reason, makes Otoya shift uneasily.

But if Otoya is good at anything, it’s shrugging off unpleasant feelings. The uneasiness is quickly replaced with an admiration for your exposed skin as you begin to make moves to leave. When you turn around and gesture to the mess of cum glistening on your backside he makes a comment about it being something to remember him by, but ultimately passes you the boxers he’d been wearing to clean it up. (“They’re just going in the laundry anyway.”)

With the cab called and your heels shimmied back onto your feet, you straighten up in his entryway and let him peck you on the lips one last time.

“Make it up to me next time,” you say with a flirtatious lilt, creating distance between you as you back out the door and turn to leave.

Otoya watches your hips switch as you make your way down the hall and you throw him a look over your shoulder, gaze lingering for a moment before the door shuts behind you.

Next time.

A pleasant feeling washes over him; relief, maybe, mixed with something else — something heavier.

NOTE - ty for getting this far!! just wanted to pop in and say i appreciate you for reading <3 and if you rb and leave me comments then we may just have to get married. ok bye ily

#ty to my 5 friends who are interested in this update hehehe. genuinely this is for u <3 #filthopedia #tw alcohol #otoya eita x reader #otoya x reader #bllk x reader

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azrielstherapist · 2 months ago

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No One Like You [Ch.3]

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: He saved the world. But the cost? A part of himself that he can never get back.

Rhysand returned to Velaris as the hero of Prythian, but the shadows of his past cling to him, leaving him distant, haunted. The world has moved on, but he hasn't.

You, an apothecary in Velaris, isn’t interested in saving anyone—least of all him. You have your own secrets and scars to carry. When your paths cross, something shifts. Something neither of you is ready for.

No one warned you that some connections are inevitable, no matter how much you resist.

In a city where the past is never truly gone, both of you may have more in common than you realize—whether you’re ready to face it or not.

Inspired by: "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins

Pairing: Rhysand x Y/N

Note: So here's the third chapter, honestly not fond of it. I didn't know how to make a great conversation between Rhys and Y/N. This feels more like a filler chapter.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, pls let me know. <3

I'll update this in a few days. Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

It had been days since I’d last seen him.

Rhys. Just Rhys.

The name curled in my mind like mist, uninvited but not entirely unwelcome. I wasn’t someone easily caught off guard, not by flattery, not by charm, and certainly not by strangers with well-tailored cloaks and a voice like velvet spun in shadow.

And yet…

He lingered, like the smell of smoke long after the flame had vanished.

He lingered in the spaces between things. In the silence of dawn before I opened the shop. In the way my eyes always drifted toward the river, half-expecting someone to be standing there. In the dreams I wasn’t supposed to have anymore, where I didn’t quite see his face, but felt that same pull. That same hush.

He reminded me of something I didn’t know I’d forgotten, something just out of reach, just at the edge of memory. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me. Like he saw through it - through me.

And maybe that’s what unsettled me most.

Because I knew how to hold people at a distance. I was good at it.

Polite smile. Clever words. A well-placed question turned into a deflection.

But Rhys hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t tried to barge his way in, he simply… arrived. Like fog rolling in over still water, inevitable in its quiet persistence.

And it should’ve meant nothing, a stranger at the edge of the woods, a brief encounter, a curious face.

But his voice kept echoing.

Splash.

Cold water dripped down my temples, trailing the curve of my neck before soaking into the collar of my shirt. I stood at the washbasin in the back of the Apothecary, hands braced on either side of the chipped porcelain, eyes locked on my reflection in the small, clouded mirror above it.

“Get a hold of yourself,” I muttered.

The woman in the mirror raised a brow, unimpressed.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous to be thinking about him this much. I’d met him once. He’d said a few pretty things, wore mystery like a cloak, and smiled like he knew far more than he was letting on.

And apparently, that was all it took to completely short-circuit my common sense.

I shook my head, letting the cool water do what it could to calm whatever this was that had started clawing its way to the surface. Fascination. Curiosity. Stupidity. Pick your poison.

With a long breath, I reached for a towel, patting my face dry and rolling my shoulders back. There were things to be done. Shelves to restock. Deliveries to check. Customers to serve.

I’d kept busy. Customers came and went , a mother with her coughing child, an elderly male in need of a balm for aching joints, a pair of young lovers asking for something “sweetly dangerous.” I gave them licorice with ginseng root and a wink.

The doorbell chimed, soft and familiar. I didn’t look up right away.

“Back so soon?” I called absently, expecting Mrs. Telna, who came in twice a week for lemon balm and a bit of gossip.

But it wasn’t her.

“Not quite,” came a voice far too smooth, too amused.

I turned, and there she stood - Maris, a regular. Towering, fiery red hair pulled into a loose braid, and a knowing smirk already on her face. She stomped the rain off her boots dramatically.

“Did you miss me?” she asked.

“I missed your money,” I replied sweetly.

She laughed. “Fair. I need something to help with headaches, my mate’s family is visiting.”

“Ah, the real dark magic.” I moved behind the counter, pulling down a small tin of feverfew. “Take a pinch in hot water. Twice a day, or once if you want to stay mildly miserable.”

“I like a little misery,” she winked, passing over a few coins. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Then you’ll love the next customer. I have a feeling they’ll ask for something ridiculous.”

She laughed again, then swept out in a rustle of cloak and sass.

A few more customers came and went, a quiet scholar with ink-stained fingers looking for concentration tea, a teenage fae boy with many freckles and not enough tact who asked if I sold anything to make someone “fall in love, but like, for real.” I handed him mint and told him to brush his teeth first.

By midafternoon, the rain had lightened. I had just finished prepping a bitterroot tonic when the bell rang again. But this time, something in me stilled.

Not the way it did when someone shady walked in. Not the way it did when a storm brewed.

This was… softer. A tug. Like someone had gently hooked a string behind my ribs and pulled.

I turned.

There he was. Standing in the doorway like he belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.

His eyes found mine immediately, and that grin curled at the corner of his mouth, the kind that said he’d expected to find me here, and was somehow still pleased to have done so.

"I was in the neighborhood," he said. "You mentioned a shop near the river… and I thought I’d see if that was true.."

I crossed my arms, biting back the smile that threatened. “And if it wasn’t?”

He shrugged. “I’d have wandered until I found you anyway.”

Mother Above. He really is dangerous.

I scoffed, turning back to my vials. “Flattery. Dangerous thing, especially around certain brews.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came here for something safer,” he replied, voice smooth as velvet.

I glanced over my shoulder. “And what exactly do you need?”

He leaned casually on the counter, fingers tapping the wood. “A remedy.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Love potion? Curse antidote? Elixir of eternal charm?”

“No, Neither and don’t need the last one” he said brushing off his cloak.

“Sleep,” he confessed, simply. “Or rather, the lack of it.”

That made me pause. The grin was gone. His voice still held its lightness, but I heard it, the weight beneath. Something old and tired.

“You’ve tried everything?” I asked, already turning to the shelf where I kept the stronger tinctures.

“Everything,” he said. “Even the cabin.”

“Not even that helped?”

He shook his head once. “Quiet doesn’t always mean peace.”

I studied him, the faint lines at the corners of his mouth, the tiredness sitting just beneath his fine, sculpted features.

“I’ll make you something,” I said finally. “Stronger than the usual blends. But it won’t taste like honey and lavender.”

“Wouldn’t trust it if it did,” he murmured.

I turned back to the workbench, letting the familiar rhythm of motion take over, valerian root, crushed gentian, a thread of dreamshade. Behind me, the silence shifted, the kind that meant he was still watching.

“Is this your usual?” he asked. “Late-night brews for sleepless strangers?”

“I prefer to work with plants. They lie less.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like a story.”

“Most things do,” I said, not looking back.

He leaned in, watching me work, voice soft. “You always this generous with your brews?”

“Only for charming strangers with insomnia.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

As I crushed the last of the ingredients, I noticed the way his eyes tracked every motion, not in suspicion, but interest. Like he was trying to memorize the rhythm of me.

“Try this,” I said, handing him a small corked bottle. “One spoonful before sleep. And don’t mix it with wine or reckless decisions.”

“No promises,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over mine as he took it.

Something electric zipped up my arm.

I cleared my throat. “That one’s stronger than usual. It might make you dream.”

His gaze lingered on my face, unreadable. “I haven’t dreamt in a long time.”

I held his stare, then finally said, “Maybe it’s time.”

He slipped the vial into his coat pocket. “You always this poetic?”

“Only when I’m trying to get rid of someone.”

A low laugh escaped him, and he stepped back. “I’ll let you get back to your brews. But I might stop by again. You know, in case I develop a need for… chamomile.”

I gave him a look. “If you come asking for chamomile, I’ll know you’re lying.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll have to be creative.”

A pause.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, glancing up through his lashes.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Nothing.”

He lifted a brow. “Nothing?”

“You gave me tea,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “And company. Consider it a fair trade.”

He chuckled, a soft, low sound that settled somewhere in my chest. “Dangerous logic. You’ll go out of business if you keep giving away remedies for conversation.”

“I don’t give them to just anyone,” I replied, and he smiled again, that quiet, crooked thing he did that always felt like he was on the verge of saying something else entirely.

“Well, in that case,” he said, stepping back, “I’ll do my best to come up with more ailments. Just to keep the economy alive.”

“Selfless of you.”

He gave a small bow of the head - half-mocking, half-sincere - and left, the shop bell tinkling softly in his wake.

I exhaled, the quiet after his departure pressing gently against the shelves and walls.

Then I turned.

And froze.

There, on the counter where the bottle had been moments ago, lay seven gleaming gold coins. Real ones. The kind stamped with the Night Court’s crest. The kind that could cover my rent for the better part of a year, with enough left for firewood and fresh herbs, too.

I stared at them for a moment, unmoving. Then sighed, brushing my fingers lightly over the closest one.

“You really are dangerous,” I murmured.

The bell above the door chimed again as a new customer entered, and I straightened, slipping the coins into the drawer below with a quiet clink.

Back to work.

But his name lingered in my mind like a half-forgotten melody.

Rhys.

Just Rhys.

And yet - something told me nothing about him was simple.

#acomaf #azriel smut #rhysand #rhysand smut #rhysand x y/n #acosf #cassian smut #acotar #fanfic #acofas #morrigan #throne of glass #rhysand angst #angst #fluff #smut

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

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quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

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manifestingitgurlll · 22 days ago

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I want to postpone my sem exams this month to July first week. I have been doing everything. Having it in 4d, saying it's done etc. But if I take exam on this month will I still have my desire in 3d. I used to be more confident but since the date is nearing im losing my cool. Pls help me navigate through this

i think time crunches are something so many of us struggle with. you decide it on a certain date, and when the date gets closer, you freak out and spiral. lets talk abt it.

once you decided it was postponed, it was done. throw the terms 3d/4d out the window bcs they're the same thing. if you have it in imagination, you automatically have it in the physical. and reality is LIMITLESS. it's not ur job to worry abt how it happens, you just KNOW it happened.

the only reason you're losing your cool and worrying about the time, is bcs you're STILL identifying with the ego. to self, you, time isn't real! the only one who cares about that is ego. and that is not you!! you are consciousness. self.

so let's say june 25th, you're set to take the test. there are two ways this could go.

you continue identifying with the ego. you give up thinking that it got postponed. you walk to class, thinking "aw damn, it didn't work. i'm really taking this test. i give up." reality reflects this so you end up taking the test.

2. you continue being self. you know the test got postponed for the first week of july. you're not worried abt the physical bcs you know its just a copy of imagination. so you know it instantly conformed.

your ego is screaming saying "ugh it didnt work, im taking the test today," but you don't identify with it. you dont flip the thought or affirm against it, you just observe in knowing. you stay firm on this the entire time, even while you're walking into class.

then boom - fire alarm drill hits, everyone evacuates, test is postponed.

OR your teacher says there was an issue with the system so the test is postponed.

OR you're the only one that shows up. you check your email and see that you missed the one that said the test is postponed.

OR you come in and your teacher says they made a typo with the date, and its actually on the first week of july. the test is postponed.

OR you come in, take the test, then 2 days later the teacher says they got the tests mixed up, and the test is postponed.

see all these different ways it conformed? it all came back to one thing, the test being postponed. it's bcs you didnt identify with the ego and continued living in imagination, that the mirror did what the mirror does: reflects.

the difference between ego and self is that the ego took what it saw as reality, while self knew the real truth.

your ego is freaking out rn bcs its worried about time. but as long as you dont identify with it, and you continue to know as self, that your decision is done, then it is done! the physical already conformed instantly.

but keep in mind, the physical has nothing to do with you. you're not a physical being. this should be your internal knowing, yes, but it shouldn't be your focus. the goal isnt to get it in physical, the goal is to have it in imagination. once you start focusing on the physical, you're just identifying as your ego once again. and the ego ISNT YOU!

i hope this helped!! i recently had this realization (like last night recently lol) and it rlly clicked for me 🫶🏽

#nondualism #nonduality #law of assumption #loassumption #consciousness #loa tumblr #loa #loablr #void state #manifestation #loassblog #self concept

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gretaglasses · 17 days ago

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Handsome Caitlyn Week Day 2: Formal/Uniform

“I’ve scheduled the tailor to come for a fitting before the gala next week,” Cassandra announced as the family sat down to breakfast, primly setting her napkin in her lap. “I want to ensure we have enough time to get everything hemmed properly.”

Caitlyn picked at her eggs with her fork, humming in vague agreement, hoping that Cassandra wouldn’t linger on the subject. She didn’t want to think about whatever monstrosity the tailor had concocted for her this time. Cassandra always insisted that the Kirammans attend the annual gala as a unit, which meant that Caitlyn was often just a miniature of whatever Cassandra wanted to wear. The last gown had had a high, lacey collar that had itched all night, and stiff sleeves that made it hard to raise her hand more than a few inches. Its skirt had been voluminous thanks to the piles of petticoats underneath, which she’d tripped over while coming down the stairs, sending her down the final steps in an inelegant wobble.

She’d felt like a fool, and that had been before the growth spurt that made her tower above everyone else in her class.

So as she watched the tailor unpack his accoutrements in their sitting room later that day, Caitlyn’s expectations weren’t just low–they were nonexistent. Still, she forced herself to smile politely when he directed her towards the dressing screen, where she stripped off her shirt and trousers without so much as a glance at the clothes he had so carefully hung just a moment ago.

Eventually, though, she had to face her fate.

Sighing, Caitlyn reached for the clothes, then did a double-take. For a moment, she worried that the tailor had gone rogue, because what was hanging inside the dressing screen was decidedly not what she’d been expecting, not remotely close to what she’d worn every year since she’d been deemed old enough to attend galas such as this one.

There wasn’t a single ruffle, for one thing. Instead, there was a smooth blouse tucked inside a neat, sharp blazer, the cut not unlike what Tobias would likely be wearing. The Kiramman crest had been embroidered on the blazer’s collar, golden thread bright against the familiar shade of blue, matched by the small, delicate chain draped artfully across the other shoulder. There was still a skirt, but there were no petticoats to go with it, only a simple pair of heeled boots peeking out from the bottom.

Caitlyn stared, open-mouthed, until Cassandra’s voice drifted through the screen.

“Is everything alright, Caitlyn?” she asked, and that was when Caitlyn knew it wasn’t a mistake, that Cassandra had commissioned these clothes for her, the slight, almost imperceptible note of smug amusement in her mother’s voice making it loud and clear.

Suddenly, Caitlyn couldn’t pull the clothes on fast enough. The blouse was like butter on her skin, and when she experimentally swung her arms forward and up, she was delighted to feel no pinching of fabric forcing her to keep them close to her side. She stepped into the skirt, delighted again when the hem settled neatly below her knees, but not so far down that there was any risk of tripping over it as she came out from behind the screen.

Immediately, Cassandra’s sharp eye was on her. Caitlyn was struck again with irrational worry, but she straightened her shoulders, returning Cassandra’s critical stare with her own while she waited for the final verdict.

It came a moment later, a quick, barely-there nod. Their gazes caught, Caitlyn’s wide grin met with a fleeting but real smile, before Cassandra turned back to the tailor.

“We’ll have to mind the sleeves, but this is excellent work, as usual…”

The tailor preened under the praise, nodding and following Cassandra back towards the rest of the clothes, discussing this or that detail that Caitlyn did not pay attention to. Her eyes were fixed forward, on her own reflection now visible in the mirror.

Her first thought was that she looked older. But then she realized that no, that wasn’t quite right. The ease in her posture had nothing to do with age. She felt, for once, comfortable in this new body of hers. Her rapidly growing legs, the wide set of her shoulders, didn’t feel quite so monstrous without the overlay of fabric and bows that Cassandra favored for herself.

She stepped closer, moving easily without the pinch of a tight blouse across her shoulders. She smoothed down the hem of her blazer, took in the set of the Kiramman blue against her skin, and felt a grin spread across her face.

<< Day 1: Prince/Knight Day 3: Gender >>

#arcane #arcane fanfic #handsome caitlyn week #caitlyn kiramman #my ficlets #cassandra kiramman #supportive cassandra!!!!!

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puripurin · 10 months ago

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Yan! Llama Hybrid x SheepHybrid! Reader

— Recently, on the farm, a bunch of coyotes and wolves started to snag some sheep hybrids into the woods when they would get too close to the fences. It has gotten so bad that they would do it in broad daylight.

The owners decided that they would introduce a new addition to the herd to combat the coyotes. A male Llama named Lumi. All of the sheep were skeptical at first because they all thought that it was a little odd that the new sheep would have such a long neck and a lot bigger in size, but soon enough, they couldn't help but warm up to him.

Lumi, on the other hand, was still in his awkward phase. He'd recently entered into adulthood and was feeling sad and lonely without his parents there to guide him, but it wasn't until he saw your gorgeous curls and your small little tail that wagged in excitement. Just in that moment, he'd decided to be your life-long mate and started the process of courting you.

You did not give a shit about Lumi. You only cared about the coyotes that ate the rest of the flock. You wanted to start making sacrifices to grow your cult of small critters such as squirrels and rabbits.

This was because you heard from a passing by sheep hybrid that was being transported to another farm about how you could obtain everything you wanted if people devoted their lives to you.

However, you didn't expect Lumi to be so dedicated to you that he'd easily deciphered your messages to your devout followers and your weekly gatherings.

As you walked out of the dead of night, with the intention of killing a coyote that night. But it was oddly still, as if it was waiting for something. The trees didn't ruffle against each other, and the cool wind was nowhere to be seen

You stiffened up and silently walked back. If one of the other sheeps found out about this whole cult thing you had going on, you'd be ousted and killed by the coyotes instead.

But, you were immediately thrown down and turned over. Your eyes widened in panic and started to attack the person who held you down silently, only to realize that blood was dripping on your face.

"My love, I've killed one of those tainted and unpure coyotes for your sacrifice. I would hate to see your delicate hands get stained with something unworthy of your desire... but why... Why do you yearn and look at someone else with interest other than me? ... Only I shall be your eyes and ears, my love..."

Random and barely edit post after months of not posting. I was watch yt shorts and i came across a video abt guard llamas w sheeps. Its been on my mind for 3 weeks and i started this 2 weeks ago. I only decided now to finish it.

You can see the point where i went fuck it because i had no idea what to do with the reader's background so i was like "Ooh maybe they want to smash the coyotes... what's close to smashing coyotes... Cult." Cult leader YN it is.

Anyways below is for the rest of people who want to know what happened after that incident.

I feel better about my dog's death, but we weren't able to get him back due to the poor weather and the fact he was last seen in a drain. So there wasn't a proper burial, but I'm happy that we didn't end up with 2 losses. We had them since they were puppies, and its upsetting that the younger one died, but i understand why they had to kill him.

He's a dangerous breed of dog even though he's docile most of them time. He was a cane corso, and my older dog is a rottweiler and pitbull mix. So not the most safest dogs to be around, but what are you gonna do when your country is busy locking up a man for money laundering bcs they shit at their jobs.

Right, if I'm not lazy enough, I'll go back and redo every one of my ocs bcs im on the verge of deleting them all from embarrassment. Then that will hopefully be a small week long event for my tumblr as im not used to those things. But this might take months.

Also, no won't do kinktober, im lazy, and smut isn't my forte. Anyways bye-bye, see yall when my coffin feels too stuffy~

(soz if this is shit as well bcs i didn't do a whole lotta explaining abt Lumi's behavior)

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere llama hybrid #i am alive #kinda

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freak-accident419 · 2 years ago

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Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: On a chilly December night, you and Billy catch up. Then, you make an important decision.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, cursing, alcohol, mention of holidays (gift giving), slight suggestive comment

(A/n: thank you to everyone for all your support for this short multiple-part fic! It means so much to me! I hope I did its finale justice :) also credit to the person who suggested a bar scene !)

You watched him take a short sip of his beer as you fidgeted with your bottle.

You two agreed that you would catch up at this bar at the corner of the street when you were done with your shift. It has only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but it felt like forever to you, hence the slight awkwardness in the atmosphere.

“So… did you pay off your debt…?” You ask hesitantly, continuing to fidget with the beer bottle in front of you. You finally looked at him, observing his brown eyes softening at the sight of you. The right side of his face was still scarred by the second-degree burn that hot coffee gave him. But you’ve only ever seen him like this, and so, to you, he still looked as handsome as he was since you last saw him.

“Yeah, I… I paid them off,” he answered bluntly.

“And the thing with the bikers? Are you… on good terms with them now?”

In response, he let out a scoff and a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ugh, dude, what did you do?” You say with exasperation, though amused by his lighthearted manner.

“They wanted the money, but, um… They all sort of… still hate me, so… those assholes gave me a warning: if they see my face again, they’ll kill me, so…” He trails off, taking a fairly tame swig of alcohol before he continues. You noticed that he seemed calmer since you’ve last seen him. As if he worked on himself, his temper, and spontaneous vulgarity. You admired that. “I’m gonna have to go. Unwillingly leave town, you know.”

“Damn,” you mutter, briefly sipping your drink. “That was your initial plan anyways though, right? To, like, just leave this place?”

He let out a soft sigh, which slightly puzzled you. Why did he seem so disappointed?

“Before I was on my way to meet up with them, I just… I got the idea that maybe I just shouldn’t leave. I thought that, um… leaving someplace that’s, uh… desirable… would be a very idiotic thing for me to do,” he explains, only baffling you even more.

“Okay? But you said it yourself, after you paid them off, you wanted to leave town and start anew, have a fresh start. What makes Upstate New York so… great, I guess, that you don’t want to leave?” You inquire with a lighthearted chuckle.

He fidgets with his beer bottle anxiously before looking back at you to answer. “You…”

You were stunned. You opened your mouth slightly to respond, but no words came out. You didn’t know him too well—but after an hour of being stuck together, you knew him enough, at the very least. But why did you have such an impact on him? You guessed that you had an indubitable liking for him too—similar to a childlike crush, though fueled solely by shared trauma. But you never really thought of it that much until now.

“Billy, I…” you stuttered out. “I… I mean… You had a whole plan, I… I just don’t understand. I like you, Billy, but… why should I be the reason you would want to stay here? You don’t really know me…”

“Well…” He wanted to argue that you two already learned a lot about each other from the time you’ve spent together, but even he realized it would be faulty reasoning. “Fuck, I want to get to know you better, then,” he urged gently.

He looked down at your hands, which were on the table near your drink. He reached his hands towards yours hesitantly, giving you a look by the raise of his eyebrows that asked for your permission. You nodded, watching him finally grab your hands, observing your one wrist, in which the bruise from the zip tie was completely gone. He tenderly rubbed his thumb over your wrists and palms. You felt the warm metal of his ring run against your skin as he would move his index finger. The slightly red dent on his wrist that you last saw on the day you escaped had also disappeared entirely. So it seemed like the only thing that followed him—the only thing that haunted him ever since the gas station, was his burn scar.

“I just…” he began, continuing to look down at your hands as he caressed them. It was something he did a lot, you noticed. You think it calmed him down. “I don’t know why I’m so… pulled to you. It’s fucking stupid, I know, and I’ve probably sounded like a dumbass this entire time, but… I mean it when I say I want to get to know you.”

You stared down at your hands in his, unsure of how you felt. “Well… The bikers, they said that they were gonna kill you if they see your face again. That’s, like… implying they want you out of town. You have to go, Billy. You can’t, shit, risk your life for me.”

“That’s why I want you to run away with me,” he urged softly.

“Billy—”

“I want you to come with me,” he pleads. In his mind, Billy thought it was quite ironic how he wanted you to go with him so badly; he rejected Melinda almost immediately when she asked to go with him. But this was different. You weren’t Melinda. You were you. And he desperately wanted to leave with you. But there seemed to be no way for that to happen.

“Billy, we already talked about this. I… I can’t just leave everything I have here behind,” you reason. “Plus, it’s been weeks ever since I last saw you. You had all this time to come see me, where have you been?”

He pursed his lips. “After the bikers gave me a few ‘friendly’ warning shots, I sort of left immediately. I just kept going west. Stayed in a couple motels. But it just… felt wrong, you know? I felt empty and… fuck, out of place… So, I guess I just… came back here to see you one more time…” he confessed, making your heart beat faster and face warmer. Nobody has ever done this grand of a gesture for you. You almost felt bad. You had made a deep connection with him back at the gas station, and suddenly you were worth a lot to him. “Shit, I… I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to, because I knew it would be… really fucking bad if I tried to come back, but… You were always on my mind. Every second, I… thought about your laughter, and your voice, and I didn’t want to forget it. And-and most of all, you saved my life.” You frowned, because you considered it as a team effort, rather. “Something finally good in my life, for the first fucking time, happened to me and I can’t just—just stand by and let it just leave while I could do something about it.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You never knew you could be this important to someone, let alone someone you’ve only been around with for less than a day. “Billy, I—” You stammered with fluster. “I have to admit, I thought about you multiple times ever since. I sort of always wished I’d run into you whenever I went to a gas station. I think I even dreamed about you multiple times… To be honest, I always thought what would’ve happened if I said yes before and left with you.” He felt your thumb trace delicately along the back of his hand. “Never thought I’d ever think of a gas station robber as handsome and charming.” He chuckled softly in response, his lips forming into a cute, flattered smile.

“I love that you’re here, really. I love that you came back to see me,” You told him. “But… like I said, I can’t come with you.” You would love to, however, you knew it. But you couldn’t just leave everything you had here behind… Could you?

He sighed softly. “Okay, I understand,” he says. “But shit, just… Let me get to know you better before I have to leave for sure. Please. How about I just take you for a drive, then? Just around the block?”

Billy was heavily insistent. After all, he always goes for what he wants.

“The both of us have been drinking, Billy,” you say with guilt. You hated constantly rejecting him. You did want to get to know him better, you did want to spend time with him, but the circumstances and motives were utterly complicated.

You chuckled a bit, however, sort of amused by how much he wanted to be around you. “I don’t know, you can’t just, like… enjoy the moment right now?” You ask as you two look back down at your hands, which were being gently rubbed against each other, Billy’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough for me, Y/n,” he claimed dejectedly.

“Why don’t we just take a walk, then? To, like, the nearest park or something,” you offer, feeling his warm fingertips glide softly over your nails. “We could… We could do that.”

After thinking about it for a second, he nodded compliantly.

***

It was supposed to be dark outside, however the street lamps nearby and string lights across buildings liberally illuminated the area. It has been probably half an hour since you two sat down on a park bench, just speaking to each other with occasional banter. That was probably the strongest thing you had with him: communication. Just talking about random things that led to discovering more things about one another. You’d done that while you were tied up together after all. It was how you mainly connected in that moment.

That was another thing, however. You weren’t forced in proximity anymore, but you two still wanted more of each other. Even if you didn’t show it. Your rejection did quite a number on Billy’s belief that his feelings were reciprocated, but as you two proceeded to laugh and talk together, it was reinforced.

“Okay… Quentin Tarantino.” You raise an eyebrow, grinning as you watched your warm breath escape your lips in a hazy, white mist.

“Damn. That one foot fetish guy?” he laughed.

“Yeah, the—the foot fetish guy,” you chuckle softly.

“Okay, easy, Pulp Fiction,” he answered. Met with your silence, he looked at you and you shook your head, smiling. “No?”

“No, I wouldn’t make it that obvious—”

“Kill Bill.”

“N—”

“Volume one or two?” You grin as he continued to guess wrong in your game. “Seriously, none of those?”

“From Dusk Til Dawn?” He nearly pouted, it was adorable. “I give up.”

“Jackie Brown. C’mon, man,” you snicker.

He playfully rolled his eyes, scoffing, making you giggle.

This was something you two did back at Paradise Pumps as well, while tied up and exhausted. You made a little game where you basically had to think of a movie and the other had to guess it by only knowing the name of its director.

He smiles softly as he looks at you, but then it gradually dropped, as the recurring thought that he would never see you again invaded his mind once more.

“You good?” You ask reluctantly, seeing his facial expression change.

“Yeah, I just…”

“You don’t want to leave me?” You finish his sentence with a sigh, seeing him nod in response. “It’s not so bad, Billy. You could leave, settle down, start a new life and leave behind all that crime and… biker gang beef,” you offer a small laugh before you continue.

“You could find somebody who is worthier than me. Someone who you didn’t bond with through shared trauma and forced proximity. Someone who would leave everything behind just for you, unlike me.” You wish you could, honestly. What was really stopping you? Fear? Guilt?

Billy scoffs as he listened to your statements, deeming them as bullshit. “Y/n, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” Your eyebrows raise in bewilderment. “I don’t want someone else, okay? I want you... Just you.”

Your heart nearly stopped and you looked at him with sole adoration for him.

And you had no idea what came over you in this moment, because once you heard him say this, you immediately pressed your lips to his, while hesitantly bringing your hands up to his face to gently hold it.

You heard his breath hitch as he soon melts into the kiss, moving his lips with yours and holding onto your wrists. His lips were soft and warm, and he was being nothing but gentle with you. You felt the the tender skin of his burn against your fingertips, your delicate and careful touch soothing him.

You weren’t sure what kind of confidence boost let you do something so impulsive as kissing someone. But the entire night, Billy had been relentlessly winning over your heart, expressing his immense admiration for you. You fell for him. And you had to do something about that.

“Fuck, you know, that…” he began hoarsely once your lips have separated, yet your faces were still very close to each other, switching back and forth from looking deeply into one’s eyes to their lips. “That was fucking evil. That just made it even harder for me to leave you,” he stressed as you two let out small, quiet chuckles.

He convinced you enough, you thought. What did you really have to lose…?

Or, rather, what would you gain?

“You don’t have to,” your voice was slightly raspy as you spoke with a smirk.

And what you would say next had marked your decision. “I’m coming with you, cowboy.”

He parted his lips in shock, so before he could say anything, you just kissed him again, deeply and affectionately, as you couldn’t help but smile in the kiss. You felt him pull you closer by the waist in a fairly strong grip, as if you were to disappear if he let you go. It was a sweet and affectionate kiss, the two of you expressing your admiration and fondness for each other. It was supposed to be cold, hell, it was December in New York. But you couldn’t help but feel pure warmth each second your kiss remained.

*** Two Weeks Later ***

“Open it,” you giggle softly.

“Seriously, when did you get the time to wrap a whole ass gift when we’ve been, like, on the road together this whole time?” Billy says with a smile as he examines the thin, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“I found a service. While you were preoccupied. Now shut up. Happy Holidays. Open the damn thing.”

It’s been about two weeks since you agreed with leaving with him. After resigning from your job, you basically packed your bags and savings and he picked you up. You two didn’t face any problems so far as you traveled east. You only had an increased admiration for each other, as well as mutual understandings.

Now, you were in an empty parking lot, keeping warm inside the car during the evening. You surprised him with a wrapped gift for the holidays.

You watched him rip off the wrapping paper, making you involuntarily laugh as you saw his expression of disbelief, represented by his playful scoff and the rolling of his eyes.

‘Never Get Angry Again: The Foolproof Way to Stay Calm and in Control in Any Conversation or Situation’ by David J. Lieberman, PhD

He raised his eyebrows as he read over the cover of the anger management book and presented it to you. “Seriously?”

You snicker impishly as you see an amused smile creep at the corner of his lips. “Told you I would, didn’t I?”

“You are terrible,” Billy joked endearingly with a low chuckle.

“I know,” you retort cunningly, reaching over the center console of the car to give him a soft peck on the lips.

“But you have to admit, Y/n, I have been working on myself ever since,” he points out, making you scoff.

“Yeah, but you totally lashed out on that one guy when we were at that convenience store in Pittsburgh,” you insist.

“Okay, well, in my defense, I really didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he shrugged with a knowing grin.

“Damn, should I have gotten you a book on jealousy as well?” you sneer.

“Hey, watch it,” he warned playfully.

“You know what, yeah, you’re right. I digress,” you concur nonchalantly. “If it weren’t for him getting an intense reaction out of you, then you wouldn’t have taken me straight to the bathroom and—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he chuckled softly as you laughed at your own delivery. “Just…” He reached in the back, grabbing a brown box that was sealed with clear tape. “Open your gift. Sorry I didn’t have the time to wrap it, like, I still have no idea how you had the time to do it behind my back, but yeah.”

He handed you his keys so you could rip the tape, then you opened the box, being met with styrofoam packaging. You removed the top layer, and then let out a small gasp as you saw the object, taking it in your hands.

It was a small Albany, New York snow globe. You were beaming as you shook it, watching the “snow” fall down on the capitol building.

“I thought you’d be homesick, so I snatched it right before we left,” he explained, smiling as he sees your reaction.

“Oh my god, Billy, it’s perfect,” you say in awe, then reach over the center console again to hug him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you. “Thank you so much,” you say, kissing him deeply on his lips.

“‘F course, Y/n,” he mumbled sweetly, affectionately returning your kisses.

“You’re perfect,” you nearly whispered as you set the snow globe back in the box so your hands were free to hold his face. He always loved when you would do that. It brought a sort of comfort to him, making him feel safe and secure. He leaned into your touch as you kissed the right side of his face—his forehead and cheek—which were the areas that had been mildly burnt.

“Even when I robbed a gas station?” He asked under his breath, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

He always had a problem with being defined and associated with criminality, so you found it quite ironic for him to point it out.

“I’m fucking with you.”

You shove him playfully, which only resulted in him bringing you into an intense, deep kiss. “You are so perfect too, you know that?” He mutters softly. “I’m so fucking glad you came with me.” He artfully grabbed your hand and looked at you intimately as he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrist—the one that was zip tied to his. The one where the bruise on it had now been fully healed and gone.

“Me too,” you murmur ardently.

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