#they are like Bright and dark side of Twitter/x | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶When Eddie gets a call at work telling him Adrie is sick, he rushes to pick her up from school, accidentally leaving his black notebook behind. Being you, you find the means to return it to him. But while at his trailer, you ask him the question he's been avoiding for months.

"Let's get down to those rumors, hm?"✶

NSFW — strong tw for a dark conversation surrounding eddie's past (accusations of murder, rape), heavy angst, comfort, drug/alcohol mention/use, slow burn, fluff, flirting, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 8/20 [wc: 14.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 8: The Munson Name

Leave it to Eddie to make your day special not two minutes into work.

Upon entering the garage, the back door was ajar as usual, but instead of phantom wisps of smoke swimming in the sunshaft, a shadow moved, and Eddie’s arm curled around to knock on the aluminum siding for your attention. His chain bracelet clinked from the motion, and his rings caught the light as he gestured for you to come over.

You peeked through the opening and saw him standing against the wall, but his morning smile wasn’t aimed at you, it was elsewhere, off to the side. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and followed where he was looking.

A bright red cardinal sat perched on the round side mirror of Eddie’s car, chirping and hopping while fluttering its wings, spinning around in search of something, and after several twittering singsongs, it flew away.

“That was precious,” you whispered, breath fogging in awe.

“I’m glad you got to see him before he took off.” Eddie grabbed the door from you and pushed you both inside, shaking his arms in an intense shiver, and shrugging his jacket up around his neck while he hugged his hands around himself in his pockets. “Uhm..”

The goofy smile he wore was mutual, as was the dear silence. The energy between you had changed; it was charged with a new development in your relationship. One that did not need to be articulated in words. It was there, in his well-rested eyes owning a playful gleam when you looked at him, and his need to rock from foot to foot in a measured sway, like a subconscious impulse to recreate that beautiful night.

Then, he cleared his throat. You averted your gaze to the floor.

“You, uh, you said it was one gift,” he recalled with an audible wince squeezing the oxygen from his sentence.

Unsure on how best to approach you buying his daughter a generous amount of presents, and hearing the impassive edge to his voice, you shut one eye and opted for a joke, “It was one gift.. bag.”

“It was too much.”

Your demeanor sagged. “Oh.”

“No, no! Not in the bad way–No.”

You perked up. “Oh?”

A soft laugh poured from the snuggly place he had his chin tucked behind the tan canvas. He dropped his shoulders, and drove his weight forward into jaunty little steps towards you, closing the gap between your bodies. There were affectionate nuances to his fond expression when he corrected himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The gifts were great. Like, real home runs. Uhm, she loved them, and they were really thoughtful. Just.. really sweet of you.” Immersing himself in the steady eye contact you were both proud to uphold, he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sweet, in fact, it’s piling onto that thank you I owe you at a ridiculous rate.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just like doing things for you and Adrie. Besides, I live rent free in a tiny town with an abysmal lack of nighttime entertainment for me to waste my money on, so I figured why not spoil my favorite four-year-old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t owe you, but” –he moved his hand around in his pocket– “I’m gonna figure out a way to repay you. Do something nice for you. Something big. Until then, your favorite almost-five-year-old made you this.”

He presented his palm to you. Cradled in it was a bracelet made of plastic beads in an assortment of colors, some shaped as stars, some with glitter, and at the middle was a name arranged in white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I had to help her spell it,” he said, tugging up his sleeve, “but it matches mine.” D-A-D-D-Y.

There was no masking the effect the bracelet had on you; breath hitched on a raw noise, chest falling on the exhale, muscles tensed on the cusp of a bigger reaction–but you tamped down the wealth of feeling wanted, and spoke beyond the heaviness in your heart, through the strain in your throat, and behind the blurriness of tears, “A true Adrie Original. I love it, tell her thank you for me.”

You slid the elastic band over your trembling left hand. He wore his on his right.

Eddie leaned in to get a better look at you, and the amusement in his face was replaced by genuine surprise. “Are you crying?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gripped your shoulders, laughing, smiling through the embarrassment of being caught. “Maybe! It’s–It’s really sweet.”

“I’m gonna tell her you cried!”

“Don’t!” you yelped, running away from his evil fingers advancing towards your ribs.

“But it’s cute!”

“Stop chasing me!”

Luckily for you, refuge was on the other side of the glass door you managed to lock before he could grab the handle. You guarded your safe space with a glare. He pouted, and said something. You cupped your ear. He grew more passionate, flapping his lips at a rapid rate and putting his hands up in a prayer, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You shouted you’d only let him in if he apologized for making fun of you. “I’m sorry.” The sincerity was lost on his smirk, but you gave in so you could make coffee and get to work, and so he could get said coffee and take your pen cup and put it just out of reach on the ledge of your desk while on his way out to the garage.

And unluckily for you, the first thing on your to-do list after the break was checking the flashing buttons on the phone. You picked up the receiver, pressed the playback for messages, and listened with a pen hovered over your new set of index cards.

The first one began with a startled, “U-uhm, right.”

The second one began with a confused laugh.

The third was a long pause before telling someone else in the room they’d try again later.

Dread pooled in your stomach. The recording button. The fucking recording button for an outgoing message taunted you. Faded yellow, and ugly.

With a clenched jaw, you prepared your racing heart, and pressed it. And oh God. You covered your eyes, more and more mortified as it played.

“We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–” Raspberry. “You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..”

————

Standing at a respectable distance from where Eddie sat at the breakroom table with his notebook, you held up three calendars for the new year. “I’m replacing the one in the garage. Which do you want? Mythical Creatures drawn by Eric Carle, Coca Cola, or hot chicks posing on sports cars?”

He dropped his head back, and tipped his chair to balance on its rear legs. His bangs fell, showing his wrinkled forehead as he looked at you upside down. “Interesting options,” he commented.

“The mall didn’t have much left.” A lie. The calendar kiosk at the mall was stocked to the brim, you just had a hunch Eddie would go for one in particular.

“Does the mythical creature one have a dragon for a month?”

“Yes,” you said without checking.

“I’ll take that one, then.”

Predictable.

“Cool, I’ll give Mr. Moore the hot chicks, and I’ll take the Coke for me.” Speaking of–the front desk phone was ringing, and it was in your job description to answer it, you supposed.

You left him to get back to his writing, and put the receiver to your ear. The voice on the other end was politely stressed in the customer-friendly way. You left it in the cradle on hold, and called down the hallway, “Hey, Eddie, it’s Adrie’s school calling for you. I’m sure–” Stumbling out of his way, his jacket softened the blow of his shoulder knocking into you. He reached his hand back in an apologetic gesture, but his focus manifested in the flash of panic crossing his pale face. “I’m sure she’s fine,” you finished sympathetically.

He answered the woman on the line, and you waited along the wall, eyeing the scuff marks around the floorboards you should probably buff off at some point, and after his short conversation, he hung up.

“Adrie’s sick,” he said quickly, patting down his jacket. “Wayne’s not answering the phone, so I gotta go pick her up, and uh, I–” He pivoted in a circle, glancing around, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “I–I’m sorry. She needs me.”

You drew your eyebrows in, and waved him off. “Yeah, it’s okay. You can leave. I’ll clock you out and let Carl know when he’s back from lunch.”

“Thank you,” he said in breathless earnest, leaving so quickly his boots left black streaks on the tile.

~~~

Lunch came and went. Carl came and went. The end of the hour posted under the CLOSED sign came and went. Eddie had yet to call the shop to update you, which was fine and dandy (aside from your anxiety over whether or not Adrie was okay), but in his rush, he left behind something important..

His black notebook with the devil-horned skull laid in the middle of the table like an ominous item from a horror movie.

And much like the horror movies, you as the final girl should leave it alone, right? Just.. walk away, and forget about it, and leave it for him to pick it up tomorrow, or whenever he’s able to come back to work..

But.

You were worried about Adrie, and when you went to the garage to replace the trash can liners, you saw his rings still on the black tray near the tool cabinet. Now, it’s not like he needed those either, however, what if you just.. returned them for him? And the notebook fell open while you were at it?

It was wrong. Everything about what you were doing was all so very, very wrong. Going inside Mr. Moore’s office and flipping the lightswitch, making your way to his desk in an innocent saunter, and–oops!–kneeling down to pick up a stray pen, and if the bottom drawer happened to be opened, and the plastic folder with the employee’s details from when he hired them was inside, who could blame you for taking the quickest, tiniest glance before closing it?

Yours was in there, of course, along with–

“Edward Munson,” you snorted. “Dorky name.” Duh his full name was Edward, but it was still funny to see.

You read over the top of the file where his address and phone number were. Thankfully, from your various car rides with Robin, you recognized the street name, placing it in your memories as the rusted sign next to the Forest Hills Trailer Park entrance.

The phone number you imprinted into your brain as a recreational activity, and put the folder away.

Closing the door behind you with a hefty jingle of heavy rings in your pocket, you approached the notebook, and gave it a pitied sigh. Having committed many sins in the past minute alone, you figured why not. You didn’t even feel shame opening the stupid thing after months of being teased by it. Besides, what’s the worst he could be hiding in it? It couldn’t be that embarrassing, right?

..Right?

“Okay, can honestly say I was not expecting a big tittied bird lady.” The drawing wasn’t overly detailed, but the artistry was above average. Small details etched the feathers covering her avian legs, and a gleam shone on her talons coming to a sharp point, posed to attack with milky white irises. Above her was Eddie’s stylized font: HARPY, with abbreviations and numbers in a column. His rushed handwriting filled the rest of the page. Reading it over, it appeared you opened to the middle of a story.

Thumbing through, you encountered your first dog-eared page.

IF CHEST IS CHOSEN, GO B

IF DOOR - ROLL FROM INDEX CHART POISON

Absolutely lost, you did see a box labeled B further down with a short bullet point list of what would happen, and more options to choose from on the next dog-eared section.

Flipping deeper towards the back, it was pages and pages of his handwriting. Names of characters fighting dragons. Fantasy towns housing creatures you’d never heard of. Countries with too many syllables and apostrophes. Whatever it was, you were more than happy to hop on your bike and ride it over to the trailer park, only second guessing your sense of direction three times, and releasing a grateful, “Thank God,” when you spotted it up ahead.

The place had an eeriness to it despite the slanted beams of afternoon sun gracing it in gold. Homes were tarnished with dents and algae staining the outside. Trailers slumped on their cinderblocks, buckling under the weight. RVs had permanent brush growing under their parking spots. A child’s scream echoed around the tree-less lot, but you couldn’t see them through the orderless blockade of dilapidated residences and abandoned cars. People watched you: glancing out their windows, or gathered around a charcoal barbeque. Curious eyes followed your trail down the main road. Bumping your bike around potholes, avoiding tetanus ridden nails and petrified clothes molded to the ground as if they’d been there for years.

Dogs walked their fences as you passed.

You were beginning to have some regrets when a beacon welcomed you. After a curve, an old van parked out front of a blue and white trailer came into view, but more importantly, dwarfed next to the Chevy behemoth, was a black car you’d recognize the red interior of anywhere.

The heat of parent’s concerned stares burned into the back of your neck as you rode up to the concrete stairs, leaned your bike against the metal handrail, and approached your fate.

Even though you were absolutely sure this was the correct address, you knocked with as much confidence as a dormouse. Any harder and the sound of your knuckles striking the aluminum would’ve been too loud in the creepy-quiet trailer park.

No answer.

You knocked again. Harder. Louder.

There was movement inside. Footsteps. A muffled voice. Your heart leapt. In your throat. Closer. Closer. This was so stupid. This was a mistake. This was a bad idea. The excuse in your mouth was weak, and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of your coworker by surprising him at his house, which you only knew where to find because you were snooping, and there was no amount of explaining that would help you out of your spot in hell–

Eddie swung open the door, and his heavy-browed, distrustful, annoyed, apprehensive, suspicious glare jumped to wide-eyed shock.

Your cheeks went hot.

“Nope!”

You winced at the slam, but nothing–no God’s will, no Devil’s agreement–would convince you to blink at the shuttered window where he once stood. No. No, no, no. No, never. Never would you want the searing glimpse at Eddie’s naked chest out of your sight before it was engraved into every second of every day of every night of every dream for the rest of your years.

In some part of your mind, you knew your gazes connected long enough to see the blood drain from his face, but your attention was soon urged downward, to the overwhelming amount of skin.

His hair was tied back, exposing a poetry of shadows. Hollow of his throat, to his clavicle, to the swell of his shoulders. Biceps twitching under a prominent vein when he caught himself on the trailer’s frame, and gripped the door handle. Muscles straining with fear, then soft with relief, then strong with fear again when he realized it was you who caught him in this shirtless state, discovering the beautiful line between his pecs when he flexed. Witnessing the fine wisps of softly auburn hair on his chest, juxtaposed to the wiry dark curls creating a blessed trail to the top of his sweatpants. Drooling over the eclectic collection of tattoos sporadically placed over his body. Too many to decipher in the brief encounter, aside from the dragon crawling up a sword etched into the subtle planes of his abs and curving around his slight stomach, with the blade ending at his waistband–a full picture of the tattoo you spied at the grocery store when he stretched his arms above his head.

The door creaked open again, and you’d yet to recover. But thinly obscured in the darkness of his home, he was visibly flustered as well.

Eddie hunched over, struggling to get the zipper of his tan jacket up, tugging it harshly, grinding the metal teeth in his anxious fight to cover his chest; and when it was snug to the splotchy kiss of pink on his neck, he squinted at you. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice gone hoarse from his dry mouth.

Knees locked, and oh so staring him directly in the eyes, you took the black notebook from under your arm (not remembering when you tucked it there), and showed it to him. “You left this at work.”

He took it from you slowly without a thanks.

“And, uh,” you continued, gathering the clinking jewelry in your jacket. “These too.” You dropped them into his cupped palm, brushing your pinky over a scratchy callus, experiencing the zing of intimacy of skin on skin.

And he felt it too, with how he curled his fingers in to seal the fleeting sensation.

Pocketing his rings, he stood meek in his doorway. The pain of expecting someone different to be knocking at his trailer had dwindled, but the tension was there in between his eyebrows, weighing on the slope of his gentle frown, painting brilliant highlights on the long line of his nose in the blazing dayglow threatening to invade his home.

The dull brown of his eyes glinted aside the honey as his mouth hung slightly open, tip of his tongue curled against the pearly dam of his teeth. The lined pages of the well worn notebook fanned out, flopping in his grip. “Did you read what was in here?”

Shifting your gaze to the sharp edge of the tin roof decorated in elaborate dangly fish hooks, you clasped your hands behind your back in a cute way, and delivered the answer he awaited with an inflection like it was a question, “No..?”

“For an actress, you’re bad at lying.”

“Or I’m being obvious on purpose so you tell me what it is.”

Working his jaw back and forth, he bided his time, each grind a consideration at his options in regards to how vulnerable he should be, and if this would be the final nail in the corroded coffin where you’d realize what a giant loser he was. “It’s..” You leaned towards him in interest, and he looked away. “It’s notes and stuff for Dungeons and Dragons,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Nerd! Nerd!” You jumped up and down, pointing, shouting, “I knew it! You’re a nerd!”

Twisting his mouth in a sarcastic sneer at your childishness, he snatched the side of the door and began shutting you out. “Okay, okay. I get it. See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you exhaled, switching on a dime from your teasing to a serious tone. You caught the door, and pleaded for him to stop being an idiot, “I knew you were a dweeb when you held me hostage for an entire thirteen minute lecture about your song lyrics. The Dungeons and Dragons shit is the third least surprising thing you’ve ever told me.” You clasped your hand over your heart. “Truly.”

“What’s the second?”

“Your music tastes.”

“And the first?” he asked, despite his better judgment.

“That you’re single.”

He announced his displeasure in a deadpan expression. “And I’m beginning to see why you are, too–” All of him went rigid, withdrawing slightly into the trailer with his head lowered, ear angled towards the right of him, listening as his gaze went unfocused.

After a few seconds, his lungs reawakened with a relieved breath. “Just coughing,” he said to himself. Dragging his attention back to you, he gestured weakly at his jacket to indicate his lack of clothing, still embarrassed at the situation. “Adrie, uh.. She puked on me earlier. That’s why I wasn’t–uhm–dressed.”

Worry edged its way into your question, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Kids get sick from daycare all the time. Basically just sentient germs running around, licking their hands after touching everything.”

Your eyebrows ticked up at the memory of the awful Dayquil hangovers following the weekends you worked as a clown for children’s birthday parties.

You asked, “And what about Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh.” Recognition, and the ease of a casual conversation overtook the near-permanent anticipatory hardness to his features, softening his bristly nature around you; finding you comforting when he was in the place where he was supposed to feel safest, but didn’t.

Home wasn’t home for Eddie Munson, and you felt that icy statement behind your ribs as you watched him pat his pocket as a way to check his rings were there for reassurance, acutely aware there was an hostile world at your back, and you chose to only see each other.

There was a tender innocence to his lip crooking up in a lopsided grin as he remembered you asked him a question. “Typical old man. Wayne was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring, that’s why he didn’t answer. He’s at work now, though.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Do you have soup?”

“Soup?”

“For Adrie,” you clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder, assumingly at the kitchen, and after some mental deduction, he shrugged in vague nonchalance. “Yeah, there’s probably soup for her.” As if you didn’t know him well enough at this point to read past the nervous habits weaving their way into his fidgety unsureness.

You backed down the stairs as you spoke, “Okay. Well then, guess I’ll get going since you have everything on lock down here. Got your sick kid, got your soup, got your notebook, and your uncle’s at work. Sounds like everything’s in order.” Hopping off the last step, you swung around the handrail and guided your bike to the road, beaming. “See ya!”

“Yeah, see ya,” he replied, settling into his usual side-ways glance around the trailer park, challenging the gawkers who watched a girl willingly walk up to his home and leave it smiling. They did not dare to say anything, of course; returning to their lives with sealed lips, pretending to pay him no mind. Just how it should be.

He held his chin high.

————

And when Eddie next answered the door, it was in the low blue hue of a setted sun, and he did so in his black jeans and a white tank top. His unzipped work jacket swayed prettily around his torso, low bun at his nape loosened to a mess, short curls in a frizz over his ears, and cheeks flushed. “I figured you’d be back,” he forced out evenly, doing his best to disguise his panting breaths.

You hugged the brown paper grocery bags to your chin, and grinned.

He stuck his foot behind him in an awkward curtsy, and swept his arm for you to enter.

Walking into his place for the first time there were many things to comprehend, absorb, fawn over, and ask about until he was tired of explaining their origins–and since you were already crossing an entire notebook’s worth of lines today, you inquired about the most obvious. “You, uh, like collecting hats and mugs?”

“They’re Wayne’s,” he grunted, unplugging the vacuum he left in the middle of the living room by yanking the cord out of the wall, and dragging it on his way to the hallway closet where he kicked and shoved things aside to make room, rattling the thin door that definitely had been punched through at one point, patched and painted over, and was now a canvas for crayon squiggles along the bottom. “Before he worked at the power plant, he was a trucker. Collected them at every rest stop in every state, that sorta thing.”

“Ah.”

In a quick spin, he surveyed the rest of the trailer, and made a similar “ah” sound when he saw the cleaning products and balled up paper towels on the tiny table squeezed against the wall. He lunged for them, stuffing the evidence and other garbage into the overflowing trash can. “I still keep up the tradition by getting him a mug for Christmas.” Jerking his chin at the shelf above him, he specified the one on the end. “This year was Looney Tunes.”

“How cute.” The bags crinkled in your arms as you stood in the entryway, nodding expectantly.

“Shit–Sorry.”

You smiled. He finished clearing a space on the wrap-around kitchen counter for you to set the groceries down, scooting a candle out of the way, flickering the flame he may have burnt himself on while lighting, if the red mark on his thumb was anything to go by. And he was back to pivoting, scanning the area, desperate to latch onto the object which would jog his memory on where he was in his cleaning: dishes dripped in the drying rack, Wayne’s grilled cheese endeavor was out of sight, the bathroom radiated the nose-burning scent of bleach.

He snapped his fingers at the overflowing trash can, and almost slipped in his frenzy to tie up the bag and rush for his boots, saying he’ll be right back on his way out, leaping down the stairs.

“Alrighty..”

The steady rumble of a washing machine rattled every loose bit of metal in the museum of belongings.

You waged war with your tennis shoes, wiggling out of them with the laces still tied, and stepped off the carpet dividing the trailer in half. The bubbling vinyl kitchen floor stuck to your socks, still damp from being mopped, and heaved the groceries onto the pale blue countertop, sliding them across decades worth of scratches scarring the material. Once you were sure you could let them go without a toppling situation, you took the goods out one at a time, but your attention was nosy and undivided.

Acting as foreground to the walls of hats and mugs was the rest of Eddie’s life. Laundry baskets occupied a couch with flattened cushions. A coffee table supported stacks of his daughter’s playthings after picking them out of the vacuum’s path. There was a fold out bed in the corner, and a modest TV situated on top of a VCR. To compensate for the lack of overhead light was an abundance of mismatched lamps on each surface.

It was a hodge podge, and it was cramped, and it was incomprehensible, and it was his house.

Turning, you began to guess at which cabinets he would store a bag of rice when you spotted the artwork hanging on the fridge.

Pinned under a teddy bear magnet was a decoupaged version of your Thanksgiving turkeys, cut out and glued to a single piece of construction paper, complete with the castle in the background. And secured safely under a smiley face magnet was a stick figure drawing of two people–one in a pink dress, one in all black scribble–and dated in neat ink by someone with less messy handwriting: 5/7/92.

Eddie came back to your wide grin, and two cans of baked beans held up in a question.

“They go over here,” he said, nodding at the skinny door next to where he stood at the small green table set for three chairs, organizing today’s mail in his hand.

You opened the pantry next to the recessed oven, and stacked the rest of the cans inside. Towards the back there were two white cereal boxes with plain blue text and nothing else, leaving you to deduce no one in his family stooped to eating unsweetened cornflakes even if that’s all they had. Meanwhile, he arranged overdue bills into a ladder style letter holder hung on the wall beside the phone, periodically taking one out and placing it down a rung, ordering them from most to least important.

“I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but I had to buy and install a new hot water heater,” he told you suddenly. Whether he was saying this because he was coasting on the fumes of his Christmas bonus until December’s child support arrived, or because he was simply too busy to go shopping, neither of you addressed it more than necessary. He accepted your help, and you didn’t pry.

“Unexpected shit sucks, huh?” you added for his benefit.

“Yeah,” he huffed in a short laugh, playing the same game.

And it was him who rested his forearms on the edge of the pale blue wrap-around counter, watching you commit good deed after good deed, guessing where groceries went in the cabinets, acclimating to his kitchen’s set up, and making room for a bag of grapes and three apples between his six pack of Pabst and block of Government cheese.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

You brightened at his voice, teetering on the edge of a smile just from that alone. “Always.”

He drew absent-minded circles with his finger as he tried to find the best way to word something he wondered about since the week you met. “When you saw Adrie for the first time, you had this really, uh, surprised look on your face.. Why was that?”

Your tone was dismissive in the wake of something that appeared to haunt him, “Oh, that?” You folded down the empty paper bags, and placed them on top of the fridge after he said Adrie would use them for arts and crafts. “Well, it’s like, Mr. Moore has dozens of pictures of his family on his desk, and Carl told me–approximately–ten different stories about his sons an hour after meeting him, and Kevin carries pictures of his dogs in his wallet. It just seemed like if you had a daughter, you would’ve shown me a picture too, like most dads.” You waved your hands around, and contorted your mouth in a silly manner. “I mean, it was just weird you never mentioned her.”

He took your assessment to heart, and opened the drawer closest to him. Amongst the clutter of junk was his black wallet resting on a coiled chain with clips on either end. Taking out the cheap leather, he cradled the width in his palm, and wiggled out a picture kept sealed behind a plastic window. He said, “Actually, I do carry a picture of her,” and handed it to you.

On instinct, you pored over the image of him first, prizing the crown of his head sporting the same wild haircut. He had his face tipped down to the newborn wrapped in a pink blanket in his arms, crooking her in their safety as he held a bottle to her lips. His knees were on display behind his ripped black jeans. His shirt was sleeveless. She was tiny and precious. He was decidedly emotionless from what you could see, sat on a couch that was not the same as the one across the room from you.

“That was taken at Harrington’s place,” he answered your unstated question, keen to the recognition washing over your face as you placed it as Nancy’s ugly pink floral loveseat.

You gave it back to him.

He looked over the captured moment in time, bleak gaze set on his little girl when she was so fragile, and small, and when he was so weak, and teetering on a long overdue breakdown.

“It took me a long time to carry this around,” he said, tone heavy with disappointment, regret, and shame. “Wayne and I were fighting constantly. And I mean, I don’t blame him. He gave up his life to take care of me when I was twelve, and I put so many gray hairs on his head that he went bald from my bullshit, and then there I was, bringing home a screaming infant I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of. Y’know, just proving I was a fuck-up right when he thought I was smart enough to get my act together.“ Tracing the sharp edge of the photo trimmed to fit his wallet, he placed it in its windowed slot and tossed it back in the drawer, closing the past from his sight. “I don’t have a lot of good memories from that time. Shit fucking sucked.”

“I can imagine,” was all you could say.

“I love her,” he said in the event you doubted him.

“I know you do,” you offered in return.

Steering the conversation in a different direction, you swung your index fingers at the extensive cabinetry, and asked, “Where’s a cutting board?” Right of the sink, he answered. “And a knife?” Top drawer next to your hip, he responded. But it took until you shook out the washed celery stalk, and snapped the ribs off, lining them up on the white plastic cutting board did he become suspicious.

He leaned more of his weight on his forearms, and kept his tone carefully neutral, “What’re you doing?”

Keeping your expression indifferent aside from your arched brows, you cut the celery into manageable sticks and began slicing them lengthways. “I believe I’m in Edward Munson’s trailer making him and his daughter soup.”

The crimson guitar pick at the end of his necklace swung forward, jostled from where it was stuck to the healthy sheen of sweat glistening along the top of his chest. “How do you know my full name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

He shifted his shoulders, head lowered, eyes narrowed, voice deep, “Better question. How do you know where I live?”

“A bigger birdie told me.”

“Someone told you about me?”

Rightfully confused, you pulled a face. “Huh? No. I was kidding. No one talks to me. Anyway, back to the soup.” You harnessed all your charm into impressing him by meeting his stare while you diced the celery, using your knuckles as guidance. “Are there any vegetables she won’t eat? Or stuff she’s allergic to?” Your flagrant insolence irked him: reading his notebook, inviting yourself to his residence, filling the voids in his kitchen with groceries, and now making him soup without ever asking if he wanted you to do those things.

Because of course he wanted you to do those things.

He surrendered to your kindness. “No allergies, and she’ll eat anything as long as it’s diced small–Yeah, like that–and cooked down to mush. It’s the one thing she’s always been good about.”

“And you?”

It took a few sad seconds for him to understand you were asking about his allergies and his preferences, not used to his needs being taken into consideration. “No, no, whatever you make is good. Uhm. Hey, you don’t have to do all of this. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m being serious. Adrie’s sick and I don’t want you to catch what she has.”

“Please,” you implored in thick sarcasm, “I’ve been coughed on by every disease known to man on the Q train. There’s not a cold or flu in existence I haven’t succumbed to. I’m immune at this point.”

You found a stock pot from the cabinet at the junction of the wrap-around counter and the sink, and set it on the cooktop to come to heat while you peeled and chopped an onion. Eddie dwelled in his observations; listening to you recount tales of working in kitchens because they were always hiring, collecting horror stories from being a dishwasher, a waitress, a morning food prepper; moving from title to title; birthday clown, bartender, craft store cashier. Flighty, flighty, flighty. He watched your hands move in quick chops and long sweeps down a carrot with skill he didn’t have the patience nor time to learn. He told you as much, how when he comes home he’s fucking tired, and doesn’t have the energy to make dinner.

“Now what’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in what he hoped was an exhausted tone, but he knew it was futile. The timidness was there, sneaking its way into his words when he made the leap to calling you an endearment in his own home. And how could he not when you pulled out a stack of tupperware, divided the piles of chopped vegetables between them, and wedged them into the freezer, still tending to the sweating mirepoix with a wooden spoon.

“It’s so next time you want soup they’re all ready to go. You don’t have to waste time cutting vegetables. Just dump a container in a pot and add broth and noodles, and call it a night.”

He made a fond noise in the back of his throat, looking at you through his lashes. “You’re really doing everything in your power to extort me for this ‘thank you’ I owe you, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who promised me something good,” you reminded him.

Water splashed, sputtered in the pot, steaming into a cloud of savory humidity, filling the living space with earthy aromatics. You added bouillon cubes, and stirred the stock together while turning the dial on high to bring the soup to a boil.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he said, petering out into a mumble, straying further from the current topic. He wasn’t finished talking about the previous one yet, and he made it known.

Tracing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, he tested a boundary, tiptoeing into a realm he did his best to ignore. “So, uh, you employ the same strategy with jobs as you do dating, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned. “Having an endless well of stories about shitty customers to pull from is perfect for stand up. Everyone loves the perpetually single girl who works in service or retail, and just can’t seem to find the love of her life, despite going on an insane amount of first dates with New York’s most average. It’s funny, and relatable.”

“And now you’re stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state.”

You released a sugary, syrupy, sweet giggle. “And now I’m stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state, and it’s the longest job I’ve ever held.”

His eyelashes fluttered from the nerves–the strong ache in his chest pressing down on him, stealing his breath. “And what about the dates? Gone on any with Hawkins’ finest?”

“Just one.” Though your back was to him while you washed and dried the cutting board, your smile was outlined in your banter. “But it was awful,” you emphasized in a dramatic sigh. “Worst date ever. He drank my Icee, wouldn’t stop talking during the movie, and, get this! He didn’t even tell me I was pretty. Not once.”

“What a jerk,” he agreed fullheartedly, scrunching his nose and twisting a curl of his hair over his stupidly smitten grin. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Actually, he was my favorite,” you corrected him, turning down the dial to where the coils lost their fluorescent glow. “Huge, huge nerd. Like, the biggest dork ever, but he was definitely my favorite out of any of my dates.” On your way to the green table, you bent close to his ear, and begged him in a whisper, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a real big ego about it.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Soups gotta simmer until the potatoes are done. Might as well sit.”

He unzipped his mouth. “When did you cut up potatoes?”

“When you were staring at me all dreamy-like,” you supplied, words dipped in coy and flirt.

Undecided on which way to balk at your claim, he did them all: rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, muttered a small “was not,” and slung himself into his usual chair at the table. He expected you to do the same, to match his silly theatrics with your own impassioned eye roll and smirk, but you didn’t. You sat across from him, poised, hands clasped together with the black notebook beside you.

The mood of the evening dipped visibly in your serious gaze set on him.

You tapped your knuckle on the metal spirals binding the worn pages of his latest campaign together. “No more secrets,” you punctuated. Three short words let go on an exhale. Three little words standing taller than the final barrier he built to keep others out. Not an ask, but a necessity if you were going to continue your relationship–platonic or not.

Your posture and expression were stern, but gentled by patience. “Let’s get to those rumors, hm.”

It was time.

No going back.

Whatever happens, happens.

Eddie took a shaky breath, and invited you over to the vulnerable truth. “Has anyone ever told you anything about me? Not like Harrington’s stories, but actual rumors?”

You shook your head. Between spending most of your time at work, or at Robin’s place, you didn’t have much opportunity to speak to random people, apart from small talk. And chit chatting about the weather was nowhere near as grave as what rooted itself in the solemn slow blink wherein he closed his eyes, and dipped his head.

“I’ll tell you everything, but can I ask you not to say anything while I explain?” he hesitated, knowing how it sounded. “I don’t know how else to word that to make it less rude, but this shit is difficult for me to talk about, and I’ll probably ramble, and go on tangents, and jump around the timeline, but, please, don’t interrupt me or say anything until I’m finished, okay? I don’t want to forget any of the details, and have to discuss this again. Can we do that?”

Digging your thumbnails harder into the flesh of your fingers, you agreed to the terms with a solid nod.

He swallowed. And when his tongue remained too thick in his dry mouth, he swallowed again, and sat up straight, pressing his back into the chair. “Okay.”

Two anxious stomachs twisted at once.

He cast his vacant stare around the room; never allowing it to land on you. This conversation was with himself and the green table and the shelf of mugs and the soup bubbling away on the stove and the washing machine entering its spinning cycle and the containers of Play-Doh on the coffee table; speaking to the non-judgemental objects instead of the person across from him.

“I’ll start with my reputation in school,” he said. “Probably doesn’t take much of an imagination to picture me as I am now with the same hobbies and opinions, just a lot louder about them. Heavy metal was the only music I listened to, and people called me weird for it. And I thought ‘weird?’ Was that supposed to bother me? I loved being weird! I wore the title ‘weird’ with pride. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. And when they saw I played Dungeons and Dragons, they called me a Satanist. Satanist? Like Ozzy, and all the bands I looked up to? Hell yeah! I thought being called a Satanist was so cool I sewed a Leviathan Cross on my jacket.” The corner of his lip jumped at a memory, smiling at something from long ago. Then, it faded. “Goes without saying I didn’t make many friends until I found other outcasts who shared those same views as me. We started a band together, and after some convincing, we made a DND club with me as the Dungeon Master. Of course people called me a cult leader for it, but being a cult leader sounded fucking awesome, so I encouraged it. Antagonized it. Weird, Devil-worshiper, cultist, freak. I wore them all like armor.”

He paused to crack his knuckles, expression falling blank as suppressed scenes unfolded in his head. “I got bullied a lot. Not that surprising. I was so aggressively opinionated about everything and never shut up. But the worst of it stopped when I got held back enough grades that I made “grown-up friends” and started dealing to help pay for my guitars and stuff.” He shrugged a single shoulder in apathy, and the tan jacket slipped down his arm, revealing a faded stick-and-poke viper above his armpit. “Unless it was Steve or someone in that friend circle, I was never invited to parties except to bring drugs. Weed, pills, whatever low scale stuff, nothing that serious, but I wasn’t very popular outside of that context.” The washing machine buzzed at the end of its cycle. “And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I did. I did care when my friends were out on dates with their girlfriends, and I was alone, stuck in front of a record player learning a song just to give myself something to do, and something to say I did over the weekend when they all talked about the movie they saw together.. Made me feel like I was the outcast even amongst the outcasts.”

Listening, but not responding, you smoothed your thumbs over the divots in your skin your nails left behind.

Swallowing again, he faltered, “Girls didn’t like me. Even if I was the cooler, older guy who was so confident in everything he did, I was still off-putting. Or just weird in the bad way, because I didn’t know how to act, and came on too strong, or too–I don’t know–fucking dorky, doing shit like opening doors and bowing for them, laughing too loud at my own jokes when they didn’t find them funny.” It took everything you had to not to break your promise–to stay silent, and indifferent, and not gather him into a hug and assure him all those goofy mannerisms were exactly why you liked him. “I dated, y’know.. Had girlfriends here and there, but they never lasted more than a month.”

To close one chapter of his life and open another, he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing over his chin as he spoke to the ceiling, “Now onto my old man.”

The hand he used to wipe the loneliness from his somber visage came to a rest on the edge of the table, and he ran the side of his palm along it as a way to fidget.

“He was in and out of jail for a number of things my whole life, but when I was twelve, he murdered someone. She was a nice lady. Well known in town, and well liked. Popular. Prom Queen, cheerleader type. Everyone loved her.. And he murdered her.”

Silence, silence, you remained in white-hot, visceral, sweat dripping, jaw-clenching silence.

“According to my criminal record, I was following in his footsteps. I had a penchant for stirring up trouble. It was fun. Stealing dumb shit, hotwiring an old car to drive us to the woods to get drunk when we were teenagers, dealing, begging Steve to throw ragers every weekend so I had an excuse to get shitfaced and run from the cops.. Yeah, it really looked like I was following in his footsteps. Following the Munson name.”

Eddie sat forward. Sleeved forearms sliding across aged coffee rings staining the green collapsible tabletop, and rubbing the backs of his fingers along the other. He was close enough for you to reach, to hold, to comfort when this was over, and the ghosts were put to rest from clouding his softhearted brown eyes.

“There was a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to” –he jumped his fingers in quotations– “on the rich side of town. It wasn’t one of Harrington’s, and I was out of my supply anyway, so I skipped out and spent the night here with my friends playing DND, and setting off fireworks in the trailer park, just having a good time.” The next inhale quivered his bottom lip, “I woke up in my bed to three cop cars blaring their sirens, and someone telling me I was being arrested for-for murder. Ah..”

You steeled yourself from blinking away.

“A girl died at that party. Prom Queen, head cheerleader. The type everyone knew, and everyone liked. And.. A-and, Jesus, I-I just need to get through this, I’m so sorry–but stuff was done to her body.”

The frankness hung in the room.

He screwed his eyes shut, and let the ugly reality spill from his mouth, “A guy from out of state went to that party with way harder shit than I sold, and she wanted to try some. They went to the bathroom together, he gave her too much, drugged her, she overdosed, and h-h-he..” His eyelids twitched with movement, and the tendons in his neck strained. You weren’t sure if he could hear the small, involuntary noise you made, but he chose the same words to avoid what you could infer. What all women could infer. “He did stuff to her body.”

His voice continued to crawl up an octave as his muscles braced in a reflexive cringe. “H-He left her there, and when her body was discovered, and the police were called, it didn’t take long before someone said they thought they saw me there, and once one person said they saw me there, suddenly everyone saw me there.” Hard swallow, palms wiped on jeans. “I was arrested the next morning, and even though I had three alibis, I didn’t have any hard receipts or any of that shit they wanted to establish where I was and at what time. And when my alibis were a bunch of Satanic cultist shithead troublemakers like me, they were brushed off. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s my friend’s word against thirty people who swore the long haired guy they saw at the party was me. Cops thought they caught their man, booked me, and had me in interrogation in under an hour from kicking down my door.”

He licked his lips.

“January of ‘88,” he said with an unsteady cadence, shooting out the sentences as they came to him, lurching faster and faster towards the horrid scars he’d never heal from. “I was so fucking lucky, so fucking lucky. DNA testing had only become a thing the year before. Mhm. That’s what saved my ass. But even then, it wasn’t like it is now. That shit took weeks to process.” He lifted his hands–fingers loosely curled, trembling. “For weeks they made me look at the pictures of her. H-Her body. The b-bruises around her neck.” He gestured at his own, and his voice swung higher pitched, “Interrogated me over and over again. For days, and weeks. Trying to get me to confess. It took weeks to prove I was innocent, and clear my name. Weeks, and weeks. A-A-And in those weeks–”

The trembling escalated to uncontrollable shaking.

“–Fuck–I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, volume fluctuating.

The air was too thick to breathe.

The wrinkles between his brows deepened, as did the lines bracketing his mouth. Red flush overtook his shuddering chest, his strained throat, his scrunched face with his eyes closed in refusal to acknowledge you sat opposite him, your expression slackened by dread.

“In the weeks between waiting f-for the DNA results,” each word wobbled worse than the last, “I found out Adrie’s mom was four months pregnant. And if I knew, then all of Hawkins knew. Everyone knew I knocked someone up, and.. and more rumors started..” He lifted his eyebrows, and his hands developed a violent shiver, hovering over the table, palms open, afraid and begging. “Because of.. what happened to the body.. People thought that she was.. That I..” each pause was a short wheeze.

Your blood ran cold with the slow realization of what word he was avoiding.

Desperation influenced his stammer, “I swear to you, w-what happened between us was consensual,” he stressed the last word in a whimper delivered straight to your dropped stomach. “She doesn’t answer my calls–but I could try, if you need to hear it from her–I promise, I promise, as soon as the rumors started, as soon as they started, she denied them. She tried to stop them from spreading. She tried. She told everyone it-it-it wasn't–that we both chose to–” he sniffed back the croaky sob, and without the grace of respite, he coughed the rasp from his throat, and ushered you into another apology you didn’t know you were owed, “I should’ve told you before we went to Adrie’s school. You had a right to know why people were staring. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In the room at the end of the dark hallway, his daughter who he sacrificed everything for rolled over in her bed, bringing the covers with her. In the belly of the trailer belonging to his uncle, you kept your feet tucked under your chair, letting the information wash over you in worse and worse crashes. In the lousy home he hated, Eddie held his breath until the aches reached their peak, and released them in a cough; and another, and another, until the pain subsided.

Deep breath, deep breath.

Your chair creaked from your uncomfortable shifting.

With time, the tension in his body waned to where his composed words could be heard in all the clarity they deserved, “I know this has been a lot to hear, and process, and I’m so sorry for unloading all of this on you at once, but I wanted you to know the whole story so you could make an informed decision.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to speak yet, but your whisper broke through, “Informed decision?”

Cheeks hot, but dry, and lower lashes clumped together from the rescinded tears, he answered you indirectly at first, “It took months to find and arrest the guy, and by then Hawkins didn’t care. Babe, you can be anonymous in the city, but this is how small town mentality works. All it took was one person to say I was at that party, and like that, my life was ruined. My name was stained. No one cared if I was innocent. The culprit was some other guy they’d never heard of from another state whose picture they flashed on the 6 o’clock news once. He might as well not even exist.” A pause. A change. A regret. “I want to protect you.”

There was pressure building behind your eyes, and you moved your gaze to the shelves above you in an effort to stifle the well of tears from falling–for him, for the dead girl, for what he was about to say next.

Eddie alternated between weakly slapping his hands flat on the table, then turning over to show his palms, then slapping them down again; guilt and shame and loneliness and fear working its way into every part of his gentle nature. “My name carries a stigma, and if you’re going to be coming around to my place, or be seen with me in public, you need to know there are consequences. Assumptions are going to be made about you. People are going to speculate, warn you, judge you. You don’t deserve that shit, so please, tell me, and I’ll accept just being friends at work, and leave it at that. I won’t ask questions. I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for more.”

“What?”

“I’ll understand,” he said, eyes tightening in a flinch.

“Eddie–” It came out broken. His encouragement for you to end the burden of this relationship at coworkers for the sake of your image stung like the tender throb of rejection–except, it was worse. It was him giving you permission to break things off because he didn’t see himself as worth the hassle.

Your poise collapsed. “You’re right, it is a lot to process, and it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about for the next week, a-and yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but Eddie–” His knuckles made a harsh sound when you grasped for his hand, knocking them on the table with the force of your messy coordination through the blur of true friendship disrupting your vision. “This changes nothing between us.”

Graceless under the circumstances, you took his right hand and wrapped your fingers around his thumb, fitting the meat of your palm into the curve of his. You delved your other fingers under his sleeve cuff, stroking them down, then up, slotting them beneath the stretchy bracelet. D-A-D-D-Y. He cupped his free hand over top of yours, enveloping them both, and waded through the entanglement to caress the prominent callus at the tip of his middle finger over the white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I’m with you,” you said. “I’m here. And whenever you want me here, whenever Adrie wants me here, ask and I’ll be on my bike pedaling as fast as I can.”

His face pinched in sentimental yearn. “Baby..”

Instead of suffocating the intensity of his emotions as he normally would, he slid his chair back and buried his head in the hollow of his outstretched arms; and in the pocket of space where he felt safest, he allowed himself the relief of two hot tears streaking through the fine sweat overtaking his puffy face. They clung to the tip of his nose, and dripped to his jeans in a loud splat.

He snorted, but it came out as a muted huff due to his stopped up sinuses. “Can’t believe I made it all the way through that sober and without crying, and then you just–went ahead and said something like that.”

You smiled. He probably did, too. Then as yours ebbed, his probably did, too.

The intertwined pocket where you clasped each other ran hot with body temperature, humidity, and the loaded implications of his confession and your subsequent acceptance. Heavy with the context for why people stared at him. Their significant glances at you, and the new depths and meaning beyond people thinking he was weird, and you were weird by association.

But at the same time, their stares didn’t last long. They were glances by every definition. A look over, a judgment, and then away, back to their own little world and their own little lives.

You asked, “Are the rumors still as bad as they were?”

The short curls at the crown of his head waved back and forth with his slow head shake. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve gotten better in a weird, fucked up way.” He sniffled, and wiped his nose on the inside of his sleeve before returning to the darkened confines of his arms, refusing excess stimulation until he could handle it. “Ever since Home Alone came out, my friends joke that I’m like that old man, y’know, the one all the neighborhood kids target, and turn one rumor about him into this entire narrative where he’s slayed over a dozen people, and keeps the bodies in his basement.” He laughed, truly. A warm, muffled thing. “That’s the sorta rumors going around now, I think; that I’m some Boogieman that gets blamed for every bump in the night. Adults probably know the accusations, but, like I said, Adrie’s mom did try to stop the other ones, but I guess I don’t know for sure if–when people look at you and me–that’s what they’re thinking. Uhm, I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore.”

“You’re good,” you consoled him. Your thumbs whispered sentiments on his skin, smoothing over the rough terrain from his labor, and catching on the excess sweat, wicking it away and creating more with each hindered brush across his inner wrist, trapped under the weight of his heavy hand copying you; running his fingers over wherever he could, needy, grounding himself to your presence, and seeking closure. “Thank you for finally telling me.”

“Thanks for listening,” he responded quietly.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders to his cheeks, and dried his face on his jacket to the best of his ability. Together, you sat in silence for a while longer, holding each other. Thinking. Decompressing. Plunging into the ice water of yet another development in your relationship, and emerging to the surface in unison, breaking the surface tension latched together by the same lifesaver.

You squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I think I need a minute,” Eddie said, throwing his head towards the bathroom and letting go of you to inelegantly wipe at his runny nose. He drew further away from the table, standing up and walking in his odd, awkward way; playing with his bangs, and taking his hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll see if Adrie’s awake and wants soup, too.” The edge of the bathroom door flooded with yellowed light and a faucet was turned on high.

There was a nice moment where you nodded at the homely kitchen, lost in thought, absorbing the sounds and smells of the thick bubbling brew, and tomatoey pungence. Until it dawned on you.

“Shit, the soup–!”

Thankfully, as you stirred, the potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot dislodged themselves, and nothing appeared burnt. Because, honestly, you couldn’t take the wound to your pride if the first time you ever cooked for Eddie Munson resulted in you burning soup.

After searching, you discovered the cabinet above the dish rack housed the dinnerware. You grabbed two mismatched bowls and hesitated on the shallow Little Mermaid one, until hearing the click of the bathroom door swinging open, and a squeak from the adjacent bedroom.

Soft footsteps announced his excitement before you could turn and see Eddie’s silly hand wave.

Come here, he mouthed, peeking from around the wall.

You dropped the serving spoon on the–had to be homemade–ceramic ashtray masquerading as spoon rest, and followed, hungry for new discoveries; the first being the (offensively ugly) pirate ship wheel chandelier hanging above the washing machine you had to have been an idiot to miss earlier. Deeper into the carpeted hallway was the coat closet with crayon squiggles, a shelf of kitschy knick knacks, and a thrifted painting of a lake scene with the curled-edge price sticker still on the corner of the glass. Passing the bathroom, you got a glimpse of a dark green shower curtain, a wet rag on a packed sink of various spilled products, and a bucket of rubber ducks next to the tub.

Eddie slowed, and you were confronted with his back. Slim shoulders on display from his oversized jacket falling further down his arms, thick canvas folding over itself around his tapered waist. The white tank top was stretched to fit him, hem of the armholes digging into his flexed lats as he eased the bedroom door open, back muscles contouring in the heavy shadows as he hunched and held his breath at the creaky hinges broadcasting his entrance. Edges of tattoos taunted you while he blinked into the darkness. And when the one who usurped his bed nearly five years ago didn’t wake, he straightened up and shook his hair out of his face.

He angled to the side, opening himself to you with his arm outstretched; an unspoken suggestion in his fingertips finding the edge of your cable knit sweater. You understood the glossy shine of unfiltered love in his gaze, and fit yourself between him and the doorway, stealing the soft filtered light brushing Adrienne’s sleeping form in tender illumination–made sweeter by the curls falling over her closed eyes, and the pale blue unicorn hugged in her arms.

‘Oh,’ you sighed in surprise, and clasped your hands on either side of your cheeks, craning to look up at him.

Just like the time he helped you hang decorations in the breakroom, your head made contact with the stick-and-poke viper, and his grin was instant.

His inhale cradled you. “She loves that thing,” he said, chest rumbling against your nape, stomach pressing to your side with an amused grunt, filling the gaps between you and him with warmth.

It was as if nothing changed. Not really.

Eddie canted his forehead to you with an expression of mild jealousy over your plush toy wrapped in his little girl’s arms when his cold plasticy ones sat at a miniature table in a pink playhouse pretending to have a tea party. His eyebrows were the same–raised, hidden beneath the wet stringy pieces of his bangs skimming his wrinkled forehead. His damp cheeks, jaw, and neck were the same after his cold water wake up call, splashing himself over the bathroom sink. His full lips were the same, pink and pulled back to show his teeth. His strong chin was the same, peppered with a recent shave. His handsome nose was the same, albeit red. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes were the same, if not slightly fuller from his recent cry.

But everything had changed.

Before, you lacked the understanding of the fear in his eyes when Mr. Moore had walked into the shop. How he had risked a painful bruise on his hip from the chair he knocked over in his scramble to get away from you. The tremble in his hands when he ran them through his hair in an urgent act to appear composed, and not like he was doing something worse with you. To you.

Everything was different, but it was felt, not seen.

The leftover adrenaline from the confrontation at his kitchen table faded, and in its place, rising from the truest, barest, rawest vulnerabilities of himself, was trust. A candid expression of respect in his palm at your back, fingers curled in to stroke his nails along the knitted design of your turtleneck. He confessed his secrets, you knew him to be an innocent man, and despite his worry for your reputation becoming infected by his, you promised him the same loyalty you always had, because there was not a lie in existence that would break the bond you facilitated months ago, born from your sheer desire to annoy the one mechanic who wouldn’t speak to you.

Felt, not seen.

A promise, and an urge.

The tingly pleasure of his nails scratching over your sweater advanced to a divine expression of affection.

He wrapped his arm around you, settling his hand in the curve above your hip. It lasted all of two seconds, long enough for him to bring you into the crook of his body for the purpose of whispering something in your ear, but it was a phenomenal improvement over the usual nervous flittering his fingers performed when in your company.

His voice was candy sweet after watching your face break into a smile for his daughter, “Maybe we should let her sleep, hmm?”

You leaned into him. “Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your head along his shoulder, guiding your silly grin from him to Adrie. “She looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet,” he observed in the wise tone of a single father after long hours of soothing his child’s headache when her cries created one of his own, and juggling the duty of cleaning up her puke from the floor, her clothes, his clothes, and bathing her while wallowing in the misery of doing it all by himself.

Eddie persuaded you into the hallway, and closed the door behind him, letting his arm fall to his side, ending the cocoon of warmth he provided with the harsh drag of the metal zipper scratching across the back of your jeans. He followed you to the kitchen and opened the fridge, muttering a string of words about deserving something as he snapped a silver and blue can from the plastic ring holding them together. “Want a beer? I don’t think you can get a DUI on a bike.”

“You actually can in some states.” You didn’t elaborate, and continued spooning soup into the bowls in questionable silence. “But no, thank you.”

Crack, tss. He held your stare over the rim as he tipped back a long gulp, pressed his lips together, and swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah,’ giving you ample time to ignore him. Finally, he moved his hand about, and asked, “Not gonna tell me why you know that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Moving on, you located two spoons from the absolute chaos of the cutlery drawer, and brought the bowls to the table while he reached into the pantry for an open sleeve of saltines, tossing them between the both of you and falling into his chair with a soft grunt.

“This looks great,” he complimented in earnest, voice and face alight with appreciation as he thrashed his arms to get out of his jacket, and took another sip of beer before crowding his side of the table with elbows, forearms, and hands; always holding the Pabst, or the soup, or reaching; always in motion, dominating the space you shared between your bowls, and beneath, where your legs were slotted in tight between his wide-spread knees.

His manners were about what you would assume after eating lunch with him many times, but that’s not what had you breathless.

He just.. took off his jacket like it was a completely normal thing he did dozens of times in front of you, sometimes accompanied by a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, or joined by a sneer at some bad joke you told.

But it wasn’t normal. Not this time.

Hungry, hungry, hungry, you devoured the sight of his bare skin.

While he stirred the finely diced carrots and potatoes, you were afforded the time to admire the art no longer hidden by coveralls. Guessing at the older blotchy etches on his inner arm, theorizing about the origins of the souvenirs done in various stages between professional and very not professional, probably by himself or a friend. He didn’t have many, but it was easy to get caught up in the collection of motifs spanning from the top of his shoulders, and crawling in disorder downwards, to a tiny dagger at the apex of his bicep, two dice above his elbow, and a classic twist of barbed wire. Very cool and tough, but your roving stopped at one tattoo in particular.

Rather, one cluster of tattoos making up a whole.

“The bats..”

He perked up at your whisper–”Hm?”–and looked down at his arm. “Oh, yeah. These were my fourth, I think? Somethin’ like that. You like ‘em?” he asked, mouth cutting into the same delighted place a smirk originated from, but with more fascination as he too realized this was your first (technically second) time seeing his exposed arms.

Sucking in your cheeks to curb your habit of smiling at everything he said, you nodded in response, falling into a rhythmic head dip as you thought back to your first time meeting Adrie, and the picture she drew for you, and her Halloween costume, and how she chose not to dress as a princess like all her friends, but as a bat instead, because her daddy liked bats. “Yeah.. Yeah, I like them.”

He removed the twist tie from around the crackers and counted out three, stacking them neatly between his palms and, without warning, crushing them into his soup, sending a fine powder into the air.

It was obvious you were watching him on account of your untouched food, but it was beyond your control. Winter created a barrier between you and his skin. You needed to reap the beauty now while you could. Learn what you could, like the scorpion above his collar bone opposite the viper, and the eyeball monster with tentacles twisting over the bulk of muscles laying dormant in his solid forearms, and whatever the hell else was peeking out from under his tank top.

He scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, and determined he needed one more cracker to make his soup as thick as he liked, and collected it from the crinkly pack. Yet another simple movement he had executed hundreds of times in front of you, and yet..

You stared. And stared. And stared. And made a sound of disgust. Rising from your chair, you loomed an impressive shadow over Eddie’s face as he gazed up at you with an expression of open confusion.

His eyes were trained solely on the pretty glint in yours.

Shiver. Goosebumps.

He jumped at your bold finger slipping under the strap of his tank top to move it aside. You pinched your brows, narrowed your eyes, and pressed your palm to his skin, enthralled by the sensation of him existing under you, aware of the full breath he took to fill out his chest as you introduced the touch.

Humming, you studied your hand cupped over the black widow spider inked onto his naked pec, and concluded, “That one’s smaller than my palm.”

The pale saltine cracker shattered in his grip.

Acting oblivious, you scooted your chair under you, sat, smoothed your hands over your lap as if a napkin existed there, and slurped your spoonful of soup as if you had done something as natural as point out the weather.

He released his surprise in a huff, and brushed the crumbs from his palms. “You are the lamest person I have ever met.”

“Have you met yourself?” At his weak glare, you slurped more of your soup. An amicable silence followed–the sort of camaraderie communicated through full bellies–but there’d been something on your mind since he willingly opened himself up to you and shared his past, expecting his name to become a forgotten word in your mouth and nothing more. “Hey, since we’re like, baring our souls and shit tonight, do you want to know why I created my ‘yes’ policy?”

Instead of a comically over-quirked eyebrow, he showed genuine interest in listening to your story. He set down his spoon, and turned his full attention to you. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m tellin’ ya now, it’s not as riveting as yours, but uh,” you faltered on a pause, and fostered the same sort of nervous shrug he did. “Growing up, my parents were really.. negative, I guess is the best way to put it. Like, they wouldn’t let me hang out with friends, told me I’d never amount to anything, said I was a disappointment. Y’know, normal stuff. Uhm, I wasn’t allowed to do much, only really leaving the house to go to school or go to my job when I was old enough to have one. They said I’d never live up to their expectations, I was a failure, I’d never get a boyfriend, I’d be a bad wife, I’m going nowhere in life, and I’m an annoyance and take up too much of their time, and I was never wanted.” You swiped your tongue along your top teeth, and popped your lips after perhaps sharing too much. “Anyway, I made good grades in high school, so I took a lot of electives, and one of those happened to be Drama class. This may come as a surprise, but I was really shy at first, but after a while I got used to playing different roles, and fell in love with the freedom of becoming whoever I wanted on stage. And one day my teacher taught us a lesson in improv, and yeah.. the moment she explained the concept of ‘Yes, and..’ I was hooked. Just the mindset of nothing being rejected, and no idea was made fun of, or shot down was brand new to me. And as you can infer by now, I adopted that ideology for my own life, and, uh, yeah, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to everything since then and never looked back. Literally, I’ve talked to my parents like, once since moving out, and that was about my insurance.

“Uh, anyway,” you said, still talking a mile a minute, “it did kinda create a people-pleasing complex for a while. I wanted to say ‘yes’ to everyone because it made them happy, since, y’know, I was always told ‘no’ and it did the opposite. But it’s whatever. And, uh, while we’re doing this, I wanted to apologize for always pointing out that you’re single.” You avoided eye contact. “Kinda harsh in hindsight.”

He broke into a laugh–a loud clap like thunder, and curling in on himself–finding the humor in your flustered state.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny,” you deadpanned.

“No, no, sorry–” He concealed his giggles behind his knuckle crooked to his lips. “I, yeah, I’m sorry for pointing out that you’re single too.”

“Appreciated.”

The brief teasing commenced to a slight frown between his eyebrows. His gaze drifted to his soup, worry twisting at his lips as the bubbles of oil sloshed across the surface of the reddened broth, trembling in ripples from his bouncing leg.

Eddie was emotionally fatigued. Words weren’t coming to him–none that carried the weight they needed–so he offered an alternative to hollow apologies.

He brought a shaky spoonful of soup to his lips, and dribbled some off the side as he overcorrected the angle he needed to slide it into his mouth. The next dive for a potato proved just as awkward, trepidatious, but the struggle of eating with his non-dominant side was worth it.

Your fingertips brushed over saltine dust as you accepted the proposal of his hand resting at the center of the table, palm open, and fingers coaxing you to reunite skin on skin.

“I like your policy,” he said, voice gone gruff with the exhaustion of the day.

“Really? On more than one occasion you’ve called it stupid, irresponsible, absurd, the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of, naive–”

He shut you up by curling his fingers over yours, setting your cheeks ablaze with his unashamed thumb pressed to your bracelet. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your policy.”

A powerful move, and you matched the intimacy.

You hooked your thumb around to the scars lining the backs of his fingers, and lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, giving yourself to him with each circle you massaged over his knuckles and between the joints. He did the same. Touching, touching, touching. Trusting. Melting into each other's palms. Holding hands with a man accused of so much, and forgiven so little. Holding hands with someone, just months ago, he brushed off as flippantly as her parents did.

He was sorry for the way he treated you.

You were sorry for the way the world treated him.

He squeezed.

You squeezed back.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked with a whine.

The pot of leftover soup still sat without a lid on the stovetop, and the serving spoon had a layer of scum dried to it. The dirty bowls and spoons were stacked in the sink, and Eddie hadn’t moved his wet laundry from the washing machine yet. Surely, you could help by wiping up the crumbs on the table, or cleaning up the spilled toothpaste on the bathroom sink, or–

He clapped his hands on your shoulders. “No,” he stressed slowly, “it’s late, and I’d prefer it if you got home before Buckley’s mom starts filing a missing persons report, and adding another rumor to my ass.” You cupped his elbows–barricaded from his body heat by his jacket–and opened your mouth, ready to argue. “And I swear if you don’t turn on your bike’s headlight, I’m gonna–”

You threw your head back, and groaned, “You’re so annoying.”

With the trailer’s door open, the quiet night penetrated the mix of air colliding from his warm kitchen and meeting the windless cold from the season, joining where your bodies connected on his cement steps. Your shoes dragged on the pebbly concrete in a woeful goodbye, making your effort to leave appear utmost arduous, tacking on a classic bottom lip pout when you both relinquished your holds on each other, and he shooed you off.

Not like you actually wanted to clean his house, it was just fun to annoy him into thinking you did.

Leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, mirroring your fondness in his gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before people start gossiping about the pretty girl leaving my trailer, alive.”

The sudden belly laugh escaping you reverberated off the metal boneyard.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” and after a thought, you asked gently while crouched to unchain your bike from the handrail, “Do you normally joke about what happened to you?”

His shadow shrugged over the hubcap hidden amongst the crunchy brittle grass. “Makes it easier, sometimes.”

“Noted.” You threw your leg over the seat, and made a big production of clicking on the headlight situated between your handlebars. “See you at work tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The scoff he was going for devolved into a snort. “Bye. Be safe. Please.”

Eddie locked the door behind him.

For minutes he stood at the center of his uncle’s trailer. It looked much the same as any other day when he came home from work, if not neater. But things had changed. As much as he liked eating across from Adrie, the two bowls in the sink were adult-sized, and it wasn’t the scent of stale smoke clinging to Wayne’s flannels that had Eddie throwing his arms over his head, locking his grip around his wrist, and twisting back and forth on the spot.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said I was gonna invite her over,” he informed no one but the darkness behind his closed eyes, remembering he promised Adrie that you’d come over soon.

Inhaling deep, he expelled a loud sigh and addressed the leftover soup. “But what a fucking night, huh?”

Inundated by the heaviness of feeling wanted, he opened the fridge and grabbed a tall boy stuffed behind the shelf of condiments. It wasn’t a drink of sadness as it usually was, but in celebration.

Afterall, he had much to celebrate. He held your hand. Twice.

And, not to mention, you know, how he showed you the gruesome details of the reality he lived in–his home, his reputation, his daughter sneezing into his open mouth when he was instructing her on how to take her temperature while you gagged from outside her bedroom. You knew it all, and you’d see him tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Morning smiles, afternoon laughter. Maybe he’d even ask that question he’d meant to before you left.

But for now..

He ran his fingers over the old tattoo on his shoulder, and pressed his palm over it, replicating the weight of your head resting there when you so lovingly witnessed Adrie being his best wingman, hugging her stuffed unicorn while she slept. It’s what gave him the bravery to wrap his arm around you. And what did you do in return? You leaned into him with a smile, utterly charmed by his forwardness, if his cynical eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A voice in the back of his head whispered a seed of doubt, but after a sip, he dismissed it.

“Still fucking got it, Munson,” he complimented himself, downing a long gulp.

————

See you at work tomorrow..

You definitely didn’t see him tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

“Here you go, my lovely,” Robin cooed. She entered your room on tiptoes, ever so quiet, and placed your requested bottle of Nyquil on the bedside table with a glass of water. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

You broke from your nest of blankets for the lone reason of glaring at her saccharine voice; somehow sweating through yet another t-shirt, while still shivering as if you’d just emerged from an ice bath.

“Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” she comforted you with a pinch to your cheek. “It’s what you get for locking lips with Eddie.”

“I did not–” You cut your own self off with a round of coughs, making your attempts at speaking scratchier, and scratchier. And by the time you’d recovered, Robin had escorted herself out of your vicinity.

Her giggles haunted you from downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s fine!” She yelled to her mom. “Just lovesick.”

You rolled over, and sighed.

Goodbye extra sick day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

3K notes · View notes

allforhee · 8 months ago

Text

ੈ✩ — 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇! (BLURB) | YANG JUNGWON

୨୧ pairing — non!idol!bf!jungwon x gn!reader

୨୧ synopsis — having jungwon as your boyfriend is full of surprises, and after dating him for a while, he takes you on once again another date. at this date, which happens to be an arcade date, you see the playful and child-like version of him, which makes you fall in love with him more.

୨୧ genre — established relationship, you guys were the best friends to lovers trope

୨୧ warnings — cute coupley stuff, jungwon being absolutely adorable, lovers only starting off their relationship aka still being shy with the lovey dovey stuff

୨୧ word count — 879 words, sorta proofread

୨୧ author's note — a bunch of moots on my twitter have been requesting a jungwon fic... so here it is! i hope you all enjoy and i hope i did my wonie girlies some justice ^^ pls i hope the ending line made sense ik it's cheesy but i love claw machines so i hope you enjoy wonie freaking over claw machines !!

"𝐍𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓, 𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!" an excited jungwon squeals as he pulls you by the wrist.

date nights with jungwon were not uncommon. whether it be cafe hopping or watching a horror movie, you had been on many dates with him.

even if it was only a few months into your relationship with him, he always had a surprise up his sleeve. he always made date nights interesting.

as jungwon grabs your wrist to run to what he was pointing at, you take in this new aura of your boyfriend. the surrounding bright neon lights and the glow in the dark carpeted floor made it clear. jungwon had brought you to an arcade.

as you finally reach your destination after what felt like an eternity of jungwon pulling you, you come across a bright light in front of you, a square cube filled with all kinds of plushes. a claw machine.

"ynnie! look! oh i have to win one! where's my game card?" jungwon exclaims as he frantically looks for his game card he bought, prior to the date night.

"wonie, you know this is a scam, right?" you explain to him, as he's still looking for the card in his totebag.

jungwon gasps wildly, and looks at you like you just stole all the stars from the sky. "how dare you?! these are little plushies just waiting to be saved! can't you see their little faces trapped in that horrid cage?"

you laugh at his exaggeration, his face all pouty from your 'insult.'

as he finally finds his game card, his smiling expression beaming, he enthusiastically taps his card on the scanner, before the arcade music starts, and the 30 second countdown begins.

jungwon looks up into the glass cage as he can now move the crane with the joystick. he beams up into the cage as he slowly moves the arm to which plush he wants to get.

"oh- so clo- wait- baby can you check from the sides to see if it can properly grasp it?" jungwon asks, his face beaming with excitement.

you sigh as you move aside, looking into the glass cage from the sides. you decide to play with him a bit, "oh! move it back just a tad bit! yes- a bit mor- right there!"

as jungwon presses the big red CATCH button with confidence, you smile at him menacingly from the side, as the claw completely misses the plush.

"wait— no! i was so close!" jungwon cries out, seeing the claw move towards the drop zone without a plush in it.

you giggle and jungwon spots you, before giving you a pout. "baby~ what was that for?"

"you looked so excited to get the plush! i'm sorry, we'll try again, m'kay?" you confessed, as his face begins to light up again once more.

jungwon smiles and jumps in excitement, before tapping the card once more, and the game starts all over again.

this time, you're actually determined to help him get the plush, after seeing his beaming face and glowing smile. you can't help but wonder how it would be like if you could have that smile embedded in your brain.

as he moves the joystick and the claw moves once more, you grasp his hand—which was holding the joystick and help him adjust. he looks at you with a smile before focusing back to the game.

finally, you make the last few adjustments before you grab his hand to hit the CATCH button. at first, jungwon was surprised with the sudden decision, "ynnie~ that wasn't in place yet!" he whined.

you smiled at him before looking back into the cage, only to find the claw grasping none other than the plush he wanted. as the claw lifted it up, jungwon's eyes were focused. his eyes stuck following the plush, where it moved swiftly, and finally landed in the drop zone.

jungwon let out an excited gasp, before squatting down and grabbing the plush out of the collect here drawer. he smiled at you with that beaming smile, and you could feel your cheeks grow red.

"baby see! i told you we could do it! i caught it!" he smiled, holding the plush in your face, showing it off.

you giggled at him before mumbling "no, you're a catch."

you had thought jungwon was too enthralled in the plush to hear you, but his super-hearing picked up what you said.

"hmm? what did you say?" jungwon questioned you.

you snapped back into reality, gazing into his eyes, "what? oh nothing..."

jungwon laughed, "you think i'm a catch, don'tcha?"

you tried to hide your face in your hands, hiding your red face, before jungwon pulled you in a hug. you continued to hide your face in his neck, embarrassed.

"you don't have to hide, baby." jungwon giggled, as he pat your head, and kissed your forehead out of habit.

you felt goosebumps run throughout your body, before looking up and smiling at him. you kissed his cheek shyly, as you felt a soft item land in your arms.

as jungwon placed the plush he just won in your arms, he beamed at your confused expression, "i don't need the plush, you're always going to be my catch anyways."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

#allforhee #allforhee-writes #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon imagines #yang jungwon fic #jungwon enhypen #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon fluff #yang jungwon fanfic #yang jungwon scenarios #enhypen maknae line

198 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

Pink Elephants

Art by Vamos_MK on twitter I do not own it!

Dark Tsudare Buggy x FemReader

SPICY ANGST

Buy me a Ko-Fi? ☕️

MUST BE 18+ TO READ!

So SO much fucked up shit in this one- So if you are light of heart or have any trauma, Please go to literally any other post of mine. I have a masterlist Right here- And if you've finished this here is something nice and Fluffy to balance out for you honey I gotcha. Hell here is a link to Kittens on Pinterest you deserve it.

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ Angst, Drugged sex, Non Con, Dead Dove, Tsudare Buggy, Overstimulation, Creampie, Spit as Lube, Unprotected sex, Branding, Living sex toy, Public sex, Humiliation and honestly a bunch more shit. This warning should be 2 pages long- hell I'll throw in bad writing.

I wrotw this while watching AHS. Blame American Horror Stories- If you know You Know

Day 5: Collar

"Captian!" She heard her first mate yell out- Captian (Y/N) of the (Y/N) Pirates, a feared face of pirates and a upcoming star here in the East Blue. She had recently acquired a 16,000,000 Berry bounty and was seen as a flashy newcomer. It was late and she had been going over an upcoming raid on a fairly wealthy town when called.

Rushing out from the Map room (Y/N) Rushed to the seeing her crew on full alert. Looking out to see a massive ship heading towards their vessel- (Y/N) assuming it must be a Marine Battle ship.

"Ready the canons! Point to starboard!!" She yelled as the screw scrambled to ready the canons however it seemed too late for that as canon fire from the other ship sounded. Everyone based for impact but it never came, instead similar to fireworks large orbs of red shot above them and exploded releasing a mine mist.

A red cloud coating the ship as (Y/N) tried to cover her face with her coat to tried and reduce the effect of the fog as she stumbled to the side trying to fight it as she saw her crew fall one by one to the mountainous ship heading towards them.

"Fuck" She managed out before falling unconscious as well. When waken up (Y/N) did not know how long it had been, Groaning at the ache from her head as the sedative wore away.

"Now my newest performers are here!" A cheery voice sounded as the performing freaks paused their acts and stepped to the side, allowing their ringleader to walk through.

Seeing that her and the crew were bound with thick chains on a dirt floor- She shifted slightly and it was like everything came to life, Bright lights and circus music started up suddenly as circus performers began to perform around (Y/N) and the crew getting close and laughing at the surprise on everyone's face.

Buggy The Clown- He was well known and while a pain in the ass for some he did have the potential to be dangerous and cruel. He smiled down at (Y/N) looking almost impressed by her appearance. Tapping his foot impatiently as he straightened out invisible imperfections in his coat.

"Wow, Those bounty posters down do you much justice, Much prettier in person. Speaking of which!-" Reaching into his coat he brought out her bounty for all to see, Smiling but a gleam of anger in his eyes.

"Captian (Y/N)! A newcomer managing to outshine me here in the East Blue! And on top of that hitting the locations I wanted~" He said with a laugh, crumbling the poster and tossing it to the side like nothing.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, didn't even react to this- Instead acting completely stoic in response as Buggy stepped over and backhanded her. Barely able to hold back the yelp that wanted to rip through her throat, but instead held her head up. Clearly this pissing Buggy off as he clenched his fist-

"Fine, really that indifferent?" Buggy chimed, suddently grabbing the cabin boy roughly by the hair- He was no older then 15 and fat tears rolled down his cheeks in terror. Buggy pulled a blade from his coat and looked (Y/N) straight in the eyes.

"Nothing to say? Ohh Tough I see!" He said amused, laughing as She kept her eyes on him calmly.

"See I heard this rumor that you love your Crew- Would do anything for them! How loyal they are to you" A shiver went up (Y/N) spine at hearing him say this.

"How sweet huh? A Captian willing to do anything for their crew" He said, before suddently punching her First mate hard across the face. The man groaning in pain as Buggy watched for her reaction which she gave non.

"Then I guess I can start getting rid them~" He smiled and went to jam the blade into the cabin boys throat.

"STOP!" She screeched, fear painted her face as Buggy paused his actions- the blade lightly touching the cabin boys neck leaving a thin scratch. Buggy turned with a wide smile on his lips, his eyes cold and calculating as he stared down at her- How her shoulders shook in suppressed fear and eyes wide.

"Oh?~ What's this now? I thought you were playing Miss Tough Guy~" He said in a sing song voice, dropping the boy who sat there breathing hard and terrified. Neatly tucking his blade back into his coat as he swaggered over with a smirk.

She bowed her head in defeat, realizing she had been perfectly played into his gloved hands. Fear bubbling in her chest as (Y/N) realized what had been done.

"...I'll give you whatever it is that you want- As long as my crew goes free unharmed" She said calmly, Not meeting his gaze as she felt him lower himself to look over her face. She could smell the harsh scent of Rum and Apples that seemed to follow him.

He smiled wider at this, tapping his chin playfully as he stared at her. Like he was thinking but she knew this was what he really wanted.

"Then we have a deal~" He purred out, waving one of his freaks over which caught her attention as a bandana was placed into his hands and he pressed it to her face. Panic filling her system as she tried to pull away but her mind became muggy and soon darkness developed her once again.

Foggy again she opened her eyes, This time by force as bright flashes of light forcing her from her sleep- Seeing she was strapped down to a table and the cold that hit her body, realizing quickly she was naked and on one of the circuses wheel of death used for knife throwing. Turning to the side quickly she saw a man to her left with a welding tool that was blinding-

"W-What the hell?!" She screamed, the man pulling back to tug on what she realized was a pink leather collar with a gold ring that had welded it closed around her neck to keep it from ever coming off.

"We h-had a deal!!!" She screeched as (Y/N) desperately tried tug on the rope and wiggle her neck around at feeling the collar dig into her flesh.

"That we did Doll" A sarcastic voice chimed, turning to see Buggy walking around her with a smile on his lips, his eyes racking over her naked form.

"See you said I could have whatever I wanted for the price of your crew going free- And I wanted you" He purred, Fear squeezing the air from her lungs as she realized what had been done. Tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she yanked on the restraints harder.

"Now there is no need for that my Darling~ You arent going anywhere or sles ill have you bath in their blood" He practically sang as she heard him rustle behind her away from view for a few moments before a wave of heat seemed to suddently waft over her, (Y/N) eyes widening at this as as Buggy stood back infront of her with a branding iron in his hand it bright red and glowing from the fire it has come from.

"I do like to write my name on my new toys however" He mused. (Y/N) sobbing at the sight as she desperately pulled feeling the rope burn into her flesh with each continued pull of the restraints.

"N-No Please! NO!-" She cried as Buggy smiled down at her, ignoring her words as he pressed the red iron into her flesh- Her screams echoing on the ship as he quickly pulled away, Smirking at the freshly burned red brand of his Jolly Roger on her chest before tossing the iron back into the coals.

"Have her ready for the show" He told one of his freaks, but (Y/N) mind was too foggy to really grasp anything as the pain ripped through her system, broken sobs weezing from her longs as the warmth of the now permanent collar was forgotten.

The freaks untied her and proceeded to drag her naked form back to the main stage- she couldn't even mentally process were she was as she was tossed back to the dirt of the circus circle- The feeling of someone grabbing a corner of the collar to yank her to her knees and attach a long pink leash.

She sat there on the ground, Her head bowed as she tried to wake her foggy mind from the ether that he had given her and the pain that still washed through her system from her burned flesh.

"Forward Now~ The show is about to start~" Buggy purred out as he tugged on the leash her collar was attached to. Looking up as he tugged again she saw it- Her crew all shackled to the audience seats, Their eyes widening at seeing her both naked and the fresh branding on her naked breast- (Y/N) hands scrambling to cover herself as warmth hit her face.

"Ah non of that!" Buggy laughed and yanked her up to her feet with the leash.

"This is humilating!!!" She screamed at him pulling back to swing at him but hands grabbed her wrist as he leaned in close with darkened eyes.

"That's the point, You get a taste of daring to humiliate me by upstaging me and steal fame from me" He hissed.

She screamed as she was fucked relentlessly into the wooden chair, Buggy holding the inner most part of her thighs in order to keep her still. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks as forced moans and sobs left her at his painful pace.

Humiliation and fear filled her system by the look in his eyes. Shoving her hard she landed backyards on a hard wooden chair, her head hitting the back of it with a loud crack.

(Y/N) felt a wave of nausea hit her as she tried to sit up- Tears threatening to spill. Taking advantage of her being dazed Buggy grabbed the lead and secured it around her wrist and then looped it on the top of the throne securing her in place.

Pulling on the binding lead she felt it tughten only and began to frantically try to escape- Almost willing to give up her crew at this point as she struggled. It wasn't till she heard the shifting of clothes did her eyes return to Buggy, seeing him lazily pull at his belt. .aking quick work of his trousers he ignored her struggles in trying to close her legs and forced them open with ease Staring down at her exposed sex he simply spit on it with a lazy shrug. Without even a moments notice he slammed himself into her fully and pulled back just as quick to repeat the harsh thrust.

"H-Hurts!!" She sobbed but her cries were ignored as he grunted harder above her and bottomed out. Pulling his gloves off with his teeth he made quick work of her clit, wanting to make sure she came around his cock.

"There we go~" He purred, Slowing his hips down enough to match the rhythm of his fingers. A dark smile on his lips as he forced the painful orgasm through her- Cackling at the tears that spilled from her cheeks as a moan screamed through her as she came hard against his cock and fingers. Buggy groaning at this as he felt her tighten around him before burying himself as deep inside of her and Cumming with a hissed out moan- pulling out quickly afterwards to stare.

Buggy couldn't help but admire her, the shaking thighs the tears and the fresh come that dripped crom her abused pussy. Smiling with pride at what he had done- grabbing her waist he pulled her up just enough to sit on the throne with her above him. His tongue licking around the branding and hands returning inbetween her legs.

"N-No More.." She sobbed, her wrist sore from the digging leash that kept her to the Silly Throne, her knees spread uncomforbly wide touching either side of the under arms as Buggy stared at her with an amused smirk. His ungloved fingers nestled deeply inside her folds, thumb running over the bruised clit as she cried out again pulling on the restraints in vain- Feeling his awaiting cock still pressed against her thigh even after so many rounds eager to return to her waiting heat.

"What did we agree on Doll~ I get my plaything and your crew gets to live. Don't you all remember?" He said loudly, She didn't dare look up as she could heard the uncomforble confirmation of the crew behind her, shackled in the audience chair as they watched their Captian like this-

"See~ Now I can throw them all to the sea beast and you can go on your merry way!~ Now what do you choose Captian (Y/N)?~" She winced at the Meer mention of her name and title, Humiliation bubbling in her sore chest as she sniffles again and nodded in agreement to save her crew. Tears running down her cheeks which make his smile as he leaned forward to lick them off her cheeks, Like he enjoyed the taste of her suffering.

"Good Girl~"

In a moments his free severed hand bought a heavy cloth to her nose- His eyes locking onto her to made sure she breathed it in. (Y/N) reluctantly breathing it in as the foogy smell of the ether inducing chemicals flooded her lungs, her body starting to slack as she felt ger body grow heavy and mind slip away. He chuckled at the sight of her body getting loopy once more, His fingers pulling from her folds earning a whimpering moan from her before he wrapped it around his cock to guide himself into her.

"Let's go again~ This time will be the finale"

He purred put as he pushed himself deeply into her- Earning another weakened cry from the woman. Gripping her already bruised hips he began to make her bounce on his cock, enjoying the sight of her body moving with each thrust.

"Move for me~" He ordered, (Y/N) beginning to bounce on his cock as instructed if not slower- still shaking from the overstimulation of her forced orgasm. Buggy smirked at this and reached up pressing his thumb into the branded wound making her cry in pain.

"Faster" He ordered. (Y/N) cried at this as she speed up her pace, the wet noises of sex filling the air as she could only close her eyes and do as commanded- Her heart aching in pain while forced pleasure washed over her form. Buggy seemingly pleased with this as he grunted from under her- But not liking her eyes closed he grabbed her hips suddently pausing for only a moment as he picked her up from his cock and sun her around before slamming back into her.

Keeping up his brutal pace as he made sure the crew watched their Captian face first. She closed her eyes tightly as she didnt wish to see their faces like this. Buggy however didn't let that stand, pushing her body out just enough to were the collar was tighter around her throat and couldn't get oxygen- (Y/N) eyes widened at this as she tried to move in a different position to release the tension of the collar but Buggy wouldn't allow it. Her eyes landing on her crew infront of her as they stared in horror at her purpl-ing face.

As the crashing of an orgasm hit her he let the collar slack adding sweet oxygen to the mix which made her mind go fuzzy and scream out as she came over his cock. A wicked laugh echoing from Buggy as he saw her blessed out face from the oxygen and orgasm- how her body slacked afterwards as she looked disoriented and dumb.

"Well done Doll!~ Looks like the show is over" He sang, Leaning her back against his chest as he felt her close to fainting but wanted her to watch. Waving for his freaks to release her crew to gods-knows-where.

"Look~ See your crew is free to go Doll" He whispered in her ear and rubbed her shaking legs in mock comfort. She watched with tear filled eyes as her crew filed out by Buggy's Freaks. Looking at her with pity and shame at (Y/N)'s sacrifice, their Captian was gone now only Buggy's shiny new toy remained.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy the clown #dark buggy #dead dove fic

234 notes · View notes

joesanrio · 1 year ago

Text

All over Instagram | J.U

Summary: It’s been about 2 days since you last saw Jey, and now a small situation that was on Twitter has seemed to spread.

Pairings: Joshua Fatu {Jey Uso} x fem!reader || established relationship

Warnings: flashback, “cheating” scandal, rumors, long distance, emotional conversation, stubborn!Jey, uses real and nicknames, face grabbing, p-in-v (unprotected), multi!orgasms, shower!sex, 69, they just being filthy… NOT EDITED

Word count: 2856 (long)

Ratings: Angst, Fluff, Smut | 18+

A/N: y’all in the comments of All over Twitter | J.U had me cracking up!! So here’s part two since y’all loved the last one 🩵🩵

Tag list: @angelreyesgirl100 @britishhybrid @harlem11680 @papireigns-05 @jeyusos-girl @heart4reigns @xiament3 @romanreignseater @reci24 @bakugoumarianawrites @jeysbae @smile1318 @anonandwannakeepitthatway @alyyaanna @tjai1121 @syia2907 @mya2real @southerngirl41 @nbanenefrmdao @him-uni @siriuslyblackonback @christinabae @justanamjoonstan @louisianalady @iguessilikewrestlingnow @avxngxrrogxrs @romanreignkisser @jeyusosgirl @glennsrealbae @lucymarie2002

———————————————————

[Flashback]

“Omg, Thank you so much for coming!” clapping happily as Jimmy pulls up to the venue you asked him to view with you, it was about 8pm and you wanted to see how it would look inside with the skylight roof. “You know I got you sis, plus I know uce like the back of my hand.” Jimmy hugs you once he exits his car, heading inside with the key the owner gave you.

The inside was beautiful especially with the sky being practically night but still a bit light out. The moon shining bright through the skylight, letting the marble floor glisten and the walls darken around.

You guys were there about 30 minutes taking small notes and measurements for the plan you were setting up, “I like the red because it’ll look really pretty under the lighting that I’m getting, but I’m not sure about the black.” You reply, as Jimmy mentioned the color scheme. Looking around the room again to get the feel for it, “Too dark.” He nods before thinking of some other colors to make the room pop.

“What about silver, red, white? I mean it’s simple it’ll make the room sparkle…” Perking up happily as Jimmy side glances at your mention of sparkles. “Girl. Sparkles, really?” His facial expression making you burst into laughter. “It’s my anniversary too!” giggling before writing down the idea in your notebook as a reminder to send to the interior designer after getting your own perspective of the room.

---

It’s now 9:40pm, both of you have viewed the entire venue and included things that you needed to buy or fix up before the surprise. Jimmy was a great help, especially with the measurements or telling you about small cultural details to add to the venue to make it more special. You couldn’t have chosen a better person to help with the surprise anniversary party you wanted to throw for Jey.

“Alright now, get home safe.” Jimmy hugs you once you declare the work finished, “You too! And thank you so much for the help again.” Grinning at tonight’s success as you lock the door and put the key in your purse. “Say Hi to Trin for me too!” You call out before getting into your car and putting your address into the gps. He gives me a thumbs up, pulling out of the parking lot quickly to get home to his girl.

[Present]

You haven’t seen Jey in 2 days, and every time you tried to call him, the call would decline, and he’ll text back “What were y’all doin?”. You called Jimmy (and Trin) to tell them what happened with Jey, at first you were relieved when Jimmy mentioned how he could call him and fix it.

That was until when he did call, Jey picked up quickly before saying “Fuck you,” and hanging up just before Jimmy could even get a word in. Should’ve known though, because his dramatics used to be one of your favorite things about him, it would make you laugh or just lighten the room, but as of now it’s doing the exact opposite.

So, you decided to wait until Summerslam to try to message him again, an even worse decision as Jimmy goes out and betrays him that same night.

Watching your phone go from hundreds of mentions on social media to thousands in a matter of seconds, the fans were never merciful with those who they don’t like, and they sure don’t like you right now.

“Just pick up and be an adult.” You practically yell at your phone as you call Jey right after the PPV is over, the rings now being impeded into your brain as you listen to them play repeatedly.

Ik you see my calls so just answer them 🙄

I didn’t want to call you earlier and I don’t want to call you now 🤨

Joshua. Literally answer, we need to talk abt this

We can talk in person.

Our flight is at 11pm

Okay be safe 💗

Seen

He got home last night but didn’t say a word as he unpacked and got into bed. If anything, Jey was so silent that you didn’t even realize he was home until you felt the bed shift.

---

The next morning, you were up preparing breakfast for the kids before they headed off to school. Leaving you and Jey in the house alone. The house that was once filled with soft laughter, or just interesting conversations, is now completely silent and cold.

You understand him, you know how he acts and why he does it. You were just hoping he wouldn’t be that way with you, “Josh… can we talk now?” voice barely above a whisper when you walk back into your shared bedroom. His eyes shooting up to make eye contact with yours as he sits against the headboard on his phone, “Yup.” Jey’s voice monotone as he looks back down at his phone.

Letting out a soft sigh at his attitude, unconsciously speeding towards the distant man, missing his warmth and comfort. “Do you really think I cheated?” getting straight to the point, you understood what the public thought, but you wanted to know if Jey truly believed it. Jey’s gaze caressing over your body before coming back up to your eyes, hurt visible inside of them, a loud huff leaving his nose as he drops his phone into his lap.

“I want to say no, but something in the back of my mind is saying otherwise.” He expresses lowly, his gaze not easing up as your own softens. “You believe that I would cheat on you. With you brother?” eye contact now separating as he looks down at his hands, “I would never, I could never do that to you or myself.” Your voice delicate as all your pent-up emotions seem to leak through your words.

Your words were never second guessed to Jey, even when he has the underlying thoughts of what people say. “I know…” is all he could muster up to tell you, this wasn’t a conversation that he ever though he would have to have with you.

“I don’t think you do. You left me.” His heart breaking at those words, he doesn’t like this feeling. Especially since it’s coming from the only other person that he knew would protect him with all their might. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll prove it to you, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry.” His voice cracking as he pleads to you desperately, he couldn’t imagine not being with you, not knowing that you’ll be there when he gets home.

“Then prove it.” Your voice quiet compared to Jey’s harsh breaths. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” His eyes falling onto yours, the desperate pleads starting to mumble together as you watch the different emotions flash in his intense gaze.

---

“I told you; I’ll do anything.”

A sort of muffled cry leaves your mouth as Jey grabs your cheeks with his large hand. The touch is gentle, yet rough as he squeezes and moves your face to look into his eyes. A teasing smirk forms onto his lips when your eyes meet his again, “What’d I tell you, baby?” his eyes filled with lust.

Another moan leaves your plump lips as your cunt tightens and hips lifts off the bed, pushing itself further into Jey’s thrust and the vibrator he’s forcing you to use; still in your hand pressing against your clit. Trying to create space away from the vibrator and your sensitive and puffy clit.

Jey’s free hand comes to hold your wrist in place, an annoyed groan passes through your throat, your body tries to squirm away from the vibrator that is now impossible to move. “Stop running away baby. I’m finally back.” Your body tries helplessly to get away from the vibrations spreading painful pleasure through your body and the powerful thrusts from his cock.

“You wanted me to prove it, yeah?” An annoyed grunt travels through the air when your walls flutter and clench around Jey’s thick dick, your body squirming starts adding on to the tightness surrounding his cock, making his thrusts less precise.

“Yes baby!” Your hands reach for something to grab before stuttering and trying to push his hips away from yours in a panic, Jey grabs your throat, squeezing gently as the now found pleasure sputters through your body. Holding you in place impatiently, his head leaning down to your ear. “Look at you, you couldn’t cheat on me baby. You’re a mess for this dick.” He teases before placing a small peck on the outer shell of your ear.

Jey chuckling at your pathetic state, adding more pressure to your wrist to dig the vibrator further into your clit. Your walls flutter around him in response, a moan leaves his mouth as his eyes snap close to savor the feeling.

The warmth and tightness suck his cock into your pussy greedily, practically begging him to continue pumping into you. His eyes open slowly as your moaning and desperate noises fill the room.

“Take it. Take all of me.” His deep groans fill the room tauntingly. Eyes rolled back deliciously before closing tightly, jaw hanging open because can’t close no matter how hard you try to force it shut. Jey smirks teasingly at your state and gives you a particularly deep thrust that causes your pelvis to jolt upwards shakily.

A thick whine travels up your throat and passes the pressure he applies to your throat. It causes Jey to chuckle condescendingly, and he places a quick kiss to your cheek. The tenderness of the act distracts you for a moment, giving him the opportunity to release your throat and pull the vibrator from your overstimulated clit.

A surprised squeal leaves your mouth at the cool air brushing over your sensitive cunt. Jey takes the time to slow down his thrusts, observing the fucked-out look that covers your face. You look gorgeous with eyes that can’t see clearly and skin that tries stupidly to cool your body down with sweat. A soft groan leaves his lips, and he speeds up his thrusts again. “I love you!” You practically huff out as his thrust seems to knock the wind out of you.

“I love you too.” He shakes his head in amusement before grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the pillow above your head as he gives your cunt the last of his pleasurable thrusts before stilling and coating your walls in his cum. You both let out tired sighs as the pleasure courses through your bodies until it dies down into a faint hum. Jey gives your wrists a tight squeeze before letting them go and slipping out of you.

His body warmth now gone makes you whimper, and he kisses your forehead lovingly as an apology. He sits back up and caresses your face with a small smile. It causes your heart to flutter, and you’re bought out of your fucked-out phase.

When your eyes clear and meet Jey’s, he breathes out a slow breath, “That’s my girl, now I need you to sit down on my face. ‘Kay?” He speaks more of a demand than suggestion. Eyebrows furrowing at this man’s high sex drive, barely being able to recuperate from your past 2 orgasms.

He taps your thigh quickly to get you out of your trance, forcing your body up and switching positions. His large hands delicate on your soft waist and pulling you gently down onto his face. Adjusting you, so you sit perfectly onto his lips, his tongue quickly going to lick up your swollen folds.

“S’good. Suck me baby, keep that mouth busy.” He mumbles into your puffy cunt, your hands going to garb his erected cock, immediately wondering how many times you’re going to have to cum before he goes limp.

“Oh… gentle- please!” You whine out as Jey sucks on your clit roughly. Quickly letting go of the sensitive bud and deciding to tongue fuck you in between your folds and lick you clean. You let out a whiney moan before you spit onto his cock, stroking him up and down a few times before taking your tongue to swirl around his tip.

"Fuck, that’s it." He voices out as you begin to ride against his motions while you prepare on your end to take all his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, teasing Jey by licking a stripe up his shaft before lowering your mouth halfway down.

You pull back up, your hands stroking near the base at the same time you bob up and down. Your moans are muffled against his cock, but Jey is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and you genuinely want to sob.

"Josh, wait fuck-" You yell but he continues. "You're-you're gonna make me cum so fucking fast."

"Do it for me." He teases in between. He begins to slowly work his hips into you, making his cock fuck your mouth ever so gently.

As you continue sucking him, you feel your high coming to a close, especially when Jey is toying with your folds with his tongue and taking advantage of the way you work your hips against his mouth.

"Joshua! Ah, so close! I'm-I'm—" You try to continue stroking his wet dick to keep yourself occupied but fall limp into his pelvic as your hips continue to ride out your 3rd orgasm on his skillful mouth.

"Shower time?" Jey lifts your hip from his face with a chuckle while you gather your breathing, forgetting completely about his orgasm.

"Mhm." You mumble as you push yourself up and roll to the side of him, knowing exactly what he expects when he asks the question.

Even though you both needed to shower, your bodies coated in cum, sweat, and spit, you guys just laid there breathless. His arms pulling you into his embrace, you missed this. You missed him. "Join me Baby." Your eyes diverting into his gaze softly at his question, before nodding silently. Too tired to even say a word anymore, hoping that his past expectations don’t apply here.

Finally deciding to head to the shower after a small pep talk, remembering you guys must clean up before the kids get home. “I bought you something!” Jey perks up from the closet as he walks towards you with one of his new shirts, not even phased about the fact that he’s naked.

Smiling at him, you head into the steaming shower, the hot water immediately cleansing off your sticky body. “Don’t leave me baby!” He jokes when the fogged door slams closed.

Sooner or later, you see his silhouette passing the glass, the door slightly swinging open again as he lets himself in. You subtly bite onto your bottom lip as you look at him up and down, his member quickly hardening when he sees your wet body gleaming under the light.

The shower started off sweet, and comforting. Jey gently working his hands into your scalp to massage the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. He helps wash it off, continuing to work his hands in the same motions, causing your eyes to shut briefly at his tenderness.

You returned the favor, turning and him unintentionally bending his knees for you to get a good grip on his hair, working the shampoo through his curls. It's quiet, and the only sounds in the bathroom are the running water and the water bouncing off the tiles.

"You're so beautiful." He says, helping lather up the body wash on your back before you help with his and wash off. He gives you a warm, small smile before dipping his head to press a kiss on your lips. But at this point, you don't want to pull away at all. Instead, you want him to continue, your hands rest on his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

You gently bite on his bottom lip, tugging back slightly as you keep your gaze on him. "Fuck. We’re supposed to be getting clean." Jey whispers when you pull away, a small groan being released from his mouth as he pulls you by the waist, his hardened member brushing against your clit.

“You’re right. Now let me go.” Your self-control comes hurdling back as you realize the whole point of the shower, “Damn… you ain’t even want to pretend like you wanted more.” He complains behind you as you rinse off again, not for any reason but it just felt right.

Winking at the desperate man behind you once you shut the water off, leaving the shower to get dried off. His hand slapping your ass quickly when you leave him as he just stands in the shower contemplating the situation.

"I did all that proving, and you can’t even give m-me a little suck?" His voice vibrating off the shower walls as he complains, you can see his hands flying around with his stutter. Giggling, you continue to do your own thing, not paying the giant baby any mind.

#jey uso #joshua fatu #jey uso angst #jey uso fluff #jey uso smut #jey uso x y/n #jey uso fic #joshua fatu fic #joshua fatu smut #joshua fatu x reader #wwe superstars #jimmy uso #the usos #the usos smut #joesanrio

391 notes · View notes

cui-nisi · 1 year ago

Text

New Recruit (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

(Credit for art goes to @ Shuploc on Twitter!)

•Notes•

Paring: Miguel O’Hara Spider-Man ATSV x Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: You’re the newest prospect for recruitment at Spider Society. Unfortunately for you, Miguel’s not a fan of your attitude and decides to put you in your place.

Warnings: smut, oral (m. receiving), penetration w/o protection (use protection!), finishing inside, dom. Miguel, power dynamics (both are consenting though!), pet names ('good girl'), mild cursing

WC: 5,526

A/N: Miguel speaks a bit of Spanish so I’m including all the words he’s saying with a definition in English! It’s not a lot, just a few words that I felt would better match his character, enjoy!

Mierda- shit

Muñeca- doll

Nenita- babe

Ninfa- nymph

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica Drew led you down the pristine white halls of the Spiderverse HQ. The modernity of the building was overwhelming as simplistic designs scattered across white and gray surfaces greeted you wherever you looked.

“Not what you expected, huh?” Looking ahead you captured Jessica’s gaze. Her voluminous curls caressed the sides of her face as she gave you a small smile.

You nodded, swallowing the sheepish smile that threatened to cross over your lips, “not exactly. It’s not bad just-”

“-Just bland. I get it,” Jessica laughed as she led you deeper into the building.

You were the newest prospect for recruitment and you felt like you were already messing it up. Here you are critiquing the interior design of the Spiderverse HQ when you should be focusing on your impending interview with the founder of this whole operation.

“Miguel is right down this elevator.” You snapped your attention back to Jessica as the once bright modern interior designs that surrounded you was replaced by black walls and ominous red strips that lined the walls. “Not so bland now, right?” Jessica teased, her yellow glasses almost glowing with all the darkness surrounding the both of you.

You gave her a polite chuckle, but truthfully, you were nervous. You hadn’t been Spider-Woman for long and you were still trying to get accustomed to your newfound powers. As your eyes gazed down the lone hallway with a platform at the end of it that waited for you to step on it you tried to calm your nerves.

Why were you so anxious? Why did it feel like your heartbeat was slamming against your chest with every step you took? Were you shaking? Because it felt like you were. How did you look? You hadn’t perfected your suit yet- what if Miguel hated it? Was having a fully functioning suit a requirement for recruitment?

“_____.” A firm voice shook you out of your thundering thoughts as a pair of warm hands clasped around your shoulders. You fixed your gaze to meet Jessica who stood in front of you, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at you, “you okay? You looked like you were about to pass out.”

You took a shaky breath, “if I’m being honest- no. I’m kind of freaking out.”

Jessica quirked an eyebrow at you, her lips tightening in a thin line as her eyes roamed over your face, analyzing you. “And why is that?”

“Well I’m still new to this whole superhero thing and I don’t think I’m ready for all… this.” You motioned to the room, trying to encompass the intimidating situation.

A look of relief crossed over Jessica’s face, prompting your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as she chuckled softly, stepping away from you as she approached the platform. “Is that all, _____? Because if so then I think you’ll be fine.”

You stepped up to the platform, hesitating slightly as your reflection stared back at you from the clear surface. To your left you heard Jessica speak up once again, her voice sounding relaxed as she fixed you with a smirk, “the things you’re stressing out about? They don’t matter. At least not to Miguel. You’re worrying about the wrong stuff, ____. Just relax and you should be fine.”

As Jessica stepped back from the platform once you took that final step you couldn’t help but capture the inkling of amusement that tinted her voice. What did she mean by ‘worrying about the wrong stuff’? What should you have been worrying about? By the time you managed to overthink her question, it was too late to follow it up with one of your own as the platform had begun its descent down into the depths of the building.

You couldn’t help but feel your nerves wrack your body as the dark walls flew by you. You really needed to calm down and with a deep heave of your chest you released a slow breath, a quarter of the tension that resided in your muscles lessened. It wasn’t much but it was something and it was all you had time for as the platform arrived at its destination.

Stepping off of the smooth surface, your eyes took in the supposed office you guessed you were being interviewed at. Walking deeper into the room greeted you with different devices and electrical machinery scattering the walls and every surface until the room suddenly opened up to a cavernous void of inky darkness.

Before you could venture any further the sound of clicking followed by a low hum filled the room. Suddenly an even bigger platform descended down, from where you had no clue. But standing on top of the platform was a dark imposing figure, their back turned to you as the glow from the plethora of holograms in front of them cast a green light over the figure's sleek black suit.

As you waited for the platform to finish its slow ride down to the ground level you couldn’t help but speak, your voice echoing in the dark chamber as you tried to dispel the tension you felt seep back into your body. “That must be one hell of an intimidating tactic for anomalies.”

The platform finally stopped a few feet in the air, the harsh click of the machine ringing loudly through the room before a few seconds of quiet settled in the space between you. Your eyes tracked the lone figure before they waved their hand, dispersing the yellow holograms. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the figure turned around. Their voice simultaneously hitting your ears as their dark hoarse tone startled you, “cute. I hope you can give me more than quippy jokes. I’ve heard them all.”

Before you could respond the figure swiftly slipped off of the platform, their movements were quiet and stealthy. If you hadn’t been watching him you wouldn’t have even heard him move. The figure stalked towards you, his eyes tracking you until he was standing a foot away.

From this vantage point you had a clear view of the man… the man who seemed more like a predator. His aura was one of a man who harbored incredible restraint as if knowing that if he were to let go and dive into the inner consciousness of his being then he’d be the undoing of everything that surrounded him- converging chaos with unbridled power. It sent a shiver down your spine at the thought and whether it was from fear or something more… intimate, you weren’t sure.

“So, you’re _____ I’m assuming?” he asked, his voice devoid of any perceivable emotion.

You nodded, “yep. And you’re Miguel O’Hara?”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Miguel answered, his eyes continued staring into yours- as if trying to grasp something that was hidden in your gaze before he flicked his red eyes away from you and down to the watch strapped to his wrist. With a passive voice, he continued speaking, “Jess recommended you?”

You watched as his slender fingers quickly imputed a sequence of numbers you couldn’t understand into the watch, “yeah, she caught me fighting what I now know is an anomaly?” you say questioningly, still grasping the whole concept of anomalies in different dimensions, “I guess she saw something in me and thought I’d be useful for this society you’ve got set up.”

Miguel glances away from his watch to look at you, his gaze still unreadable as he mutters, “yeah she must have. Can’t say what though.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. Did you mishear him? “Excuse me?” you prompt, hoping that you just heard the leader wrong.

Miguel’s eyebrow cocked upwards as if confused by your question, “I didn’t misspeak did I? I said I don’t see why Jess brought you to me.”

“And why is that?” You countered, a flicker of irritation sparking in your body as you watched the Spider-Man once again shift his attention to his watch.

“You’re not ready. You’re too inexperienced and I already have enough shit to deal with. I don’t have time to train new recruits on how to do their job. That should be a prerequisite.” Miguel stated, his voice placid and expression bored as he stared down at his wrist, stepping away from you and turning back to his platform as he waves his hand dismissively, “go home and stop wasting my time.”

All the nerves that had been building up inside you had vanished as soon as Miguel’s harsh words hit your ears. Sure, you weren’t as experienced as he was but you still felt like you were pretty damn good. Never mind what you thought earlier- you held your own against a plethora of infamous villains in your dimension. Not to mention the anomaly that got you scouted by Jessica in the first place. You’d be damned if this elitist asshole didn’t at least give you a chance to prove yourself.

“So that’s it? You’re done?” you ask, your voice filled with annoyance.

Miguel calls back to you without even sparing you a glance, “no, you’re done. Now leave.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the acidic words that you wanted to hurl at the man. You took a steadying breath before responding, this wasn’t over until he at least took you seriously. “Make me.”

Was it the most mature comeback you could’ve said? Not by a long shot. But you knew it would be enough to at least spark Miguel’s interest. If you couldn’t win his favor then you’d shoot for his anger. It was a dangerous tactic but you were willing to take the risk, being Spider-Woman wasn’t an easy gig and you figured Miguel understood that, but now you wanted him to respect that.

Lucky (or unlucky) for you- it worked. The Spider-Man slowed his walk as your dare reached him. A humorless chuckle escaped his mouth before he turned around to face you, a wolfish grin spread across his lips, “make you? You don’t want me to do that.”

“Oh, I do. I just don’t think you can,” you say plainly, matching his intimidating gaze.

A flash of blood red shoots across Miguel’s face, the color growing in intensity as he strode over to you. His once quiet footsteps were thundering as he approached you with a penetrating stare and shallow scowl etched over his mouth. In no time he was standing in front of you, his broad chest was an inch away from yours as he looked down at you- his figure imposing.

“What’re you playing at?” he asked, his words simple but the frustration in his tone was palpable.

You subtly fixed your posture, squaring your shoulders to try and match the strength Miguel’s seemed to carry. “I’m not playing. I’m deadly serious.”

“How serious?” Miguel retorted, his sharp eyebrows slanted as his red eyes narrowed at you.

“Serious enough to challenge you to a fight. If I manage to hold my own then you have to let me into the society.”

Miguel’s once flashing red eyes suddenly shifted to one of intrigue, the burning red in his gaze quelling slightly as he listened to your words. After a second of terse silence with your words freezing the air surrounding the two of you, the Spider-Man cracked an amused grin.

“You want to fight me for a place in the Spider Society?”

“Well, only if you think I’m worth a morsel of your time,” you say, your words mockingly polite.

Miguel chuckles once again, the dark sound sends a jolt of both nerves and unexpected excitement through you. When he finally speaks his voice is low with a roguish smirk accompanying it, the edges of his lips curling upwards, “you’re cunning, I’ll give you that. But what would I gain from this if you were to lose?” Miguel leans into your space, the scent of apple and sandalwood flooding your senses in the process as you take in the Spider-Man’s close proximity.

You do your best to not get distracted, however, as you think of a response to his question, “then… then I’ll leave. I’ll leave and I won’t bother you again.”

Miguel seems to think about your proposition for a second, the gears in his head turning as he stares down at you before a scoff escapes his lips. He leans away from you, creating a respectable distance between the two of you which allowed you to take a steadying breath but also filled you with a sense of yearning.

“Fine. But you better put up a good fight, I don’t just fight anyone.” Miguel calls out to you, his neck rolling to the side in a small stretch.

“Guess that makes me lucky.” you quip, but you're too focused on coming up with a game plan. Your eyes dart around the large room- the large platform Miguel initially used would be a good place to try to maneuver around.

You weren’t too familiar with Miguel or his powers so you’d have to be cautious when fighting him. You weren’t sure if you really stood a chance against the man who founded the Spider Society but you sure as hell were going to give it your all. As you both prepared to fight the space between you grew, the red floors only added to the intensity you felt coursing through you at the anticipation of what was to come.

After a second you gave Miguel a nod, alerting him that you were ready. He nodded his head back once before fixing his stance. His body mimicked one of an animal with the way he slowly began to circle around you, his eyes latching onto you, analyzing any weakness he could exploit and rip apart. The thought sent a shiver down your spine before focusing, you had to make this fight count. After a few seconds of watching one another Miguel suddenly charges you, his speed was deadly and you barely dodged his attack as he swung at you, his claws swiping harshly at the air.

You took a deep breath as you began predicting his moves. He chased after you, hot on your heels as his eyes blazed at you with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. You were agile on your feet, practically hovering off of the smooth ground as you played defense against the multitude of attacks Miguel began hurling at you. His claws were always a breath away from ripping into you but you seemed to miss them a second early every time.

“You plan on running away from me the whole time?” Miguel shouts at you, his gruff voice slicing through the sounds of your fight.

“Nope. Just long enough to do this,” you call back before turning around and shooting a plethora of thick webs at Miguel’s face.

The webs hurled over to the Spider-Man but proved futile when he easily slashed through them with ferocity. You anticipated that, however, as you used the webs as a distraction to give you enough time to latch a web on the bottom of the platform that hovered a few feet in the air. Using the momentum from the string of web you outstretched your legs as you watched Miguel catch on to your plan a bit too late. With a kick of your legs, Miguel flew across the floor, landing on his feet as his claws dug into the ground to slow the momentum of his fall.

You landed a few feet away from him, the web slipping from your hands as you took a second to catch your breath. Miguel looked up at you, a glimmer of excitement flashing across his fiery eyes. He brought his covered hand up to the side of his lip where you notice a trickle of blood gleaming at you from the dim lights of the room.

“Huh,” he says quietly to himself. The leader of the Spider Society maintains eye contact with you as his pink tongue darts out to lick off the small drop of blood on his bottom lip. He shoots you an amused lopsided smirk that momentarily stuns you as you watch him stand up, “alright, _____. It’s time you pay up for that.”

You give him a confused look as your eyebrows furrow, “what’re you talking about? I haven’t even lost yet-”

Before you know what’s happening, Miguel pounces on you, abusing your confusion to allow him to tackle you to the ground. His hard body covers you as he knocks you to the ground. A string of pain crashes through you once you hit the hard ground. You feel Miguel on top of you, his breath coming out in harsh pants as you crack your eyes open through your pain to watch him staring down at you. His short dark brown hair hangs slightly, caressing the sides of his forehead while his tan skin gleams slightly with a light sheen of sweat. One of his hands has your wrists pinned over your head, the claws dig slightly into your skin as a poorly repressed wince flashes across your face.

“Fine,” you huff out through your pain, your heartbeat pumping in your chest, “you win. I’ll leave.”

Miguel fixes you with a smirk where you notice two sharp canines sticking out from his upper line of teeth. They gleam at you temptingly, daring you to press your warm skin into the cool prick of their edges. You feel your heartbeat speed up once again but not from the fight this time.

“Leave?” Miguel’s voice shakes you out of your daze as your eyes drift up to his eyes, “who said anything about you leaving?”

Your eyes widen, “but… I lost. The deal was-”

“I know what the deal was.” The Spider-Man interrupts sharply, his voice a mix of emotions that you couldn’t decipher, “but I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

“A lesson?” you repeat, your voice quiet as your mind races with ideas of what this man could be referring to.

Miguel nods simply while his hold on you tightens. He moves his face over yours, his lips a breath away as he speaks lowly, “yes. You need to be put in your place if you’re going to be a part of the Spider Society. You weren’t bad during the fight… even managed to make me bleed a bit.” Miguel’s words fill your ears as heat radiates off of you.

“Wait- so… I made it? I’m in?”

Miguel nods, his free hand reaches up to trace an invisible pattern over your cheek, the sharp tip of his claws scrape gently over your face and for some reason, the thought of knowing this man on top of you could kill you with one swipe of the finger he has delicately placed over your cheek sends a thrill through you.

“You made it. But you’re attitude needs some adjusting. It’s that smart mouth of yours…” Miguel’s clawed finger travels to your lips, lightly skating over the outline of your lips, “I know how to put it to better use, though.”

Your eyes widen at the implication the man’s words have as the repressed feelings of need begin to simmer in your bloodstream. “Miguel…” you whisper into the air, the cavernous room suddenly feels immensely smaller as your breath mingles with Miguel’s who keeps his eyes locked in yours.

A flash of what you can only describe as unbridled lust surfaces in his eyes, their red hue practically blazing at you. For a second he just stays there, his body pressed over yours before he moves, standing up and quickly shedding his suit with practiced ease. His claws come off first before he quickly begins to remove everything else. “No talking,” he says simply, his eyes flicking up to yours.

You oblige, too transfixed on his hands that disregard the black suit. Your eyes feast on Miguel’s freshly exposed body, the taut muscles of his torso converge in teasing lines, dips, and curves that leave you hungry for him. His skin practically glows under the dim lights as the intimidating man tilts his head with a nod, gesturing for you to walk over to him as the hint of a smirk lingers on his lips.

After picking yourself up from the ground and blindly walking in front of Miguel you reach your hands out to touch his tempting skin before the man quickly grabs your wrists. Looking up you were met with an amused smile touching Miguel’s lips as his dark voice addresses you, a hint of warning edging the bluntness of his words, “no touching. On your knees.”

With a gentle shove, Miguel pushes you to the ground, your knees hit the hard surface before your attention is quickly drawn to his freed dick that springs at attention. It was surprisingly well maintained with the hair trimmed neatly and his shaft curving upwards at an angle that you yearned to feel hit every spot inside of you. Along with that his desire for you was evident in the way his cock stood hard for you, your eyes could barely focus on anything else besides Miguel’s stiff erection while your brain tried to comprehend the situation.

Your eyes glanced up at Miguel who stared down at you with a surprisingly patient look. It looked like he was giving you the choice to back down if you weren’t comfortable but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes as he gazed at you, almost anticipating you to quit.

He couldn’t have been more wrong, however, as your eyes flicked back to the precipice of his desire. While you weren’t expecting the interview to get to this point, you could admit to noticing the handsome details of Miguel’s hardened face. His sharp jawline, straight nose, and piercing eyes would’ve been enough to have your clothes off when you first walked in if you weren’t so nervous about the interview.

Abandoning your inhibitions you gently took Miguel in your hands. You cautiously lifted your thumb to slide over his shiny tip that gleamed with precum. A shuddering breath escaped the Spider-Man’s lips as your eyes slipped up to catch Miguel just as his eyes slipped closed. You forced the smile threatening to grace your lips down and decided to follow through on Miguel’s earlier words by wrapping your tongue around his tip. Your tongue swirled over him, tasting his precum that was a bit salty but not unpleasant to have cover your tastebuds. You flicked your tongue over him once more as a harsh breath escaped Miguel’s mouth.

“Mierda…” you hear Miguel mutter under his heavy breath, his voice was quiet and yet held a tense restraint.

You let Miguel’s reaction spur you on as you finally take him deeper into your mouth. When your lips wrap around his shaft a guttural groan falls from Miguel’s lips, you feel his callused hands entangle in your hair, gripping the roots slightly and urging you on as you take even more of him.

Every flick of your tongue, every slide of your lips had Miguel groaning into the charged air, his deep voice encouraged you to keep going even as his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, ninfa…” Miguel huffed, his eyes cracking open to watch your mouth slide over him. The image was enough to make him come but he kept himself under control as your eyes met, both glazed over in lust and desire as you continued sucking him.

After a second you slid your mouth off of Miguel, letting a string of saliva connect your puffy lips to his dick. Your hands replace your lips as they grip his shaft and pump him, your saliva acting as a great lubricant while your hands grasped Miguel’s slick throbbing dick.

“Stand up, _____. I want to taste you.” Miguel ordered, his voice low and sultry.

You had no qualms in giving in to his order as you stood up, your hand still pumping him. With no pretense, Miguel’s expansive hand grabbed the back of your neck, squeezing softly as he pressed you against him, his lips slotting against yours in a passionate slew of kisses.

Your clothes felt suffocating as your body yearned to feel Miguel’s skin against yours- the heat from his body seeping past the fabric of your suit. You figured Miguel felt the same when he pulled back a second later and flicked his eyes over your body.

“Take your suit off,” he commanded, his tongue running across his bottom lip impatiently.

You gave Miguel a licentious smile before taking off your suit, your movements are slow and deliberate. If you were going to have Miguel’s full attention then you were going to make the most of it. Your suit eventually rolls off of your body, falling to the floor with abandon.

Miguel’s eyes widen ever so slightly at the sight of you. He takes in every curve your body has to offer, lingering on the swell of your breasts as his eyes glint hungrily. “Come here, muñeca.”

Once in front of him, Miguel’s hands eagerly wrap around your waist, hiking one of your legs up to wrap around his torso. The movement allowed Miguel’s dick to rub against your center which was slick with your arousal. A soft moan fell from your lips at the brush of friction, your walls clenched in agony at being deprived of the delectable cock sitting just a few inches away from your entrance.

“You sound amazing, _____. I want to hear more,” Miguel whispered into your ear before his tongue dipped out to trace the shell of your ear.

A shiver ran down your body as your hands wrapped around Miguel’s broad back, the skin had a few scars running along the cords of his shoulder blades but that only turned you on more at seeing how resilient he was during his battles. You were excited to be working with him but at this moment all you could think about was him working you out until you were broken in his arms.

“I want to feel more, Miguel.” you breathed, your breathing quickening as Miguel’s dick once again brushed your center teasingly.

“Patience, nenita. I haven’t had my fill of you yet.” With a wicked grin, Miguel ignored the ache in between your legs and instead pressed his lips against yours once again.

You felt Miguel’s sharp canines nibble against your bottom lip, threatening to bite down on you which only heightened your desire for him. His tongue followed the path his teeth had nipped at, soothing the pain with a flick before sliding between your lips, demanding entrance that you granted. Your hands snaked up to his hair, entangling in his brown locks as a soft growl escaped his lips that reverberated into the kiss. You hummed in pleasure at the sound before Miguel’s lips left yours and traversed the heated skin of your cheek, jawline, and finally your neck.

The thrum of your heartbeat echoed in your throat as Miguel sucked and nipped at the skin, leaving you pining for him, practically whimpering for more as his mouth teased your skin. All the while his dick continued brushing against you, your clit pulsing with need at Miguel’s torturous touch.

“Miguel, please!” you plead, your voice high and airy as you tilt your head back slightly, allowing Miguel better access to your neck.

“Please what? You’re going to have to beg for it, _____.” Miguel’s teeth skimmed the top of your collarbone temptingly, the sting of his teeth only adding to your need for him.

Uncaring of any sort of pride or ego you once held onto your hands gripped Miguel’s shoulders in a plea as you begged, “please, Miguel! I want to feel you inside me! Please give it to me!”

A sly smirk flashed across the man’s plush lips, exposing his sharp teeth as his eyes shined at you, their red color ablaze. “Good girl,” he complimented, his voice low.

You watched as Miguel adjusted your positions, his hand hiking up your thigh that wrapped around him while his other hand aligned his dick with your entrance. His tip teasingly pressed into you as another agonizing moan slipped from your lips. Miguel smiled at your desperation before giving in to your desires and pushing himself deep into you, his tip burrowing inside you, hitting everything on its way in. Your walls stretched to accommodate his girth as your mingled moans created a symphony of licentious sounds to entertain the dark walls that watch you in silent passivity.

After giving you a brief second to adjust to him Miguel pulled out only to plunge back into you. The sensation of him moving against you was almost too much as you gripped his shoulders harder while he drilled into you. His pace was punishing as his hips pistoned against you allowing his dick to hit your cervix every single time, eliciting loud shuddering moans to ripple from your lips in unabashed pleasure.

Cracking your eyes open in your haze of pleasure revealed Miguel enjoying it as much as you. His teeth were clenched as strained grunts escaped his lips, and a few strands of his hair landed across his forehead which was covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his skin look golden under the lights. He was so incredibly beautiful. You let your lips capture him in a searing kiss which was followed by a moan from both of you. Without warning you felt Miguel’s other hand slip to your ass, gripping it tightly while his other hand did the same. You then felt Miguel’s grip on you tighten before hoisting you up, holding you against him in his strong arms as his dick kept moving inside you.

You were amazed at his strength. You supposed it should make sense with him being Spider-Man, but you still couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through you as Miguel’s hands held onto your ass while your hands latched around his neck, your lips still moving in tandem. You felt the pleasure in your abdomen beginning to build the longer the two of you fucked.

From this angle, Miguel’s cock with every stroke, every thrust, was hitting everything and driving you absolutely insane. His name fell from your lips naturally as your body began to tense up.

“Let go, _____. I wanna see what your body looks like when overcome with pleasure.” Miguel whispered hotly against your ear.

His command was enough for your body to succumb to the sensations flooding through you. Your body tensed before a white-hot light scorched your body as your orgasm wracked through you, causing you to shudder and tremble in Miguel’s arms.

“Beautiful…” you heard Miguel mumble as he watched your orgasm with wrapped attention.

Seeing you so fulfilled only helped his own climax as he kept dicking you down. His voice was hoarse and gruff as his moans tumbled from his lips, his chest heaving as harsh breaths fell out of his mouth.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asked, his hips beginning to stutter.

“Inside…” you panted, your hands still clinging to his back.

“You sure?” he gave you one last questioning look as his orgasm started to approach.

You nodded, “yes. I want to feel you fill me up.”

You were on birth control so getting pregnant wasn’t a concern for you. All you wanted was to feel Miguel release inside you, a true testament to your time together. Without further questioning, Miguel nodded, trusting your words as his orgasm overtook him. His head threw back as a strained groan left his lips and spilled into the empty room, echoing off of the walls. You felt him release inside you, bringing about a strange sense of comfort as you watched the mighty Spider-Man tremble beneath you.

As Miguel came down from his high he gently placed you back on the ground, but didn’t completely disentangle himself from you. His strong arms held onto you as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before muttering, “welcome to Spider Society, nenita.”

You chuckled at his words before reciprocating the kiss. You could tell you were going to like it here, “thanks, Miguel. I look forward to working with you.”

Miguel looked into your eyes, a gleam of amusement passing over his gaze as the passionate embers in his eyes took you in as a sensual smile curled the edges of his soft lips. His sharp canines reminded you of the way they felt scraping against your skin as his touch tightened and his deep husky voice responded back to you, “as do I, _____. There’s a lot I’m looking forward to showing you.”

You weren’t sure what was ahead of you now that you were the newest agent in the Spider Society, but you definitely were looking forward to it- especially if sessions like these with Miguel were going to be reoccurring. You pressed another kiss to his soft lips as he returned your fervor with equal intensity, the empty room was the only witness to your passionate whims.

#spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #into the spider verse

142 notes · View notes

69misato69 · 2 years ago

Text

Moonage Daydream (Tartaglia | Childe - Foul Legacy Transformation x Zhongli) // 2k, smut

archive of our own ✦ twitter

masterlist pinned on my profile !

zhongli REALLY wants to try out foul legacy

cw: monsterfucking, overstimulation, ejaculation, penetration (tentacles, tongue, penis), blood

enjoy !

Top Tartaglia | Childe x Bottom Zhongli

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

“But, you have seen me as a dragon. Isn’t this a bit unfair?” Zhongli sipped his tea, hiding the sly provocation in his tone skilfully. Childe chuckled, “You’ve seen mine too!” It was true, Zhongli had witnessed Foul Legacy in its full glory many times during battle, but with Zhongli’s form they had also taken up some more interesting activities that strayed away from ‘combat’.

Zhongli hummed, “Yes, though I meant… up close.”

“Well I don’t think you’d enjoy it like that.”

“Why not?”

Childe scratched his head, trying to find a way to phrase it as delicately as possible, “Mine isn’t as adjustable as yours, it wouldn’t be so pleasant for you.” Given that Foul Legacy wasn’t a natural form like Zhongli’s, Childe had a harder time adapting the functions and sizes of each part whereas Zhongli was a master at manipulating harsh aspects of the body he had lived in for centuries.

“So you’re saying I can’t take it?” Zhongli smirked, he got up from his seat and placed his palms on the table, leaning over to Childe. Night was falling, the lively atmosphere of the mountains faded away minute by minute, trading the joyful serenity for a sinister domain, still calm but oddly mysterious.

“You shouldn’t tempt me on matters like this, Xiansheng.”

Zhongli’s amber pupils flashed through the darkness, “And what if I do?”

Childe fixed his posture to raise on his seat slightly, moving his face closer to Zhongli’s, “I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt.”

Zhongli wasn’t bothered by the drawback, he pressed his lips onto the harbinger’s, noticing how much he missed his warmth even in the few hours they had been sitting and chatting. Childe’s head tilted back, his lips inviting and comforting as they always were for his lover.

Zhongli pulled away, a thin string of saliva kept their lips in contact, “Ajax…” he pleaded, “ Please… ”

Childe involuntarily held his breath, attempting to ignore his pants tightening, a spark between his legs that begged to be fed and built into bright flames. Zhongli looked down on him, tracing his lips gently with his thumb. Childe struggled to speak, it was as if a reptile had him in a tight hold, evoking the unholiest of thoughts from deep within.

After a moment of consideration, Childe stood up and made his way over to the other side of the table, pulling Zhongli close by the waist. Zhongli’s tongue made its way inside his mouth once again, dipping out occasionally as Childe rid him of his clothes.

The layers pooled around their ankles, falling off one by one with a gentle thud. Childe nibbled on his neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bitemarks that turned the archon harder and harder on his thigh. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked for the final time.

Zhongli petted his cheek gently, “I am. Go ahead.”

Childe nodded as he stepped away on the open field, floating off from the ground right before Zhongli’s eyes, his iridescent cape, claws and armor took formation as the mask pinned on his hair grew to replace the front part of his head.

Zhongli watched him in awe, though Foul Legacy was a killing machine, he could still see the faint form of Childe inside whenever he transformed. He waited in excitement as Childe slowly approached him and lifted him up with the ease of a teacup. One claw was enough to fully grab Zhongli by the waist like a doll.

Childe leaned back, gravity was no longer a concern for him, so he sat comfortably on an invisible seat and brought Zhongli’s naked body to his eye-level. Zhongli examined him, stunned and mesmerized by the beautiful sight as he sat inside Childe’s palm, legs hanging off from in between his thick fingers.

Zhongli always assumed Childe’s physical senses were more dulled in Foul Legacy, given that logically, it should be more durable to pain. But Childe could feel everything , the heat emitting from Zhongli’s body, his hardened cock rubbing down as precum already spilled off from the tip, even the way his hole quivered in excitement for Childe’s touch.

Zhongli leaned forward, slightly raising his hips before realizing that the claws would probably rip his insides apart in a matter of seconds. “Right.” he sighed, reaching back to stretch himself out on his own.

But the next thing he heard was a splash, accompanied by waves of water swirling in the air before two, thick ropes wrapped around his wrists. “Hey, what are you—” before he could realize what was happening, his arms were fixed to the sides in a strong grip. The limbs were clear, reflecting the moonlight, but they didn’t feel inanimate. Zhongli could feel slight movement in them, as if they were alive .

“It would be a shame if you were to fall over.” Childe explained, his distorted voice was awfully sinister. Zhongli had never seen him manipulate his elements into anything but weapons, he struggled experimentally, curious to find out how strong they would be, but it seemed impossible to escape their hold.

“How am I going to—Ah!” Zhongli was too invested in the sensation to notice a thicker and denser one creeping up against his hole. The cooling effect on his wrists was enhanced as the limb entered him with no warning and no mercy, reaching all the way inside and making Zhongli choke out.

Childe chuckled in delight, “This is simply a measure of safety, Xiansheng. Why does it excite you so much?”

Zhongli’s precum was pooling up into a small puddle as his pupils rolled back, it was a sudden intrusion that his mind couldn’t comprehend, yet his body was inevitably reacting to the waves of pleasure engulfing him.

Zhongli always associated intimacy with warmth, but now, a slimy, cold and reckless entity that he wouldn’t even go near under normal circumstances was filling him up in all the right ways, pushing into his prostate as its tip thinned out and thickened intermittently. He struggled to hold himself back, it felt beneath him to release under a ghost of water. The Geo Archon having the best orgasm of his life with the help of a Hydro tentacle, utterly shameful.

But Childe was as persistent as he was, altering the rhythm and pressure as he pleased, eliciting needy cries from Zhongli’s lips. “Don’t resist.” it sounded less like an order and more like a suggestion. Zhongli glared at him, enraged, “Then fuck me yourself.” he growled. Childe wasn’t fazed by his anger in the slightest, “Not yet.”

The bright glow disappeared from Zhongli’s eyes and reignited again in unorganized cycles, lacking stability and control as he struggled to stand his ground. “You’re gonna make me drag it out?” Childe quipped, another tentacle had already wrapped itself around Zhongli’s cock, it was actually a soothing sensation that helped him cool off momentarily before it started pumping him up and down.

Zhongli shrieked, failing to fight any longer as cum spurted out of his tip, with every spasm of his hips his eyes shut tightly, chest heaving with the immense climax still rippling through his body.

Zhongli collapsed over the harbinger’s palm the second his wrists went unbound, Childe’s claws wrapped around him while his index brushed through Zhongli’s disheveled hair. The archon clung onto his thumb weakly, arms sore from being suspended high up for so long.

Childe brought him closer to his groin and Zhongli was quick to latch on the fabric and the armor, exposing the ‘skin’ underneath with his slender fingers. Though the human flesh was mostly disguised, Zhongli could identify faint sights of Childe’s skin color, now concealed by dark blue and purple veins traveling along his length.

His eyes widened with excitement and slight worry, Childe couldn’t help but chuckle at his state, “It’s okay, I don’t expect you to take all of it.”

Zhongli held his cock in between his thighs, gasping lightly as the tip brushed against his hole. He squeezed his legs together, feeling every vein and curve press into the sensitive skin of his inner-thighs.

“I will.” Zhongli breathed out, he felt infatuated and intoxicated, beginning to slide forward and back over the shaft almost involuntarily, “I…” a whimper escaped his lips, “...want all of you, Ajax.”

Childe was more than satisfied with the answer, his fingers wrapped around the archon, lining him on his tip and pushing him down slowly. Tears pooled around Zhongli’s eyes with the stretch, then began to stream down his face as Childe impaled him on his cock viciously.

He stopped halfway, giving Zhongli a moment to breathe while adjusting his grip. The archon was panting, digging his nails into Childe’s finger in an attempt to ease the strain, though it wasn’t doing much to alleviate his agony.

Childe began to slide him down once again, Zhongli had never felt more stretched out in his life, it felt like his hip bones were about to shatter, like his insides were being torn apart with every inch. Golden-brown markings painted over his arms and his chest as he fought to remain in his human form.

Childe noticed the growing fangs through Zhongli’s open-mouthed moans, the golden stripes starting to glow as well as his pupils. “A mortal body is terribly fragile, don’t you think?” he teased the archon, “It would be much easier if you transformed.”

Zhongli spat out the saliva building up on his throat, “Don’t—want to.” he exhaled sharply through his nose. Surely, he could give in to his body’s command, it was only trying to help Zhongli survive, but he refused to give up the extraordinary feeling, being at the mercy of a ferocious beast that satisfied him to such an extent that Zhongli cried, squirmed and whimpered for more.

No, he definitely wouldn’t trade it for the biological accommodations his body was trying to undergo.

Childe hissed as he lifted Zhongli all the way up and slammed him down again, reveling in the warmth of his walls hugging him. Zhongli screamed with every thrust, overwhelmed by the lust and rapture that ate away at his mind.

Through the eyes of Foul Legacy, Childe no longer had friends or foes, everything within his sight was merely prey . Zhongli, however, was embedded into Childe’s brain so deeply that no matter how many layers of his consciousness were peeled away, he would always be there.

A being that Childe must protect, cherish and worship until his very last breath. A monster like him, only cut from a different cloth.

His claws hugged the weakened, frail body of the archon even tighter than before in order to maintain his position. The sharp tips scraped along his skin as thin streams of blood ran along, painting the ground below crimson red. Zhongli’s legs and arms gave out fully as his mind steered through the same fate as his flesh, merely hanging by a thread.

He was starting to have a hard time pinpointing where one orgasm ended and another one began, instead it felt like being milked, drained out until there was nothing left. As if Childe wanted all of it spilling out for himself and no one else.

Zhongli couldn’t even lift his neck to look at him, the harbinger used the knuckle of his other hand to lift it up for him, gazing into the sparkling pupils that exuded exhaustion. “You’re doing exceptionally well today, Xiansheng, way beyond my expectations.” he praised, “Maybe I should reward you, hm?”

Zhongli nodded frantically as he slobbered like a dog, unable to utter even a single syllable. Childe was amused watching how pathetic and miserable Zhongli was for him. He parted his lips, letting out his tongue, Zhongli didn’t even know he had one in Foul Legacy, though it was a lot different than a human tongue, much longer and frolic.

It reached all the way to Zhongli’s lips with ease, mimicking the ludic movements of a snake as it slithered inside. Though the tip of it was slim, the more Childe pushed it down Zhongli’s throat, the harder it became to breathe for the archon.

It penetrated him deep, dripping saliva all the way down and blocking his airway with steady thrusts. Zhongli’s moans were muffled, vibrating all over Childe’s tongue as the harbinger explored further. It wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was Childe quite literally fucking his throat.

Zhongli struggled to breathe through his nose, the harbinger’s movements were growing sloppy, his tongue remained stuffed inside Zhongli as he jacked him up and down a few more times before releasing with a growl.

It was a terrifying amount, not only filling Zhongli up but also splattering all over his body and even leaking down to the ground. Childe’s body contracted and released, squeezing Zhongli at the same pace along with it until he was finally all out.

He retracted his tongue and slid the archon off, laying him down on the grass carefully. Zhongli couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he pressed his palms down on the grass, eventually feeling footsteps approach him.

Childe knelt by his side, running his fingers along the archon’s hair coated by cum, blood, sweat and saliva. Zhongli could only open his eyes halfway, but the familiar sight of his Ajax was comforting enough to form a weak smile over his lips.

Childe smiled down on him, pressing kisses all over his face and hands, showering his beloved with affection and gratitude.

i hope you enjoyed ! this is also posted at my ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/44134281 - feel free to say hi here, at my inbox or on twitter @/tarudocd i wish you a great rest of your week :)

#genshin impact #genshin smut #tartaglia x zhongli #bottom zhongli #top tartaglia #childe tartaglia ajax #mlm #mlm smut #foul legacy #overstim kink #overstimulated #monsterfucking cw #monster fucker #zhongli smut #tartaglia smut #tartali #genshin chili

213 notes · View notes

kierewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Toxic Bullets│3

navi - masterlist

Bakugou x Reader

Art: @mkm_storage on twitter

Mood Song: safety net

Summary: Trying to fix your brother’s mistake, you’re forced to do favors from one of Musutafu’s notorious mafia lords: Yo Shindo. On your final mission for the mafia leader, you catch another infamous mafia lord’s eye but not in the way you’d expect.

Warnings: cursing, mafia au, bakugou is a huge asshole and gets very aggressive, mild suggestive thoughts

This dream was like no other.

You couldn’t really move from the position you were in, though nothing was truly holding you down either. It just felt like your bones were a trillion times heavier than they actually were. You were able to look around, but it didn’t help much. You were surrounded by an overwhelming darkness.

You couldn’t speak, but you could surely hear your own thoughts. It felt like you had been here for hours, maybe even days.

Was this really a dream? Or were you just telling yourself that so you could shove down the thought that you were possibly dead?

Desperately, you tried to remember what had happened before you had come to this state. Your brother had done something stupid… no surprise there, and he got you in some big deadly fiasco of a mess.

The more you tried to remember the more you felt your head begin to ache so instead, you sat in silence. Letting the overwhelming sound of nothingness fill you up. For a moment you thought it would eventually consume you until a familiar voice began to softly echo.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of anything familiar, desperate to return to your old life and memories.

“W..What did you say?” You replied, scrambling to your feet shakily only to fall back to your knees.

“u/ʎ ǝɔıoɥɔ ʇɥɓıɹ ǝɥʇ ǝpɐɯ no⅄“

The sound grew louder and you felt your body begin to warm, not realizing how ice cold you had been this entire time. Tears began to brim at the tips of your eyes as your body began to relearn what it was like to feel again.

“Huh?!” You shouted desperately, clawing at the wet ground so you wouldn’t let this voice vanish your only escape.

“You made the right choice Y/n.”

The words were loud and clear to you now as the wet floor sucked you under only to spit you out into a world of color. Your body shot up from the silky surface beneath you as you screamed out in fear, only to quickly silence when you took in your surroundings.

You seemed to be laying in a fairly large bed, the sheets unmistakably black and silky. If you hadn’t just awoken from a coma-like dream, you would’ve actually admired the sophisticated taste.

Glancing down you noticed yourself covered in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it. This was hint number one that you weren’t anywhere familiar, although the room itself was the main reason for that fact.

Now you were just raking through your memories to see how you could’ve ended up here. The more you tried to think, the worse your head ached. And those stupid words from that gruff voice kept echoing in your head…

“You made the right choice Y/n” You muttered to yourself, tapping your finger against your knee impatiently until it hit.

Bakugou Katsuki.

You were in the middle of a shoot out, and ended on the nasty side of it. You couldn’t quite remember how you came to be knocked out, but it might’ve had something to do with your aching head.

So does that mean you were really dead at that moment? Or just having a horrifying dream? At this point, it didn’t matter. You were alive and if you wanted to stay that way, you decided you should figure out where you were.

Tossing your legs over the side of the bed, you pressed your feet against the cool tile beneath you, the change in temperature making you hiss.

Glancing at a mirror nearby you felt your cheeks begin to warm at the sight of your bare legs, the shirt falling just at the mid of your thigh. Looking around you noticed a pair of bright pink sweatpants hung on the closet door.

Clearly whoever dressed you was considerate enough to not push any boundaries. A mental sigh of relief was made as you tugged the pink garment up your legs, your shivering legs appreciating the new warmth.

Now came the door, the giant intimidating black door that seemed to have no handle or knob on it. Was there a chance this wasn’t a bedroom, and rather a cell? Suddenly the sound of Shindo’s voice filled your head at his previous warning.

“You think he really cares about you? Once you give him what he wants, you’re only a threat to him.”

Biting your lip you tip toed towards the door, fists curled until your nails left crescents in your skin as you lifted a hand to attempt to slide the door open. Instead the door opened without a single touch causing you to squeak and jump back.

Internally you let out a sigh of relief when you realized this wasn’t a cell.

Inhaling once more to gather up every ounce of confidence you had left after this hell of a week, you leaned the top half of your body out of the doorway, glancing down both sides of the hallway only to see a labyrinth of doors and corners.

Everything seemed fairly high tech, much to your surprise, but the lighting was also very dim which made it hard to see.

The sound of voices didn’t go past your ears though, a triumphant grin reaching your lips as you decided to let your sense of hearing take control.

Tip toeing out of the room, you began to walk towards the sound of the voices. Each turn there seemed to be something new that made you jump, whether it be the sounds of the air clicking on or the lights coming to life each time you walked by them.

“If I didn’t know better I would feel like I’m on a freaking spaceship.” You mumbled to yourself, taking in the scenery of wherever you seemed to be.

Eventually after what felt like miles of walking, the hallway finally seemed to open up into a large room. Screens and gadgets were held all around the room. On one end you could see a multitude of weapons nested deep into some sort of arsenal room. The other end held a large table before large screens and tech.

Maybe you were picturing an old fashioned mafia shack or warehouse, but this was far beyond whatever you imagined to be a “base” for a group of gangsters.

After taking in the room itself, you finally noticed the familiar group from before that had been with you, the sight of them had you equally relieved and anxious.

Sure they saved you from getting kidnapped twice, but if you learned anything from this terrible week, it’s that you could trust no one. They were still one of the most infamous gangs in your area, and Bakugou even confirmed himself he had a growing hitlist.

With this in mind, you decided to play spy in the moment, hoping to hear any genuine plans they had for you with you out of the room.

Unfortunately for you, they were talking suspiciously quiet and multiple voices were going off at once. It was then you noticed some new faces amongst the crowd.

The sight of a few girls somehow made you feel a bit better inside, misogynistic or not, you felt some comfort knowing that girls typically were much more understanding.

Another thing you noticed were the wild choices of appearance. Just about everyone in the room had some color of the rainbow on their head. Maybe having unpredictable hair color had something to do with their gang’s image?

Easily the strangest appearance you took note of was the girl with bright pink hair. It wasn’t quite her hair that stood out to you most, but rather her dark black eyes that seemed to stare into your soul.

Wait. She sees you.

“That’s her?” The pink haired girl squealed, all eyes turning to her as your eyes widened, she was very clearly looking at you now with a wide grin.

Stepping back you quickly shook your hands across your face and started slicing a line along your neck, hinting for her to shut up so she wouldn’t expose you.

But of course your luck had run out a long time ago.

“She looks nothing like her dorky brother, she’s adorable!” The pink haired girl cooed.

Your jabbing hand motions came to a halt when all eyes fell on you now, the sight of so many piercing gazes made you want to melt into the floor.

“And she’s wearing the sweats I left her! Do they fit alright?”

Somehow even with the ringing anxiety swirling through your head, you managed to grasp her question as you nodded hesitantly, noticing that the bottoms were actually surprisingly comfortable.

“They accent Bakugou’s emo shirt perfectly.” Another girl snorted, a few snickers and a low growl entering the air at the snarky comment.

You forced a smile but couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, especially when you met the steel red gaze that was burning holes through your skull the second the pink haired girl called you out.

Bakugou didn’t seem mad, but he didn’t seem pleased either.

Before you could even process anything the flamboyant girl latched onto your arms and dragged you down the stairs towards the group before you.

“Welcome to the base! Does your head still hurt? Are you really Kiyoshi’s little sister?”

Between the many voices and practically being thrown around like a doll you felt like your head was going to explode, dark spots beginning to seep into your vision again as your breathing became more ragged.

A groan of pain escaped your lips as you began to tremble, fearing you would be dragged back to that terrible coma dream you were in just a few moments ago.

“Leave her the fuck alone!”

The voices fell silent when the sharp yell was heard from behind them. A rough arm shoved through the crowd until they firmly, yet gently grabbed onto your arms before your knees could fully buckle.

“She’s been out for three fucking days you dipshits, give her some damn space.”

Maybe it’s because your vision was blurred, but you swore you saw a look of concern in Bakugou’s fierce red eyes, his lips pinching into a thin line as he looked you up and down.

“You gonna pass out on me shitty girl?” Bakugou muttered, helping you up to a standing position before cupping the back of your head to make sure you were stable.

You felt your cheeks warm at his touch, the position embarrassing enough since you couldn’t stand well on your own. You searched through his gaze, looking for any sort of hostility or anger, but when you saw nothing you relaxed in his hold.

“M’fine.” You mumbled, wincing a bit as you forced yourself to stand upright without his help, though you still gripped onto his forearm for safe measures.

The blond let out a huff and nodded, slowly leading you to an empty chair as you avoided the many gazes throughout the room. The silence was deafening, it had your skin crawl, but it wasn’t long before a low whistle broke throughout the room.

You looked up to surprisingly see no eyes on you, but rather the grumpy man beside you. The whistle came from the raven haired boy you remembered from earlier in the car, a shit eating grin was plastered across his lips.

Oblivious to the situation, you felt the blond tense before gripping a bit tighter on your arm as he growled at the snickering group. You honestly weren’t aware enough to care what was happening, you were still trying to understand what had just happened. Blinking for a moment, Bakugou’s words finally began to process in your head.

“Three days?!” You cried, the sound shocking everyone as Bakugou halted his movements. “You let me stay asleep for three days?”

Even Bakugou was shocked when he saw your once weak eyes narrow into frustrated ones. How you could even comprehend another emotion other than fear honestly almost impressed him. Almost.

“And the brat is back.” Bakugou growled, making sure you were at least hovering over the chair before letting go of you, causing you to plop back rather ungracefully.

You lips pinched together in a pout as you leaned forward, using the table to steady yourself.

“I’m serious! I have a dog at home, I don’t know how my idiotic brother is doing. How could you just let me doze off for that long?”

“You had the worst fuckin week of your life and endured serious head trauma, did you prefer I set a five o’clock alarm for you princess?” Bakugou snarled, moving close to your face in hopes to intimidate that loud mouth shut.

For a moment you opened your mouth ready to rebuttal, but you soon closed it when you took in his words. Just Mina tugging you down the stairs too quickly was enough for you to almost collapse, maybe you did injure yourself worse than expected.

It honestly had you shocked now that he didn’t wake you up earlier. As impatient and cruel as the gang leader was, you expected he would have kicked you out by now.

Bakugou seemed satisfied with your silence, a smug smirk rested on his lips as he stood back up to his full height, though he still remained towering over you as if you would make a run for it in your current state.

Glancing around the room, you took in the both concerned and shocked gazes on you. This was probably just as confusing for them as it was for you. Swallowing thickly, you looked down at your fingers that began to twitch nervously in your lap.

“So this is your base?” You spoke softly, eyes shifting around the room before you looked up at Bakugou with curious eyes, “I thought we couldn’t come here because they would track us?”

The ash blond kept his cool glare down on you, but internally he felt like going feral. There you sat before him, for once not trying to mouth off but just looking up to him with those wide gentle eyes that held just a smidge of curiosity in them. Those same eyes you gave him in the car that made his mind surge with both wholesome and sinful ideas.

“Once you shot Shindo, we got him to spit out where he put the tracker.” Kirishima explained from across the table, your head whipping to him as you nodded in understanding.

That was right, Shindo told you he put the tracker in your dress.

Your dress. That’s why you were in this random shirt, and why you were able to come here in the first place.

The way Bakugou could see the gears slowly clicking in your brain made him chuckle quietly, already knowing the cute little outburst that was soon to follow.

“You took my dress off!” You exclaimed, the accusation even making Kirishima blush as you felt your own cheeks begin to swell with warmth.

“Not me! Bakugou!” Kirishima returned defensively, Kaminari and Sero both nodding to confirm his words, “He made sure to take it off privately and give you a spare shirt for the ride.”

Now your head whipped to the blond before you, your blood beginning to boil when you saw that stupid shit eating grin returned to his lips.

“Don’t worry angel, it’s nothing I would rush to tell my friends about.”

At that you felt your jaw drop as he walked away from you snickering, his crude comment making you want to take your non-existent shoe off and beat him with it.

“Alright that’s it.” You growled, your new tone making the blond spin on his heel with a look of feigned shock, “You don’t get to be a dickhead anymore. I want to know where the hell my brother is, then I want out of this starship looking base.”

Bakugou thought your stern stance was adorable, truly. Even in the weak state you were in you managed to stand by yourself. He felt his crew look to him, most likely gauging whether he was about to snap your neck for raising your voice at him, but he knew he didn’t have to. You did a pretty good job of making yourself look like a child all on your own.

“And what will you do if I don’t, princess?” Bakugou purred, his arms crossed as he gave you possibly the most smug expression he’s shot since you’ve met him.

Sure you were a bit out of your league here, and you were in no state to attempt to fight anyone in this room, but you weren’t stupid. And you would be damned if you ever let a stupid gang leader ever have the upper hand on you again.

Though you weren’t confident at first, when you rubbed your hand along your chest and felt the familiar piece of metal dig against your skin, you knew it was exactly where you left it.

Folding your arms to mirror Bakugou’s stupid stance, you returned a smirk of your own as you looked him up and down with unimpressed eyes.

“I’ll shatter this stupid flash drive into a million pieces right before your stupid smug face.”

Bakugou’s eyes genuinely widened at this, his stance stiffening before he narrowed his eyes once again, “What are you…”

Without having to ask, Todoroki dashed towards the table across the room that held your small clutch that Bakugou somehow snuck from you when you were in the car. Once he opened it he felt his mouth go dry when he saw nothing inside.

The sight of Todoroki hesitantly nodding his head no, as if to confirm the drive wasn’t where they confirmed he felt copious amounts of rage flow through his body.

“You thought you were so cute when you stole my bag from me in the car, didn’t you?” You spoke, his crimson eyes now back on you, “Well all it did was confirm I can’t trust you, so I took the liberty of taking that flash drive back so I could have some leverage over you.”

The sight of the pathetic man before you had you both inwardly and outwardly laugh.

“Now Mr. Bakugou sir.” You purred, fluttering your lashes up to the fuming man as a smirk coiled at the tip of your lip, “I would like to know where my brother is, and I would like to leave.”

For once it felt great to have the upper hand. In what felt like a week of torture, you finally had some sort of confidence or leverage that you could get out of this scratch free. Finally return to the comfort of your home where you could have much needed cuddles with your poor dog and call your friends over to tell them the nightmare you somehow lived.

But that fantasy began to crack when a cruel laugh filled the air. You blinked at the sound, your eyes bolting to the tall leader before you as more uncontrollable laughs escaped his lips. The sound of his genuine laughter made your skin crawl, it was a sound you had never heard before. It was almost worse that his laughs sounded so real. Like he thought this was the funniest thing in the world.

“You really are dumber than you look.” Bakugou sighed in between a laugh, his voice even cracking at the lack of control, “You are a L/n after all.”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to this change and mood and wondering what on earth could be so funny to this man. Pinching your lips together, you tried to get a glimpse of his face before he shot his head up to you, the look sending chills throughout your body.

This was a new look on him, one you had never seen. Maybe something similar when he yelled at you the first time you met, but not quite this sinister. His eyes were still lit up in amusement, but his lips were curled into the most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen.

Even with no weapons in his hands, the look alone was enough to trigger your brain into fight or flight. You were in danger no doubt.

Before you could even process much more he began to move, storming towards you as you stumbled on the chair behind you, trying to move it in front of you as some sort of barrier between you and the hulking beast coming your way as you stumbled back away from him.

“Bakugou.” Kirishima growled, starting to walk around the table as the rest of the group backed away from the scene.

“Come any closer and she’s dead.” Bakugou growled at the redhead, the promise of a statement even making Kirishima freeze as he looked to you with worried eyes.

That statement really had you moving, the fight or flight kicking in tenfold as you shoved chairs between the two of you and tried to move away. Each barrier was pointless, Bakugou making an unblockable path as he neared you, the final chair he flung across the room before he grabbed you by the shirt and tugged you back into his chest.

In a desperate attempt to get away you jabbed your elbow back into his chest, but before it made a significant impact his hand was already wrapped tight around your throat.

“I wouldn’t thrash around too much princess, all it takes is one wrong move in your pathetic state.” Bakugou hissed into your ear, both a threat and a fact all in one that had you completely still.

Once he had you still, the ash blond used his grip on your neck to spin you around and shove you down on the table until you were seated between his legs.

“Now after all the shit I’ve been through to get your ungrateful ass to safety, I was expecting you to be showering me with praise.” Bakugou growled, eyes staring deeply into yours as you trembled in his hold, “But instead, you’ve been nothing but an insufferable bitch.”

Somehow you were able to furrow your brows at that word, your lips opening to speak before his grip on your neck got impossibly tighter.

“I wouldn’t open that pretty mouth of yours unless it’s a thank you.”

His threatening words were enough to close your lips once more, trying your best to avoid his harsh gaze as he sneered a “thought so” down to you.

“Now I’m going to say this once, and only once. And if I ever have to repeat it again, you’re going to wish you could put a bullet in your skull first. Got that?”

Immediately you made an attempt to nod before he continued on.

“Your brother put you under my protection because he’s a fucking idiot and put you in danger, I get that’s not your fault, but I also don’t fucking care.” Bakugou explained harshly, “And because you’re under my damn protection, do you know what that means? It means that you’re going to do whatever I tell you to do, no matter what.”

Though the mentioning of your brother made you grimace, you still continued to listen.

“So from this point forward, this is your last and final warning.” Bakugou spoke low as he neared your face, noses practically touching, “If you dare to disobey me or do anything that puts my gang in danger again, the deal is off and I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”

His final punctuated words were followed by the loosening of his grip on your neck, most likely to ensure you actually responded.

Taking in a ragged breath, you nodded before mumbling out a yes as your gaze avoided his own.

The feeling of his firm grip returning had you coughing out again, your hands now reaching to his own wrist as you clawed at his arm.

“Now I know you have better manners than that princess, now try again and don’t you dare look away from me.”

Gritting your teeth, you let your teary gaze focus on his stern one as your lip wobbled slightly, “Yes sir.”

At those words, his grip on your throat finally released. Immediately you began coughing and gasping for air, and as much as you hated it your hands found purchase of his chest to get any sort of stability as you tried to blink back those black spots once more.

Luckily the cruel man before you didn’t seem to mind that you clung to him, especially because his arms were still caged around you so you didn’t have much else to grab.

“Good girl,” Bakugou cooed condescendingly, watching you gather yourself with unimpressed eyes, “All it takes is a stern tone to break a brat, huh?”

Ignoring the glare you shot between your lashes, Bakugou smirked down to you and raised a brow.

“Now be a doll and tell me where the flashdrive is.”

Bakugou let you take a few minutes to breathe even after his question, knowing you were probably trying to gather your thoughts and remember where you placed it. Though once your hand disappeared under your shirt he roughly grabbed it through the fabric and gave you a stern glare.

“The fuck are you doing.” Bakugou growled, furrowing his brows when you returned the glare.

“T..The drive.” You muttered, shooing his hand away before tugging around in your bra and pulling the drive out from under your shirt.

“Sneaky girl left it in her bra!” Kaminari chuckled, tone deaf to the situation as everyone glared at him.

The two of you ignored the oblivious boy, Bakugou instead grabbed the flashdrive from you and stood up away from you. Sure enough it was the exact flash drive you were looking for. Somehow you managed to mildly impress the blond even though you annoyed the shit out of him in every way. You were no idiot.

Just before Bakugou stood back he felt something tug at the cuff of his shirt, his head whipping to the source to see your hand gripping at it. Raising a brow, he heard you mutter something not quite loud enough to hear at first.

“What?” Bakugou growled, leaning down so he could hear you better, only to freeze when he finally heard what you said.

“Thank you.”

Though he didn’t need to ask for what, Bakugou was still shocked to hear those words fall from your lips. Your eyes were still filled with warm tears, probably swirling with fear and anger, but somehow you were able to at least acknowledge your gratitude for the first time since he met you.

Looking you up and down, Bakugou let out a calm huff in response before standing back up straight and barking for his gang members to take a seat. Bakugou nodded for you to sit in the chair next to you, but you shook your head and began walking around the table.

His eyes began to light up with frustration once again as you disobeyed orders, but his anger immediately faltered when he saw you were heading straight for his softer right hand.

Kirishima watched as you moved close to his side, eyes widening slightly before he noticed Bakugou’s returning frustration.

“Bakugou, s’fine.” Kirishima growled firmly this time, giving his close friend a trusting nod as he helped you in the chair beside him.

Honestly he couldn’t blame you. Though he didn’t regret his actions, he also knew his approach to many things were rather terrifying for the receiver. After all you’ve been through, he probably hadn’t done a good job building your trust up again.

At the very least, he knew you wouldn’t be running off or mouthing off for a while. That was going to have to be good enough for now.

“Get her some water, Deku.” Bakugou mumbled, smacking the green haired boy’s head as he quickly shot up and shuffled into another room.

The request had your brows furrowing, confused at the sudden kind decision on his behalf. It was at that moment you decided Bakugou Katsuki was the most confusing man you had ever met.

In a small, very small way, you knew he was right. Sure you had no huge reasons to trust him, but given your current situation he has treated you averagely fair up until this point, and he protected you in every dangerous situation that had been thrown your way.

That was honestly the only reason you thanked him, but now that your gratitude was in the air, you decided you would remain closed off and cold until everything was back to normal. You would never trust these people, but you would at least use them until you were finally free again.

The next hour was used to explain the situation at hand, one that you had massively underestimated.

“This man is leader of the Henkan Clan, he’s sort of like the senior of all the gangs so he isn’t a guy you want to fucking mess around with. He’s currently after you because he has technical ownership over you.”

The sight of the large man on the screen made bumps raise along your arms, he looked more terrifying there then he did at the club.

“This guy, as you already know, is the leader of the Shindo Clan. He’s pissed with you and me because you were supposed to be delivered to the Henkan clan, and we got in the way of it. He is currently going to be after all of us once his leg heals.”

The sight of the black haired man made you grit your teeth, his stupid smug smile haunted you right before your very eyes.

“And lastly the Neito Clan, luckily he has no need to go after you yet, he just despises our gang because we’re better than him,” Bakugou explained with a sneer, “With that said, once he realizes that you’re a wanted girl under our protection, he will surely want to come for you as well.”

The new information had your head a mess. You didn’t even know how to process it, or what to think. All you knew is that you just wanted your old boring life back the way it was.

“With all of that said, we need to go extract Kiyoshi and get these two idiots in a safe place so they won’t be in our way.” Bakugou spoke to the group, your head shooting up at the sound of your brother's name.

“Kiyoshi? I have to come-”

“Relax princess.” Bakugou growled, cutting off your sentence as he spared a glance to you, “You’re coming with us to see him. If you wouldn’t have been such a stubborn brat before, you would’ve known that.”

His words had you sighing in relief, but not without folding your arms and letting out a huff at the second half of his statement.

“Same group as Y/n’s extraction, get the car ready to head to the directions he sent us. The rest of you, I need all eyes on each of the clans’ every move. If you get any strange movement at all, you notify me right away, got it?”

When a choir of “yes sir’s” filled the air, Bakugou let out a satisfied sigh before moving back to you, watching as your skeptical eyes followed his every move. Offering a smirk, he held out his hand as if daring you to deny it.

“Let’s go meet that shitty brother of yours.”

next chapter

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #mha #bnha #mafia au #gangster au #mafia bakugou #gangster bakugou #long fic #sfw #angst

156 notes · View notes

merry-boberry · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Yon Bonnie Banks

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish

Tags/CW: Canon-Typical Violence, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, Rescue Missions, Hurt John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish

Available here on AO3 if you prefer, otherwise, fic is below. This was written for the #SongficSeptember event on not-twitter, link here.

Summary:

While waiting for Soap's return from a mission with another unit, Ghost receives some unwelcome news. Soap has been captured, and Ghost will make sure he comes home.

‘Twas there that we parted, in yon shady glen,

On the steep, steep side o’ Ben Lomond,

Wher’n soft purple hue, the highland hills we view,

And the moon coming out in the gloaming.

The helicopter never arrived.

No rotors broke the quiet of the night to announce that Soap was finally back on base after being lent out to another unit for a week.

No punches to his shoulder or tired hellos from his sergeant after being worked like a dog out in the field.

There was no Soap.

Ghost knew, because he had been waiting out on the tarmac for hours, even beyond the point where he'd admitted to himself that Soap wasn't coming. All he could think while he stood out there in the cold, just one dark, lone figure under the harsh light that illuminated the asphalt, was what if he gave up and that was the moment Soap landed? What if he landed and there was no one waiting for him?

That misplaced hope that Soap would still show up didn’t stop the way his frenzied thoughts were racing through his tired mind. Had something happened? Was he okay? His sergeant was extraordinarily capable, had proven his skill and competence a hundred times over since they’d started working together, but for all that he was an incredible operator and had a way about him of pulling Ghost in, Soap wasn't infallible.

Johnny wasn't invincible.

Finally though, Price had found him out there, and just by his furrowed brows and worn expression under that boonie hat, Ghost knew there was bad news coming his way.

His chest tightened until he could barely breathe, but breathe he did, slowly and purposefully through his nose and out through his mouth while he waited for Price to tell him that this brief period of happiness brought on just by being in Johnny’s presence, a bright spot in a dark life, was over.

Price must have read him like a book because he started with, "he's not dead."

"Then where the fuck is he?" his voice came out harsh and grating. 'Not dead' left a lot of room for the worst possible scenarios Ghost’s mind could conjure. Captain was a smart man, he knew what this meant for Ghost. What Ghost was thinking, feeling.

If Johnny was broken, they needed to fix him.

If Johnny was missing, they needed to find him.

If Johnny was gone, well…

"We're working on it," was all Price said.

That wasn't an answer, and the captain damn well knew it.

"Not good enough. What happened?" he demanded, and Price sighed, his breath a plume in front of him in the cold.

"The squad in charge of clearing his path didn't do their bloody job right, and think a team of hostiles got behind him," the disgust in Price's voice was palpable, and no wonder. Fuckin' incompetent bastards, the whole lot of them, to miss an entire team like that.

And Soap, fuck, he was a force of nature in his own right, but taken unawares by an entire team?

"And didn't stay close enough to provide back-up? Where the fuck was overwatch?" Ghost ground out; the words felt more like broken glass being crushed against concrete than a function of his vocal chords.

"Too busy watching him get captured to do their job, apparently," Price replied with a huff, fingers twitching towards his chest pocket. In search of a cigar, most likely. Something to dull the edge of the frustration he had to be feeling.

Captured. Not killed.

There was a chance.

"We'll get him back, Simon."

"What the fuck is he saying?"

"Something about a road, I think."

O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,

"Fuck does that even mean?"

And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? He just keeps goin' on about a road and Scotland."

But me and my true love will never meet again,

"For fuck's sakes, he's just singing some bullshit about his girl back home."

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

"Least he knows he's never seeing her again."

"Poor bastard."

It took thirty-eight hours to acquire John "Soap" MacTavish's location.

Two thousand two hundred and eighty minutes until they knew where his sergeant was being held captive, another eighty-two minutes before they had a plan for entry and exit, and fifteen minutes to get fully geared up and ready to hit the transport.

Two thousand three hundred seventy seven minutes too long.

The transport felt both like it would never end and like it was passing too quickly, and seventy-six minutes later they were piling off the helicopter and adjusting their gear one last time before setting off into the forest, moving quietly under the cover of night.

The compound Soap was being held in had seen better days, certainly, and looked like a doomsday prepper's wet dream. Chain link fence all around a cluster of buildings in the wilderness that they had spent forty-five minutes trekking to on foot so the helicopter didn't give away their presence and remove the element of surprise. Within the chain link perimeter there were vegetable gardens and cinderblock buildings littering the space, with generators and solar panels powering the spotlights that kept the compound lit.

They made it a pain in the arse to cut the power, so the plan was to stick to the edges and remove the patrols instead.

Price had tasked Ghost with leading the way on infiltrating the building where Soap was most likely to be, and infiltrate Ghost did. Back to working alone for this part, he crept down each hallway, systematically moving from room to room to silently dispatch anyone in his way. Whether they were a combatant or not, they were an obstacle between him and his sergeant, and that meant they needed to be removed. Simple as that.

Finally, Ghost had cleared the majority of the building, leaving this one door in front of him. It sat cracked open an inch, just enough for him to hear rough voices speaking in accented English. Not American - Canadian, maybe? Bit strange to hear in remote woods of not-Russia, but maybe that was exactly the reason.

"Look, we know the fucker is in the SAS, and we know there are others,“ the first voice said. Sounded a bit reedy, like someone who had serious smoking habit and coughed when he laughed.

"And you were tasked with getting more out of him than that,“ the second voice said, tinny and poor quality like it was coming from a phone speaker. Sounded like he had some level of authority. He’d pocket the phone - might prove useful.

"We tried askin' nicely, and tried askin' a little less nicely, but the stupid asshole spat in my face and said nothing,“ the first voice was edging into the realm of irritating whinging. Ghost couldn’t help but appreciate that even in such a grim spot, Soap was still Soap.

"You ask about his partner, the big bastard in the skull mask?"

"Said he was choosin' the low road. He was singin' about that earlier too, maybe."

"And you didn't mention that sooner because…?"

"Thought he was croonin' about his sweetheart," a new voice cut in, deeper than the other’s and defensive.

There was a pause.

"You fucking idiot."

"What'd we do?“ the deeper voice asked, and Ghost could hear anger joining the defensiveness.

"It's what you didn't do - look up the words to that song,“ the voice snapped from the shitty phone speaker.

"It's just some fuckin' love song,“ the raspy, deeper voice was more dismissive than defensive now.

“Well, the funny thing about words is this: they can have more than one meaning. He's been telling you he'll die before he talks,” the phone voice positively dripped condescension and there was a part of Ghost that could appreciate that Soap was telling them to fuck off in one of the strangest ways possible.

"Time to give him what he wants, then,“ the thin, reedy voice said with a smug chuckle that trailed into a cough.

"He's close enough to dead already. Won't take much,“ the deeper voice said.

The call ended, and Ghost had heard more than enough.

The leather of his glove creaked as he gripped the knife in his hand tighter, rage and sheer terror simmering uncomfortably in his gut. A gun would be faster, but a gun brought distance between him and Soap's captors that he didn't want. No, this was personal, and the knife would be perfect for the job. They would not get the opportunity to finish off his sergeant, not while he was here.

Ghost crept forward, eyes and ears trained on the door before him. Once he was close enough, he could make out two men within, each looking like a caricature of their accents with dirty, faded denim and plaid shirts on. They looked more like they belonged on a farm or shotgunning beer while they chopped wood than playing at being terrorists in the backwoods of not-Russia, what with the fact he couldn’t see a single piece of tactical gear between the two of them. Were they even armed?

The fuck kind of operation was this?

Not that it mattered. They were between him and Johnny, and were getting ready to kill his sergeant, and that was what mattered.

In a sudden surge of motion, his foot met the door, kicking it open with enough force to bounce off the wall. He was already through it by the time either of these assholes realised what was happening, knife up and ready.

The thin one with the reedy, irritating voice was the first to go down, his throat slit open and pouring blood even as he reached for a hunting knife on his belt that had been hidden under his jacket.

The second one was shorter with a stocky build, like he was accustomed to hard, physical labour. But that raw strength had nothing on Ghost, and even as the bastard spun and went for a battered handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, Ghost had already grabbed him by the collar and delivered a series of harsh stab wounds to his chest.

He left the bastard laying on the floor to bleed out, his laboured breaths gurgling in his chest, and was going for the only other door in the room when he paused.

The phone. If they could run a trace on the phone, they could find who was in charge of this.

He could find who’d given the kill order.

He could make them regret ever even hearing about his sergeant.

The phone had been left on a desk that was well-past seeing better days, and Ghost had it snatched up and pocketed within seconds before he turned his attention back to his ultimate goal.

The door handle was in as good of shape as the rest of the compound, and was sticky and stubborn when he turned it, but it still opened. It left him wondering what kind of shape his Johnny was in, that they hadn’t even bothered to lock the door behind them?

For the first time in two thousand five hundred and thirty five minutes, Ghost clapped eyes on his sergeant, and it left him wishing he hadn’t killed the two men on the floor as quickly as he had. The way Johnny had been strung up, his hands chained above his head high enough that his shoulders were risking serious damage and his bare toes barely getting any purchase on the dirty tile floor had Ghost wishing he could do it all over again, but slower. More painful. Let them see that the big bastard in the skull mask had come for his sergeant.

Johnny’s head hung down so his chin rested against his bloody chest, and for one awful moment Ghost thought he'd been too late, until he saw the barely-there movement of his sergeant's bruised ribs.

Before he could rush to the man's side and help him down, Ghost heard a murmur of sound.

"The wee birdies sing," Johnny's voice was a broken rasp of noise, and the most beautiful thing Ghost had ever heard. "And the wildflowers spring."

He stepped further into the room on quiet feet, listening intently as Soap continued.

"And in sunshine the waters are sleeping," if Johnny heard the door open, he gave no indication of it. "But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again, though the waeful may cease frae their grieving."

Ghost's next step towards his sergeant was purposefully loud, echoing in the small room. Johnny froze, then slowly lifted his head to meet Ghost's dark gaze with beautiful, familiar, deep blue eyes in a bruised and battered face.

"Ghost," he breathed, his pained expression melting into such sheer fondness it stole the breath from Simon’s lungs. "Should've known it'd be you."

He cocked his head at his sergeant in silent question.

"To bring me home," Soap said by way of explanation, a soft sigh escaping his cracked lips. He was here to take Johnny home, but he got the distinct sense that wasn't what he meant.

"I'm glad it was you, Ghost," Johnny's voice was fading, his eyes closing. "The low road... I'll be in Scotland... a'fore ye... thought I’d not see my true love again…“

His true love? He didn’t mean…?

"You're not dead yet, sergeant," Ghost finally said as he reached for Soap's bindings.

But Johnny was unconscious, a smile playing his bloody, cracked lips, and Ghost would hold those ramblings close to his heart.

O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,

And I’ll be in Scotland a’fore ye,

But me and my true love will never meet again,

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #fanfiction #really hope this doesnt completely flop lmao

23 notes · View notes

waketoweep · 6 months ago

Text

continuation of my omegaverse!chihihaku thoughts:

omega!hakuri was enamoured by the musky scent of the black-haired alpha and he was unconsciously staring at him before snapping out of it once he realised.

as hakuri continued wrapping the flowers for his other customers in the shop, the alpha's red eyes started wandering around the omega's appearance; short white beautiful locks with a long side braid framing his pretty face and very bright blue eyes resembling the sky. he wears a black undershirt with a white t-shirt on top alongside a dark green apron, a nametag of "hakuri" on the left side of the apron.

the sweet scent of vanilla roamed into the alpha's nose, almost smelling like an aphrodisiac to him. Just as he was about to lean forward to the counter to smell the omega, he was interrupted by the soft voice coming from him.

"hi! are you in need of assistance?" hakuri had finished the other customers' orders and looked back at the alpha who was standing there looking at him with a forlorn look on his face. hakuri, not knowing what to do, smiled hesitantly.

the alpha coughed to get rid of the awkward air surrounding them and said, "i would like a flower arrangement for a deceased relative." hakuri dropped his smile. "oh, i'm so sorry for your loss." the alpha smiled slightly and told hakuri that it was okay.

"do you have any kind of flowers you want for the arrangement?" the black-haired man shook his head as a response.

"alright then. unfortunately due to so many orders coming here some of our flowers are nearly gone. do you mind if you wait for a bit longer?" "sure, i don't mind." hakuri beamed, his smile nearly blinding the alpha.

he then held a notepad and a pen before asking, "please give me your name and phone number so i can call you once we've finished your order!" the alpha leaned forward once again, towards the now frozen omega and finally said, "chihiro."

chat should i continue this

go follow my twitter/x account strooparfait ! i talk about some short miscellaneous chihihaku thoughts

#kagurabachi #chihihaku #hakuhiro #hakuri sazanami #chihiro rokuhira #i truly am the ceo of bottom hakuri #my mind is just hakuri hakuri hakuri

5 notes · View notes

recipro-turbo · 2 years ago

Text

brother mine - year six

Chapter Rating: T Chapter Word Count: 1.6k Chapter Notes: originally posted to twitter here. tensei is 21 in this chapter.

Chapter-specific content warnings: hospitals, child abduction and endangerment

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Awareness returns to Tensei slowly.

He feels like he’s at the bottom of the ocean, several hundred leagues beneath the surface. His eyelids are too heavy, limbs filled with lead. He can’t make any sense of what he hears, doesn’t know who, if anyone, is speaking.

Tensei’s breathing, he knows that much. Every breath hurts, but it’s a muted sort of pain. He focuses on that sensation, clings to it like it’s the only thing keeping the darkness from swallowing him back up.

He wasn’t imagining the sounds. As consciousness slowly returns, he registers voices. Two of them. Tensei might know them… they sound so familiar to him, but he can’t quite…

No. No, he can.

One of them is Manual, the third year from U.A. High currently working with Team Iidaten for his work study. The other… Mother? It sure sounds like her…

Tensei tries to move. Agony spikes up his right arm, near his exhaust pipe. He must cry out, because he hears someone say his name. They’re talking to him, but it gets lost somewhere along the way, muffled by the waves of darkness that threaten to pull him back under.

Opening his eyes is a daunting task, as heavy as his eyelids feel. Finally, finally, he pries them open, the shock of bright white making his eyes sting. He fights to keep them open―if he closes them now, he’ll fall back into the darkness, deep beneath the ocean, right back where he started―and blearily tries to take in his surroundings.

Slowly, so slowly, the world comes into focus. Tensei is in the hospital. There’s no oxygen mask, but he’s distantly aware of the IV drip in his arm. He can hear the beeping of his heart monitor, too loud in the quiet room.

“Senpai?”

Tensei lets out a soft groan of acknowledgement, turning to face the source of the voice. Mizushima hovers at his side, eyes wide with concern. Mother stands behind him, looking every bit as worried.

“Sh-should we call a nurse?” Mizushima asks. “If you’re in a lot of pain, maybe we could see if they can up your pain medication. I mean, they should probably know anyway―”

“Ease up a little, Mizushima,” Mother says. “Give him a second.”

“Right, right. Sorry, senpai!”

Tensei lets his eyes fall shut for just a moment. The nurse can wait just a little while longer, he just needs to remember how he got here. What happened?

-x-

The first thing he remembers clearly is being sent out on patrol with intern Manual. It had been mostly uneventful, helping with small acts of heroics and de-escalating situations before things could turn violent. Then mid-afternoon, Mother―Algorhythma―had radioed the two of them with news of an urgent child abduction in the area. A villain with an unidentified Mobility Quirk, but nothing that Ingenium couldn’t handle.

The child in question? Tenya Iida. His little brother.

Whether Alogrhythma had been aware of that fact, Tensei wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter who the child was, of course, but the stakes felt higher, somehow. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t be the reason Tenya would never be able to make his dream of being a hero a reality.

The villain was fast. Not faster than Tensei, by any means, but he handled corners a lot better than what he was capable of. That had been enough to put some distance between them for a little while, but when they reached the highway, catching up was inevitable. As he closed the distance, the villain became desperate. Somehow, he did the only thing he knew would send Tensei off his trail.

He threw Tenya off the side of the overpass.

-x-

Tensei’s eyes fly open. He throws himself up, eyes wide with panic, heart monitor skyrocketing. “Tenya―”

“Honey, calm down―”

“Tenya, oh my God, he’s… is he… did I..?”

Time moves in slow motion as the villain throws Tenya aside. His brother’s scream of terror overrides any sense of logic or reasoning he’s capable of. He jumps after him, engines roaring with fury as he rockets over to Tenya. He doesn’t stop until they’re clear of the traffic below them, but now he has a new problem―his engines have stalled, and they’re still several meters above the ground, falling fast.

One way or another, this is going to end badly… but he’s not going to let his little brother die today. As quickly as he can, Tensei puts himself between Tenya and the ground, holds his brother close to his chest, and hopes the airbags the support department installed in his armor work as well as they did in testing.

“Senpai, he’s all right! Tenya’s safe.”

Tensei snaps back to reality, gaze flickering up to his kōhai. Mizushima is motioning over to Tensei’s left…

…where Tenya lays bundled in a too-large Iidaten hoodie, fast asleep.

He lets out a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to brush a few stray strands of hair out of his brother’s face. There’s a bandage on his cheek, small cuts scattered across his skin, and a bright blue cast on Tenya’s arm, just barely visible beneath the gray fabric of the hoodie.

“Tenya’s very fortunate he came out of this with a broken arm and a few scrapes,” Mother says. “But you… Tensei, you could have died. What were you thinking?”

Tensei opens his mouth to argue―what kind of fucking question is that?―but Mother is quick to cut him off. “Your engines stalled mid-air, Tensei. If your airbag system had malfunctioned, that fall at your speed would have killed you both. What. Were. You. Thinking?”

The fight leaves Tensei far faster than he wanted it to. He looks back down to where Tenya lays. “I didn’t think,” he says, voice just barely above a whisper. “I moved.”

Mother’s expression softens. “Keeping your emotions in check on the job―especially in situations where someone you care about is in danger―is difficult. But it’s an important skill to learn, Tensei. When someone’s life is on the line, keeping a cool head is what ensures everyone involved makes it home safe.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but one of the nurses pokes her head into the room. “Glad to see you’re awake, Ingenium! I hate to interrupt, but I need to check your vitals.”

Tensei knows this conversation isn’t over, but Mother lets the topic drop for now. Before she steps away to let the nurse go about her business, she wraps her arms around him tightly.

For the first time all night, Tensei notices how distraught she truly is.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for getting Tenya back to us alive.”

Never one to get in the way of someone else’s work, Mother pulls away after a moment. “I’m going to call your father and let him know that you’re awake. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Not long after Mother steps out and the nurse leaves to let him rest, Mizushima heads out―“Villain attack or no, I’ve still got an essay due tomorrow!”―leaving Tensei alone in a too-quiet hospital room. Tenya still sleeps peacefully at his side, despite his earlier outburst. A sad smile finds its way to Tensei’s lips… of course nearly dying would take a lot out of someone, especially a kid Tenya’s age.

“I’m sorry,” Tensei murmurs softly, bringing his hand down to rest on Tenya’s head. “I’ll work hard to be a better hero, Otouto. For you.”

Tensei can feel himself growing tired, his latest dose of painkillers beginning to kick in. He makes an attempt to get comfortable without waking his little brother, but the soft shifting of fabric tells him that he’s failed in that department.

“...Niisan?”

“Hey, little man,” Tensei murmurs, looking down at Tenya. Sleepy red eyes meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Tenya sits up, the Iidaten hoodie slipping off his shoulders. Tensei feels a pang of guilt seeing the cuts and bruises that litter his brother’s skin, but takes some small comfort in knowing that this could’ve been much worse.

“How’re you feeling, Otouto?” Tensei asks. “I know everything that happened had to have been overwhelming for you.”

He remembers Tenya didn’t give the villain the satisfaction of screaming or crying, no matter how scared he had to have been. No matter how much distance had been put between them, his little brother’s faith in him didn’t waver for even a second. He had been so brave, and―

There’s a sob.

Tensei pulls Tenya close without a second thought, ignoring the way his right arm protests. “Oh, Tenya…”

“You’re hurt,” Tenya manages to squeak out.

“I’m hurt,” Tensei acknowledges, “but I’m alive. I’ll get better.”

“My fault.”

“No, no, no, Tenya. This wasn’t your fault.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of his brother’s head.

“You got hurt saving me!” Tenya sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry―”

“Shhh, shhh.” Tensei tucks his head beneath his chin, using his good arm to rub his back. “It’s part of the job, Tenya. You’ve seen me get hurt before, and sometimes it was because I helped someone. Do you think it was their fault?”

“No,” he whimpers.

“What makes this any different?”

Tenya sniffles. Tensei figures his logic must be sound, as his little brother doesn’t offer any argument. Satisfied, he moves to lay down, bringing Tenya with him.

“It’s late,” Tensei says, tugging the thin, white blanket over them. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

He hears a sleepy hum, but nothing more. In moments, Tenya is dead to the world, head resting on Tensei’s chest with his ear over his heart.

With the last dregs of his strength, Tensei drapes his good arm over his brother protectively, then allows sleep to take him.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #iida tensei #iida tenya #recipro fics #series: brother mine #hospitals #child abduction

1 note · View note

hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years ago

Text

She's Not Mine

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Thor x plus size reader

When Steve can’t sleep, he decides to surf the web as a distraction but discovers something very very interesting on a site called OnlyFans

Warnings: SMUT, sex tapes, secret relationship, pining, m masterbation, unprotected sex, porn, anal (m receiving), shibari, dildos, steve just is a hint of bisexual, rough sex, grinding, mention of bullets and gunshot wounds

WC: 2.1k

Minors DNI

Steve was restless. Too much adrenaline and maybe a hint of sexual frustration. It didn’t help that he had been on a mission with you for a solid week, playing the part of a married couple. And with there being only one room, he couldn’t really get himself off as often as he would have liked to.

By the time the two of you had returned to the compound, Steve was almost permanently hard and having to constantly tuck his throbbing erection into his waistband to keep you from seeing it.

He had already rubbed one out in the shower and once in bed, his cum now cold against his stomach but he didn’t feel like cleaning himself up just yet. Sighing, he reached over and grabbed his phone. The brightness blinded him for a moment before his blue eyes adjusted. He quickly turned on Do Not Disturb.

The usual videos he enjoyed now seemed dull in comparison to the images of you that flashed behind his eyelids, so he turned off his phone once more and thought about you. The little shorts you wore to bed that rode up your plump ass beautifully. Steve’s hand inched downwards to his rapidly swelling cock. The way you would walk out of the shower with just a tiny white towel wrapped around your generous curves. He groaned as his calloused fingers brushed against the sensitive underside of his dick.

You never knew how much he studied you, how his eyes would fixate on everything you did. “Fuck, doll.” The tips of his fingers gripped the side of his cock, squeezing tightly until he was on the border of pain. Pleasure twisted in his lower stomach like a knot slowly being pulled taught.

He could see your face clearly as his eyes fluttered shut. He watched as you thrashed beneath him, crying out as his hips rolled into yours, his cock plunging deep into your tight cunt. Steve could almost feel the flutter of your pussy, the bite of your nails digging into his skin.

He was panting now, hips rolling into his hand as pre-cum leaked from his tip. He could feel his balls drawing up. He was close, just needed one more push to leap over the edge. Your eyes flickered open. “Steve.” You moaned but your voice sounded wrong, too robotic. His eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

“Please Steve.” Your face was emotionless, blank.

“Shit.” The knot in his stomach unwound and slipped through his fingers. With a growl, he released his cock which was still painfully hard. The visions of you vanished quickly and he was only left with a deep feeling of dissatisfaction and guilt.

He lifted his phone up once more and absentmindedly opened up twitter and switched to his private account. Naked men and women filled his screen but tonight, none of them were peaking his interest until he reached the bottom of his timeline and a new account was being recommended.

He couldn’t see their faces but the way that the man and woman fit together, her soft, plump body pressed tightly against his abs as he towered over her, made Steve pause. The woman had the same body type as you. Without thinking, he clicked on the profile.

Bunny and Bear. The name was cute and fitting. The man looked massive from the few photos that were on the page. He was all muscles and dark blonde hair. While she was soft and wide. They were polar opposites but fit together so well. And if Steve concentrated hard enough, he could picture himself as Bear and you as Bunny.

His cock throbbed at the thought. He kept scrolling through their profile but all of the photos had them were nothing too scandalous. His hand around her throat, her straddling him in a skirt and what was obviously his shirt. Only the bottom half of their faces were visible in each tempting image so Steve couldn’t identify who they were.

There was no hesitation in his actions as he clicked the link above the photo. He trembled with excitement as he threw his credit card information at the website, not caring that Tony would eventually find out and rouse on him.

After a few moments, his vision was filled with video after video of the couple, their naked bodies frozen in place behind an opaque play button, each with a small title above them describing the video.

‘Tied up and used’: red ropes held Bunny in place as white cum dripped down her body.

‘Bear was being bad’: his muscular back was bent in a perfect arch, a large dildo half-way inside him.

‘Bath time for bunny’: she lay in an empty tub, bear’s arm only partially visible as he held the shower head to her clit.

Steve was hypnotised as he scrolled through the feed. Which one would he start with? Just as he was about to click on ‘Cockwarming on a cold winter’s day’, another title caught his eye.

Bunny was folded in half on her back, her large stomach cradled between her plump thighs as bear pushed her legs back, exposing her pussy to him as the tip of his massive cock was notched at her entrance. ‘Bunny gets bred’.

Steve swore that he went light-headed for a moment as the blood in his body rushed south to his angry cock. His hands were shaking as he pressed play and his screen went black. Already, he had a hand wrapped around himself, lazily stroking his length.

The camera showed a large bed in the middle of the room. Bunny quickly appeared in frame and Steve’s breath hitched. She was dressed in skimpy blue and red lingerie that did nothing to hide her pebbled nipples and… wait. Steve paused and then his eyes widened comically. Her nipples were pierced.

He groaned, his head falling back against his pillow. Would you pierce your nipples? Would you wear those novelty barbells with his shield on them for him? She did a little spin for the camera, showing off the way the g-string of her lingerie rode up between her full ass cheeks.

A shiver rolled up Steve’s spine. Bear’s thick arm wrapped around her wide hips and tugged her backwards so he could hold his hard body against her soft one. His lips descended onto her neck, laying gentle kisses to her skin.

Her head rolled back, exposing more of herself to both the camera and her partner. Steve worked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched. He hoped you would react the same way if he ever got the privilege to touch you. Quiet sighs escaped her parted lips as bear’s kisses became nibbles and then full on bites.

Bruises bloomed along the delicate skin of her throat, her skin getting darker with them as more and more were sucked into her skin. One of her hands crawled up his thick arm to bury itself in his blond hair, pulling it just hard enough to elicit a hiss of pain from the larger man.

“Naughty.” He purred in a voice strangely familiar to Steve. She cried out as his teeth sunk into her throat. Steve’s cock throbbed at the sound. Huge hands inched up her stomach and gently brushed against the flimsy fabric.

A tear came through the speakers of his phone and Steve’s breathing stopped. Bear had ripped the lingerie clean off of her, leaving her completely exposed in front of the camera. She looked exactly like how he pictured your naked body in his head. Perfect, big, beautiful, soft, everything.

Her lips curled up into a smirk and the video cut.

The next shot was a closer view of the bed but still allowed for both of their faces to be mostly out of frame. Bunny was straddling bear against the headboard, her hands tangled in his long hair as they kissed. His own kneaded the flesh of her ass, pushing and pulling her in a rocking motion against his bare cock.

Steve’s hips bucked into his hand, he was already getting close, too wrapped up in the fantasy that it was you and him on that bed, not two strangers. “Fuck fuck fuck.” His body burned with pleasure, unable to stop his orgasm from screaming towards him.

Bear growled, biting down on her bottom lip as he tugged her forward enough for the tip of his cock to be seen from between her legs. Bunny pulled away with a gasp and bear wasted no time. His lips moved to her tits, licking at the soft flesh before enveloping her nipple into his mouth. His long hair kept Steve from seeing his face.

Bunny’s hips rolled against him, beautiful moans filling the room. “Please.” She begged softly, keeping her voice at a whisper. An arm wound around her waist to keep her close as bear moved so she was now on her back and he hovered above her, his mouth still firmly attached to her skin.

Her legs quickly wrapped around his thin hips but he was far stronger than her so he pried them apart, pinning her knees to the bed beside him. Steve squeezed the base of his cock as tight as he could, desperately trying to keep himself from exploding before the main event.

He could now clearly see the man’s dick as it rested on her large stomach, the uncut tip landing right on her belly button, leaving thick globs of pre-cum. His considerable length was already coated in her wetness. It was hypnotic, how would that even fit inside her?

“Are you ready to take me little one?” Steve moaned. His abs rippled as he jerked himself off. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he needed to cum.

“Always.” She answered, her hips canting upwards so he slipped between her lips. Bear didn’t respond verbally, instead he lifted her legs up so he could press them forward, her knees resting by her ears. Were you that flexible?

There was only a moment's pause as he lined himself up and then he surged forward. Bunny screamed and Steve came. He moaned and thrashed on the bed, dropping his phone as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him in the best orgasm he had ever had.

His hand slowed, drawing out his ecstasy for as long as he could until the twinges of overstimulation fired in his lower stomach. He could hear the video still playing, wet slaps and grunts that he felt indifferent towards now that post-nut clarity was hitting him.

“I’m an awful person.” He whined to no one in particular, the guilt of imagining you in such lewd situations when you had never shown any romantic interest towards him. It didn’t help that you were one of the kindest and innocent people he had ever met. He had never even witnessed you going on a date, let alone having sex.

Sighing, he picked up his phone, fully intending to cancel the subscription and then avoid you for a couple days but something caught his eye. Bunny had a scar on the underside of her right leg that was only visible now that she was bent in half and the lighting allowed for the puckered flesh to be picked up by the camera.

The circular mark was obviously from a bullet. Steve knew that scar, after all he was there when you got it, he was the one that pulled the bullet from your leg in the middle of a mission.

“Holy fuck.” He muttered and bear moved in just the right way and allowed him to see the jawline and eyes he knew very well.

Bunny and Bear. You and Thor.

Quickly, he shut down the app. But the image was still burned into his mind. And he would hate to admit it out loud, but now that he knew it was you and one of his closest friends, that made it even hotter.

How long have you two been doing this? When did you even start dating? Was it really dating or just sex? And the most shameful question circled in his mind before he could stop it. Would you let him watch? Let him join?

He flicked off DND and was fully intending to shower away those shameful thoughts but several text messages from you popped up on his screen. Against his better judgments, he opened them.

‘Is this you?’ There was a screenshot of a notifications page with the username he had chosen for OnlyFans at the top, saying that he had subbed to the page. Terror ripped through his stomach. You knew.

Then followed by: ‘I hope you’re enjoying yourself Captain’

‘It’s been a while so you must be’ That was only two minutes ago.

Suddenly another image came through. You were sitting on Thor’s lap and he could clearly see the way your pussy was stretched around his cock as Thor’s massive hands held you down. Both of you were smiling wickedly, like you knew a secret he wasn’t privy to. ‘Join us?’

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @km-ffluv

All Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @luvvvjada

Steve Rogers

@minervadashwood @raajali3 @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @lovelytricia @mandyzsick101 @galaxydj654 @blasianbitchhh @springdandelixn @im-a-satanic-ritual @m0nster-fvcker @Tinyinfluencerharmony @r0si5

Thor

@raajali3 @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @mandyzsick101 @galaxydj654 @getoutofthere @blasianbitchhh @theweepingvulcan91 @springdandelixn @valen-yamyam16 @ladyburberry @im-a-satanic-ritual @l9ckheed @Tinyinfluencerharmony @r0si5

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x you #steve x plus size reader #steve x you #smut #plus size reader #female reader #thor odinson x plus size reader #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x plus size reader #thor x reader #thor x you #captain america x reader

2K notes · View notes

purplelupins · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When her eyes began to flutter open, she felt as if she had yet to wake up. There was a bright beam of sunlight that blinded her, and she felt warmth all around her. After months of waking up just a little cold, she wondered if everything had been a dream. A strange, sweet dream. In an attempt to hide from whatever awaited her outside the dream world she had created, she skewed her eyes shut and rolled over to bury her head into the soft warmth; anything to get away from the too-bright light.

“I always knew you weren’t a morning person.”

Y/n sucked in a breath and pulled away from the warm pillow she had buried herself into, only to see that it was attached to a shoulder and a neck and a face. A handsome face; older, but very handsome. He was watching her carefully, toying with a piece of her hair between his fingers. In the daylight, she could see every little detail of his face, and she couldn’t help but grin.

It wasn’t a dream.

“If I get to see this every time I wake up then I might turn into one.” She said shyly, looking down. She ran a hand along his chest, then to his shoulder; he sucked in a breath at her touch. She remembered the previous night. How he had been so tentative to her light touches, and kisses. Even now as she traced his muscles, he watched her so carefully.

A sigh escaped her.

“You’re quiet again.” He whispered. Her eyes automatically shot up to his and gazed at his maskless face.

She grinned gently and smoothed her thumb across his cheekbone.

“I just…I can’t stop looking at you.” She murmured honestly. “Don’t hide this face from me again.” Her eyes flicked up to his, and he stared right back, an eyebrow quirking up. She almost laughed- she love his expressions.

“No? You don’t like the masks?” He teased her, easing his large hand down her waist.

She melted into his warm touch, and hummed contently, “I didn’t say that. But…I would rather see you. You’re the man I…”she started to say, but stopped herself quickly and bit the inside of her cheek.

Too far.

I went too far.

Oh but to him she hadn’t gone far enough.

“Come, come now, bunny. You can tell me-“ he quickly flipped her on her other side so her back was against his chest, “-anything.” One arm was under her, holding her in place, while the other traced the marks on her hip from his hands the night before. She already wriggled against him, arching into his touch.

He already began to feel his cock swell at her responsiveness.

She sighed and turned her head to look up at him hovering just above her from behind. Y/n swallowed and flicked her eyes to the same ones that had plagued her for over a month and sucked in a breath. “The man I’ve…fallen in love with.” She whispered.

He stopped moving for a moment, staring down at her nervous face.

You’re mine…you’re fucking mine.

He watched her eyes dart around the longer he stayed quiet. It was like some little game he loved; her nervousness made his heart beat faster. He wanted to see how long it would take-

“If-if you don’t feel the same, I understand. I can go back downstairs and we don’t have to talk about it again.” She said quickly starting to turn away.

He knew she was embarrassed and horrified that she had said it. Poor sweet little thing all anxious for me…And yet she still didn’t ask to leave.

He sighed out of his nose. “Look at me.” He reached up and stroked her chin.

She turned so obediently, staring up at him.

He closed his eyes momentarily to soak in her compliance, and sighed contently.

“There she is,” he praised her, “You’re not going back down there, okay? Not when I can have you here…but I still don’t think you should go out…can’t have my bunny getting found, right?” His tone was so sweet and gentle that the condescension was lost on her.

Y/n nodded and smiled. She turned her head enough to catch his lips with hers, and moaned when he didn’t hold back. He bit at her lip, and quickly tightened his grip on her to bring her hips back against his so she could feel him.

An adorable little gasp escaped her when his hardened cock was flush against her back, and he swore he almost came right there. “You feel that little bunny?” He rasped.

She nodded, and gasped again when the hand on her chest moved to her throat where he held tightly; this time, he noticed, she did not tense up. Without a word, he slipped a thick finger between her slick lips, and spread the wetness around her entrance before slipping his cock inside her from behind. He stayed still for a moment, feeling her twitch and rock against him.

She needs me…

He tsked her and stroked her throat with his thumb, “Does my pretty girl like that? You like it when I’m inside you, don’t you?” He purred. Gone was the light playful tone she had heard for so long. He very slowly pulled out and pushed back inside her. “You’re mine now. You belong to me, you know that? I’m going to fucking keep you all to myself.” He growled.

She nodded helplessly, bucking her hips against him.

“Mine.” He rasped in her ear with each thrust.

She held onto the arm by her throat, and she could feel the muscles straining under his skin as he held her. She mewled and gasped periodically when he would release her throat every other minute. If it weren’t for the immense pleasure, she might have been wincing in pain from his grip on her hip.

But he was right- he had her. Whether she liked it or not, she was his. Completely.

That day was a Saturday, and she had him all to herself. He carried her into the washroom and ran a bath for them; he even pressed a kiss to her temple as they waited for the water. He got in first, then pulled her into his lap, and held her there against his chest with his nose in her hair. They laid in the warm water for a half an hour before she started giggling about her wrinkled fingers and toes. Just as he had the night before, he took his time cleaning her, and took his time feeling her. His sweet girl would arch into his touch and let her head rest on his shoulder as his fingers skimmed across her skin. Her whimpers and caught breaths in his ears made him dizzy.

He brushed her hair and dried her carefully even though she smiled and told him he didn’t have to.

Of course he didn’t have to.

He didn’t have to do anything.

He didn’t have to let her live.

He wanted to.

Even though he refused to admit it, he needed it too. Almost as much as her.

Where he did not feel love, there was now a certain obsession he felt. A possessiveness that had only grown.

She chose me.

He had succeeded in making her love him, certainly, but he hadn’t accounted for the rush that it would give him when she said it or showed him. Somewhere in the process, he had accidentally become comfortable with her affection.

How she spoke so sweetly to him. Touched him. Let him touch her. How she was excited to see him. How she wore his clothes. How she cared about him.

Everything.

It made him uneasy. But he knew he was in control, and that was what he needed.

He knew her need for him had only grown. He noticed how closely she clung to him. Even when they moved through the house, she was a breath away, holding his sleeve or grasping his hand.

That morning, he dressed her in one of his shirts and smirked when she refused the pants he offered. “It’s a hot day, I’m going to start sweating if I wear too much.” She said with a grin.

He breathed out a light laugh.

“I think that sounds reasonable.” He agreed, and she laughed.

The older man sighed contently and slipped both hands to the sides of her face, stroking her lower lip. They just stood there for a moment in the bedroom, particles of dust getting caught in the sunlight.

If someone were to look through the window, they would have seen a strange couple gazing lovingly at one another. A picture almost too perfect.

But oh how wrong they would be.

If only they knew.

Then, he pushed down on her lip with his thumb, and she caught it between her lips. She sucked the tip into her mouth, and his lips parted as he watched her, his blown pupils evident.

Then she released it with a string of saliva connecting it to her lip.

“Can I cook us breakfast?” She asked, her eyes doubling in size as she pretended nothing happened.

He sucked in a breath and pretended to think about it.

“I’ll allow it.” It was playful, but still reminded him that he was very much in charge.

At his response, she squealed and jumped into his arms, “I’ve been wanting to cook for you for ages I can’t wait! Let’s go, let’s go!” She bounced, but waited for him to walk them there.

No, no she was most certainly not what he had expected when he drugged her that summer night and took her into his basement. He never could have guessed he would wind up with the embodiment of sunshine.

She found the eggs he always made, some bread and a couple links of sausages along with the coffee he always made her.

As she retrieved a pan, she paused and smiled at a joke in her head, “Do…do you like your eggs scrambled by chance ?” She tried to keep in a laugh.

“How did you know?” He asked jokingly as he sat at the small table beside her.

She realised his blue eyes lit up and the lines by them crinkled when he was making a joke.

She realised she didn’t have to rely on his voice to guess his expressions.

“Anyone ever tell you that you stare a lot?” He asked.

She blinked and shook her head, going back to the food. The bread popping out of the toaster was the only noise.

“Are…Are you busy today?” She asked slowly, placing the breakfast on two plates.

He rested his head in his hand.

“Not today. Why?” He tilted his head to the side slightly watching her every move.

So fucking precious…maybe I should just lock her back up…

Y/n placed the plates on the table and went to sit, but his large hands on her hips pulled her to sit in his lap. She struggled to keep her head on straight, feeling him against her and his breath fanning across her face.

He asked you a question.

“This is going to sound silly but…I just…I really want to spend the day with you. I…I want to see you.” She whispered, flicking her eyes around his face. He was definitely older, but she was certain he would be the death of her. He had such nice lips…and his eyes…they could be so gentle one second and hardened the next.

“You can’t get enough of this face can you?” He teased, brushing some hair from her cheek.

Mine.

She shook her head and breathed out a laugh, “No. No I can’t.” It was true.

He smirked.

Good.

“So…can we spend the day together?” She asked hopefully, looking up at him through her lashes.

He hummed and hawed, making a big show about thinking, then nodded, “Yeah. Yeah I think we can Bunny.” He pressed a kiss to her head, and took a forkful of egg and sausage, “Open.” He murmured.

She smiled and bounced in his lap as she opened her mouth. Tasting anything with the egg made her brain explode. She kissed his cheek and took a bite of bread as he ate too. He held her there, feeding her, pressing the odd kiss to her head.

They watched television and she spent an hour trying to get Sampson to let her pet him. It didn’t work.

Of course it didn’t work sweet girl, I trained him that way.

She liked that he insisted on her being in his lap in some way everywhere they went. She liked that he played with her fingers in his larger ones, and knew how to braid her hair. She liked that he kept her safe and kissed her scars.

They laid in bed, and he watched her trace a vein that ran from his knuckles to his bicep.

“Can I ask you something? It’s sort of about you.” She said shyly.

“Go ahead.” He murmured.

She thought for a second.

“What was your mother like?” She looked up at him to gage his reaction.

His reaction was faster than she had thought. His eyes seemed to lose focus. He seemed to think, remember perhaps. “Kind. She was…kind. She…understood me.” He said, his voice growing rough and thick. “She smelled like jasmine. Loved music…”

She would have eaten you up in a second sweet bunny…she would have loved you.

“She sounds like she was a good person.” Y/n murmured.

He sucked in a breath and looked away. “Sampson!” He called. A second later the hound was at the door, panting. He laid down and placed his huge head on his equally large paws, and stood guard.

Y/n knew it was a sensitive subject she had asked about, and pressed a kiss to his chest before laying her head down and curling up against him.

She never asked about his mother again, or about his family. If he wanted to tell her something, he would.

One night, a month an a half after her first night being upstairs, she found out his name. He ran his hand along her back as they laid in bed an evening after he had returned from work. He had bought her a little wrist watch, having not had once since her father had pawned hers off years ago.

Y/n stared at it in the lamp light, “Thank you Mister.” She whispered.

He looked from the glimmering glass to her profile from where he laid perched on his elbow.

“Albert.” He murmured quietly.

She almost didn’t hear him, then turned to look back at him. He was staring back at her, and saw her confusion disappear.

“Thank you, Albert.” Her voice was soft as a feather as she said his name for the first time.

“Sit. Stay- hey! Stay. Good.” Y/n said firmly to Sampson as he stared at her like she had lost her mind. He truly should have been used to it by then. She slowly placed a treat onto the top of his nose, and took her hand away. “Stay.” She cooed told him. His brown eyes stared back, having gone through the same thing for three hours that day alone.

“Get it!” She cried, and he snapped his jaw and the treat finally fell into his mouth. She jumped and clapped, and hugged the hound tightly. Then, the phone rung and she leapt to it. “Hello! Shaw Residence.” She chirped.

She heard a laugh from the other end. “Are you going to answer that way every time bunny?” He asked, having called once every hour since leaving for work. Since day one, she insisted in calling it as such.

“Yep!” She confirmed.

“I’ll be home soon. Just have to close up shop, okay?” His voice sounded tired, but not annoyed.

“Okie dokie.” She smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet.

“See you soon. Be good.” He said. And he meant it.

“Sir yes sir!” She replied. He laughed and hung up.

Y/n got to work, and pulled out what she needed after asking him to get groceries the day before. She went to the turntable he had, and put on a record to match her mood. It wasn’t a familiar tune to her, but she spun and danced with her hair down, and that was what she wanted.

As she finished dinner with her head in the clouds, she hadn’t heard the locks or the door swing open as she swayed and bounced. Albert saw her before she saw him, and he couldn’t look away.

It was only when he shut the door and Sampson began to bark that her head whipped towards the front door. He tilted his head as he toed off his shoes, and she gasped in excitement before she ran to him and leapt into his arms.

“I missed you!” She chirped into his neck. His arms wrapped around her instantly.

When she had first done that on the Monday following her first night upstairs, his eyes had gone wide and his mouth was open slightly in surprise. He might have expected a smile or a kiss on the cheek, but not such an intense reaction.

Even now, he waited for her to bolt at any second or to lose interest, but she never did. For three months, she hadn’t even asked once to go anywhere. She didn’t even ask about the extra locks.

“You talked to me every hour, silly.” He said as she slid down his front to the floor with a little plop.

“I know but it’s not the same.” She didn’t let him go for another moment, keeping her face buried in his chest. But then she pulled away suddenly and smiled. “I made dinner. Oh and I taught Sampson a trick!”

He watched her as she pulled him into the kitchen, and felt himself soften when he saw the beautiful dinner.

How proud she was.

For him.

She’s the cutest damn thing…

But he had to remind himself of who he was. Who she was. Who they were.

He washed his hands, and she waited patiently for him to sit before perching on his knee. He smirked and pulled her closer.

After washing up, they watched a film like they often did. It was a comfortable routine they had created.

After half an hour, Albert pulled her closer to his side, and she rested her head on his shoulder and hooked a leg over his. He began stroking her back, knowing very well that it made her melt.

She, however, also had a trick up her sleeve after living with him. Y/n placed her hand lightly on his leg by her thigh; soft enough that he didn’t notice until she moved it higher and began stroking the area with her thumb.

She didn’t even have time to react before he had her pinned beneath him and he had torn off her panties.

“You think you can just play games with me, hmm?” He rasped as he unbuckled his belt.

Her eyes were all wide in surprise. No matter how many times he pounced on her, she was still shocked by his strength and quickness.

“No sir.” She breathed out, her senses on overdrive.

“I see you still have your fucking manners.” He zipped down his pants and she began to get lightheaded.

“For you sir.” She whispered, ripping off the shirt she had.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice was a complete growl as he eased his cock inside her. They both let out a collective moan, and she started fisting at his shirt, which he quickly removed. As soon as he came back down to her, her hands were in his hair and clawing at his back as he began to move inside her. “Awe sweet bunny, I know it feels so good.” He tsked her as she rocked against him.

His lips were on her neck, biting and sucking at it until she was riddled with more purple and red marks that she alread had from that morning.

His.

She was whimpering and mewling for him.

Only him.

“P-please-“she moaned and latched onto him as he fucked her into the couch.

Her soft plea was music to his ears. He pulled away to stare down at her; inspect his masterpiece. He watched her lazy eyes and swollen lips. His marks on her beautiful skin…

Beautiful…

His thrusts slowed to almost a gentle rock, and she noticed how his eyes softened; she almost asked him what was wrong, but she was quickly silenced when a growl ripped from his throat and he pulled her up so he was she was straddling him. As he settled back inside her, y/n hissed as he reached so much further. After a moment, she began to move, slowly getting used to him again.

“Is it too much for you bunny? You can’t handle me tonight, is that it?” He asked her in faux concern.

“N-no I can handle it, sir…” she whispered through gasps.

“Oh yea? Fucking prove it then.” He rasped, and gripped her hips. She sucked in a breath and began to ride him, ignoring how her legs burned from being fucked multiple times a day, every day.

“That’s it…” he watched where he penetrated her, marvelling at the strings of her slick that would connect them as she came up his cock. Just as he used to watch her sleep, and studied her until he knew what every sigh and twitch meant, he did the same with her when he was inside her. He wanted to know her better than herself.

“Faster.” He growled.

She held onto his shoulders and he gripped her hips even tighter, imprinting her skin to make new bruises to match the old ones.

“That’s…that’s fucking better.” He rasped snapping his hips up to drive her over the edge. He knew she was close. He knew by then that when her thighs began to shake and her speed was more erratic, and her moans were higher pitched, she was about seven thrusts away from washing his cock with her cum.

“I- can I-?” She breathed.

“You’d better.” He growled, slamming her down into him.

Just as he had thought, she tightened around him, and her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red lines behind. That gush of her slick was all it took for him to unload his cum inside her. He gripped her flesh until he touched bone, and was certain his fingerprints were fused into her skin.

He thrust into her shallowly as he emptied every drop of his cum into his sweet girl. The two of them sat there for a moment, and he very slowly released her abused hips, and wrapped his arms around her back, cradling her. He stroked her hair and kissed her head gently.

“My bunny…” he whispered into her hair.

She was beyond exhausted and her mind was gone.

“I…I love you Albert Shaw.” She breathed as her eyes grew heavy. Her darling confession made his heart beat a little louder for one second. He kissed her hair and petted her gently.

Albert could feel her relax more and more into his grasp as she drifted off. He didn’t care about the mess between them; he liked having her there, though he might not wholly admit it.

He wondered if she meant it- that she loved him. He wondered if she had ever been told to not talk to strangers. He wondered if she had ever been considered tough, or if she teased for being weak. Did anyone even notice her?

He knew she was his good girl. Such a good girl. He knew if she stayed with him, that she would be safe. He would treat her so well when others wouldn’t have. He would never let anyone touch her.

She called him handsome and sweet and gentle and loving, but he wondered if it was true. She wouldn’t lie to him, right?

Eventually, he hoisted her up and took her to bed. He laid her there on her back, brushed some hair away from her eyes so it wouldn’t tickle her, and was about to turn away to clean himself up and shut off the television, but he stopped. He gazed down at that strange, strange girl that had begged for his help, and welcomed him into her soul with open arms. All sweaty and sticky.

He wanted to leave her and just go to sleep, but he couldn’t.

Albert found a soft face cloth, and filled a bowl with warm -not hot- water and a little soap. Then, he knelt down beside her sleeping form, and moved her legs just enough that he could clean the mess drying between her thighs. He cleaned her legs, and her hips. He kissed the marks he had left, but when he came to her puffy lower lips, he paused. He did clean them, but hesitantly. He had never seen that part of her close up, but now seeing it all pretty and still like that after he had made it his, he couldn’t resist. He placed the bowl down, and leaned forward, careful to not disturb her too much, and look a small lick. There was a strange sweetness to it, and he tried it again.

And again,

And again.

And again until he was holding her thighs. He sucked and tasted every inch of her, and he found he couldn’t stop when she began whimpering his name in her sleep. Even in dreams she was thinking of him.

He found her clit and sucked it into his mouth, slipping his tongue just under the hood. He hadn’t started with a goal in mind, he just wanted a taste. But when her limp thighs tensed and she breathed out a moan, he felt a rush of sweetness on his tongue. He pulled away and looked from her to his masterpiece and almost laughed.

He made her cum for him in her sleep.

He lapped up what his pretty girl gave him, and pressed a kiss to her thighs before he took care of himself. Albert shed his boxers and trudged to the bathroom. He considered stroking himself until hot ropes of cum painted his hand, but something didn’t feel…right. It didn’t feel like it used to.

After just a few strokes, he sighed angrily and punched the wall. “Jesus fuck!” He hissed, grabbing the sink, his predicament long forgotten. He had slipped. He had gone soft and easy for a girl. Albert breathed heavily and showered within five seconds. He dried himself harshly until his skin was almost pink, and he slipped on a fresh pair of boxers with much hatred.

He wrenched open the door, and turned into the living room to switch off everything when he stopped dead. The television was off, as were all the lights save for a nightlight in the kitchen.

But that wasn’t why he stopped.

He stopped because there just coming out of the kitchen was his sweet, strange girl in one of his shirts, eyes drooping and a glass of cold milk in her hand. He still wasn’t used to seeing her move so freely in the house. She grinned lazily when she padded up to him.

He stared at her firmly for a moment, his fist clenched tight as his anger with himself was still high.

“Wanna sip, handsome?” She said sleepily, and raised the glass to him as if to punctuate her point.

He wanted to scream at her. Slap the milk away. Slam her against the wall. He wanted to hurt her.

But even as he took a deep breath to throw everything he had worked for in the trash, she started humming that song.

That damn fucking song that he had so foolishly showed her because he thought of her while he listened to it.

“You're mine

And we belong together

Yes, we belong together

For eternity…”

He watched her sway all dopey, completely oblivious to his raging fury, and press a kiss to the middle of his chest.

Her own personal brand.

And just like that, his fist uncoiled.

It was like someone flicked a switch , and Albert was once again in control…not him. His shoulders relaxed and Albert sighed, tilting his head to the side. “You drink that for me, sweetie. Let’s get to bed.” He placed a hand on her back and guided her to their bedroom, Sampson following behind.

She finished her glass, and laid down facing the older man. He brought her closer to his bare chest, and felt her suck in a deep breath.

“You smell nice…”she murmured, though it was barely audible.

Moments later, he felt her chest rise and fall in full breaths as she slipped into sleep again. He gazed down at her little head, and he pressed a kiss there as he let himself join her just minutes later.

That was the first time he didn’t double check the locks.

Over time, their days began to look very much the same. By the fourth month, he stopped having Sampson guard every door. By the fifth, he stopped calling every hour when he was gone from the house.

Then, by the seventh month, he decided something that terrified him. He knew he couldn’t keep her in his home without touching grass forever. Not without running the risk of her leaving. While that would have excited him at one time, he now feared that possibility. He knew he could just lock her up again, but then she would probably grow miserable and hate him…and he didn’t want that.

He wanted her.

So on one Friday evening, in March of 1979, he gently asked her if she wanted to take a nightly walk with him and Sampson.

“Really?” Her sweet voice shook, “You think that’ll be okay? He…he won’t find me?” If he was honest, he appreciated that she was nervous to leave. Albert pulled her into his lap and perched his chin atop her head.

“He’s never going to find you. If he ever lays eyes on you, that’ll be the day he dies.” He rasped, and pulled away to stare at her as if to confirm his words.

Y/n nodded and breathed out a sigh to calm herself. “Alright…can we…can we start out with short ones though? It…it’s been a while.” She murmured, looking down at his hand on her lap, toying with one of his rings.

He chuckled and nodded, “We can start out small if you look at me.”

She grinned and did as he asked. His blue eyes gazed right back at her and she relaxed, pulling him to her for a kiss. It had taken a long time to coax him into feeling more comfortable with kissing her. He never said much about his past but she had pieced together enough to know that intimate affection was not something he was well versed in.

She knew Albert was an only child until he was eight. He was always close with his mother who took interest in him. She encouraged him and listened.

Things changed when his brother was born…but he didn’t say much about the matter other than their mother fell ill shortly after giving birth, and she passed away soon after.

It had been left up to him to look after his little brother while his father began drinking again.

Then the beatings started. He beat Albert until he was unconscious. He would drag him down to that basement and leave him there till morning.

She knew his father served in the Second World War, and that when he came back everything got worse.

The rest was a mystery, but that was alright. She had found s damaged soul to love, and she wouldn’t push him.

By April, they had worked up to taking an hour out in the evenings together. She still held onto him tightly, but by the end of the month, they would have a foot or two between them and she didn’t need to hold his hand.

By May, he let her walk Sampson in the early mornings alone. Of course Albert knew the exact route she took and had each turn timed to know where she was and at what time she would return. But by the end of the month it was comfortable. With her hair so much longer, none of the neighbours even suspected she was the missing daughter of Stewart L/n.

But by June, everything changed.

It was on a Wednesday.

The sneakers Albert had bought her made a slight squeak as she strode down the street. Sampson walked calmly by her side, his chocolate eyes sharp as he surveyed the area to guard her. Their walk was coming close to an end and she turned onto the main road to come back to the little brown house she loved. She was very aware of her surroundings, and that road always made her nervous; it was the most exposed she felt. It didn’t help that it was the same one she had sprinted down when she ran into Albert for the first time. She smiled at the memory.

She loved that man. Even if he didn’t love her, she didn’t care.

Y/n was lost in thought when she felt Sampson freeze. Her eyes snapped up to follow his pointed gaze and she felt her blood go cold, but she remained calm. She had to remain calm. The lone police car cruised down the road towards her, and she did her best to look indifferent as it approached her. Inside, the officer gave her a small half salute, and a nod, which she raised her hand in a small wave to.

The car passed her, and she sighed in relief. She looked back once she was at the intersection, and saw that the car had stopped down the road, and the officer was watching her.

She should have stopped going for those morning walks after that, but she didn’t. She just thought he was a creep who wanted a little eye candy while on patrol.

So the next morning when she kissed Albert on the cheek as he sat with a cup of coffee before work, she had no worry in her mind as she breathed in the morning air. By the time she was halfway through her walk with her guard by her side, she had completely forgotten about that officer and his wandering eyes.

But when she started down that main road again, she felt every limb go numb. For the first time in months, she was terrified. Just a few meters down the road from her was that same officer, but this time, he was standing outside his car with another officer. As soon as she turned down that road, and they stood between her and her home, she not only felt terror, but she also felt threatened.

She saw the officer from the morning before hit the other one and nod toward her. “Mornin’ little lady!” He said in an overly friendly tone.

Y/n took a couple ridged steps toward them in hopes that if she acted normal they would leave. “Morning officers.” She said in a bright voice that did not match her face.

They were just a few feet from her now. “How are you going this morning?” The other officer asked. She looked at their tags. The one from the other morning was Allans and the other was Mathewson.

“I-I’m doing just fine. Thank you.” She said, trying to inch past them. She managed to get on the other side of them so she was towards her home and she half considered setting Sampson on them so she could get away.

“You live around here, miss?” Allans asked.

They know.

“Yes sir.” She said, still taking slow steps. At this point, Sampson was growling. Her heart was beating in her ears.

“Mind if we just ask you a couple questions?”

They know.

“I-I don’t…my-my guardian is expecting me-“

“Y/n?” Mathewson asked. “You’re y/n L/n aren’t you?” They started walking towards her.

Run.

She cracked a smile, “Sorry? No my name is Anna.” She tightened her grip on the leash.

“Y/n l/n.” He said again. They were too close.

Run.

It was all too much, and she lost it. Y/n took off running, letting go of Sampson in the process. But while she was quick, they were closer to her and grabbed her before she could cut through a neighbour’s yard.

“Don’t run y/n! We just wanna help you get home.” Allans said, restraining her arms as they picked her up. She struggled and kicked. Mathewson had his arm right there and she took the chance to latch her jaws around his muscle. It didn’t rip the uniform but she knew she had broken skin by his scream and the smack she received. She wriggled out of their arms three times before they finally got her. Allans swore and smacked her over the face as they cuffed and threw her into the back of the cruiser. She kicked at the door, and screamed.

“Told ya it was her. You remember when she went missin’?” She heard Allans say from the front.

“You kiddin’ me? That father of hers was a real piece of work. Jesus I thought he was gonna tear the town apart.” Mathewson said with a shake of his head.

“Let me go you idiots!” She screamed. “I ran away I didn’t go missing!”

“Damn whoever took her really did a number on her.” They joked.

No.

Albert.

She wasn’t going to see him again.

He didn’t know.

She was going back to …him.

She felt sick.

She was going to throw up. And she did, all over the floor.

“What the- fuck! Look what she did!”

She didn’t even listen anymore. Her eyes glazed over, and she went numb.

She was going back to her father. She had had almost a year of peace…and she knew it would be the only thing she would hold onto. She didn’t know how long she would last if her father took her back.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Albert.

They put her in a holding cell. It was cold, and smelled strange. Before they closed the door to the area, she heard an officer on the phone outside. “Yeah we have that girl that went missing last year…uh Stew-“ and the door shut. Her hands shook uncontrollably and she backed into the cell like a terrified animal.

Half an hour later, Allans came in with his hands on his hips. “Your fathers been notified. He’s coming to get you.” He said unimpressed.

She wouldn’t look at him.

“You took a chunk out of my partners arms.” He crossed his arms.

“Good. Hope he bleeds out.” She spat.

He laughed humourlessly.

“You’re a real bitch you know that?”

She mocked his laugh.

“You would be too if you were being handed back to the man who beat you every night and made you want to stick a rifle in your mouth.” She said finally raising her eyes to his. He was unsettled by what he saw. It was like something not human stared back at him. Something dead and cold. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?”

He swallowed,

“It’s my job to uphold the law and a part of that is finding missing people-“

And just then, there was a knock on the door. Another officer poked his head in, “Someone’s here for her. He’s pretty riled up.”

“I. WASN’T. FUCKING. MISSING!” She screamed.

The officer recoiled.

“Good that’s her father.” Allans said, “You’re going home, missy.”

He left her there, and as the door clicked shut, the world closed around her.

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

@lxdyred @ethanhawkestan @honeycovered-bandaids @theroadreader r @eth1calcannibal @ratpackash @doc-blu @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree

#sweet dreams #the grabber x reader #the grabber #albert shaw #the black phone 2022 #slasher x reader

539 notes · View notes

the-yoru-whoru · 3 years ago

Text

Protective Yoru x reader inspired by this funny tweet by @/llwslov on Twitter lol ( disclaimer I’ve never been to a concert before so it’s probably not accurate ) ( I kinda fell off the main theme but WHATEVER ) ( sfw ) ( no smut ) ( only kisses ) ( tw some harassment )

The two of you pushed through the crowd slowly, Yoru’s grip around your wrist tight and steady.

Usually the man would never go to places as crowded as these, would rather die then have to deal with huge packs of people and loud noises, but for you he found himself doing just about anything.

You wanted so bad to see this concert, and practically beg him to come with.

It didn’t take much convincing, but now that he was actually here he was almost thankful you had invited him.

You were looking amazing, make up soft and glamorous, the small sparkles spread across your cheekbones and eyelids making you look almost angelic.

The dress you had on was dangerously short, and was more revealing then anything he’s ever seen you wear before.

It was unexpected, yes, but the smile on your face and the confidence you showed made him feel something warm and mushy inside for you.

Ugh. Sappy shit.

Finally the two of you found your seats, not too far in the back but not directly in front of the stage either, mostly to protect your hearing.

He let you sit down first, giving the people around him a quick look over out of habit before settling down in his seat as well.

You were fidgeting in your seat, eyes bright and excited.

Yoru just threw an arm over your shoulder and kept a look out, years of caution and security making him careful in any public setting, especially when you were with him; he wasn’t letting you out of his sight tonight.

The concert went by smoothly, it was entertaining enough even though he didn’t understand what was going on most of the time, and watching your excitement and happiness was probably the best part of it all.

Afterwards, the two of you walked back to his bike, you waving your arms around as you talked about how cool everything way and how much fun you had with the biggest smile on your face.

Yoru just smiled contently too, arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you to himself snugly.

The summer night was warm, and the soft streetlights on the side of the road made the dark feel more calming than scary.

But, when Yoru came upon his bike that was parked a bit ways from the concert hall, he noticed that he was missing something.

“Shit,” He grimaced, “I forgot our helmets under the seat.”

You looked up at him worriedly, “What are we gonna do?”

Yoru frowned even more; he hated to see the dampen on your mood.

He released his hold on your waist, looking to the side as he weighted his options.

“Stay here, I’ll go and grab them and be right back,” He finally decided.

“What? No, I’m coming with you!” You tried to argue, but he just levelled you with a stern look.

“Your legs are shaking,” he said bluntly, gesturing at your slightly trembling stance, “You’re tired. Don’t worry, I won’t take long, I’ll run.”

During the concert you had been standing a lot, jumping around in those high heels of yours; he could see the strain it was putting on your ankles but didn’t want to interrupt your fun, only now it was pretty clear by the swollen marks around you feet.

You looked like you wanted to protest more, but just sighed and sat down, taking your heels off.

“Alright,” you said begrudgingly, “Thanks Yoru.”

He only nodded before shrugging his jacket off and placing it on your shoulder, letting himself appreciate the adorable way you snuggled into the cloth for a moment.

Then he turned and ran back to the concert stadium, shoes pounding against the pavement and hair flying up in all directions.

Walking from his bike to the concert had been about 10 minutes, if he ran fast enough he could probably shorten it to 5.

Leaving you alone in the dark didn’t make him feel good, but he had no choice, and the best he could do was minimize that alone time as much as possible.

He arrived back at your previous seats, a few people still milling about.

Yoru quickly spotted the helmets and scooped them up, already turning to run back to his partner.

He finally makes it back, and the scene that greets him is exactly what he had been fearing.

Three men; one of them holds a glass bottle loosely in one of his hands, the other leans against Yoru’s motorcycle, leaving greasy fingerprints on the pristine metal.

Worst of all is the man who has an arm slid halfway across your waist, smile carnivorous and eyes creeping up and down your exposed body.

Seeing those greasy hands touch all over what was his made Yoru’s skin crawl, mind flooding with rage.

It feels like slow motion when all those leering eyes turn towards him, while your tearful ones melt into relief at his presence.

“Back off,” Yoru manages to grit out, tone deadly.

His hands aren’t clenched into fists are his sides, rather they are tensed into a claw, preparing to grab at his mask and take action.

But he doesn’t.

He stands there in front of the group, helmets placed off to the side.

One of the men, white and broad, scoffs and comes to stand in front of you slowly; blocking Yoru’s view.

Now he’s pissed off.

Yoru raises his hands in front of his face seriously , “Big mistake.”

The man looks like he’s about to say something snarky, but doesn’t get the chance before Yoru’s fist is smashed into his jaw, the impact sending the other man tumbling against the rough asphalt.

The rest of the fight feels like a blur with how quickly he takes down the creeps.

By the end of it, his fists are stained red with blood not belonging to him, and the others run off with broken noses and fractured limbs.

Barely breaking a sweat, he watches them stumble off before turning to something much more important; you.

“Fuck, I never should have left you here alone,” He apologizes, almost desperately ,”Are you alright?”

You face is downcast in a way so that he can’t see your eyes, only the trembling form of your bare shoulders.

He stays quiet and leans towards you, crimson stained hands brushing against your soft skin, as if he was afraid of dirtying you.

You sniffle, and then quickly wrap your arms around Yoru’s waist, crying out of relief and adrenaline.

“I’m s-sorry,” You blubber, “I-I tried to say no but—”

Your boyfriend cuts you off, finally pulling you toward himself protectively, “Don’t apologize. None of this was your fault, not in the slightest.”

You only sob harder, letting out your feelings as you grip onto his shirt tightly.

Finally you calm down, and Yoru feels horrible when you pull away and he sees your puffy red eyes.

“I know you say it’s not my fault, but,” Your voice is quiet, “Maybe if I hadn’t been all dressed up they wouldn’t have tried to touch me. If I hadn’t tried to be such a show off maybe….” You trail off.

Yoru can’t help the second rage of fury that rises inside of him, but he tampers it quickly, wanting nothing more then for you to stop crying and to smile again.

He takes your hand and slowly brings it up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to your skin, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Don’t hide your beauty because of scum who can’t handle it. I’ll fight any amount of men if it means I get to see you all pretty and dolled up for me. I don’t fucking care.”

Your face immediately flushes a deep red, and the bewildered look on your face is already a huge improvement from the previous one.

“I-I don’t want you to have to fight! It’s okay, really!”

Yoru scoffs and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear affectionately, “Idiot, I’m going to be fighting people either way, might as well be for someone worthwhile.”

You fall silent, and he takes the opportunity to bend down and kiss you on your lips quickly, pulling you away before you can react.

He then turns his face away quickly, annoyed by the red that starts tinting his cheeks.

You two may be a couple but, kissing still felt a bit too…intimate; to Yoru, that is.

“A-anyways. Let me drive you home. If we wait around any longer there might be even more scumbags like those. Then I’d have to break even more noses.”

You giggle slightly at his awkwardness, and quickly take his hand, the one with the least blood on it at least, already feeling better.

“Thank you, Ryo,” You say genuinely.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles, but the soft squeeze of his hand tells you that he is happy too.

#imagine #reader #writing #valorant #yoru #reader insert #yoru x reader #x reader #possessive #protective

612 notes · View notes

ficsforeren · 3 years ago

Text

The Last Song - Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader feat. Armin Arlert

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: You’re planning to visit your parents’ house for the weekend and Eren decides to tag along. You’ve promised each other that you’ll speak nothing about your relationship, but can Eren really keep it a secret?

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

“Okay, Eren, should we go through our plan again?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary but okay, sure.”

You take a deep breath. Now that you’re standing on the porch of the house you grew up in, next to your beloved best friend who’s been sleeping with you without your parents knowing for almost a year, you can feel every nerve in your body screaming at you to run before it gets worse. And knowing how your mother is deeply rooting for you and Eren to be together, you can guarantee that it will get worse. But you haven’t visited your parents’ house in what felt like years, and although you’d never admit it out loud, you miss seeing the smile on their faces when they welcome you home. You miss being hugged by your mother and sharing her warmth. You miss being told, “I’m proud of you, kid,” by your dad. Since today is their wedding anniversary, you thought it would be a nice gift for their daughter to come home and stay for dinner.

You didn’t plan for Eren to tag along at first. It would be better for him to stay away as far as possible so he won’t add more fuel to your mother’s already blazing fantasy of having him as her son-in-law. But he knew you were planning to take a little trip to the countryside on the upcoming weekend, and he invited himself to come. “I’m free this weekend so why not, right? Besides, your mother loves me more than she loves you.” He told you with a cheeky grin, to which you responded with a mean glower before you decided to take on his offer (because it’s true, she seems to love him more than she loves you). You had expected him to say, “But do you think it’ll be weird for us to visit together?” Because that was certainly what you had in mind, but Eren was all smiley and bright, saying, “Can you tell your mom to make lasagna for dinner? She makes the best lasagna in the world.” He said it so excitedly, acting more like their son than your older brother ever did.

So, now, the two of you are standing side by side on your mother’s porch, tense and anxious. Well, you are anxious. Eren seems pretty laid back. He’s wearing a less formal attire this time around. Still looking fresh and effortlessly handsome, nonetheless, even when he’s simply wearing his jacket, jeans and boots. He’s tied up his hair in a man bun, so neatly at first, but after the wind ruffles his hair, it looks messy in the most perfect way.

You, on the other hand, are dressed in a way that your mother would probably call ‘sloppy’—a pair of jeans, black booties, and a red oversized shirt with three of your top buttons unfastened. You could’ve worn something else but your outfit is so comfortable on your skin, you couldn’t care less if she called you that. And since you had to take four hours long drive, sitting shotgun in Eren’s jet black Audi, you needed to wear something comfortable.

Your hair is all tousled by the autumn wind, your cheeks kissed by the morning sun as you keep your eyes on him. “Why are you staring at me?” Eren asks, raising an eyebrow once he notices you scrutinizing your appearance. “I thought you were going to go through the plan.” There’s mockery in his tone but you can’t be bothered by it.

Honestly, after spending all this time touching him and looking at him as much as you pleased, how the hell does he still amaze you with his look? Eren ages like fine wine, you can’t even deny it. The younger version of him is cute—he’s always been cute—and standing here in front of your house feels so nostalgic. You can still recall those days when he came by to visit, wearing a pair of flip flops, a baggy shirt, and his favorite basketball shorts. He’d always have his guitar case strapped to his back with that signature scowl plastered on his face. But when you opened the door for him, he would always turn a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his head as he said, “Wanna head to the park? We can go feed the ducks or something.” He could’ve said something better, could’ve let you know that he would let you choose the song you wanted to sing, would accompany you with his guitar until your voice turned hoarse from trying to belt the high notes to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On (you failed every time). Perhaps he could’ve told you that he’d buy you some ice cream on the way home, because that was what he always did, knowing that you’d always have some craving for something sweet after spending the whole day singing. But it didn’t matter what he said. Your answer would be the same. You’d smile at him, grab your baseball cap with you and say, “These ducks are gonna get so fat, aren’t they?”

Twelve years later and now he’s here, tall and handsome, a successful musician with a bright career lying before him. Just to call yourself his best friend already feel like such an honor to you, but to be able to spend countless nights together with him? To have your legs tangled underneath the sheet? To have his lips—those goddamn beautiful lips—

This is probably not the best time to be thinking about pulling him down for a kiss and have your fingers wound around his hair. Yeah, definitely not. “Right, okay. The plan.” You clear your throat, casting your gaze away. “So what do we say if my mother asks about our relationship?”

Eren sighs, feeling like a complete idiot to have to repeat this so-called plan all over again. “We’re just friends.”

“And what do you say if she tells you that you should start dating me?”

“Nooooo, we’re just frieeeeends.”

“No,” you firmly correct him and he rolls his eyes. “Saying that will only make her tease you even harder. You tell her, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “‘Cause that would stop her from asking oh, why not, Eren? You’re young. She’s young. You two know each other very well. I bet your babies are going to look so—”

“Yes, I got the point, thanks.” You try to put a cover on your blush by glaring at him. But you have to admit that he did a quite fantastic impression of your mother. “What, you’ve got a better idea?”

He shrugs. “Why don’t we just tell her the truth?”

“You want us to tell her we’ve been sleeping together? Are you mad?”

“I meant, the part where you’re falling for me.” Your heart sinks to your stomach while he just casually sticks his hands inside the pocket of his coat, leaning comfortably against the railing. Smiling—no, smirking at you, he adds, “And the part where you’re waiting for me to take the first step and confess my feelings to you.”

“What?!” You bite back in whispers, afraid that your mother would hear. “I don’t—I never think like that!” Your first lie of the day, because truth is, that is what you’ve been ruminating all this time—even secretly wishing for it to happen from the day he dared you to fall in love with him.

“You don’t?” He raises an eyebrow, teasing and seductive. “Not even a little bit?“

“Of course not.” Your second lie and he sees right through it. Stepping away from the railing, he walks closer to you until he’s close enough to touch.

“Weird,” he muses, taking a hold of your face gently with one hand, lifting it so you have no other choice but peer deep into his eyes. His emerald ones turned hooded. His gaze follows the movement of his thumb that caresses your lips. With a delicate voice, he murmurs, “I thought you’ve fallen for me by now.”

Your heartbeat soars as he bends his head down, his breath fanning your lips. “Eren—“

The front door is being pushed open with a loud creak, and both of you break away with your hearts nearly jumped out of your chests. Eren keeps his hand busy with his hair, while you follow what your brains shout at you to do. “Mom!” You greet with the biggest smile you can manage. Your voice booms through the air, almost making her wince. “Hey, we’re here!”

“Honey!” Your mother gasps in delight, her palm shooting up to cover her mouth. “I thought I heard someone talking. I can’t believe you're here!”

Begging yourself to stay calm, you take a step forward to greet her with a hug but your mother dismisses you like thin air, hurriedly making her way to Eren instead.

“Oh, Eren, honey, I’ve missed you!” She chirps, standing on her toes as she circles her arms around his neck, completely ignoring the fact that you’re standing there with your jaw hanging loose on your face and your hands hanging mid-air. Eren throws you a look that says, “See? I know she loves me,” before he returns her embrace with his arms wrapped around her back.

“Hi, Mom,” he says without thinking, but once he sees the way you’re palming your face, he hastily corrects, “I mean—hi, Auntie, how have you been?”

“I’ve been doing well, darling, thank you for asking,” your mother replies with a sweet smile “And you can call me mom, Eren, it’s okay. I’ve always thought of you as a son.” She cups his cheek as she breaks away a little from his embrace, patting it softly. “Look at you. So handsome. Are you still single? Please tell me you’re single.”

The boy seems flushed, unable to meet her eyes. “I—umm—”

“Yo, Auntie.” You drive her attention back to you, placing your hands on your hips as you throw her a flat stare. “What about me—your actual daughter?”

“Oh, you silly little thing. I know you’re single. You haven’t dated in years.”

“I meant, my hug.”

“Oh, don’t put your panties in a twist.” She clicks her tongue, playfully rolling her eyes. “Of course, I missed you too.” You spread your arms, ready to welcome her in your embrace but your mother only fills the spaces between you to fix the collar of your shirt. “Look at this. You’re what, thirty now?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Twenty-six and you still dress so sloppily.” She buttons your shirt, all the way until there are no more left to be fastened. “Your cleavage is showing, honey, please. We have a gentleman around here.”

“It’s just Eren.” You hold back the urge to groan, especially when you notice him making faces at you behind her back, enjoying your suffering. “Also, I’m not being sloppy. This is fashion.”

“Having your breasts shown for the whole world to see is fashion?”

“Mom, I literally only had like three buttons opened!”

“That’s three buttons more than necessary.” She puts an end to the discussion with Eren chuckling quietly at the background. “Now, come. You haven’t had your breakfast yet, have you?”

“Well—” You just opened your mouth when she turns around on her heels, facing him.

“Eren, what would you like to have for breakfast?” She returns to her giggly self whenever she talks to him, and you throw your hands in the air, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Pancakes?” Eren suggests something simple, not wanting to cause any inconvenience. “But really, anything is fine.”

“Pancakes it is, then. I’ll make some lasagna for dinner later, how about that?”

Eren beams at her like a child. “You’re the best.”

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps him on his chest before she gestures him to follow her. “Now, come inside. It’s getting colder out here.” She leaves the front door open for both of you to follow, hastily making her way back to the kitchen to prepare for breakfast as she shouts, “Darling, you can fix the bathroom tiles some other time. Eren is here! Oh—almost forgot—our daughter is here too!”

Eren tucks his hands back inside his pockets, chuckling deeply. “Come inside, she said,” he bumps your shoulder against yours. “Kinda sounds like something you’d say to me later.”

“Oh my God, are you for real?! My mother is literally over there.”

“It’s fine. Your mother loves me.”

“Correction, she just loves to tease me because she knows how much it grosses me out when she’s babying you,” you retort, grumbling. “Also, mom? You called her mom? What the hell was that?”

His blush reappears, a shade redder than before. “I, uh, I panicked.”

“What were you panicking about?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he harshly scoffs, “I just feel bad because I’ve been fucking her daughter behind her back for months, that’s why!”

“You literally just made a sex joke, you idi—”

“Eren!” Your mother calls from the kitchen and you both freeze, eyes largening in horror. Did she hear that?! Did she hear what you said?! You question him with your eyes and Eren gulps. “Y-yes, Ma’am?”

“Would you like some maple syrup for your pancakes or do you want to use honey instead?”

You both exhale in relief, feeling like a little part of your soul just left your body. “M-Maple, if you have some,” Eren says, and she quickly chimes back with, “All right, darling!”

Before you make your way inside the house, you elbow him hard on the stomach. “Watch your mouth, Jaeger.”

“Watch your mouth, Jaeger,” he childishly imitates you. “No wonder your mother prefers to have me as her child.”

“Shut up.”

***

It’s like all these times you’ve been away from home doesn’t exist when you and Eren join your mother at the dining table. The pleasant atmosphere that surrounds you feels perfectly the same as how it was during your school days. Eren seems so relaxed too, sinking into his chair with a fork between his fingers, chewing on his pancakes—she made them extra fluffy just the way he likes it.

The tension turns a bit heavy when your father joins you on the dining table, however, with Eren growing noticeably nervous like a fresh graduate during his first job interview. He takes a seat next to your mother, while you and Eren are sitting side by side, facing them. Eren has grown uncharacteristically quiet, most likely too jittery to speak from how hard he’s gripping onto his fork.

You make small talks, rambling twice as much for his behalf as well. You ask your parents how they’ve been doing, congratulate them on their wedding anniversary, and telling them how your article regarding the progress of Korean reunification has been hugely praised by other journalists. You don’t realize just how much you’ve missed your mother’s touch until she squeezes your hand and tells you, “I’m so proud of you, honey.” It’s to the point that you almost break into tears from spending all these months away without receiving her warmth. “Thank you, Mom.”

Your father, surprisingly, has been observing Eren—who’s perched stiffly at the edge of his seat—with his thick eyeglasses sliding off his nose. He hasn’t spoken a word, probably not paying attention to any of your conversations either. Snatching his folded newspaper from the table, he spreads it open, crossing his legs. “So, Eren.”

Eren’s fork hits his plate a little too hard and he winces at the clanking sound that bounces in the air. “Yes, Sir?” Trying to mask his anxiety, he reaches for his glass, sipping his orange juice.

“How long have you been sleeping with my daughter?”

He chokes.

“Dad!” You shout, face aflame, and you would’ve probably choked too if you had been drinking your coffee. Neither of you saw that coming. Eren coughs a few times, smacking his hand against his chest as orange juice drips down his chin and stains his shirt.

Your mother laughs in glee, holding her hand in the air and your father throws her a grin, smacking his palm against hers. “Nice one,” she says and your father chuckles, impressed at himself.

“That’s not funny!” You fume, trying to tend for Eren—because honestly, he looks like he’s a bit dying over here. You grab a napkin, handing it to him as you rub his back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just had orange juice coming out of my nose,” he croaks out, his eyes a bit teary from how much he’s been coughing.

“I’m sorry,” your mother giggles, “It’s just that you’ve been whispering to each other all the time like you’re keeping secrets. We just wanted to tease you a little bit.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you.” You rub a hand over your face, propping both elbows on the table. “That was a horrible joke, Dad.”

The older male is still chuckling. “Funny how you both didn’t deny it, though.”

Eren coughs again while you’re so close to escaping through the front door. “We’re not sleeping together!” You tell them, almost standing from your seat to make your point. How many times does that make it today? Right, your third lie.

“All right, all right, geez, no need to be so aggressive.” Your mother waves her hand in the air. “Which is unfortunate, though. Do you not find my daughter attractive, Eren?”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh, Jesus.”

“I’m—” Eren looks around, practically wheezing. “I—”

“You don’t need to answer that, Eren.”

“Your daughter is very attractive, Ma’am. She’s smart and kind, and—”

“Oh my God.” Your voice is muffled by the wooden surface. “Please stop.”

“But we’re just f-friends,” Eren finishes, very unconvincingly. One line. You only gave him one line to say and he still failed terribly at it. You hide your face behind your fingers, but you spread them enough to steal a peek, looking at the way your parents are exchanging stares. The tension is too thick, you can practically cut it with a knife and maybe they feel the same way too, because your father clears his throat and brings his eyes to his newspaper while your mother hastily changes the topic.

“So, anyway,” she utters, “Your nephew Falco is getting engaged tonight.”

“What?!” You exclaim, appalled. “But he’s, like, twelve!”

“Yes, six years ago.” You can tell she’s seconds away from rolling her eyes at you. “He’s eighteen now—turning nineteen next month, actually.”

“Who gets engaged at eighteen?” You genuinely ask that as you’re unable to comprehend. In your mind, Falco is still the shy, adorable twelve years old boy who used to borrow your phone so he could play games without his parents knowing. For that kid to be engaged? To get married before you?

Your father takes a sip of his coffee. “We did.”

“You did?!” Eren’s startled from the noise that comes out of you—a mix between a shriek and a gasp, or a wheeze, more like.

Your mother takes a hold of her husband’s hand, smiling sweetly at him. “Yes, we were high school sweethearts.”

“Oh my God, I wasn’t an accident, was I?”

“Of course not. Your brother was.” Your parents, apparently, have the worst taste in humor. Your mother is having the time of her life laughing at the way the color drained from your face. “I’m kidding, honey. Your father and I got married early because it just felt right at the time. We were so in love and we just did it without thinking too much about it.”

“I thought a lot about it, actually,” her husband corrects her, sending her a meaningful stare. “I thought about you a lot. You were the only one for me. You still are.”

“Aaw, darling.” She playfully pinches his cheek while you pretend to vomit. “You two might not believe this, but your dad was very handsome back in high school. Almost as handsome as Eren.”

Eren keeps his eyes on his lap, feeling more uncomfortable with the praise than moved.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this for the first time,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your temple with your fingers. “And in front of Eren.”

The said boy, now perfectly composed, seems intrigued by the topic. So intrigued, it makes you frown and wonder why. He doesn’t really strike as the type who seems interested in marriage. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Before you got married,” Eren starts, “Did you ever, uh, get worried that it might not work out in the future? I mean, getting married is a huge step, isn’t it? To be committed to one person for the rest of your life, to be able to take care of your partner—both emotionally, physically, and financially. Isn’t that a bit… I don’t know, scary?”

“Of course, it was scary,” your mother answers truthfully as your father keeps running his eyes through the sports section, boredom written on his face. “It’s still scary. I’ve been married to him for God knows how long but there are still problems we need to work out every now and then. Sometimes, we can walk past it without a hassle. But most of the time, even the smallest thing can get us into a fight.”

“So why did you do it?” Eren asks, curiosity filling his viridian eyes.

“Why did we get married anyway?” She titters. “Because we loved each other, Eren, that’s why. And it might sound cheesy, but love,” she holds her husband’s hand tighter. “Love really becomes the reason why we could still be together to this day. When you love someone—so, so deeply—you truly accept them for what they are. People make mistakes all the time. They have flaws. But when you love them, you accept those and you forgive them. Maybe one day, you’ll even find those flaws to be endearing. And you bring out everything that’s good within them, and be grateful for it every day.”

You told me that I wasn’t going to fall in love with you because I’d seen your flaws. But Eren, I love you because of that. Yes, you are stubborn, you are impatient, you make excuses when things don’t go your way but I find all of those traits of yours endearing. I find you endearing. And it’s so, so easy to fall in love with you.

Blood rushes fast to your face once you recalled the night when you said those words to him. And maybe, Eren remembers that too because his ears are turning pink and he tries his best to keep his eyes on your mother’s instead of stealing awkward glances at you.

“See, my husband snores like a pig every night,” your mother continues. “But when I stayed at your grandmother’s house for three days without him, I could barely get any sleep. I’m just so used to his snores that when he’s not beside me, I can’t sleep without him.”

You remember how lonely it felt when Eren went away, how even an hour seemed like it was longer than a day, colder than the winter. As you grow pensive, Eren reaches out a hand underneath the table, finding yours and intertwine your fingers together. You look to your side, noticing a little smile on his lips and you blush.

He’s definitely thinking the same thing.

Your mother is still talking about her partner’s flaws, getting carried away by the moment. “Your father never closes the toilet seat too. Every single time, I had to do it for him. He puts wet towels on our bed. He keeps his dirty socks in his shoes—”

“Honey,” your father calmly interrupts, flipping another page of his newspaper. “Remember that you love me.”

You both laugh a little at that, your giggles mingling with Eren’s deeper ones in the air as you tighten your hold around his hand, feeling his warmth seeping through your skin, all the way to your heart. There’s a thought fleeting inside your head: an image of you and Eren sharing laughter and jokes at the dining table with your children sitting where you are now, telling them about the memories you shared with him back when you were both young. The image of it drenches you with both joy and shame for having such thoughts when you can’t even tell him how you truly feel about him.

Wait. How do you feel about him?

“Exactly,” your mother’s voice disrupts your thoughts. “I remember that I love my husband. And I remember that he also accepts all my flaws, and so, we support each other, through thick and thin, through sickness and health. A lot of couples don’t work out because they think the pressure of being loyal to their partner is too much. Or maybe they blame it on each other for not providing enough money, not giving enough emotional support, or simply, not doing enough sex.” At this part, you feel so embarrassed, you start drawing random shapes on your thigh. No matter how old you are, hearing your parents talk about sexual-related stuff will always feel… icky. “I personally think,” your mother argues, “They just don’t love each other enough. You gotta hold on to your feelings. Gotta have faith in it. Love is strong if you believe it to be.”

Your hand is now intertwined together on his lap as Eren listens in silence, his thoughts trying to process her every word. You take a glimpse of his expression. It’s rare to see him looking this serious when it has nothing to do with music. A part of you wants to ask him, “What are you thinking about? Are you thinking about marrying me, just like I did?” But there’s no way you could ask him that. You can’t even deal with your own thoughts.

“Okay, thank you for coming to her TED talk,” you say, interrupting his musing as you remove your hand away. Somehow, there’s a weird feeling swirling inside your stomach and you try to keep it contained by running away from the moment. Finishing the rest of your pancake in two large bites, you gather the dirty dishes from the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” you tell your parents. “I have dirty dishes to wash.”

“Wait, before I forgot.” Your mother stops you. “You’re staying over tonight, right?”

“No. We’re gonna drive back home after dinner.”

“Nonsense. Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“Yeah, well, I have plans.”

"Your plan is to attend Falco’s engagement party tonight, stay over, and visit your grandma’s house tomorrow,” your mother firmly says. “Eren will tag along.” When it comes to him, her smile instantly turns sweet. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Uh…” Eren steals a glance at you, noticing how you vigorously shake your head, mouthing no. “I don't think I should. It's a family event."

“And have my daughter come to the party alone, without a date?” She dramatically gasps, placing him in an awkward position. “Do you realize how embarrassing it is to attend an engagement party at her age without a date?”

“Mom, I’m literally right here,” you flatly remind her. “Wait, I didn’t say I was going.”

“Of course, you’re going. He’s your nephew.”

You almost forgot how stubborn your mother could be. “Well, Eren doesn't have a suit.”

"I do.” Your father chimes in with a yawn. “He can borrow mine.”

“No offense, Dad, but you're literally twice his size.”

"We're the same height.”

“I'm talking about your weight.”

“Rude.” Your father snorts loudly, never taking his eyes off his newspaper. ”My body used to look like his back in my younger days, okay? He can wear the suit I wore to prom.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Your mother claps her hands together. “It’s such a beautiful suit. Eren, you’ll look fantastic in it!”

There’s no way you can win this argument. Turning to the younger male, you mutter, “Please say something.”

But Eren always has a soft spot for your mother, especially when she’s pleading at him with those eyes. “I guess pretending to be your date for a night won’t hurt.” One corner of his lips tilts upwards, mischief in his eyes as he stares back at you. “The problem is, I’m way out of your league. So, we gotta act like we’re in love or nobody would believe that we’re together—”

“Right,” you cut him off, “I’m just gonna go right over there and pretend you three don’t exist.”

“She’s always snarky when it comes to showing her feelings,” your mother says to him between her chortles, watching you close the door behind you before you make your way to the kitchen. “Not quite honest too.”

Now that you have left the room, their voices turn into murmurs, inaudible to your ears. It’s probably a bit mean of you to leave Eren in the same room with your parents, but you can’t stay there. Not when the conversation is heading that way.

Eren rubs his thumb at the edge of his glass, chuckling softly at your mother’s words. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“But you believe in love, don’t you, Eren?” He turns rigid at her question, no matter how natural and gentle she vocalizes it. “Something about you tells me that maybe you’re in love with someone now.”

Eren swallows thickly, straightening his posture. “I’m… I don’t—”

“Stop bullying the poor boy,” her husband gently reminds her, fixing his glasses.

“I’m not bullying him. I’m just asking him about his feelings.”

“Well, us men don’t like to talk about feelings. Leave him alone.”

“Geez, fine,” the old lady mutters. But once she notices how relieved Eren looks at his words, she takes a hold of the boy’s hand, squeezing it as her eyes turn apologetic. “I’m sorry. Was I being out of line?”

“N-no, it’s okay.” He tosses her a weak smile. “I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m glad. I was worried I might have offended you.”

Your mother’s laughter reminds him of the way Carla Jaeger used to giggle at his jokes. It feels just as warm, just as kind. But Carla only stayed that way in his memory. She’s not like that anymore, but then again, perhaps that warmth he felt from her was nothing but his imagination. A way for his mind to cope with the guilt that’s been eating him inside for years. He can’t really remember how his mother used to look, not when a huge part of him tried to forget her. She’s not his mother. Not anymore.

She’s just another person who left him when he needed her the most.

“Do you think,” Eren begins, quiet and broken. His fingers curl into a fist as he lays his hand on the table with your mother holding it still. “Do you think someone who doesn’t deserve to be loved, is allowed to fall in love? Do you think they’re allowed to have their feelings reciprocated by their loved ones?”

The question catches her off guard, but not as much as the little shivers that run through his fingertips. Glancing at the way Eren is tightening his fist, the older lady gently cups his hand between her smaller ones. She straightens his fingers, running her thumbs along the lines of his palm. “People who think they don’t deserve to be loved,” she answers, smiling so tenderly at him, it almost breaks his heart even further, “are the ones who deserve to be loved the most.”

Eren holds his breath, eyes unblinking. “You… You think so?”

“I know so.”

“But… what if he’s done something horrible?” Eren says, casting his gaze downward. “What if he’d hurt someone so badly in the past?”

“Does he regret it?”

His voice breaks. “Yes.” He bites his lip, dragging his gaze down to where his hand is tangled between hers. “He regrets it every day.”

“Then that’s the more reason why he should be forgiven.” She soothingly caresses his knuckles with her thumb. “The more reason why he should be loved. And why he should love another.” Eren stays mute, trapped between his thoughts. “Has he found someone special? Someone that makes his heart ache when they’re apart?”

Eren gives a timid nod. “Yes.”

“Well then, maybe this is the chance to wash away his guilt. Maybe he can try to meet his amends by making her the happiest girl in the world.”

He chews on his lower lip. “But what if he’s not enough? What if he ends up hurting her in the same way like he did to everyone else in the past?”

“Why do you think so?”

“I—” His breath catches in his throat. “I don’t know… I’m just not brave enough to take the risk and end up ruining everything.” The married couple exchange glance. Eren is so distraught, so deep in thoughts, he’s starting to be honest in his sentences. “I’d rather stay where we are now than to lose her forever. But…” His voice wavers but your mother waits patiently until he discovers it once more. “I love her. I love her so much that it feels like I’m suffocating. Like I’m drowning.”

The older male smiles to himself, flipping a new page. “Loving someone does feel like that sometimes, Kid.”

“Honey.” Your mother cups his cheek, lifting his face so she can meet his eyes. “This girl you’re talking about. Is she—”

There’s a loud crash coming from the kitchen followed by the sound of your scream. The three of them jolt in surprise, but Eren is quick to stand up from his seat, already halfway running to your aid before his thoughts can begin to process. “What happened?!” He shouts, eyebrows furrowing in panic when he catches you sprawled on the floor, wincing in pain. He hastily shifts to your spot, checking on you. “Did you fall? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just slipped.” You sheepishly laugh, embarrassed that you’re still this clumsy at this age. “I thought I saw a cockroach or something.”

“You scared me.” Eren sighs in relief, offering you a hand. You take it with a smile, mumbling your gratitude but the second you try to stand on your feet, a jolt of pain zaps through your entire body.

“Damn it,” you hiss under your breath, clutching onto his arm as you stumble. “Sorry.”

Eren tangles one arm around your waist, keeping you close to his chest. “Sprained your leg?”

“Yeah.”

“Honey, what happened?” Your mother pops in, worried eyes searching your face.

“She sprained her leg,” Eren answers on your behalf. Without warning, he sneaks an arm behind your knees and scoops you up in his embrace. Your heart races fast. Your brain no longer cares about the pain as you fist his shirt, maintaining your balance. All you can think about right now is how Eren is carrying you with one arm under your legs and his other one supporting your back, like a groom carrying his bride, in front of your mother.

“Oh my.” You can see her concealing her smile with her fingers, turning your face even redder.

“Eren, put me down!” You try to struggle, but if anything, it only makes him hold you even tighter.

Completely ignoring you, he directs his attention to your mother. “Do you have some ice?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She makes her way to the fridge, looking for an ice pack you can use.

“Please put me down,” you tell him, only for his ears to hear. “This is embarrassing.”

“You can’t even stand.”

“My mom is right there, Eren.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you can’t stand.” He casts you a crooked smile. “I’m just being a gentleman here.”

“Why you little—”

“Here you go,” your mother says, handing you a bowl filled with an ice pack shrouded by a clean towel. “Are you okay, honey? Do I need to call a doctor?”

“I’m fine. He’s just overreacting.” You try your best to act like being carried like this by him doesn’t have any effects on you. Through gritted teeth, you repeat, “Put me down, Eren.”

“Would you mind if I bring her to her room?” Your mother nods at his question, giving her approval. Turning to you, he says, “Arms around my neck.”

“What?”

“Hold on to me.”

“Why would I?”

“So you won’t fall, genius.”

“But I’m fine like this—” Eren lets you go, only for a split second but enough to make you nearly jump out of your skin. Naturally, your arms wind around his neck to keep yourself from falling and Eren chuckles, smirking. “See, Sweetheart, it’s really not that hard.”

“Ugh, you’re so—”

“You guys are adorable.” Your mother speaks, turning your face from pale to scarlet in a matter of seconds. Eren excuses himself, giving her a polite bow before he takes the stairs, striding toward your room.

“Honey, keep the door open, okay?”

“Jesus, Mom!”

***

“Your mother clearly knows something fishy is going on between us,” Eren titters as he gently presses the ice pack against your swollen ankle.

“And whose fault do you think that is?” You grumble, propping your weight on the bed by placing your arms behind you, palms pressing against the sheets.

Now that ten minutes have passed since he first applied the ice pack to your skin, he places it back into the bowl. His fingers find their way to your ankle, massaging you gently. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” You exhale heavily. The contrast between the ice and his warm skin is delightful. “It feels good.”

He smiles lightly to himself, continuing with his ministrations. You both stay quiet, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall filling the silence. Eren is standing on one knee, his eyes drooping as he keeps his gaze on your foot, trying to be as careful as he can so he won’t accidentally hurt you. He looks so… dreamy like this. The way he tucks a few messy strands that fell out of his bun behind his ear, the way his long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the way he hums to fill the silence. You’re not even sure what song it is, but it sounds like a lullaby to your ears, making you feel serene.

“You look like a prince charming,” you say, sounding more like a praise when you intended to tease him.

He chuckles, applying pressure on your calf with his lean fingers. “Do I?”

The little smile that paints his lips just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that sends unexpected warmth rushing through you. “Either that or a really hot masseur.” You just have to ruin the moment with a joke, otherwise, you’ll feel that familiar urge flooding your chest again, leaving you with no choice but to lean down and kiss him.

God, I want to kiss him. But you can’t. Not right here. Not when your parents are around. “Eren, we really don’t have to stay the night,” you utter, “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Why would I feel uncomfortable?”

“Because, you know… My parents tease you a lot. Tease us a lot.” You hiss a little bit when his thumb presses against a sore spot on the front of your ankle.

“That hurt?”

“A little bit.”

“I’m sorry.” Eren apologizes, and to your surprise, he bends his head down, brushing his lips against the spot, and whispers, “A kiss to make it better.”

Flushed with your heart pulsating beyond control, you promptly draw your leg away from him. “Stop it. I’m not a baby.”

“You’re acting like one.”

“Well, you’re being so cheesy right now, okay? You’re making me nauseous.”

“You literally just said I looked like Prince Charming a few seconds ago.” Scoffing, Eren takes a hold of your leg again, massaging the sole of your foot this time. “Yeah, it’s kinda funny how your mother keeps teasing us,” he returns to the topic. “It’s like she really wants us to be together.”

“Probably because you’re the only man I’ve ever brought to my house,” you snort loudly to cover your blush. “So they expect you to mean something more than a friend.”

“And is that wrong?” Eren puts his movement into a halt, tilting his face upward to meet your gaze. “Am I nothing but a friend to you?”

His heavy stare adds tension to the room, one that makes you feel weak from the pressure. “You’re…” You wet your lips. “You’re really trying to make me fall for you, huh?”

Eren stays voiceless for a few unbearable seconds and you use the opportunity to try and decipher the look on his face, but he doesn’t give you enough time. He shifts his weight, standing on both knees, and lands his palms on the edge of the bed, trapping you between his arms. “And if I tell you that I am?” He leans in close, his words spoken in nothing but a murmur. He raises his hand, cupping your cheek and keep your eyes locked with his. “If I tell you that I have been trying to make you fall in love with me, what would you do?”

You can feel his breath falling on your lips, making your skin tingle for something more. “Eren…” Your eyes are drifting to his lips, your tongue peeking out to wet your chapped ones. “Are you… in love with me?”

And he would’ve screamed the answer if you didn’t look so… afraid right now. You may have found the courage to ask the question, but he can tell you’re not ready to hear his answer. So, what other option does he have?

So he kisses you, a perfect excuse for him to run away from your question and let you figure out his feelings on your own. His kiss forms a connection not just between your lips, but your hearts, swallowing the unspoken words that don’t need to be said. You sigh into his mouth, fingers clamping around his wrist as he holds you by your jaw.

“The door’s open,” you breathe out. His sea-green eyes study your lips as you study his. You both lean in closer until your foreheads are touching. It feels like currents of electricity are running through the two of you, making you feel like you’re going to melt from the intensity.

“Just one more,” he says, but if it’s a promise, you wish for him to break it. One isn’t enough. It will never be. His hand moves to your nape, holding you in place as he angles his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Time seems to stop; the world around you turns still. And if people are watching, let them be. The whole world can watch and you won’t care.

They don’t hold any importance, unlike his soft lips that move against yours.

***

“Okay, boy, take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, not understanding the question. No, he understands the question, he just can’t find the reason why is your father—who’s already acting weird enough by inviting him to your parent's bedroom when you and your mother are taking a quick trip to the beauty parlor to get your nails done—asking him that question. “I-I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“Take off your clothes,” he casually repeats as he closes the door behind him. Seeing the younger male turns pale with his eyes shaking in horror, your father sighs. “You want to try and put on the suit, right?”

“Oh!” Eren has never been so relieved in his twenty-five years of living. He didn’t even feel this agitated when he was about to go on stage for the first time. Something about this man keeps him on his toes. He's so afraid of making mistakes, afraid that your father would hate him for some reason and force him to never come close to you ever again. “It’s all right, Sir. I can try it on later. If you can just let me borrow—”

“Nah, don’t be shy.” The older male waves his hand in the air, making his way closer. “We’re both men, aren’t we?” Without permission, your father tugs on the hemline of his shirt, yanking it over the boy’s head in one try.

“This is so weird,” Eren mumbles, too quiet for the other man to hear.

“Now, your pants.”

“Sir, I don’t think—”

“Hurry up, kid, we don’t have all day.”

Eren lets out a defeated sigh, taking off his belt, and unbuttons his jeans with shaky fingers. It’s not his first time being seen with only one article of clothing by another man. He tends to do that a lot for his modeling gigs. But this moment right here—standing in nothing but his boxer in front of your father—is the most terrifying and humiliating moment he’s ever been in his life.

Feeling ridiculously awkward and bewildered over the whole situation, Eren wraps his arms around his front, cheeks turning pink as he keeps his eyes on the ground. The popular rockstar who used to treat women like objects is now standing flustered on his feet like an inexperienced virgin taking his first step to adulthood.

The way your father examines his appearance doesn’t help either. “Jesus Christ, boy, you work out?”

“I—umm—yeah.” Eren snatches the shirt back from the older male’s hand, using the fabric to cover his chest as much as he can. “A little bit.”

“Huh…” Your father places his hands on his hips, sizing him up and down with narrowed eyes, not caring—not even in the slightest—how uncomfortable he’s making the other man feel. “What’s your diet menu?”

Eren is standing half-naked before the man he’s trying his best to impress. Half-naked and cold, and here they are, talking about his diet menu. “A-anything low carb?”

“Taking any of those weird protein drinks?”

“Sometimes.”

He hums, nodding his head. Once he makes his way to his dresser, Eren can finally breathe a little. “What about beer?”

“I haven’t consumed any alcohol lately,” the boy answers, chuckling to mask his anxiety. “Your daughter doesn’t like it when I kiss her—”

“Excuse me?”

Eren realizes a second too late and as he drowns in regret—and in horror, once he notices how your father frowns upon his words—his mind runs a thousand miles per hour, trying to come up with ways to fix this fast. “—friend!” He shouts, a little too loud than necessary. “When I kiss her friend and I smell like alcohol.” He forces out a peal of laughter to escape his throat, trying his best not to grimace. “I, uh… I used to date her friend.”

Your father turns around, squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Which friend?”

“H-huh?” If Eren wasn’t panicking then, he’s definitely panicking now. “Umm, a friend from her office?”

“What’s her name?”

Fuck. “Pieck?”

“Hmm, interesting. Didn’t think Pieck-chan would be interested in dating brunettes but I might be wrong.” Your father crosses his arms on his chest. “What’s her last name, then?”

Oh my God?! The air conditioner is blasting in the room, and here he is, sweating. What the fuck is her last name?!

“Hey, I asked you a question here.”

Just pick a random name, idiot, hurry up! “Miller! Her name’s Pieck Miller.”

Eren doesn’t believe in God, but at that moment, he prays his hardest, hoping Jesus—or Zeus or literally any Gods out there—would stop the time for him so he can run to the other side of the world and never continuing with this conversation ever again.

Silence has never felt this suffocating before and only seconds have passed by.

When your father parts his lips, Eren is ready to be called out and come clean. He’ll take whatever punishment for messing around with his precious daughter behind his back. Whether it’s in the form of spiteful words or a hard punch on the face, he can take it.

Your father investigates the look on his face very deeply and when Eren’s about to turn blue from holding his breath, the man spins around and rummages through his dresser again. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know. She never told me her last name.”

It’s like he’s being reborn and the world is suddenly a beautiful place again. It feels like his energy is leaving him at once and Eren takes a seat on the edge of the bed, wobbly knees about to give up on him.

“Don’t sit on the bed. I just cleaned that.”

He jumps back to his feet. “Fuck—I mean, yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

What Eren doesn’t know is that your father is just teasing him. He’s fond of the boy, admire him even, though, like you, there’s no way he would praise him out loud. He thinks Eren is a brave young man who knows what it takes to achieve his dream. He can see the passion he has for music. Even watching Eren playing on the stage through his screen reminds him of the days he used to see his favorite band performing on TV. But the reason why he loves having him around is because he can tell just how much Eren adores you. How often he makes you laugh, or blush in such an endearing way. And he sees the way you’re looking at him too. If there’s one man in this world he believes can make his daughter happy and live a fulfilling life, it’s Eren.

The older male hands him a white dress shirt, a black, sleek suit, and a pair of trousers. “Here, put these on.”

The boy stiffly nods, internally shouting, finally! Some clothes!

Eren didn’t think that the attire would fit him but it does, and it fits perfectly. Though the style is quite vintage, the shirt and the suit are slim fit, showcasing his toned chest and broad shoulders. The pants are a little bit baggy on him, however, so they both decide to let him combine them with his jeans.

“I can’t believe my body used to look like yours during my senior days,” your father says in awe, fixing his collar for him. “I was the quarterback, you see. I even got a scholarship for that.”

“That’s impressive.” Eren smiles fondly.

“Yeah, well, now I’m like this.” The man grumbles, pinching his belly over his shirt. “I look like a drunk Santa Claus in a mall, waiting for kids to sit on his lap. Or a discounted version of Jack Black.” Eren tries to hold back his laughter, he really does, but a chuckle still manages to escape him. Your father throws him a glare. “What is so funny?”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t laughing, Sir.”

“Give it ten years, more or less,” he derides, handing the boy his bow tie. “And you’ll end up looking like me.”

“I certainly hope not,” Eren blurts with amusement standing thick in his voice. He’s seconds away from fainting when he realized what he just said. “I mean—”

But your father chortles and it’s so deep and warm, leaving the other man speechless for a few seconds. “Yeah, I hope not,” he says, walking away from him and, despite his previous warning, takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “Eren.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Are you in love with my daughter?”

It’s a yes or no question. There are only two answers he can choose, as simple as that, and yet, he fumbles. He can lie about it, sure. He knows you would’ve wanted him to do that, but after what happened with you a few hours before in your bedroom, Eren decides that he’s sick of lying. Sick of going along with your plan—sick of pretending that you two were just friends when you're anything but.

So Eren straightens his back, takes a deep breath and he looks your father straight in the eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

That staggers him, as he’d expected the boy to lie about it. “For how long?”

“I’ve been in love with her since junior high.”

“And you’ve never told her how you feel?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, damn.” The older male shakes his head. “Since junior high? That’s a really long time, boy, how are you still sane?”

Eren blinks twice, stunned at first, smiling on the next. “Honestly, I feel like I’m losing my mind every time I think about it,” he admits, rubbing his nape. “But she’s still not sure how she feels about me and I don’t want my confession to be something that’s gonna force her to be with me.”

“Don’t be an idiot. She’s in love with you too.” Your father snorts. “You two are just too afraid to take the risk. Afraid that you’ll lose your friendship over a relationship.”

The boy blushes. “I… Well, yeah…”

They both exchanged stares until Eren feels overwhelmed and fixates his eyes on the carpeted floor instead. Exhaling heavily, your father pats the spot next to him. “Come take a seat.”

“But you said I shouldn’t sit on—“

“Sit, Eren.”

With a noticeable gulp, Eren follows, awkwardly taking a seat next to him while straying as far away as he can. Your father rests his elbows on his thighs, clasping his fingers together. “You know if you get my daughter pregnant before marriage, I’ll kill you, right?”

This is it. Maybe this is how a heart attack feels like. Maybe he’s going to die. Petrified to his bones, Eren can only open and close his mouth without being able to form a word, like a fish out of water. Your father looks to his side, the scowl on his face morphs into a cheeky grin that almost looks out of character. “I’m just kidding, Son.”

“Please don’t do that, Sir.”

“I’m sorry.” The tension between them turns thin. Even if there’s silence, the air doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. “You see,” your father starts. “I’m not like my wife who tends to stick her nose too far on other people’s relationships so I won’t tell you what to do or give you any advice, because I know you don’t need it. I just want to say one thing.”

When he tarries, Eren furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Sir..?”

The older male unexpectedly lands his palm on the boy’s head. He doesn’t ruffle his hair, doesn’t pat or do anything at all, but it tweaks on his heartstrings. The gesture seems so father-like and Eren can’t remember if anybody had ever done this to him. Not even his own father, Grisha.

“Forgive yourself,” your father tells him, his gaze softening. “The reason why you’re so afraid is because you haven’t tried to deal with the guilt you hold inside. Forgive, and believe in yourself because I do. I believe in you. I think If there’s one person in this world who can make my daughter happy, it’s you.”

Eren’s eyes widen, his heart jerks violently inside. “Why?”

“Why do I believe in you?” Eren nods. “For one reason, I’ve been keeping my eyes on you for a while. Didn’t trust you at first but my wife said you reminded her of me back when we were younger, so I thought, if you have even a tiny bit of similarities to me, then my daughter would be the luckiest girl in the world. Well, next to her mother.” He sends him a wink and Eren is too baffled by it to laugh. “And another reason is because I heard what you said earlier. Because people who think they don’t deserve to be loved, are the ones who can love the most. They know just how important love is. They won’t treat it like it’s nothing. So, if you think you don’t deserve to be loved, it’s the more reason why you should be loved, and why you should love another.”

“You sound exactly like your wife.”

“Yeah, she stole those lines from me.”

Eren laughs, his eyes turning crescent and the man reflects his smile. “But, of course,” the man retrieves his hand. “I’m still her father. So if you do end up hurting her, I will be hunting your ass down. You got that?”

This last line sounds more like him and instead of fear, it only draws more glee on the boy’s face. “Thank you, Sir.”

Feeling a bit abashed by the way he’s been acting, your father harshly ruffles his hair and tells him to leave. “Now, off you go. Go take a shower and wear the damn suit. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

“Where have you two been?” Your father complains the second you and your mother walk through the front door. “The party’s starting in twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry, we got carried away,” his wife answers, “It’s been a while since I had a girls' day out with my daughter. It was so fun! We did some manicure, had a little massage—”

“Yes, yes, can you please get ready now? My sister would kill me even if we’re only five minutes late.”

“Honey, relax, we just need ten minutes to change our clothes.”

“The last time you said that, I had to wait for an hour!”

You leave them alone with their conversation, moving past them to see Eren peeking his head from the living room. He mirrors your grin, making his way toward you as you jog to meet him halfway.

“Well, well, well,” you coo, an impish look on your face as you run your eyes up and down his body. “Seems like someone is ready to party.”

Eren cleans up nicely, already dressed in the shirt and the suit he borrowed from your father, combined with his navy blue jeans. He leaves the bow tie untouched, however, choosing to just let the top three buttons of his collar loose to show some of the golden skin hidden underneath. He’s so sexy like this, gazing at you with his crooked smile and his hair tied up in a messy bun. If your parents weren’t here, you would’ve most likely pushed him against the nearest wall and get a taste of him yourself.

“Seems like someone took her sweet time at the salon.” Eren playfully scowls at you. “Please don’t leave me alone with your father ever again. It’s bad for my heart.”

“Did he tease you about us?”

“Yeah. Threatened to kill me too. Twice.”

“Ouch.” You fake a wince to offer him your sympathy, but your grin betrays you.

“You look beautiful,” he says, appreciating the hours you spent in the beauty parlor, working on your hair and your make-up. “Got your nails done?”

“Huh? Oh, umm—yeah.“ You sheepishly nod, splaying out your right hand in the air to showcase your freshly polished nails. Eren takes it in his, running his thumb over your top knuckles as he watches the way your nails glimmer under the light. You have painted them tangerine red, with a delicate leaf design on your ring finger. It’s very subtle and pretty, making you look more feminine.

“Why did you choose this color?” Eren asks as he examines the details.

Because you said I look pretty in red. “No reason.”

And you think you sound natural when you say it, but Eren catches the truth. “Hmm,” he hums, smirking. He takes a glance at your parents who are still bickering near the entrance door, only a couple meters away from where you are now. Knowing how they’re still engaged heavily in conversation, he takes the opportunity to lean closer and whisper his next words only for your ears to hear. “Can’t wait to have them in my mouth when you ride me later.”

“Eren, darling?”

“Yes, Ma’am?” Eren promptly lifts his head, his voice turning innocent. That seductive, velvety voice from before instantly vanishes without a trace.

“Can you help me with my groceries, please?” Your mother gestures him to follow her to her car. “Also, darling, you look dashing! Can I be your date instead?”

Eren laughs, polite and kind as he walks past you and you thank all the Gods for it. If he had stayed a second longer than that, with him saying those words and staring at you like he was trying to undress you with his eyes, you probably wouldn’t survive.

Slapping your cheeks with both palms, you make your way upstairs and try your best to not think about having your fingers in his mouth for the rest of the night.

***

You’re sitting on a bench in the backyard of your aunt’s house, basking under the warm glow of the hanging string lights that spread like fireflies above your head. They’re throwing a cute little garden party to celebrate the young couple’s engagement, and while it’s not something too extravagant, it’s beautiful nonetheless. They’ve got their speakers on, playing an acoustic remix of romantic songs to accompany family members catching up with one another. The party is limited to family members only but even if you knew everyone in the room, you don’t really feel like socializing too much. Your ankle doesn’t hurt as much anymore but you use it as an excuse for you to step outside and have a moment to yourself.

The stars always seem brighter in the countryside, you ponder as you sit on the side with a tall glass filled with Cranberry Spritzer in one hand, watching a few couples dancing slowly to Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight. It reminds you of the day Eren took you by the hand, with his other one being placed on your waist, holding you close as you swayed side to side. It reminds you of the time you confessed to him that he was your first kiss, with him admitting that you were his too. It reminds you of the part where he said he wanted to marry you, and how he pretended it to be a joke, and how you cried into your palms, ashamed for wanting it to be real.

You sigh, leaning back against your bench. The full moon looks pretty tonight and you wish you could marvel at its beauty but your heart lays heavy in your chest.

If I told you that I’ve been trying to make you fall in love with me, what would you do?

“What would I do…” You mumble to yourself, rubbing your thumb against the glass. You’re so clouded by your own thoughts that you feel startled when you hear the sounds of Eren’s shoes meeting the damp grass.

“Yo,” he greets, looking both physically and mentally drained.

“Hi there, Mr. Popular,” you joke, noticing how he’d spent the last half an hour being surrounded by ladies that were twice his age. You can’t blame them, really. Eren sticks out like a sore thumb among your family members. All of these years with his body being pampered by professionals truly shows when he’s standing right next to, well, ordinary people like your aunts and uncles. He’s been putting on his best behavior too, keeping his smile intact until his cheekbones feel like screaming at him. You wanted to stay and keep him company at first, but at one point you got pushed away. You felt sorry for him but at the same time, you wanted to tease him as well so you left him to his devices.

“These old ladies are pretty handsy, aren’t they?” He exhales loudly, taking a seat next to you. “I swear to God, I felt someone grope my butt when we were talking about Cream Brulee.”

“You were talking about Cream Brulee?”

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty easy to make—wait, that’s what you're focusing on?”

“My bad. Sorry someone squished your butt. Please tell me it wasn’t my mom who did that.”

“I think it was your grandma.”

“Oh my God.” You rub a hand over your face, missing the way Eren is glancing at you with a delicate, loving smile written on his face. Lightly giggling to yourself, you add, “Well, it is a squishable butt, though, I must say. Can’t really blame her.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Kinda wanted to save you, but you know, my ankle’s broken.”

“It’s literally just a sprain.”

“Or maybe I just like watching you suffer.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” He snatches your glass away from your hand, taking a sip without permission. “Ugh, yuck. What the hell is this?” He makes a face, sticking out his tongue in disgust. Usually, that would get a reaction out of you but right now you’re too distraught to even let out a chuckle. “Are you okay?” He questions, tilting his head to face you better.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we arrived.”

Nothing gets past him when it comes to you, even when you thought you’d become a better liar by now. “I just…” You dawdle. “I really can’t comprehend the fact that Falco, eighteen years old, is getting engaged before me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re already what, forty?” He sneers. “He probably just knocked her up.”

That finally gets a laugh out of you. “You’re terrible.”

Eren smiles, just like how he always does whenever you do. “So…” He swirls the glass in the air, playing with it. “Are you afraid of being married?”

“I’m afraid of both,” you tell him with all the honesty you can muster. “Being married, and not being married. On one hand, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, but on the other hand…”

“You’re afraid that your marriage won’t work out,” he finishes, unconsciously taking another sip of the drink and still looking disgusted afterward.

“That, and…” You tarry, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m just afraid that I wouldn’t be enough to satisfy my partner.”

“You are more than satisfying,” he firmly confirms. “Trust me. I’ve fucked you more than I can count, and I’m still thinking about fucking you against that tree over there.” He actually points his finger at it as if you needed him to be specific.

Funny how you’ve heard him talk like that plenty of times before and it still makes you blush. “Eren, there are children around.”

“There are no children around.” He completely ignores the three boys that just ran past you. He lands a palm on your head, playfully messing up your braid until you swat his hand away. “Stop worrying so much. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

It’s not his line that makes your heart pound, it’s the sincerity behind it. “What about you?” You steal your glass back from him. “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

The word ‘you’ is threatening to spill from his mouth, but Eren catches himself. Tucking his hands inside the pocket of his jeans, he reclines on his seat. “I don’t know. I never really thought about marriage.”

“Do you feel like you want to be married?”

He turns his head slightly to the side, hooded eyes raking over your side profile. “Someday, yes,” he answers, secretly hoping that you’d take a glimpse at him and notice the hopeful look in his eyes. The desire of spending the rest of his eternity with you. “Right now, I just want the girl I love to love me back.”

Your hold around your glass tightens. With your breath hitching on your throat, you spin your head around, catching his gaze. You expect him to look away but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes on you, intense but at the same time, there’s vulnerability swirling behind his green irises.

“Eren—”

“There you are!” Your mother’s voice booms through your ears, disrupting the moments and you both stand on your feet, heart palpitating. “I looked everywhere for you! Have you talked to Falco and Gabi yet?”

Calming your nerves, you shakily reply. “N-no, we haven’t gotten the chance. They keep being surrounded by people.”

“Well, come on now, here’s your chance.” She gestures you to follow her inside the house. “Hurry up, we have to be home before ten. The new episode of Big Little Lies is premiering tonight and I can’t miss it. Eren, can you help her walk, please?”

“You heard the lady,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and keeps you close to his side.

With a pout, you take a step forward, following your mother who’s already disappearing between the crowd. “She can be so stubborn and demanding, sometimes.”

Eren chuckles. “I wonder who that reminds me of.”

“Probably yourself.”

“Heeeeey.”

***

“Oh my God,” your nephew, Falco gasps loudly the second he sees you and Eren walking into the living room. “You’re—You’re Eren Jaeger of Empire!” He shrieks, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—” He lands a hand on the table, wheezing. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Breathe, you’re making a scene.” You warn him, casting a smile toward a few family members who hang around near the fireplace with their drinks in their hands. “He’s just excited to see me,” you tell them. “It’s been years.” You and your family have all agreed to keep Eren’s identity a secret so it won’t cause too much uproar. You don’t want to steal his thunder and turning his party into another Eren’s fan meeting event. “And no, Falco, he’s just a co-worker of mine who—”

“But he is!” He’s shouting by now, pointing at Eren’s face while the other male just stands there uncomfortably, still with his hand around your waist.

“Falco, he’s my date. Do you think I could get Eren Jaeger of Empire as my date?”

Hearing that, he stops hyperventilating at once. “Ah, you’re right,” he says, not intending to mock you but you narrow your eyes at him anyway. Turning to Eren, he formally apologizes with a bow. “I’m sorry, that was very rude of me to be pointing at your face like that. I’ve just been drinking way too much. But seriously, you look exactly like him.”

Eren shakes his head, smiling kindly. “It’s all right, I get that a lot.”

“Then again, there’s no way someone like him would be here hanging around in the countryside. Especially as her date.” The younger boy laughs, ignoring your glare as he offers his hand to him. “I’m Falco. This is my fiancé, Gabi.”

“This is Bert,” you answer on Eren’s behalf and he gives you a look, silently saying, Bert? Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?

“Kruger,” Eren corrects you. “Pleasure to meet you, Falco.”

Falco’s beautiful fiancé, Gabi, wanders closer to you once she’s done talking with your mother. After introducing yourself and making small talks, you take a hold of her hand, appraising the beautiful six-front solitaire ring settled on her fourth finger. “That’s a beautiful ring, Gabi.”

“Thank you,” she beams. “Falco has such great taste when it comes to jewelry.”

Your mother peeks from behind her shoulder, grinning. “You should try it on.”

“Wha—“ You choke. “Mom!”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Gabi, with the same excitement that matches the one in your mother’s eyes, takes off her ring and holds it in the air for you to take. “Here.”

“I’m—” You’re flustered, probably overreacting but you can’t help it. Something about this situation makes you feel weird and restless. “It’s okay, really, you don’t have to—”

Your mother separates her mouth to form a protest but to her surprise, and your surprise, Eren steps forward. “May I?” He asks the soon-to-be bride, a moment before he takes the ring away from her. You can tell Gabi’s a little entranced by his look now that she’s seeing up close, but at least she’s quicker to jump back to reality than almost the entire females here.

Turning to you, Eren takes a hold of your hand and before you can react and snatch your arm away from him, he slips the silver ring to your finger. He sighs in content, slowly moving his gaze from your hand to your scarlet face. “Looks perfect on you.”

You can’t speak, your head feels like exploding into million pieces. Your mother is joining hands with Gabi in the background, squealing like two teenagers while Falco frowns, probably wondering, what the heck is going on like you are now.

“Now ask her to marry you,” your mother says, practically jumping on her feet from how giddy she is.

“Mom!”

“What, I’m not asking him to do it for real.” She actually has the decency to roll her eyes. “Just humor us a little bit. You didn’t bring Gabi any gift, you might as well do this for her.”

“Oh my God, yes!” Gabi claps her hands once, encouraging you. “That would be the best present ever!”

You want to cry. “Gabi, we literally just met.”

“Yes, but you two look so adorable together!” She bats her eyelashes, giving you her best puppy look. “Please, can I have my gift?”

“Jesus, I can’t believe this is happening.” You cover your face with one palm. You haven’t had the bravery to look Eren in the eyes yet, but fortunately, you don’t have to.

Because Eren is now going down to one knee, holding your hand firmly in his and brings it close to his lips until you can feel his breath caress your skin as he speaks your name. He kisses your knuckles once, brushing his lips so gently like how a prince would do to his princess. He perceives you like you’re the one who stole his heart away—the only one that mattered. Softly, with his eyes glowing a shade brighter underneath the light, he speaks your name and asks the question.

“Will you marry me?”

***

It’s a little bit past eleven pm when the sound of water hitting your bathroom tiles finally stops, leaving only Eren’s soft hum to Nirvana’s Lithium to faintly echo through the air. You’re in your room, already dressed back in a pair of shorts, a loose salmon-colored shirt, and a matching pair of bunny socks. Your hair is still a bit damp from the shower, your make-up’s washed away, but you make sure to put your nude lipgloss on so your they won’t be chapped from the cold. Plus, Eren loves the way it tastes on your lips, which is something you shouldn’t be thinking about, not when your parents are still watching TV downstairs.

“You know what upsets me just a little bit?” Your pout speaks otherwise but it’s okay since Eren wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. There’s a shared bathroom downstairs he can use, but he chose to use the private one in your room instead, probably wanting to tease you with the sight of him walking around with his towel hanging low on his hips—typical of him. Your parents, like always, don’t really mind him spending the entire day cooped up inside your room, knowing that the walls are pretty thin that they can literally hear what you’re conversing about if you just speak a tad louder than usual. Plus, they insist that you have your door open wide at all times, with your mother keep popping her head inside every now and then to check whether you’d like some snacks or something similarly unimportant. It’s clear that she intended to catch you doing… something that friends don’t do with each other, but fortunately for you, she fails every time.

Inside the bathroom, you can hear Eren replying, “What?” With his voice muffled by his toothbrush.

“The fact that Falco thought I couldn’t get Eren Jaeger of Empire as my date,” you snort loudly, sitting on the bed with your knees pulled to your chest, your back pressed against the wall. You’ve swaddled yourself with your blanket like a cocoon, shivering a little bit from the temperature. “Even if we weren’t friends, I could’ve still gotten you as my date if I wanted to.”

Eren rinses his mouth. “Whatever keeps you sleep at night, Sweetheart.” Shrouding his lower half with his towel, he steps out of the bathroom, pushing his hair back with one hand and letting the rest of the steam breaks free and slithers into the room. “Where are my clothes?”

Funny how you’ve seen him naked countless times—probably more than you’ve seen yourself naked—and yet, here you are, your eyes still following the way droplets of water are sliding down his chest. You clear your throat, cocking your head. “There, on the desk.”

Eren knows you were checking him out. That little cocky smirk on his face serves as proof. Walking to the other side of the room, he snatches the folded shirt and a pair of sweatpants—which belong to your brother—you’ve prepared for him. “You’re kidding me,” he mutters, in both shock and disappointment when he realizes the word printed on the tee. Eren turns to you, stretching out the fabric widely in the air for you to see. You keep your lips tightly pressed, providing your best attempt to not break into laughter at the sight of a pink bright shirt with the words I’m a BARBIE girl printed on huge, sparkly letters. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“It says I’m a Barbie Girl.”

“Which you are,” you grin at him. “A beautiful Barbie girl in a Barbie world.”

“I can’t wear this!”

“That’s the only shirt I have that matches your size.” Which is not a lie, really. You bought that shirt years ago as a joke to wear on Halloween but you ended up choosing the wrong size and never got to wear it.

“Why do I have to wear your shirt in the first place?”

“Because we should normalize boyfriends wearing girlfriends’ clothes, and not the other way around. Just for a change, you know.”

“Oh?” The baffled look is soon replaced with a smirk. “So you’re saying I’m your boyfriend now?”

“That’s not—” Your plan in trying to make him blush clearly backfires. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, well I’m not gonna wear your stupid shirt.” Eren tosses the cloth back to your desk. “I’ll head downstairs and borrow one from your dad.”

“Sure.” You shrug. “But you can kiss that daddy thing in bed goodbye.”

“What?!” It’s so easy to rile him up with that daddy word, it’s not even funny. “Why would you—I thought you said you liked it!”

It would’ve been cute if he had this much enthusiasm for something that didn’t involve you pretending like his obedient, little sex kitten in bed. “Consider this as my payback for asking me to marry you in front of my entire family.”

There’s this annoying, satisfied look that fleets through his face for a split second but he doesn’t tease you about it. “Babe, I literally just did what your mother asked me to do. I was just trying to be polite.”

“Did you have to go down on one knee?”

“Well, sorry for not doing things half-assed.” He playfully rolls his eyes which you hastily return with an even more menacing glare. “Come on, it was a joke. People knew that.”

“Eren, they were cheering for us.”

“Nah, they were just playing around.”

“The MC took the mic and congratulated us on our future wedding.”

“Which was very nice of him, actually.”

“Oh my God.” You throw a pillow at him, which he catches with one hand as his deep laughter reverberates through the air. “Just go get dressed already.”

“I’m not gonna wear that damn shirt—”

“Will you hurry up? My mom’s coming!”

“Jesus, you’re so—" But he complies, doesn’t have any other choice when the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs resonates to his ears. With a nasty scowl on his face, Eren yanks the shirt down his head, and it does fit him perfectly, though it’s a little bit tight on the chest area, which makes him look ten times more hilarious.

Covering your impish grin with your fingers, you coo, “Well, hello, Princess Barbie.”

“Shut up.”

Not a few seconds later, your mother peeks her head inside your bedroom, stopping in the middle of your doorframe with one hand placed on the door, with her other one carrying a thick comforter. “Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” She asks, a moment before she gasps in surprise at the sight of Eren standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Oh, my. Hello, Princess Barbie.”

Combined with your giggles, he can’t help the blush from creeping up to his cheeks. Resisting the urge to slam his head against the wall, he awkwardly smiles. “Hi. I was just about to head downstairs and crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no, you can just sleep here.”

“What?” You both ask at the same time, with your voice coming more like a shriek than intended.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” She waves him off casually. “That’s what I was about to tell you, actually. There’s a folded mattress in her wardrobe that you can use. Here, I brought you more blankets. It can get pretty chilly at night.” She hands him the quilt and Eren retrieves it with a frown, glancing back and forth between you and her, silently asking, is she really saying this?

“Mom, are you sure?” You ask the question for him.

“Of course,” she confirms. “I wouldn’t want this poor baby to sleep on the couch all night. Your father did once and he complained about his back for like, a week.” She reaches out and playfully pinches his cheek. Eren chuckles softly but his grin seems more like a wince than anything else. “As long as you two keep the door open, I don’t see why it’s a problem. It’s not like you’re gonna have sex under my roof, are you?”

“Oh, Lord,” you mumble in shame, burying your face in your hands while Eren’s soul drifts away from his body.

“Exactly.” She casts one last smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I still got another episode to catch. See you guys in the morning, okay?”

“Good night,” Eren beams back, though still looking a bit rigid.

“Good night, love.” She walks away, only after she emphasizes once more, “I’m serious. Keep the door open.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.” When her footsteps can no longer be heard, Eren pivots on his heels and walks closer to your bed. “I’m seriously confused,” he states, placing the quilt on top of the sheets. “It’s like she’s encouraging us to have sex while at the same time, forbids us from doing it.”

“Yeah, just ignore her.” You switch off the light in your room, using the bedside lamp on your nightstand to illuminate your surrounding. With a yawn, Eren makes his way to your wardrobe. “What are you doing?”

“Going through your stuff to find some pants that match my shirt.” He rolls his eyes. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re seriously going to sleep on the floor?”

“Well, yeah.” He takes out the folded mattress, settling it down on the floor. “Isn’t that what your mother told me?”

“Huh…” Honestly? Him acting so obedient about this startles you. You expected him to wiggle his eyebrows in that annoying, seductive way he usually does and tell you to scoot over so he can cuddle with you like every other time when he spent a night at your place. Feeling a bit naughty, you settle down on the bed, lying on your side, and pat the empty spot beside you.

“What?” Eren asks suspiciously with knitted eyebrows.

“Come here, lover,” you tease him, exaggerating the gesture by batting your eyelashes a few times more than necessary at him. “I want to cuddle.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Both his stare and his tone turn flat.

“What, I’m serious! Don’t you want to?”

“I’m not trusting your words when you have that nasty grin on your face.” He retrieves his quilt, moving it down to his mattress. “Plus, you never asked me to cuddle before.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.”

“Or, you're just planning to give me blue balls for the rest of the night.”

“Well, that is quite tempting,” you giggle. “Just come over here, big baby. You haven’t given me my goodnight kiss yet.”

And it’s so uncharacteristic of you to say, which makes it harder for him to decline your offer. Heaving the heaviest sigh, he climbs back into your bed, sneaking underneath the covers before he lies on his side, facing you.

You shift closer with a wicked smile, poking his shoulder like a child. “Hey, bestie.”

“Shut up.” He seems unusually tense. “What if your mother—no, what if your dad comes here?”

“He’s already asleep, chill.” You sneak one hand underneath your pillow, making yourself comfortable. Playing with the pendant of his silver necklace—a habit that’s starting to grow on you—you sigh in content. “Never have I imagined that there would be a day where I’d be lying next to you in my bed like this.”

Perhaps it’s the sudden gentleness in your voice that relaxes him because Eren no longer has his face contorted in the anxiety of having someone barging into the room. Slowly, he tangles his fingers around your wrist, moving up until they fill the spaces between your shorter ones. The gesture speaks nothing but intimacy, and although it’s not enough to send blood rushing to your face, it’s romantic enough to make your heartbeat escalate.

“Can I ask you a question?” Both of you ask at the same time, making each other smile. “You go first,” he says but you shake your head, saying, “Ladies first.”

“Oh, I’m the lady?” He snorts, showcasing this adorable little scowl on his face. But when he takes the opportunity to speak, his voice drops a pitch lower, making you nervous. “I really tried to look past this but…” He exhales, a bit frustratedly from how it sounds. “I can’t stop wondering about him.”

“About who?”

“This friend you’ve been seeing.”

Your stomach flips and not in that delightful way it usually did when he was being this close to you. Wetting your lips, you reply with a question. “How are you so sure that it was a guy?”

“Because if it was a girl, you would’ve told me her name.”

You’re starting to chew on the inside of your cheek. “Why are you asking this?”

“The same reason you asked me about Mikasa.” He’s being exceptionally honest and it strikes you just how much he’d been thinking about it, that he couldn’t care any less if that made him sound desperate or puny.

At times like this, there’s this urge that makes you want to ask, What are we to each other exactly? Right now, at this moment, are we lovers? Because it was really out of line for you to ask him about Mikasa, and he knew why, so why is he doing the same thing now? Why does he allow himself to be jealous when he doesn’t have the right to be?

But if it’s honesty that he wants, it’s honestly that you will give. He gave you that when you questioned his relationship with her. It’s time for you to do the same. “It’s Armin.”

His fingers that have been gently holding you, tighten the second his name reaches his ears. “What..?” You’re not sure which one is worse, the fact that you’ve been spending time with another man behind his back, or the fact that it was with Armin—someone who he considered as a friend. But the look of betrayal on his face says it all, and it hurts you more than the broken look that’s written in his eyes.

Because Armin is a good guy, that’s why it worries Eren deeply. He’s one of the most genuine people he’s ever met in the industry and coming from him, that says a lot. If it was with Jean, Reiner, or even Levi, he probably wouldn’t have been so agitated. Eren isn’t perfect—he himself understands that he’s far from ideal, which is the more reason why he’s still afraid of being with you, worried that you’d be disappointed in the future. But even so, he knows that he’s a lot better compared to them when it comes to understanding you. He wouldn’t feel so insecure about it.

But Armin—he realizes just now with his eyes growing wide in trepidation—is perfect for you. His shy and lenient personality compliments yours. You have the same taste, the same fiery passion for literature, maybe even the way you perceive things. He would understand you better in some parts that Eren would probably never do. And it scares him, adding more layers to his already endless list of self-doubts and waking up the green-eyed monster inside him. God, Eren wishes his ears were just playing tricks on him. He wishes it was somebody else. Somebody who isn’t him. Because, unlike Eren, Armin is… normal. He doesn’t have unnecessary baggage that you have to deal with. He doesn’t have the ghosts of his past coming to haunt him every day. He doesn’t know how cruel the world can be, and that makes him pure. Makes him kind. Makes him able to see the best part in people. And because of that, he will shine brighter than Eren could ever be.

“Eren?” Your gentle call snaps him out of his reverie. He can feel your hand framing his cheek but your warmth doesn't feel as comforting anymore. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so quiet…”

He needs to wake up from this. He needs to place back his facade. “Sorry,” he tries to mask his feelings better, covering it up with a smile. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

“We met during the photoshoot—the one that you invited me over.”

“Ah…” Now he has no one else to blame but himself. If I hadn’t invited her that day, they wouldn’t have met. “I see.” His voice abandons him again, only leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. There are a thousand questions he wants to ask. How far have you known each other? How often did you see him when I wasn’t around? Was it because of me? Was it because I was too busy with work? Was it because you thought I had something going on with Mikasa? But none of those matter more than do you like him more than me? Do you think it will be easier for you to be with him instead of me?

Are you… going to leave me too?

It’s getting harder and harder to pretend when it feels like your entire breath has been stolen. He releases your hand, turning to lie on his back so he doesn’t have to see your face and that… what is that, guilt in your eyes? Pity? Sympathy? Eren doesn’t want to find out.

And you wonder, ah, so this is how I looked when I thought about him and Mikasa. You're thankful that Eren didn’t see your face directly that time, because being the receiving end of that look, hurts. It’s almost similar to the way your heart jerked when you told Armin Eren was coming home.

So you kiss him, not because you think it would make him feel better, but because you want to. It makes you feel desirable to have someone like him—someone who can have anyone in the world—feel jealous over another man. Not just jealous, brokenhearted too. And if he can have his heart broken from something like this, he must have liked you harder than you thought.

Eren doesn’t respond to your kiss as arduously as before, but it’s okay. You’ll give him as much time as he needs, but you won't stop. If he doesn’t want to learn the truth from your expression, doesn’t want to hear the words from your mouth, then you’ll convey everything in your kiss. When you pour more zest into it, he indulges you by instinct, a surprised gasp muffled by the passion of your lips moving against his as you hover above him. You break away just to have a little space where you can take a glimpse of his expression. Strands of your hair falling and brushing against his cheek. “The door is open,” he says, almost inaudibly.

“I don’t care.” You meet him again in another kiss, one that’s more delicate than the ones you’ve shared today. When you release him, Eren's eyes droop low, hazy, and captivated by your own.

You stroke his cheek, smiling softly at him. “Stop looking like a dejected puppy,” you tease him, but there’s almost no amusement in your voice, only tenderness. “You’re going to break my heart.”

He looks away, both blushing and pouting at the same time. “I don’t look like that.”

“It’s cute that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“Kinda sound like you are, though,” you imitate the tone he used during the conversation you had with him on the phone. Flustered, Eren tells you to, “Shut up,” before he rolls you down to the bed, silencing your faint giggles with his lips curving upwards. The kiss feels more like him this time, a bit rough and demanding, but it surprisingly puts your heart at ease. Eren’s right hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together as he pins it against the sheets, right next to your head.

Once he breaks away, you tell him the truth. “Nothing is going on between me and Armin. He likes me—” You cut yourself short when you see him stiffening at your words. You tighten your hold around his hand to make him remember that it doesn’t matter if Armin likes you or not. At the end of the day, this is where you belong. You belong with him, with your hands intertwined, your lips bruised by his kisses, and your heart aching at the sound of his voice. “He told me he liked me, yes,” you try again. “But I’m not planning to reciprocate to his feelings.”

Eren breathes out heavily, his insides feel like melting altogether. Leaning closer until the tip of his nose brush against yours, he questions in a whisper. “Why not?”

Because I’m in love with you.

Your heart jolts at the voice inside your head. You can’t believe just how easy that line came up in your mind as if you had been wanting to say it for years. And it frightens you because that means it’s too late. You won’t be able to move on and there is absolutely no way you can’t go back to being friends with him.

Because there’s no other word to put a name on how you feel, right? You must be in love with him. When he went down on one knee, your name escaping his lips followed by the words will you marry me, you thought oh God, I want this, which was weird, obviously, because not a few minutes before you were so unsure and conflicted about marrying someone for the rest of your life. But with him, it seemed perfect. No, it seemed… easy. You feel like you could trust him, feel like he would truly accept all of your flaws, just like you accepted his. So when he went back to his feet, grinning boyishly from ear-to-ear as he explained to the crowd, “I’m not marrying her for real, everyone, we were just playing a joke,” you wished it wasn’t true. You wished the ring Gabi lent you, the one he placed on your finger, could stay forever. You wish you could stop caring about how you were putting your friendship on the line, and say, “Yes. I want to marry you too.”

I’m in love with him. Once you accept the truth, the words turn significantly louder in your head. I’m in love with you, Eren.

“I…” You can’t conceal the shivers in your voice. “Because I’m—”

The sound of your mother laughing downstairs echo to your room and you nearly jump out of your skin. Eren is quick to roll over to his side, and you both lie still on your backs, shaking eyes glued to the ceilings.

There’s a moment of silence where you both try to catch your breath, one hand raised to your chest to calm your palpitating heart. Slowly, you turn your head to face him, and Eren does the same. After staring into each other’s eyes for a good few seconds, you both break into laughter.

“Oh my God,” he says between hushed giggles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thought I was going to die a little bit there.”

“Me too.” Whatever moment that was spread out between you before has been disrupted and you thank the Lord in relief. You’re not sure if you were about to confess to him, but it sure felt like it. And then what? What’s the next step? Will he say it back? And even if he does, does that mean you’ll be in a relationship with him? You’re still not ready for it and neither is he.

But I still want to let him know somehow…

“There’s only you,” you whisper, taking hold of his hand again. Your shoulder is nearly grazing his from how close you are lying next to each other. “Eren, you know that, right? To me right now, there’s only you.”

Eren has said those words to you. He knew how it felt to be saying those words to someone who held his heart as a prisoner. Joy begins to bubble up in his chest but he doesn’t want to be drowned in it just yet. “You’re just saying that because that’s what I want to hear.”

You promptly shake your head. “I’m saying it because I meant it.”

His heart swells twice its normal size. “Every word?”

His eyes, even when they seem a shade darker than usual, are as deep as they are beautiful. “Every word.”

He faces you properly, his voice turning so quiet you have to stall your breathing to hear him better. “Say it again,” he says. “Please…?”

The fragility in his tone wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. “There’s only—”

He doesn’t allow you to finish. With one hand taking you firmly by the waist, he pulls you close, sharing your breath and your taste, and everything else that you’re surrendering to him. The tension feels less suffocating, though his kisses are ten times worse.

“Are you,” you hesitantly ask him between kisses and he gives you a few seconds to vocalize your thought. “Still mad at me?”

Eren’s gaze softens, stroking your cheek with gentle fingers. “I wasn’t and I’m not. Why would I be?”

You smile in return. “Good.”

“Good,” he imitates you, playfully scrunching his nose. But when his finger touches the corner of your lips, his eyes drift down as well and he closes the gap, kissing you so softly, it feels like warm wind brushing against the skin. Pulling back with his thumb caressing your lower lip, he murmurs, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes, don’t stop.”

Before long, your fingers are tangled in his damp hair, making him groan when you tug on the roots. He exhales heavily through his nose, his tongue glides past your front teeth, dancing with yours.

“Wait,” he says, breaking the moment. “This is bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” It feels a little bit like a slap to the face, but it’s fine. You can manage.

“So, uh, your turn.” Eren tries his best to distract you both. “What’s the question you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh—uh…” It’s dumb. You have a super dumb question that will sound even dumber if you say it after you both conversed over something so intimate. “Nevermind.”

“Tell me.”

“No, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re blushing. Must be something perverted.”

“I’m blushing because it’s dumb. And… Well yeah, a bit perverted too, I guess.”

“Well, you ask dumb questions all the time. That’s nothing new. Spill.”

“But—“

“Jesus, woman, just tell me!” He shouts and you slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, while you, yourself, are laughing over his reaction.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat after going through a whole session of a tickle fight. “I was just wondering whether… you’d be into something kinkier in bed?”

He’s dumbfounded for a good couple of seconds. It’s very rare for you to initiate sex-related stuff—especially the kinky ones—in your conversations. He’s probably thinking he’s not hearing this right. “Like what?” He quickly turns excited. “Putting on a leash on you as I drag you around the apartment, fuck you literally in every corner of the room while I whip you into submission?”

“I—” Your jaw drops. Maybe your brain’s too because right now, it doesn’t seem to function properly. “Eren, what?!”

“I’m just joking.” His grin is filthy. “Well, unless that’s what you’re into.”

“Do I look like I’m into it?”

“You said you weren’t into that doctor-patient roleplay before but now we’re doing it every Friday, so—”

“Yeah, don’t answer that.” Your head throbs. This man is unbelievable. “I was thinking more about me, you know, fucking you.”

“I never have any problem with that, baby—”

“No, I mean, in the butt.” You had no other choice but to be specific. “Me fucking you in the ass. Like, with a strap on.”

It’s, quite literally, the most hilarious expression you’ve ever seen on his face. Eren doesn’t stress out very often. Loses his temper, sure, but he never really looked so flabbergasted before. The horror in his eyes, it’s like he’s witnessing an apocalypse happening before his eyes. You really wish you could videotape his reaction.

“Pegging,” you clarify, wanting to see the rest of his soul leaving his body. “Have you heard that word?”

“I’m—“ he swallows thickly. “Why… What…” He can’t even articulate what he wants to say, his frown turning deeper and deeper. “Where did you even learn this word?”

“Pieck told me. She said she pegged Porco once and he cried.” You shrug. “Probably because it felt too good.”

“Probably because it felt like he had a monstrous dick up his ass.” Eren sits up, his hands hanging mid-air. “I’m sorry, babe, please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you insane?!”

“What?” You’re laughing at this point—full-blown laughter that doesn’t do anything but make him feel even more ashamed. “You don’t want to try to have a dick in your ass?”

“Why would you think I wanted to have a dick in—Why are you laughing?!”

“I’m sorry, you’re just really funny when you’re stressed out.” You wipe a tear from your eye. “So, is that a no?”

“Oh, no, I’m in. I’m totally in.”

Your eyes grow hopeful. “Really?”

“NO!” Eren pinches your nose and keeps doing it even when you’re slapping his hand away with all the strength you could gather. He lies back down on the bed with a huff, crossing both arms on his chest. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Did I hurt your pride? I thought you’d do anything to please me in bed.”

“Yeah, well, I never thought sticking a plastic cock inside my ass would be pleasurable for you.”

“It would definitely be that way for you, though.”

“Please don't talk to me.”

You snuggle close, running your fingertips from his jawline to his chin. “Just imagine me taking you from the back and fucking you real nice with it.”

“Oh my God—”

You bring his face into your hands, kissing him with giggles escaping your mouth. Maybe it’s because he knows how happy you are at the moment that he decides to forget about this whole bizarre conversation. He pours more focus and fervor into the kiss, holding you dominantly by your jaw before his hand slides to your nape.

It doesn’t take long before the mischief in your eyes turns into lust. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you today but it feels excruciatingly painful to not be able to have your way with him, especially after what happened at the party. The way he went down to his knee, the way his emerald eyes gleamed brilliantly as they peered into yours, the way his voice turned velvety when he asked you the question.

Will you marry me?

Fuck, you decide as you clutch harder against his necklace, pulling him closer and closer until there are no spaces left between you and him. His lips move down to your jaw, and you tilt your face up, your eyes closed as you sink into rapture. There has never been a time where you want him so badly it hurts.

“Don’t you think,” he pauses to suck on the supple skin of your neck, “we should stop?”

“Yeah…” Your mind turns hazy. “Probably.” You cradle his head with both arms, arching your back when he runs his tongue along with the dip of your collarbones. You want to continue doing this forever, endlessly, until the sun rises and sinks again below the horizon. But when you feel something poking against your thigh, you can’t help but stop and titter.

“What?” He asks with half-lidded eyes, both a little dazed and confused.

“You’re hard.” You bite your lip to stop your grin from breaking wider. Seems like I’m not the only one who wants it bad.

“I know, shut up.” His ears turn red and he tries to distract your attention by holding you by the jaw and tasting the inside of your mouth again. Can’t hold yourself back from teasing him, you grind your hips against him, giving him a little bit of friction that he desperately needs.

He jolts, breaking away abruptly. “You’re right, we shouldn’t do this.” He doesn’t even dare to look at you right now, knowing that a glimpse of your glistening lips would make him lose control again. Turning around to face the other side, he says, “Just give me a second to… calm myself down.”

With a naughty grin, you shift closer until your chest is pressed against his back. Your hand slides past his waist, slipping underneath his shirt to caress his chest.

“Babe,” he warns you as you lay your chin on his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I’m trying to will my boner to go away, do you mind not playing with my nipple?”

You ignore him, gliding your fingers down to trace the muscles of his abdomens. “Do you want to fuck me?” You whisper in his ear, sending goosebumps breaking all over his skin.

He almost whines. “We can’t.”

Laying a wet kiss on his nape, fingers tracing the shape of his throat, you softly moan, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ—“ Eren screams in his head. He snatches your hand away from him, whirling himself around to meet your eyes with a glare. “You wouldn’t dare. I know you’re just saying that to rile me up. The second I’m saying yes, you’re going to quit.”

You smirk. “Maybe.” You pull him for another kiss, taking control of everything this time. Parting his mouth with yours, you gently suck on his tongue, making him groan and tighten his grip around you. “Or maybe…” Your lips map their way down from his chin, to the front of his neck, nipping lightly on the supple skin. “I want you to fuck me dumb with your hands around my neck. Your choice.”

Just the mental image of that is enough to send him over the edge. You bite on his lip, making him gasp and deepen his frown at the sensation. He’s going along with it, knowing that if it’s just a kiss, he would be able to handle it. So when you take both of his hands and slides them down your shirt, he panics. “What are you doing?!” Eren hisses, immediately turning his head to check on the door.

“I’m placing your hands on my tits.”

“Yes, genius, I can see that. What I meant was—“ You cover the back of his hands with your palms, pushing your breasts harder against him. Eren naturally squeezes his fingers around your mounds, mewling at how soft they feel under his calloused palms. “Babyyyy,” he whines. “You can’t do this to me.”

“You want to stop?”

“No, I want to fuck you but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside.”

You giggle, completely enjoying the control you have over him. Landing a peck on his lips, you say, “I wanna suck you off.”

“You what?!” He shrieks, and you quickly shush him down by clamping a palm over his mouth.

“Keep your voice down.” You toss him a wink. “If you can.” You begin to crawl down, body moving underneath the cover.

“Baby!” He calls you harshly in murmurs as he lifts the blanket high enough for him to take a peek. “Baby, get back here!”

“In a moment, darling.” Thank God, he’s wearing sweatpants—and going commando too. It doesn’t take three seconds for you to pull the fabric down to his thigh. His member springs to life, twitching once when he notices you’re staring at it.

Eren groans in defeat. “Don’t,” he warns but you take him with one hand.

You kiss his tip, blowing hot breath against it to make his stomach tauten. “Just relax, baby.”

“I can’t relax—your mother is downstairs!”

“She’s watching TV.” You wrap your lips around his head, giving him a little moan. “She won’t notice.”

Eren’s legs twitch upward, his thighs nearly closing on your head. “Ah, damn it.” He has his hands propping his body behind him, palms pressed flat against the sheets. Even in the dimness of the room, the way his cheeks turn crimson is still apparent to your eyes. The blanket slides off until it stops around your shoulders, and he watches with a gulp as you move your head to the side, running your tongue along the throbbing vein of his cock. You look so fucking sultry like this—pretty eyes looking up at him from underneath your bangs, your seductive, little smile like you’re so eager to have his cock in your mouth. If he could stop the time, he would do it in a heartbeat just so he can enjoy the sight for eternity. “Please, don’t tease,” he begs, slightly shaking his head. This is already too much for him to handle.

“From please stop to please don’t tease,” you simper. “You really have no self-control, do you?”

“I don’t—ah—“ He flinches when you suck lightly on his tip. “—want to hear that from you.”

“Mmm, ‘kay.” You continue the motion, bobbing your head up and down a few times until you let his cock slide out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Does it feel good, baby?”

He can’t answer, too aroused—and too frightened, from the way he keeps glancing at the door—to form a reply. “I—“ His breath catches in his throat. “I can’t concentrate.”

“You can’t?” You bat your eyelashes seductively, stroking him idly with one hand. “Then, maybe this will help.” Without warning, you relax your jaw and swallow him whole.

“Wait—fuck!” His hand immediately goes to your head, taking a handful of your hair by reflex. It’s a little bit rough but you know he doesn’t mean to act that way so you let him. He’s making too much noise, however, when you hollow your cheeks around him, pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat. “Ah! Ah, fuck, baby, that’s—"

“Ssshh,” You break away with a giggle, replacing your hot mouth with your thumb rubbing against his slit. “You’re being too loud.”

Fear fills his chest again to the point he almost stops you, muscles going rigid at once. It’s only when he catches the sound of your mother’s favorite TV show blaring downstairs followed by the sound of her laughter that he starts to loosen up once more. He’s less afraid but beyond frustrated, and it shows vividly in his voice. “I can’t do it like this. Can you just get back here, please?!”

“But don’t you want to come?” You jut out your lower lip like a child. “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth and spill your come all over my tongue, Rennie?”

His heart jerks at the nickname. Have you ever called him that before? No, he doesn’t think so, but goddamn, he fucking loves it. Every nerve of his body is telling him yes, God, yes, but fortunately—or unfortunately?—there’s still some common sense left in his head. “Your. Parents. Are. Downstairs,” he makes sure to emphasize his words, repeating them several times in his head to convince himself.

“Too bad.” You dart out your tongue, gliding the head of his cock against it as you keep your eyes on his. “I was hoping Daddy would fuck my mouth and fill me up with his come.”

Oh, come on! He screams in his head. Rennie and Daddy? Are you fucking kidding me?!

“Please, don’t.” Both horror and excitement fill his eyes. Eren crumbles in frustration, pleading. “Don’t do that to me. That’s not fair.”

It’s hilarious how he’s so obsessed with having you call him with that terrible pet name, probably because it’s the one thing that you rarely do for him, no matter how much he begs for it. “You and your daddy kink.” You shake your head in amusement. “Fine.” You let him go, sitting back on your heels, and let the blanket drapes over you like a cloak. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” Eren sighs loudly, throwing himself back to bed. His body needs him to have his release, but his heart pounds slower in relief. His cock still throbs painfully, but as long as you keep your hands away from him, he’s sure he can handle a few minutes of torture until it goes away on its own. “Give me five minutes. I need to think about something else to—what are you doing?!”

Even when he’s speaking in whispers, his bark is still a little bit too loud. But he can’t help it, now, can he? Not when you’re pushing your shorts and panties off your legs and settling yourself down on his lap.

“Rubbing myself on your dick,” you state out nonchalantly as if you were talking about what you were planning to have for breakfast. His member is slapping against his stomach before you sit on your knees, holding him in place until you can make sure that the side of his cock is rubbing between your vulva. “This is mine, isn’t it?” You ask him with a smirk, resting your hands behind you, palms pressing against his thighs. “I can use your cock however I want—whenever I want—isn’t that right, Rennie?”

“Are you drunk?!” At this point, his face feels like it’s engulfed in flames. “This—” He shudders when you push up your shirt with one hand, tucking the hem between your teeth so your breasts are fully shown. They lightly bounce with every movement, and Eren watches with wide eyes when you squeeze one of your mounds, looking so fucking soft and—

No, focus, Eren reminds himself. Look away. The second you give in, it’s over.

So he drags his eyes down, which is a horrible, horrible decision, he realizes when he catches the sight of your clit poking out, wanting to be touched. You’re so exposed to his eyes, every little detail—even the way your juices are smearing all over the side of his cock.

You stop chewing on the fabric, letting your shirt pool just above your breasts. “What were you saying, baby?” You remind him that he stopped halfway in his sentence.

Eren mentally slaps himself, forcing his eyes to look anywhere else but the sinful movement of your hips. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“I don’t know, it’s just…” You let out a breath, jaw growing slack on your face. “I’m so… horny right now.” You bite your lip seductively, staring at him with hooded eyes. “Want to have your cock inside me so bad, Daddy.”

And even though you’re exaggerating a bit to rile him up, he can tell your body means every word. You feel so wet, so warm around him. The way you moan, “Ah, that feels so good,” when your clitoris is rubbing against his glans—God, you sound so perfect. Even more alluring now that you’re speaking in murmurs, afraid of getting caught.

This is the naughtiest you’ve ever been to him, but unlike what you had expected, this doesn’t make you feel embarrassed at all. If anything, you’re only feeling more aroused with the way Eren is looking like his sanity is deteriorating with every roll of your hips.

And he is going insane. The way you look so confident, so dominating—it’s such a nice change from your usual diffident self. He’s so fucking hard for you, it begins to hurt, his pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock. This sight of you, the way your lips are parted as they form his name in silence. “I fucking love that,” he sighs, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he melts in ecstasy.

“What?”

“N-nothing.” Fuck, that’s right, we need to stop, Eren curses internally. “Your father’s going to kill me if we—” He lands both hands on your hips but he can’t find the strength to stop you. Instead, his grips on you only make you move your hips harder. “Ah, wait—”

“I love your fucking cock so much.” You take one of his hands, bringing it close to your face. You suck on his fingers, coating them with saliva as much as you can before you slide them down. “Here, Ren. Want you to rub my clit.”

“Fuck.” He complies and you giggle between moans.

“Ah, Daddy, your fingers feel so amazing on me.”

If this happened somewhere else where nobody could barge in and interrupt, Eren would’ve fucked you hard. He would’ve done it so mercilessly, that you’d end up screaming his name until your throat felt like burning. But thankfully, that’s not the case. Tonight, it’s your turn to use him as you please.

“Eren.” You can’t seem to stop chortling at the way he looks so tortured and conflicted. “You need to relax, baby.”

“I’m—” He gasps, taking yet another glance at the door. “I’m fucking trying.”

Using the opportunity, you raise your hips in the air, just enough to let his cock slip inside you. When his jaw drops, absolutely horrified, you play innocent. “Oops.”

“Are you fucking kidding me—” You snap your hips harder, picking up your pace. “Wait—fuck—fuck!”

“Kidding? No.” You land your hands on his chest, lifting your lower half until he’s sliding completely out of you before you sink yourself on him again. “Fucking you?” You run your tongue over your lower lip. “Yes, Sir.”

Eren isn’t usually this sensitive. Maybe it’s because you’ve been teasing him all day, with the beautiful dress you wore at the party, your pretty nails, and just the fact of being so close to you but not able to touch you… He doesn’t know what drives him mad and he doesn’t care. At this rate, he’s not going to last long.

Eren is making so much noise, that you have to lean forward and clasp a hand over his mouth. “Shush, you’re really going to get us caught.” He glares at you, his angry groan muffled by your palm. “Look at you. You seem more turned on than usual. Another kink of yours?”

He harshly takes away your hand from his face, holding them in the air. “I thought you sprained your ankle!”

“Yeah, but I can still fuck you just fine, Jaeger.” You emphasize by rocking your hips harder. At one point, you can feel him rubbing against your walls, sending sparks of pleasure all over your body. “Oh God, did you feel that?” Your mouth is separated in a silent moan, hips moving erratically to find that spot again. “That felt so good.”

Eren is so close to reaching his high, he no longer cares about anything else. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he urges you to go faster, nails sinking into the soft skin of your hips. “Shit, I’m close—“ He groans, teeth cutting into his lip. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me—“ His hips are moving on their own, slamming into your heat again and again. But right before he can crash, you turn still. He mewls, never looked this disappointed in his entire life before. “Baby, what—I was so close!”

“Sssh,” you press a finger to his lip, spinning your head to see the door. “I think I just heard my dad.”

“What?!” He panics, hands reaching out to push you off his lap. “Get off me!”

“I’m kidding.” And if you could laugh, you would’ve done it for eternity. “Oh my God, that look on your face. You’re six feet tall and you’re scared of my—“ Eren cants his hips upward, ramming his cock deep inside you. He’s losing his patience, you can tell—probably a little bit angry too, and it makes you smirk wider. “Well, well, impatient, are we?”

There’s one angle that you just found which drives him mad and his moans escape him, slightly high-pitched and louder than the rest. You silent him by slipping two fingers inside his mouth, your pads pressing hard against his tongue. “Just fulfilling what you wanted me to do,” you haughtily tell him, referring to the sentenced he whispered to you earlier this evening. The vibration of his groan reverberates to your fingers as you move faster, your own breathing becomes labored. You clench your walls around him, and Eren moans with his eyes shut tightly in rapture, eyebrows scrunched up together.

“You wanna come, baby?” He’s so distraught, it takes a few seconds before he can answer. He gives tiny nods, fast and several times. “Then beg for it.”

He hates it. He hates that he has to beg when it’s supposed to be you who does it, preferably with tears in your eyes. He hates it even more that he’s so painfully turned on by the fact that you’re ordering him. “I wanna come,” he says once you retract your fingers, desperate and needy. Saliva drips down to his chin, his eyes half-lidded. “Please let me come.”

“Good boy, but not yet.” It’s a good thing your bed doesn’t creak underneath your weight because you’re bouncing hard on his lap.

“Ah!” Eren bites into his fist, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “I’m gonna—“

“Hold it in,” you firmly tell him, resting your fingers around his throat. You’re beginning to move frantically, desperate to reach your own release before he attains his. “You can’t come until I say so or I’ll stop, you got that?”

The next little sound he makes sounds more like a whimper than a groan. “Baby—” he begs, his hands moving to squeeze your ass. “Baby, please—”

When he lifts his hips, he hits that one spot inside you and your body convulses. “Yeah, right there—oh my God—” Heat starts to flood your stomach. Tightening yourself around him with your head thrown back, you can feel the familiar sensation washing over you. “Ah, fuck, I'm coming. Come, baby, now.” You lie flat on top of him, breasts meeting his chest, lips smashing against his. You both muffle each other’s voice, moaning silently in ecstasy as you both crash over in bliss almost at the same time. Eren still urges your hips to move, and you follow so you can both ride your orgasm till the end.

Then, you hear a creak on the stairs.

“Shit,” you gasp, quickly rolling away from him and hog the entire blanket to yourself. “Go!” You kick him off the bed, tossing him a pillow. “Someone’s coming!”

“You're taking all the blanket to yourself?! Seriously?!” Eren hisses back, tiny hairs on his nape rising in horror as he literally has no place to hide.

You wrap yourself with your blanket, responding with, “I’m half-naked! Go sleep on the floor!” before you lie on your side, pretending to be asleep while trying your best not to giggle at the situation.

Still cursing under his breath, Eren hastily pulls his sweatpants up and throws himself on the floor, trying to even out his breathing. You both wait with bated breath, your thighs still slightly quivering from your orgasm and your heart racing a thousand miles per hour. The sound of heavy footsteps is getting nearer and nearer, until someone walks past your room, switching off the light in the hallway. Not a few seconds later, the wooden stairs are creaking underneath the weight and the rest is silent.

You take a glimpse at the door. No one seems to be around. Turning to your other side, you take a peek at him from underneath the blanket, giggling. “That was close.”

Eren covers his face with both hands, sighing into his palms. “I feel like I just lost ten years of my life.”

“But this was fun, wasn’t it? We should do it again in the morning before they wake up.”

“I hate you.”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, I didn't technically say no—"

"So it’s a yes.”

He spins around to face the wall, the tip of his ears turning red. "Just go to sleep."

You grin. It's definitely a yes.

***

Next Chapter.

There's also a bonus chapter which you can read here.

Thank you @justasketch for proofreading this for me. I'm sorry you found this chapter to be cheesy 😅I just really wanted to write a scene where Eren proposed to her and carried her bridal style after she sprained her ankle like the most typical shoujo manga scene out there lol. Next chapter will definitely be less cringe and more angsty, I promise!

Tagging: @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @jeagersruletheworld @sakurashell thanks so much for reading, lovelies! Let me know what you think!

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager fluff #eren x reader smut #eren x reader fluff #eren yeager x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x you #eren headcanons #snk smut #aot smut

681 notes · View notes