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lingeriae · 2 days ago

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here’s a little draft i made a while back <3

cw include: throat training, throat fucking, suguru has a big dick, lots of praise, spit, cum eating, not proofread///wc: 2.6k

day one of throat training . . .

“go slow now, baby. there’s no rush,” suguru cooed down at you, a groan bubbling in his throat when you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick. he was big—intimidatingly big, but then again everything about suguru was intimidating.

right now though, his energy was very comforting. his tone was low and sweet as he spoke to you, his eyes filled with so much love and adoration that it made your heart swell.

your eyes slowly drifted from his to the angry red tip right in front of your lips, a dribble of pre trailing slowly down the side. before you could even lick at it, suguru was gripping your jaw with a tatted hand. “i mean it. don’t go pushing yourself to the point you get sick, i don’t mind the mess, but i know you’ll never be able to look me in the eyes again because you’ll be embarrassed.”

he was right and you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes at the statement.

“i promise i won’t go overboard, now lemme taste? please?” suguru’s thumb rubbed over your glossed up lip gently, his head lowering in a small nod. you leant forward, giving the tip an experimental lick. you noticed his pierced eyebrow twitch, and licked again, and again until your lips were wrapped completely around the throbbing muscle.

your tongue rubbed slowly against the underside, this had suguru groaning quietly, his head tipping back slightly. much to your dismay your eyes had already begun to water, but you charged forward regardless.

“spit on it, get it wet,” suguru grunted, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. with a hum you pulled off his cock, you gathered up all the spit in your mouth and puckered your lips, letting it dribble over his slit. “mm, fuck. good girl, now use your hands like i’ve showed you.”

geto was never the type to be silent about his likes and dislikes in the bedroom, so the first time you gave him head he made sure to show the ropes of how he liked it. he didn’t mind that you couldn’t take much of his cock down your throat—it was the fact that you were so determined to make him cum as hard as possible that it made him fall in love with the way you gave head.

you took his cock back into your mouth again, your tongue lolling over his slit as your hands wrapped around the base. with a deep groan suguru’s head fell back against the couch with a soft thud, his adams apple bobbing.

the first time he heard you gag he ignored it. he knew you could do better, so he let you continue. you gulped another inch down and gagged harder than the last time, a fresh batch of hot tears brimming your lash line. “heh, you’re halfway there, baby. this is the m-most you’ve ever taken,” suguru panted out, teeth catching onto his bottom lip.

you hummed around his cock, lashes fluttering to rid the tears in your eyes. suguru couldn’t fight the twitch in his dick when your hot tears landed on his thighs—he always had a thing for seeing you cry during times like this.

a particularly loud gag caught his attention, and that’s what had him pulling you back by your hair, a web of spit connecting to your lips and his cock. “why—why’d you make me stop?” suguru couldn’t help by chuckle at how raspy your voice had gotten, you were too cute. he maneuvered you into his lap, shushing your whines and protests with a sloppy kiss the second you were close enough.

“i was in the middle of somethin’,” you mumbled against his soft lips. suguru lifted up your tank top revealing your breasts. his teeth tugged gently on his lip ring as he ogled your naked chest, and after what felt like an eternity his eyes finally met yours. “sounded like you needed a break, besides i was gettin’ impatient. i need to be in her.” a squeak slipped past your lips when his hand cupped your pussy over your pajama shorts, his fingers dancing over the small wet patch in the center.

“seems like you were getting worked up too. you’re shorts are soaked, baby,” he chuckled, now using three fingers to rub at your cunt. your brows furrowed, kiss swollen lips parting the tiniest bit. suguru took that as an opportunity to pull you in for another bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

suguru eventually got his way and had you bent over the armrest of the couch with three of his fingers shoved down down your throat while he fucked you from behind. when he was peak pussydrunk he slurred promises into your ear of how he would help you deepthroat his cock even if it took weeks.

day two of throat training . . .

“s-sugu i need a—hah! b-breakkkk!” suguru moaned against your pussy, your cries and pleas falling on deaf ears. you attempted to shut your thighs, but he just forced them right back open. as punishment he purposely ran the ball of his tongue piercing over your swollen clit earning a pitiful sob from you.

a hard smack on the back of the head finally had him pulling away, his thick brows pulled together in annoyance. “i know, i know i’m sorry, but in my defense i did say i needed a break,” you panted out, your hand coming down to brush his jet black hair out of his face. he mumbled out a thank you and kissed you clit one last time before finding his place next to you.

you were quick to cuddle into his side, and the hard on in his briefs was definitely making itself known with the way it poked at your lower tummy.

“sugu?”

“hm?”

“lemme suck you off again.”

suguru ran a hand through his hair before looking down at you, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile. he gave you a small nod and made quick work to push his briefs down his thighs. while you found a position to get comfortable in, geto spat in his hand and slowly worked that same hand up and down the length of his dick.

“gimme s’more spit, i wanna make it wet for you,” he grunted, holding his hand out for you. you ignored the burning feeling in your cheeks and obeyed his command, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips and onto his hand. he stroked himself for another minute before speaking, “open your mouth.”

your lips parted, greedily wrapping themselves around his leaking tip. suguru’s hand found purchase on the back of your neck, meanwhile the other hand cupped his balls, his fingers squeezing them ever so gently.

he was almost halfway in your mouth, and so far no tears! but that was very short lasting because a second later suguru thrusted his hips up, shoving his cock further down your throat. “ah, shit. your throat got so fuckin’ tight for a second,” he breathlessly chuckled, beads of sweat now starting to dot at his hairline.

“why don’t i help you out a lil.” suguru’s fingers wove themselves through your hair, securing a tight grip before planting his feet into the bed. you expected him to be a little rough, but not this rough. his bulbous tip was smacking the back of your throat so hard it was becoming difficult to breathe. “relax your jaw, don’t think t-too hard about it, baby,” he grunted, forcing your head down another inch, and then another. his cock was now more than halfway in your mouth.

“c‘mon just a little bit more—fuckkk, yeah there you go, pretty baby.” suguru’s tongue toyed with his lip piercing, tugging on it with his teeth ever so softly to add a little pain into the mix.

suddenly he felt a hand tap at his thigh rapidly, and that was his cue to lift your head, wet gasps and pants leaving your swollen lips. his chest was heaving, a thin sheen of sweat covering his pecs and abdomen.

“you good?”

your head was so cloudy it felt as though you were floating, all of your senses consumed by suguru. with a gulp you nodded, your hand wrapping around his dick to bring it to your lips once more. “i wanna—i wanna take more, wanna take all of it sugu.”

suguru’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip, “oh, i’m gonna help you take all of it, just not today, baby. let’s get you comfortable with where you’re at now.” and with that he was pushing his cock between your lips, his eyes fluttering when your tongue caressed the thick veins on the underside. “y-you’re fuckin’ heaven sent,” he moaned lowly, giving his balls a tender squeeze.

you moaned around him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harshly to get a reaction out of him. this had suguru moaning louder than before, his thighs tensing when he felt the coil in his stomach wind tighter and tighter.

you were being so perfect for him, and that only made him want to ruin you even more. he wanted to see tears pour from your eyes and snot dribble from your nose, all while you moaned around his cock like a bitch in heat. he was almost there, he just had to push you a bit further, but that could wait for next time.

“y-you’re about to make me cum, baby. you gonna let me paint that tight throat white? hm?” with no warning he pushed your head as far as you would allow him, the sound of your choking causing the knot in his stomach to snap. seconds later you felt something hot coat your tongue and throat, and with all the strength you had, you swallowed around his cock, earning a deep groan from your boyfriend.

you pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, your chest heaving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. suguru’s head tilted all the way back, body completely numb from one of the best orgasms you’ve ever given him. he could hear you quietly laughing at him, and then he felt you slither into his lap, his limp cock now pressing snuggly against your puffy pussy.

“you okay, honey?” you cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. it took a minute, but eventually suguru’s eyes were fluttering open, and when he saw his lips curled into a lazy smile. “yeah m’good, baby. just needed a minute to recover, ya almost sucked my soul out,” he chuckled, tatted hand grabbing a handful of your ass. butterflies erupted in your tummy at his words, oh how you wanted to do it all over again and again and again until your jaw fell off.

but for now you settled on sucking on suguru’s pierced tongue while he ground your pussy against his already half hard dick <3

day three of throat training . . .

suguru wasn’t the jealous type. he was a secure man who believed that he was a good person, and an even better partner. it was rare that your sugu ever got jealous of you and another guy, but when he does . . . .

“sugu i—”

“aht, aht. zip it, i don’t wanna hear anything from you,” he grumbled, locking the door behind him once you both were inside your apartment. your lips were turned into a frown, heart tightening when he brushed past you and walked into your shared bedroom. you trailed behind him like a kicked puppy, your head hung low, and your lips pushed into a pout.

you hadn’t meant to entertain the very flirtatious waiter who was serving you two dinner, you were just making conversation! suguru didn’t see it that way unfortunately, hence why he was giving you so much attitude. you hated when suguru was upset with you, it made your stomach twist into knots do tight it almost made you sick.

while he slipped off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket you just stood to the side and watched, twiddling your fingers together until he said your name. your head lifted, eyes locking with his. he used two fingers to beckon you over, “c’mere, lemme unzip you.”

his annoyed facade slowly broke more and more as you stepped closer to him, he almost broke completely when he saw how glassy your eyes were. his touch was gentle as ever as he turned your back to him, nimble fingers slowly pulling the zipper to your dress down. you let it slip past your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your lavender bra and panties.

you turned towards him, taking another step closer until your bodies were touching. you looked up at him with those doe eyes he could never resist, your chin resting on his chest. “please don’t be mad at me, sugu. i wasn’t trying to flirt back with him, honest!”

suguru sighed, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “i know you weren’t, baby. i just—i just got a little jealous is all, but i should’ve known better than to think such a thing. m’sorry i made you upset, i hate seeing you upset, especially if it’s my fault.” his thumb traced over your jaw gently as he spoke, and by the time he was finished talking your noses were practically touching.

“you’re gonna hurt your back if you stay like this,” you giggled, referring to the way he leaning over you. suguru chuckled, his tongue poking out to toy with his lip ring. “the back pain is worth it for you.”

ugh, he was just so perfect.

“you’re so sweet, sugu. i could just—”

“just what?”

your eyes flicked to his lower half and then back up, a small smirk curling at your lips. “so sweet to me i could just suck your soul out.”

he groaned at your words, his lower half pushing against yours out of instinct. you cupped him over his jeans, your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip. “i think tonight will be the night, m’gonna take it all sugu.” suguru’s dick twitched at your words, already hardening up underneath his briefs.

“yeah baby? think you can handle it all?” he questioned lowly, his hands cupping your chubby cheeks. you nodded, hearts practically forming in your eyes. your lips puckered slightly, and geto wasted no time pressing his lips against yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. your lips parted, allowing his to duck your tongue into his mouth.

suguru grabbed a handful of your ass, his mouth opening wider to swallow up every moan and whimper you let slip out. “get on your knees, i’ma fuck your throat.”

before you knelt down suguru halted you, his hand wrapping around your wrist to bring you closer to the bed. he quickly tossed a throw pillow on the ground in front of you. “don’t want you to get carpet burn, or anything,” he grinned, undoing his belt and zipper. when he sat on the bed you made quick work to kneel in front of him, your knees digging into the plushness of the pillow.

his cock was rock hard by now, pre drooling from the tip and down the base. “remember, baby, relax your jaw and swallow around it. don’t think too hard about it either, just lemme ease it all the way in, yeah?” his words sounded muffled in your head, your attention solely focused on his twitching dick. your head bobbed in a mindless nod, your hand reaching up to wrap around the base.

it took a little time, but you managed to get more than half of his dick into your mouth without gagging too harshly. he let you take it at your own pace at first, but eventually he got too impatient.

your eyes widened when he forced your head down, leaving a little over an inch left. “hah, shit. so fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, cupping the bulge in your throat. he pushed down gently on it, and that’s what had you choking around his cock, a mix of drool and pre dribbling from the corners of your lips.

you remembered his previous statement and relaxed your jaw, taking the last few inches of him into your mouth. suguru was always vocal, but the sound the came out of his mouth just now was very new. you’d never heard him moan so loud and whiny before, it made a gush of wetness drip from your pussy and seep into the soft material of your panties.

“h-holy shit, okay, okay m’gonna fuck your throat now. just—just tap me really hard if you need a break.” and with that suguru began to thrust wildly into your mouth, you chokes and gags sounding like music to his ears. your throat was burning, and your jaw was beginning to ache, but you pushed through the pain to hear those lovely sounds suguru was making.

he pulled you completely off his cock, allowing you to get exactly seven seconds of air before pushing his cock back into your mouth. he had an iron grip on your hair, holding you in place as he bucked his hips up.

when his eyes flicked down he nearly busted at the way you looked. your eye makeup was completely smudged due to your free falling tears, and so was your lip combo that you had worked so hard on. you were in such a messy state, but to him you had never looked prettier.

“s-shit, i’m gonna cum. take that shit all down your throat, baby. take it, take it, take ittttt,” suguru’s thighs tensed and his head tilting back, a pornographic moan slipping past his lips. he pushed your head as low as it would go, your violent gags and spluttering falling on deaf ears. you whimpered around his cock as he painted your throat white, your nails digging red crescents into his thighs.

when his grip on your hair loosened you quickly lifted your head up, your lips parting desperately for air. “you’re shaking,” you mumbled, poking at suguru’s trembling thigh.

“yeah, i know i am. i jus’ need a minute . . . to . . . *sigh* recover.” as suguru spoke you took it upon yourself to leave little kisses all over the base of his cock, your tongue poking out to lick up any excess cum you missed. he wanted to tell you to stop, he really did, but suguru was just too weak for his baby.

that’s how he ended up cumming down your throat three more times before nearly passing out from exhaustion. you took charge of the aftercare that night, cuddling him and kissing all over his face while you whispered about how hot he sounded while you were giving him head.

and then the next morning when he woke up he wasn’t all too surprised when the first thing you did was paw at his cock over the blanket, your eyes fluttering oh so innocently as you asked him if you could suck him off again <333

#suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru geto x black!reader #geto suguru x black reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x black reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jae.recs🌚

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lingeriae · 13 days ago

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CLOSE ft onyankopon

synopsis - you and your best 'friend' stop speaking due to issues in your relationship...but you're single now, so? or you and ony reminisce about what could've been. warnings - nsfw mdni!! modern au, slightly toxic relationships, reiner hurts reader, reference to reiners mental issues, reiner is queer and had a boyfriend, nicknames,use of aave, use of marijuan + alcohol, hurt +comfort, reference to slight cheating, mention of physical altercations, dirty talk, fingering, slight degradation, praise, spanking, car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), dom! ony, sub!reader, reader is black and a female! parings - onyankopon x black! fem reader A/N - This fic is slightly inspired by the song sneaky link by stalk ashley. Hope you enjoy 😊

one shot, two shot, four! the liquor in your cup spills on the white sand as you sway from side to side with your eyes closed, relishing the feeling of being drunk. being gone. it's been so long since you allowed yourself to let go, and from the events that took place in the past three months it was much needed. your toes curl into the sand below your barefoot, loose curls fluttering around your head as you tilt it to the side. you felt so euphoric, but it was most likely the alcohol and weed kicking in. a small smile spread across your face as you drag your free hand up your thighs, back arching to give a slow whine to the rhythm of the song that played.

"head just a spin, liquor spill to the floor!" it was sudden when a warm presence suddenly found it's way to your rear end, crotch meeting your ass. a gasp falls from your lips before you quickly spin around to confront the person who decided to invade your personal space. all the breath inside of you is stolen as you make eye contact with the dark skinned man, his eyes searing into your skin and making your body suddenly grow warm. What nelly said? it's gettin hot in here. standing over you in his whole 6'4 glory, onyankopon jackson glares down at you with furrowed brows and an amused smile. your eyes drop to his bare chest gently tracing over the tattoo that rests above his collar bone that reads 'faith' paired with a gold ankh chain. your body's reaction to his presence is astonishing, thick thighs clenching under the material of your shorts, your skin suddenly tingling under the heavy assessment of his eyes and the hairs on your body standing at attention. it's as if your body recognizes his presence—which it does, even when you first met, you were immediately drawn to him. weird. eye contact has always been something you valued, something that ony knows as he continues to peer down at you with his deep bourbon colored eyes. was it possible to get drunk off of eye-contact? as if he knows what he's doing the god-sent man quirks a thick eyebrow at you, flashing you a small smile and allowing you to glimpse at his pearly white teeth, sharp canines slightly teasing you. begging you to run your finger along it's sharp edges. why did everything about him have to be so perfect? "whatchu doing bending all a that ass over in front of these people?" he finally graces you with the deep timbre of his voice, words falling off of his lips like sweet nectar. your eyes immediately drift to his plump lips, handing on to each syllable that leaves his lips as if they could somehow sate your deep desire. suddenly he leans down so his lips are beside your ear, big greedy palms latching unto the naked skin of your waist. "you showin out?" it takes everything in you not to moan at his sultry tone, a shiver racing down your spine and a new wetness pooling in the seat of your bathing suit. ony draws back, smirking at the way your lashes flutter from the effect he has on you. sucking your teeth you fold your arms over your chest, a way to somewhat gain your composure before looking up at the man from beneath your lashes. eyelids dragged down from the effects of mary-jane and brown irises swimming in pink. you're cute trying to act intimidating in this state. "bending what ass—boy please i'm not even doing too much." he hums, amused by your sassy mouth. a hand comes up to toy with the strings of your bikini top that rests between you breast, slightly tugging on them. "mmm, where that demented ass white boy you got?" he means reiner. it's hard not to give a reaction to the nickname that he conjured up from him, but at the same time you don't blame him. reiner is part of the reason why you two stopped speaking, after one too many arguments that revolved around you and ony's closeness. you remembered the day, reiner gripping you too hard and ony seeing the bruise which ended up in a bloody fist fight. after that you had to sit the dark-skinned man down and explain why the friendship wouldn't work out due to the respect you had for your relationship. granted the blond had an abundance of issues but he had every right to feel paranoid about the ‘friendship’ you and ony had. the multiple stolen glances and subtle touches that you two shared when you thought no one was looking, it was enough to drive the man up a wall.

that’s in the past though. you’re broken up now and the man is in therapy—he also has a sweet caring boyfriend.

you hit ony’s in his chest, not moving your hand from the firm muscle after. “that’s ignorant. he has dissociative identity disorder and he’s bipolar, he is not demented.” ony smacks his lips together while rolling his eyes with a nod of his head, not at all interested in a thing that you’re saying.

“mhm, yeah. crazy-ass. where he at?” the look he gives you after he asks that question makes you know that he knows. he knows that you and reiner broke up—but he's trying to be slick. twisting your lips, you give him a look. sleek eyebrows raised and almond eyes narrowing a bit. the smile that he flashes you, all teeth real pretty, only confirms your assumption. he knows. "don't play onyankopon, you want something ask for it." that's one trait he loves about you, you're bluntness. though it makes you have a bit of a smart mouth, he doesn't love you any less. the grip he has on your hips tighten and he begins to sway you to the music, spinning you around so that your back is to his chest. his crotch in line with your ass. your bodies move in sync, a slow whine slowly turning into desperate grinding. he brings his lips to connect to the side of your neck, trailing kisses up until he reaches the skin just below your ear and sucking. you feel yours knees buckle immediately, acrylic nails pressing into the muscular arm that wrapped itself around your middle, trying your best to stifle the moan that threatens to be released. "tryna love on you tonight, you got let me?" your hips don't stop moving. you can feel how hard he is, how his cock strains against the material of his swimwear, begging to be let free. you push your ass against it deliberately, smiling cutely when you hear his retaliating groan. his hands tightens against your hip. "cut that shit out before I bend you over right here. m' not playing with you." it's a threat but you're pussy gushes at the thought, ony knows as much when you look at him over your shoulder. eyes all bright and shiny, and your plump glossed lips parted like the idea of that wouldn't bother you. 'shit she tryna kill me.' he shakes his head with a scoff, grabbing unto your arm. before you know it you're collecting your things from your friends and waving them a shy goodbye as ony drags you to his car. they give you knowing looks with a cheeky grin, knowing that you have been waiting for this for a long time. you can feel the adrenaline and arousal rush into your veins with each step you take. it makes you feel a bit shy. you don't think you've ever wanted anyone as much as you want ony. when you both reach ony's black mercedes, you're hesitant to go inside. suddenly becoming aware about the things you're about to do after yearning for him for so long. you shift on your feet as ony opens the back door, quickly scrambling to get inside so you don't seem weird. you're suddenly sobering up when he enters the backseat, sliding in beside you and closing the door before looking at you with half lidded eyes that roam your figure. "you good?" "mmm, nervous." if ony wasn't so close to you he would have missed the words that fell from your lips. he's quick to grab your hips and plop you in his lap, squeezing your sides reassuringly. "don't gotta be nervous, mama. we don't have to do anything." you're immediately shaking your head, grabbing onto his shoulders with a pout. you need this. "I want to on'. you're just a lil intimidating." the dark-skinned man sighs as you rub the nape of his neck. your body grows warm as he uses his thumbs to rub circles into your hip, both your nose rubbing as you lean closer. he doesn't make the first move, waiting for you to take the initiative in case you change your mind. it takes you a second before you lean in, connecting your plump lips to his plush brown ones. the high that you felt before doesn't compare to this. you push all your love and devotion into his mouth, opening up so that his wet muscle can explore. sighing when he sucks on your tongue and tilts your head so he can kiss you deeper. so that he can make you feel his passion. you kiss until you're out of breath, moving away from each other with labored breaths, forehead connecting as one. you shift on his lap so you can get comfortable unconsciously rubbing your pussy against his cock, which grows harder by the minute.

the groan he lets out gets you wetter and wetter, it makes you feel a little concerned. ony swears you want to kill him when you bite your lips and grind against him, your pretty breast jiggling slightly as you continue to move against him making his mouth water. "yeahhh. hump that shit, baby." he guides your hips, lifting up to meet you halfway sending a pleasurable shock throughout your body. as you continue to rock ony kisses you. they trail from the corner of your lips, to the plump of your cheeks, your forehead and finally to your lips. you grip his shoulder tightly as his cock bumps into your clit, letting out a broken cry. "on, want you." he chuckles gruffly. weren't you the one who was nervous a minute a go? "m'right here mama." you shake your head, curls bouncing as you continue to move in his lap, connecting your lips to his. "n-no, ony. I want you, inside." ony sucks in a breath suddenly becoming weak to you. he's quick to set you beside him, kissing your sweet mouth when you cry out a protest. his fingers find the band of your shorts, sliding them down your legs with a heavy breath. he can only describe what greets him as heavenly. your thighs spread, and in between them lays your sweet fat pussy puckered up in the material of your bikini bottom. with his bottom lip tucked into the top row of his teeth he slides the material to the side, licking his lips when he finally sees your pussy. it winks at him invitingly, sticky residue pushing out of it slowly as he runs a finger through it, his eyes meeting yours when you let out a pretty gasp. toes curling from the simple touch. "this what you been keeping from me?" he whispers, fingers moving up and down along your slit. hypnotizing him. "fuck, you this wet for me?" you let out a little 'mhm' unable to conjure up any sentence. with a quick move ony has your bottoms off, moving in between your legs so he can have more access in the cramped space. he presses a finger into you and you sigh, body slumping against the seat of his car. your hands move to your breast, removing them from the material of your top to toy with your nipples. "put it inside, ony. please I need it." he's quick to comply, sleeping his finger in with ease and moaning at the warm spongy feeling that greets him. your pussy gushes around his finger as he plunges it in and out, another one moving to rub at your little nub. "you so fucking pretty, shitt look at that." he speeds up all while rubbing your clit, making you let out a breathy moan. the sound causes him to rub at the hard-on that strained against his pants, a raspy groan leaving his lips from how pretty you sound. breaking apart from some simple finger fucking. "you get this wet for that crazy-ass white boy?" he mutters, looking up at you as your face twist in pleasure. if you didn't feel so good you would have smacked him for that comment. a hot mouth find its way to your jaw, nipping at it meanly. "hmm? asked you a question baby." you're shaking your head with a gasp, turning your head so you can kiss him while your fingers twirl your now erected nipples. "mm-mm, only for you on'. p-promise-oh!" you choke on your words, trembling slightly as the brown-eyed man adds another finger to your wet cavern. repeatedly plunging in and out, while his thumb rubs against your clit. instantly your back arches off of the seat. ony feels as if he can cum from this alone. watching you break apart on his fingers, grinding desperately as you chase a relief. his brown eyes darken as he watches the way you squirm, your nipples pulsing under the abuse of your fingers. it makes him smile "mhm. shoulda had you like this when you said that dumb shit about distance. hurt my feelings baby. tell me you sorry?" his name falls from your lips in a whine and gasp, trying to make sense of what he was saying as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. it doesn't help when he manages to speed up his motions again, your hands one preoccupied with your breast now latching onto his arm. "s-shit. ony, please!" a squeak leaves your lips as he br

brings a hand down to swat at your sloppy cunt harshly. teary brown eyes meeting his deep brown bourbon coloured ones as you repeatedly nod your head. “what I say?”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry, baby please!”

you’re body is restless beneath his as you hiccup on moans and grind on his hand. knees knocking against his head as you arch your back the deeper he reaches in your safe heaven, pretty plump lips molding into an ‘o’. it’s beautiful—your beautiful. ony thinks this moment will be stuck in his head forever, how could it not?

a strained breath leaves his lips as he tilts his head down to look at where your leaking all over his fingers. you begin to clench down on them, letting ony know that you’re close. “you there mama, hmm? you so fucking pretty.” his eyes have hearts in them, and his hips twitch against the seat of the car. he needs to be inside you.

“cmon beautiful, know you’re them. lemme see you gush around my fingers.” the heat from his touch burns into you’re skin, almost marking you. you’re desperate to feel it, desperate for him to sink into you and take you.

“I am onya, p-promise you am.” he smiles at that. his beautiful fucked out girl.

it takes one final thrust of his fingers for you to come undone, an addictive moan flying from your lips. broken, beautiful.

you feel as if you could melt into the seat of onyankopon’s car, as if you’re floating away on a cloud of pleasure. your hips lift up into his hand and your nails leave indents in his arm, it’s a wonder they haven’t broken off.

ony moves the curls from your face and leans down to capture your lips in his, breathing you in as he continues to pump his fingers into you. allowing you to ride out your high.

it takes a second for you to recollect yourself, breathing heavily as you come down from your high. you’re suddenly startled when you feel a small tap on your ass, slowly opening your dreary eyes to see ony looming over you.

he’s so beautiful. his forehead shines with sweat as his chocolate eyes meet yours, having you in trance. his gold chain moves with his chest as it heaves and his abs contract with each breath that he takes. “you okay?” your head feels heavy but you nod anyway.

“mhm,” you reach out from him, twisting your fingers into his chain to pull his lips against yours, tapping the back of your foot against his back. “want you to fuck me.” he shivers at that and you smile coyly. blinking up at him through your lashes as he clenches his jaw and exhales through his nose.

with a scoff that sounds dangerously close to a laugh he swats your ass two times which causes you to gasp and giggle. “slow your ass down. this dick ain’t going nowhere but inside you.”

you bite your lip, reaching out your hand to slip it under his swim-shorts until you feel his cock jump against your hands. he says nothing, only watches you through lidded eyes, bucking his hip into your hands.

“you’re so thick, on.”

and he is, you can barely wrap your hands around it. from what you can feel too he’s long, you have to wonder if it doesn’t hurt. will it fit inside you?

your both moving, adjusting your position so it doesn’t feel cramped. ony pulls down his shorts and his dick springs free, slightly twitching when he gives it a pump. you admire it for a second, you're assumptions were right. it is long--but it's pretty. the tip is pink, with angry veins trailing down the pretty brown skin and into a neatly trimmed bush of hair. your mouth salivates at the sight, immediately imagining what he would taste like. before he can catch you quickly avert your eyes, trying your best to hide a smile. he tilts his head against the seat and looks at you. “i don’t have a condom.” suddenly shy from the attention he gives you, look down at your hands in your lap and rub your lips together. “can’t you pull out? i’m clean.”

the man huffs a breath, laughing lowly.he swears that he must be dreaming, there’s no possible way that this could be real. he takes a moment to look at you through narrowed eyes, watching the way your hands twitch as if to reach for him.

“shit…come here.” he reaches for you, smiling prettily at the way your hands eager climb his lap. “ready?” his hands rub your ass comfortingly, deep brown eyes softening as they take you in. you nod reaching for his hand that holds youur waist before you begin to sink down, down. hissing slightly at the stretch.

“fuuuckk.”

pulse racing you look down at the dark-skinned man, his beauty is blinding as his face twitch from the pleasure. your hands latch unto his shoulder to seek some form of solidity before you begin to move, only to be stopped by the firm hand planted on your hip. “gimme a second mama, feel like im bout to nut.” he grumbles, tilting his head back and letting out a deep breath. you giggle at his reaction, watching him smile with his eyes closed and giving you a quick swat to your ass.

“mm, you ain’t gon be laughing when you pop out a baby in nine months.” your giggles cease immediately, and ony lets out a hiss when he feels your cunt clench around him. he opens an eye to look down at you in disbelief. “shit, fucking freak. you like that?” he smirks when you nod your head, leaning down to kiss you at the corner of your lips.

grinding his teeth, ony takes on more deep breath before he shifts his hips, bucking up into you. you’re not given a moment to recover as he holds your hips down and begin fucking up into you. “don’t worry, mama. In due time.” it’s a promise, he’s serious as he seals the deal with a kiss and another thrust of his hips.

your head drops into the junction of his shoulder between his head and neck as you let out siren-like moans and whimpers. you let him know how good your feeling, and claw at his back when he hits a specific spot. “r-right there baby, you feel sooo good.”

his pulse speeds up when you lick his neck, groaning when he feels you beginning to fuck him back, bouncing your body against him. “yeah, making you feel good?”

your tummy clenches with each sharp thrust he delivers, moans never ceasing as he gives you pleasure again and again and again.

“mhm! thank you ony..” you’re babbling now, jerking against him harshly as if you were malfunctioning from all the pleasure you’re receiving. he can’t complain, he isn’t any better with your snug pussy hugging him so tightly.

it was if you were made for him with the way you clamped down on him, allowing him to ravish you the way he pleases. your body is lax in his grip, relaxing under his touch.

he would even go as far as to say it recognizes him.

“fuck, why we wait so long to do this baby? pussy’s immaculate, like you were fucking made for me.” you release a drawn out whine at his words, sucking on his neck while bobbing you head. "mm, just for you o-on. swear-haah." your pussy is getting tighter by the minute and ony can't hold out anymore. your quick to take the initiative, pushing up on your heel and bouncing with all your might. ony looks down at you with a sort of amazement, his jaw slacking as he watches you work for his nut. you're almost like a bunny, never stopping to take a breath, just bouncing. he sucks air through his teeth, trying his best to recollect himself before helping you. "kiss me." you demand it as if it's your right, and like the fool ony is he complies. meshing his lips together with yours desperately as he feels his bawl tighten with the urge to cum, groaning in your mouth when you suck on his tongue. he pulls away and tries to catch his breath, but you keep on bouncing. "s-shit, baby you gotta easy. boutta cum." you don't slow your pace, in fact you hold eye contact with the man and begin to move faster. "m'kay, want it inside." all the twenty three years ony has lived, he has never allowed himself to lose his composure, his logic. except now. his brown eyes screw tight as he lets out a raspy grunt, his hands drawing down to your ass to give it a delightful squeeze. he thrusts up into you wildly, getting off on the sounds of your hiccupy moans and sweet kisses that you reward to his cheeks. the plap plap sounds of your hips meeting each other as well as your heavy breathings fill the air as you both chase the high that you need. ony pants harshly, hugging your body into his. kissing any and every piece of skin he can get his lips on. "I-ima cum, mama. do it with me." you babble out a response that ony doesn't register, his hips twitching as he gives one finally stab before exploding into you. groaning at the way you clench and twitch around him before letting out a small shudder. your legs tightening around one's hips and your breath hitching in his neck. his chest rises and falls against yours as he tries to catch his breath, running a hand down your back and placing a kiss on your cheek. "you good?" you can only give a hum in response, hugging him tighter and sighing happily. his chest rumbles with a laugh before he attempts to move you, pausing when you tighten the hold you have around his neck. "don't go." a warmth spreads throughout him at your quiet plea. voice hoarse with all the moaning you were doing. reassuring he rubs your back again, coaxing you to lift your head off of his shoulder so he can kiss you properly. from the way you sigh into his mouth and rub his cheeks with your thumbs, ony knows you're his. and he doesn't plan on letting you go any time soon.

#ony x reader #aot onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon snk #onyankopon x reader #ony x black y/n #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #x black reader

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lingeriae · 13 days ago

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ik i just run a tumblr smut page BUT!!!

FUCK ICE, free palestine, free congo, FUCK trump, FUCK musk, no one is illegal on stolen land, and if u disagree, FUCK YOU TOO!!!

i’ve said this before but if u support that fuckass orange in office, idc if ur a silent follower or ur like is ur only form of interacting with me, just know, i don’t want it!!! and u are a terrible person!!! 😛

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lingeriae · 23 days ago

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beautiful dividers from @anitalenia

“Do you LOVE or YEARN?”

Jae🍀 ┊ 20 ┊she/her ┊blk writer ┊ ao3 INDEX GUIDELINES POETIC BOOKS

“Are they the same thing? What’s the difference?”

status: online / offline 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 - Attack on Titan! requests are open!

©lingeriae 2023. please don’t plagarize! That shit isn’t nice so just don’t.

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lingeriae · 23 days ago

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silk dreams, satin fantasies • e. jaeger

it’s your roommate’s special day and he’s requested only one gift: to unwrap his favorite ‘present’ as many times as he desires and you look forward to granting every last one of his wishes

📝: black fem!reader, roommate!eren, more free use + pure, utter filth (PWOP bc I don’t have the time tbh), breeding, lots of dirty talk, face fucking, squirting, bondage, pet play themes, collar + leash, heavy sub/dom, rough sex, spit play, so many themes, I’d be here all day

wc: 2.2K

🎙️: idk when (or if) y’all will see this but happiest of birthdays to my fav crash out and the only aries man I’ll ever love. my (second BD) eren! I miss writing regularly, specifically for him and feel like I’m losing my touch (school has truly defeated me) but I hope y’all enjoy it nonetheless.

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

March 30th. A date that seemed synonymous with being a holiday…it was certainly a joyous occasion for one man. Who’d not only get to celebrate another orbit around the sun and the privilege of getting to see another year, but who would do so alongside someone he cherished dearly. 24 full hours filled with nothing but things that would bring him immense happiness and nothing would elicit that quite like having you around to help him enjoy his birthday..in more ways than one!..

“Mmmmph!—oh fuck…’m so deep in your fucking throat, baby and you’re not even gagging. What the hell..

a deep, groggy tone and nasally whimpers filled the desolate bedroom. An area that once was only utilized for sleeping because the right girl hadn’t come along in some time was now the platform for all of Eren’s filthy, depraved inner thoughts. All of which he planned to enact with (y/n), his pretty little roommate throughout the course and duration of the day. You were the most ideal gift a man could ask for..that cunt twitching at the sound of his praise and that puckering asshole suctioned around the metal plug stuffed inside of it. Courtesy of him coming into your room earlier this morning and shoving it in. Along with the first of many loads of warm seed he had poured inside of you today. It was something he did very often..sneaking into your bed to have his way with you as you remained in blissfully unaware slumber. There were times that you’d wake up to the sensation of his cum spilling out of you or wetness splattering your thighs because he’d fingered you in your sleep and those juices subconsciously spilled out. It seemed rather creepy and odd to do such a thing but you absolutely loved it! That much apparent by all of the salacious posts on your accounts all but begging him to.

hence why you were seated on your knees, thighs clenched together to avoid pathetically rutting yourself against his shoe and those big brown doe eyes fixated up at him. (Y/N) had been sporting a pink silk apron with not a single article of clothing underneath with the exception of thigh high socks; the color meshing beautifully with that decadent brown skin..luscious as ever. Long black hair flowing across your shoulders with a bang cascading over your forehead. Around your throat was a pink collar with a thin iridescent chain that was currently clenched around his tattooed knuckles to maneuver you as he saw fit. Satin lined ties binding your wrists in front of you so that he maintained full control. Looking so innocuous yet your head was filled with tons of equally disgusting thoughts. It was a fantasy he’d often dreamt about; watching a beautiful girl be domesticated just for him. Willing to cater to his every whim while looking absolutely stunning doing so. It was his birthday after all and you wanted to make it as special as possible. He did for you on the regular so it was only natural you return the favor. Even if it meant being fucked senseless on any surface at any given time, regardless of how exhausted you were! You’d been in the kitchen attempting to bake him a cake when he all but whisked you away and decided to take his treat early. Holding the end of that chain and making you crawl to him with that ass poking up in the air. He’d never seen something so sexy before in his entire life. If it wouldn’t have been such a damn shame, he would’ve combusted on the spot.

“Fuuuck..you’re doing so good, princess. Just like that..eat that fucking dick up f’r me. Oh my gosh..yes. You must want all of this cum, huh?”

seated on the bed before you, sporting nothing but black sweats that had been shuffled to his thighs with his legs spread far apart, Eren would gently tug that chain and buck his hips upward. Holding your head in place whilst meeting it with rough thrusts.

“Mmmph..fuck, of course you do. I’m just gonna keep fucking this pretty throat until I nut in it. You can take it..”

Peering over the rim of his glasses, Eren gazed down at you with full adoration..in complete awe of how you abandoned every ounce of your morals to please him. Needless to say, he was madly in love with you! He’d make good on his word when you’d feel that pulsating twitch and that same warm sensation gliding down from your jaws. Holding your head down and forcing you to swallow every drip of his seed. He’d begin to convulse and whimper, bucking his hips with a rough pace..spurting out strings of semen; even holding you in place to empty the remnants of his swollen balls into your mouth. He’d cry out, whimpering and moaning until his head would roll back onto his shoulders. For the moment, all he could do was laugh and be in awe of how amazing you were.

“Mmmm..shit. Lemme look at you..wanna see that pretty face covered.” That’s when he’d take his fingertip underneath your chin and hoist your face up. Only to be greeted by a beaming smile and those plump lips coated and smeared with precum and saliva. He’d mark your cheeks with a couple slaps before depressing your tongue using those digits and lobbying saliva into your mouth. Long strings and tiny speckles filled your tongue and you’d graciously beg for more.

“Harder, please.”

“Yeah? You like when I slap you, baby? Treat you like my little whore?..”

“Yes! Fuck..do it again.”

There was something insatiable about the both of you at the moment. The incessant urge to fuck his little toy and yours to get pounded into oblivion had reached its limit. Shoving those fingers in and out once more, he’d finally retract and replace it with his lips; pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

“C’mere..I gotta fuck you, like right now..” almost so desperate that it was adorable and funny. He’d hoist you by the restrained hands before placing you onto his mattress..pinning your legs back behind your head until you were folded. He’d grasp that chain tightly, kneeling down into the memory foam before tapping that juicy slit with the tip of his cock. It was aching and practically begging to feel your tight walls clenching around him.

“Pull my head down please..I love watching it slide in.” That sweet little voice of yours could sway him to commit murder if you desired it and without hesitation, he’d oblige. “Of course, gorgeous. Whatever you want.”

Taking that chain once more, he’d tug into you and have a perfect view of that shaft beginning to disappear between into that tight hole. Still a bit sensitive from that orgasm before, he’d make home inside of you before releasing a loud groan. You truly did bring out his worst. Leaning down, he’d clutch your throat and initiate another kiss before beginning to move. The sensation of that first thrust elicited a sharp gasp from you both simultaneously but staring into your eyes whilst getting to drill your shit was all the motivation he needed to push through.

“You’re so fucking tight..no wonder I can’t stop breeding you. Goddamn..”

(Y/N)’s breath would catch in your throat as those deep strokes slowly infiltrated your soft folds. The feeling was indescribable. That hard, thick cock stretching you open; swollen mushroom tip only inches away from your spot already and the result was silky cream pooling around his shaft. He wasn’t much in the way of being gentle today..he needed to break his pretty little slut! So much so, Eren had found himself with one foot planted on the bed in order to get deep as possible.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s the fucking spot. That pussy feels amazing…you’re creaming too..I love it.”

But he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects..as you were clawing at his abs with those bound wrists ringling around.

“You get me so fucking wet, I swear— ‘s so deep in me, gonna make me come..”

“You like when I dig you out, gorgeous? Look how you keep sucking me back in..”

“Yes daddy, I love it when you fuck this tight pussy.”

at that moment, drool would begin seeping down the corners of your mouth and that fucked out state would fall cast over your face; that tongue wagging and jolting. Your body jolted back and forth, meeting his thrusts..those veiny, inked hands groping your plump tits and ripping them out of the confines of that apron in a matter of seconds. He loved how soft and pillowy they looked bouncing around. He could remain in this like this forever with you and never grow tired. Fastening the grip on that chain, Eren would pull you closer once more and quicken his pace. He’d speed up and feed you deeper, much rougher strokes.

“And I love when you call me that…makes me wanna get your pretty ass pregnant. That’ll be the best present ever.”

letting out a soft cackle, he’d shove his fingers in your mouth..thrusting them in and out to pacify your loud moans. It was honestly such a beautiful sight..watching the subtle tears flow down your cheek and that smile stretch across your lips. He wanted this to be the memory imprinted in his mind when he thought back to his birthday. Seeing you happy, those sweet eyes staring back at him full of adoration and lust, not to mention getting the privilege of doing all of these salacious things with you.

“But first, I need you to come on this dick, baby..make that shit squirt for me.” In a subtle motion, he’d reach down to unfasten your rope, freeing your hands for the sole purpose of aiding him. Those rough strokes began to penetrate your spot to draw it forth. Meanwhile, he didn’t even need to instruct you on what to do next.

“There you go, rub that fucking clit, bitch. Get yourself there f’r me.” Fully aware of just how turned on being called out of your name got you. He certainly didn’t make a habit of it outside of sex but here, nothing was off limits and he knew that you’d do anything to please him. So much so, that you’d plead for more strings of saliva in between your jaws to slicken up that swollen bud. Your chest, still being groped by his palms, began to heave and you’d cry out his name as you felt that climax only seconds away from barreling out.

“Oh God! ‘m coming, daddy, fuck fuck!—“ in that moment, it was as if everything in the room faded to black and the world stopped moving momentarily. The only thing you could feel was a damp warmth forming underneath you as those streams of juices spilled all over the place. Shooting directly against his abs and so powerful, it sent that plug flying out of your other entrance.

“Aw, there you go, baby, I know. I know it feels amazing..you earned that nut, you’ve worked so hard for it.” Talking you through that insane orgasm as you struggled to come back to reality. Once you did however, you’d find yourself rewarded with a barrage of sloppy kisses. Whispering sweet nothings and ‘I love you’s’ through the sound of your soft cries, he'd wipe those tears from underneath your eyes and make certain that you were alright.

“Here, let’s take a break. Let me grab you some water.” Traipsing over to the nightstand as he struggled to capture his own breath. Retrieving the cool liquid, he’d tilt it back and let it flow into your mouth..swallowing the much needed source of hydration.

“Good girl, there you go. Just breathe for me..” that deep voice so stern yet comforting. It was no wonder you fell apart and would give anything to live in his skin!

“I-I’m sorry! I came so hard—“ but he was quick to denounce your apology. You’d done nothing but everything he’d asked today, even at the expense of his own bedsheets. Gently caressing yiur cheek, Eren would chuckle and reassure you that it was all fine. Because not only was this the best celebration he could’ve possibly asked for…

“..hey, it’s alright, princess. You’ve been incredible. Please don’t be sorry, I’m so proud of you right now. I love you so much. Thank you for making this birthday so special.”

but because little did you know…

“Besides, we’ve got plenty of time for you to rest. I’m just getting started..I haven’t even gotten the chance to do all of the nasty shit I want to. Just wait.”

there was a lot more in store!

#aot x black reader #black fem reader #black reader #aot smut #eren jaeger #eren x black fem!reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #jae.recs🌚

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lingeriae · 24 days ago

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CLOSE ft onyankopon

that’s in the past though. you’re broken up now and the man is in therapy—he also has a sweet caring boyfriend.

brings a hand down to swat at your sloppy cunt harshly. teary brown eyes meeting his deep brown bourbon coloured ones as you repeatedly nod your head. “what I say?”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry, baby please!”

“I am onya, p-promise you am.” he smiles at that. his beautiful fucked out girl.

it takes one final thrust of his fingers for you to come undone, an addictive moan flying from your lips. broken, beautiful.

ony moves the curls from your face and leans down to capture your lips in his, breathing you in as he continues to pump his fingers into you. allowing you to ride out your high.

with a scoff that sounds dangerously close to a laugh he swats your ass two times which causes you to gasp and giggle. “slow your ass down. this dick ain’t going nowhere but inside you.”

“you’re so thick, on.”

and he is, you can barely wrap your hands around it. from what you can feel too he’s long, you have to wonder if it doesn’t hurt. will it fit inside you?

“fuuuckk.”

his pulse speeds up when you lick his neck, groaning when he feels you beginning to fuck him back, bouncing your body against him. “yeah, making you feel good?”

your tummy clenches with each sharp thrust he delivers, moans never ceasing as he gives you pleasure again and again and again.

it was if you were made for him with the way you clamped down on him, allowing him to ravish you the way he pleases. your body is lax in his grip, relaxing under his touch.

he would even go as far as to say it recognizes him.

#attack on titan #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #aot onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon snk #ony x reader #onyankopon x reader #attack on titan smut #aot x you #xblack reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan x black reader

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lingeriae · 25 days ago

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suggestive ┊slight angst ┊eren yaeger x f!reader mdni

"This isn't fair." It feels as if your heart is shattering in your chest with every breath you take, every word that he speaks. It hurts, it hurt so much that you almost feel numb. Inhaling deeply, you hug yourself refusing to look at the boy turned barely man in-front of you—barely nineteen. You know if you look into his jade eyes, those beautiful eyes that take your breath away, that causes the world to stand still on its axis—you won't be able to resist. Your eyes drop down to his fist that clench, is it with fury? Probably. "What?" You don't recognize your voice, what was once so strong and powerful. One that held an infinite amount of confidence, is now weak and broken. "I have to do this Eren—" "You're not giving me a choice—you're not fucking giving us a choice damn it!" The sound of his voice pulls your head up, it's hoarseness and indication that he was on the verge of tears. Eren Yeager trembles with emotion from where he stands, your heart continues to break. It burns.

What happens next is like a dance, he takes a step forward and you take one backward until your effectively trapped against the room wall. His chest brushes against your as it heaves with emotion, endless streams of tears cascade down his face as he looks into your eyes before his head falls to you chest, a hand gripping the material of your dress just right above your hip. Your dress begins to get damp, soaked with his tears that sink into your skin. Branding you, staining your heart. "Y-you can't leave, you're the reason—you're my reason." The barely man voice breaks as he declared the words into your dress. Your conflicted as your hands twitch at your side, itching to comfort him, to run your hands through the strands of his hair. A shuddered sigh leaves your lips as you turn your head to the side, lashes fluttering as you will yourself not to cry. You can't break. He doesn't belong to you, this isn't fair. "Eren," your voice is soft, comforting to the green eyed beauty. He breathes you in, comforted by the smell of your jasmine perfume, he can't let you go not now. Don't you know? "Look at me," He begs though it sounds like a demand, a hand capturing your face allowing his thumb to rub against your tear stained cheeks. He takes in your ethereal beauty, your sun kissed skin that glows gently beneath the moonlight that graces the room, your face is dwarfed by his hands and his heart beats faster. He places a kiss against the corner of your plump lips, just shy away from giving you an actual kiss, relishing the way you sigh against his lips. He's not yours, you remind yourself, this is wrong. "...please." You break, you give in. Noses nudge as you turn to face him, breaths mingling in the silence that encases the room. You look up at him and feel your composure crumble, you can't. His lips twitch slightly as if he can sense your inner turmoil, before you can blink he leans in and kisses you. You have no control over the way you sigh into his mouth, your hands coming up to grip at the material of his white tee. It takes a minute for you to pull away, thinking of the consequences of your action. Mikasa, how would she feel by your betrayal. Eren has always been hers, even if it wasn't officially. It was underlying, it was evident. He wasn't yours. You place your hands on his chest as he leans in, chasing your lips. He chases. His chest rises as he huffs, glaring at you for denying his efforts. Your return his look with a stern one of your own. "Eren, we can't." A scoff falls from his lips, his hand latching unto your wrist placing it over his heart. It beats at a concerning speed, as if he had just ran marathon. Your lips twist in earnest. His eyes bounces between yours in a silent plea, eyes falling to your lips every millisecond. "We can, I love you." He isn't lying—his eyes show it. They're filled with so much emotion it overwhelms you. The hand on your hip drifts along your curves, straying slightly to your ass. For both of your sakes you don't comment on it. Releasing a sigh, you reluctantly nod your head.

The way he possessively captures your lips into a kiss causes your head to spin, a whimper spilling out into his mouth when he squeezes your ass and pulls you closer to him, tilting your head to gain more access to your mouth. The kiss is harsh, filled with years of yearning, heartbreak and so much love. “Don’t leave,” He pulls away to mutter the words against your lips, rubbing your ass in a soothing matter as if it could persuade you.

“You love me?” It’s a stupid question to ask, he knows and by the way he nods his head as if to coax the answer out you tells you he knows but you respond anyway.

“I love you Eren.”

He sighs kissing you again, moving his head to place it between your shoulder, his lips trailing kisses up your neck and behind your ears as if he was on a mission.

“Mm, I love you.” A kiss on your jaw, and a buck of his hips against yours. The grip you have on his shoulder tightens as you feel the need and want he has for you in his pants, gasping when he gives you a deliberate grind.

“Stay.” It’s not a question. His eyes sparkles as the hand that holds your face traces along the bridge of your nose, stopping slightly at your lips and rubbing the corners. He admires the sheen of yours and his salvia that takes over it, glossing your pretty plump lips. Sighing his lips press against your forehead, slightly catching unto the baby hairs that were delicately laid, before moving back to your lips. "I love you. Stay."

“Okay.”

#attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x y/n #aot eren #eren jeager #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren aot

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lingeriae · 25 days ago

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suggestive ┊slight angst ┊eren yaeger x f!reader mdni

“You love me?” It’s a stupid question to ask, he knows and by the way he nods his head as if to coax the answer out you tells you he knows but you respond anyway.

“I love you Eren.”

He sighs kissing you again, moving his head to place it between your shoulder, his lips trailing kisses up your neck and behind your ears as if he was on a mission.

“Okay.”

#aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot eren #eren jeager #eren x reader #eren x black reader #attack on titan x black reader #x black reader

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lingeriae · 28 days ago

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☾𖤓 Butch sheriff Hange Zoe x femme!Reader one shot . . . .

.｡.:*✧ all fluff and feels, friends to lovers ੈ♡˳ 10.8K words

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In the back of a sheriff's car - that’s exactly how you didn’t think this day would go. The situation, or more so the altercation, was bad enough, but the cherry on top of this shit sandwich is that it just had to be Hange who received the call.

They sit in the driver's seat, quiet as ever, and you can’t help but notice the way their fingers grip the wheel so tightly their knuckles turn an awful, velvety white color. In their uniform, they look different. You’ve seen them on the job before but never like this - they’d only pass through the diner in the early mornings for coffee to-go before their shifts, and even then they’d hardly look your way.

In the back of a sheriff's car, your arms cross and your breathing slows. You trade the sight of them in for the view out of your tinted window, watching the night pass by with rare occurrences of traffic lights and the late night bars still hanging open.

You hadn’t meant it. That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Truth is, as you close your eyes and lean your head back in your seat, you can still feel her nose breaking under your fist - that can almost make you smile.

“Sleeping it off?” their voice breaks your almost smile, flipping your eyes wide open as you tilt your chin down to catch them peering at you through the rearview mirror. It’s only for a second though, when you find their stare they quickly look back at the road.

Doing the same as them, pretending not to care as you glance out the window again, you sigh, “Gotta try. I’ll be up all night with this bullshit now.”

“And whose fault is that?” they’re quick, catching you off guard but you refuse to show it to them.

“The fucking asshole’s who called the cops.”

You can’t see it, but you hear Hange huff a small, quiet laugh under their breath, “You mean Nanaba?”

Quickly, your head turns only to find the back of their hair. It’s messy and seemingly knotted in a half assed attempt at a low bun. “She was the one who called?” your brows instantly downturn.

“Technically, I’m not sposed to say,” they start, lingering in a few seconds of silence, “But she said somethin’ about how she’s never seen someone act that way before.”

Your eyes don’t roll, but you want them to. “Jesus, they’re all acting like I fucking killed someone.”

“Did you want to?” they’re quick with this question, too quick for comfort as they look into the mirror again, catching you for a second before returning to the road again.

You scoff, “No, I didn’t want to kill her, what kind of question is that? And shouldn’t you be saving all this for interrogation? First you’re tellin’ me shit you shouldn’t and now you’re questioning me without a lawyer?”

“You don’t get a lawyer,” they tell you matter of factly.

“The hell do you mean I don’t get one? That’s illegal?” you sit up now, anger returning to you once again as all you can focus on is the back of their head and their gripping fists on the wheel.

“You don’t get one because I’m not takin’ you to the station.”

Finally, you rip your eyes from them and notice, out the window, that you’ve receded into the quiet residencies, not the inner workings of the town. Everything is dark but you can tell by the way the car turns onto gravel that you’re closer to home than to a jail cell.

“Where are we going then?” the seatbelt eats at your neck.

“I’m takin’ you home.” and though this should have been a relief, it nearly sinks your heart straight out your ass.

“No, you can’t take me there,” your voice tilts into something terribly serious, “The station is fine, I’ll spend a night, pay the fucking damage, I don’t care but you can’t take me home.”

Hange pulls the car to a stop in the middle of the road. It’s late night, no one cares, and with the engine buzzing underneath you their hands drop off the wheel and fall into their lap.

“D’you wanna tell me why?” their face turns towards you, not fully, but only enough for you to get a view of their profile. Their face is long and sharp, that’s one of the first things you noticed about them besides the obvious; the leather eye patch has become as embedded to them as the dark color of their hair. It was a fishing accident, or something to that degree, you’ve heard people say. Though you’ve also heard others say it’s genetic, or bullet shrapnel, or a bear fight even. Hange doesn’t talk much, so when they continue, “Not about goin’ home, I don’t give a shit about that. But why did you hit her?” your chest tightens.

You have a habit of chewing your cheek, but right now you’re saddened to find the entirety of your mouth is raw. Instead, your hands slide up the thighs of your jeans as you brush the entire conversation off with a soft shrug. “To tell you why I hit her would also be tellin’ you why I can’t go back home.”

Hange’s jaw clenches, not enough to pop a vein but enough for you to gauge that they’re thinking. They’re always thinking. You assume that’s why they don’t talk much, why they come and go in the diner with barely a mornin’ to the other waitresses. Why, just like right now, they only offer you a single second of a glance before looking away.

They turn away, back towards the wheel and their hands grip tightly again. They pull off the brake and ease the car into a steady pace before making a slightly hectic u-turn. “I can’t take you to the station,” they start, and you cut in.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna be up all night doing paperwork,” they mutter, “And I apparently can’t drop you off home.” For this, you have no response. No rebuttal. Only silence. “So, what d’you want me to do, y/n?”

In the rearview mirror, they look at you. You hold their stare and surprisingly they do too, all before your lips begin to softly curl.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

There’s only one apartment complex in town, and of course Hange would live here. Their home is quaint, only one bedroom and one bathroom, but it’s surprisingly cluttered. There’s piles of unopened cardboard boxes stacked against the wall in the living room - this living room with one reclining arm chair, one messy end table, and a flat screen on a tv stand - as if they moved in and never unpacked. The carpet is stained with years of traffic and you can clearly see them in the footprints; the trail of under-the-shoe dirt starts at the door and forks its way into the kitchen, to the living room recliner, or to the door of their bedroom - which they walk in before you and immediately close.

They linger by that door, it’s painted in landlord white, and with nothing but hesitation they look at you. Hange scratches their nape before sighing deeply, “You gotta give me a sec to clean up in there.”

Taking yourself to the start of the kitchen - it’s small, messy with beer cans and a full sink of dishes - you begin to unload, starting with the shoes on your feet. Looking up at them as you untie, you half smile, “Who said I wanted to bunk in your room?”

Hange doesn’t undo themself like you. They stand awkwardly with one hand in the front pocket of their black slacks. Heavy boots are still on their feet and they make no attempt at removing them. Even their badge, all gold plated and personally engraved, remains latched over the pocket of their button up at their chest. That shirt's long sleeves are rolled up into a mess of white fabric at their elbows. “Politeness,” they state.

You manage your shoes off and leave them there on the old linoleum. “Well, I’m fine with the…” you mean to say couch, but as your eyes graze over the recliner, you trail, “...chair.”

“Right,” you want to say they speak with humor, with an undertone of sarcasm, but it’s hard to tell. They move for the kitchen, passing you by and heading to the fridge. “Y’want water, or anything?”

Your clothes are damp. Not with just sweat but with the leftovers of alcohol that was spilled. Removing the flannel off your shoulders and tossing it over the recliner, you peer into their fridge as it opens, “D’you have any beer?”

With one arm hanging on that open door and a hunched back, they look back at you with slight distaste. “Really?”

Your arms cross and you watch as their eye skims over the tank top tucked into your jeans. All you do is shrug before they trudge a hand into the cool racks and pluck two cans from the shelf.

Hange finds a small, open space on their cluttered counters and pops the cans open, one by one as you’re hit with a flashing picture of nostalgia. It was the summer of your nineteenth that they moved back into town. You’re aware you missed a lot of life when you went to live with your dad, but the way everyone treated them like a homecoming reunion rubbed you so wrongly you thought it was resentment for a long while. They were younger and slightly more talkative and the day they returned it seemed like the entire town came together for a backyard barbecue at Nanaba’s place. For you? Well, you received a welcome home cake from your mother and a handful of hugs that went on for too long.

They don’t turn with their arm as they hand you a can, they keep themself dead on the counter as you take it.

Hange’s always been a drinker. Even before they turned the legal drinking age, they’ve always had a beer in hand. When you were nineteen, upon their return from the city as a fresh-cut twenty-one year old with a newfound somber face, they offered you your first beer at that backyard party, the one you’ve grown to envy. They were dressed like a true cowboy with a stained white tee and a belt buckle too large for their own good. It drove you mad as they half smiled, handing you a modelo like there’s nothing wrong in the world.

There’s silence. One so thick it feels awkward and tense as you take a sip. The beer is a mans beer and it makes your face scrunch. Luckily, their back is to you. They do the same, but you’re sure they drink it down like it’s the finest of wines before they clear their throat.

“I still gotta fill out a report for tonight,” they begin to explain. You almost forgot about it all. “So if you can do me a favor and just give me a brief summary, that’ll do.”

Passing up the empty space for the side of a counter, you lean against the plastic wannabe marble top and sigh so deeply they look over at you. They sip without taking their eye away.

“Summary is, she had it comin’.”

“Yelena?” instantly, you recoil at the sound of her name, especially at the sound of her name coming out of Hange’s mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum and drink, staring down their TV stand which hosts a collection of dvds.

Hange sighs before they turn. They do the same as you, leaning back against the edge of the counter as the sink turns into a barrier between you. “A motive would help.”

You huff a quiet laugh, “I didn’t kill her,” your voice is soft and certain.

“You broke her nose.”

“And she had it comin’.”

“Why?”

You fumble. You see it in your mind, clear as day: the look on her face when you walked in and saw. Yelena was never meant to be a serious partner, you met her in a slew of other one nighters while she was doing the same. Your mistake was letting her move into your one bedroom and believing she could be domesticated. So, when you received the text from Sasha telling you Yelena was at the bar feeling up another woman, well. Let’s say livid would somewhat begin to describe the anger you felt.

It wasn’t the first time, however, so maybe it’s on you for staying. For letting her give you hope that it really would be the last time.

“I don’t get why they called you,” your words softly mumble into your can, slightly echoing due to the fact.

“I really wish they hadn’t,” they admit, garnering your attention with their eye glued to the same tv stand and dvds, “But they did. So, Jesus, just give me one sentence.”

“Fine.” Your hand drops to your side, letting the can dangle before your mouth starts speaking before your brain can keep up, “She’s been cheating on me for months and I’ve had it, so, her nose is broken and I hope it heals all fucked and crooked and tomorrow I’m throwin’ out all her shit and I don’t care if people think I’m crazy or I’m the problem, they can all go to hell if that’s what they wanna believe.”

You breathe at the end and take a long sip, all while, for the very first time, you hear Hange chuckle. Your head whips to their profile, watching a smile overtake their mouth before they try for a sip on their can. It infuriates you.

“Why the hell are you laughing?” you’re direct, you’ve lost all your cares for the night, and Hange seems to have never had any in the first place.

They stop laughing, at least they try to. They pause with one last quick chuckle before they straighten their posture. Their gaze drops to the ground, to the boots on their feet, before they pick themself up and glance your way. Their smile flickers out, “Run on sentence,” they say with a small shrug of their shoulder and your anger comes back to you in full force.

“Oh, fuck off,” your voice is worn, tired, and it breaks as you nearly slam the halfway empty can down on the counter before pushing yourself off. You move for the recliner, snatching up your tossed flannel in hopes to make an escape, but Hange stops you.

“Y/n, it was a joke,” their voice is the same, flat and unaffected by anything.

You stop right before you turn back onto the linoleum to put your shoes on. Staring them down, you don’t say a thing back. All you offer is the sour expression staining your face.

“I apologize,” they slouch, “I’ve been told my jokes aren’t really funny.”

Staring at them, you know the anger you hold onto isn’t meant for them. You’re tired and emotionally overused, hell you still have tiny specks of Yelena’s blood on your knuckles. You go to bite your cheek but it’s still raw. You’re still raw, you have nothing left and with that acknowledgement you let your flannel sweep down to your feet before it lands atop your shoes. “You’re funny,” you note, “just horrible timing. And I’m a bit too temperamental for that right now.”

“It’s okay. I get it,” Hange sets their beer down on the counter, right by the sink as they drop their gaze from you to the floor, “I don’t mean to poke fun, I just…I’m not good at this type of shit.”

“What shit?”

“Talkin’. Comforting people.”

Are they opening? You question as you pull yourself back to the counter, back to your can. You’ve had only a handful of cluttered conversations with them and they’ve always been so surface level. So quick with their one word, simple responses, or quiet as they’d let everyone else take the lead while they impatiently listened. Now, they’re speaking from the heart and you’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“I apologize,” you offer gingerly, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. Maybe I am crazy.”

“No,” they quickly counter with the shake of their head, “I’ve dealt with crazy people. You’re nothin’ like crazy. Just a little sad, maybe.”

You toy with the can, you don’t drink. “Sad?”

“Your…girlfriend,” they struggle to swallow, “It sounds like you got a whole lot to be sad about with that mess.”

Like a knee-jerk reaction, you laugh out loud, “Oh, please, I’m not sad about that shit anymore. I mourned it a long time ago, it just annoys me now. And she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“It’s okay to be sad about it.” Hange’s voice doesn’t inflect anything. It pulls you in as you return to your leaning position across the way of the sink.

“Yup, but I’m not.”

“Sadness and anger coincide.”

This brings your eyes to them. More specifically, to the large slope of their nose. “What, did you read that off a fortune cookie?” your mouth twists into an amused grin, and theirs does the same; though it’s much smaller on them.

“No, but I did steal it from my therapist.”

This shocks you more than anything. The town is so small there’s only one ‘psychology’ office run by the Ackermans. Surely, if Hange were seeing a therapist, you’d have known. The same way half the town must know by now that you were pulled off Yelena and placed in the back of a sheriff's car.

“You’re seein’ Kuchel?” you question timidly, you don’t want to pry.

Hange nods slowly, but they look at you with a seriousness, an expression that befits them more than a smile, “Now, don’t go tellin’ everybody.”

Instantly, you shake your head, “No, I won’t.”

Their eye drags down your face before turning away, “Thanks.”

A moment of that thick, awkwardly tense silence comes again. It sits with you, melting down the floor and over both your shoulders as you think.

Hange’s been a sheriff for years now, ever since their return. On that, you can relate to them. You were able to get a taste of life outside this town, and what a life that was. The city is nothing like home. It’s busy, careless, and damning. Everything you hate, and even though you enjoyed the expansions of it all, you longed for quiet. You ached for it. They were a big city cop before they moved back home with that eye patch as a token of their travels. From what you’ve heard, and by the little you can still remember, is that Hange used to be able to light up any room they walked into. They weren’t so sullen. Not so quiet. The Hange you know now is both those things and more. So you don’t question the fact that they’re in therapy. It makes sense. What you want to know instead is why.

“I know we don’t really know each other too well, and we don’t talk much, but,” you trail as you swallow a lump in your throat. Maybe, just like them, you’re not so good at this shit, the talkin’ and the comforting, “You can always talk to me. Or confide in me. I don’t know, I’d just hate to think you got no one to talk to.”

“What makes you think that?” they question almost immediately. They don’t look at you, not fully, but they turn their face half an inch as a warning.

You stammer, “I…I don’t know, just an assumption,” your eyes gravitate towards the recliner, “...and you don’t have a couch.”

They smile at that, huffing one chuckle under their breath. “It was cheaper.”

“Is it comfy?” you smile.

Hange shrugs, “Dunno, it does the job.”

With that, you push yourself off the counter and make way for the recliner. It's large and bulky and full of fluffed up cushions. There’s no cup holder, no special buttons. It’s manual and requires a lever on its side to pop the leg rests up. You run a hand over the suede and look at them, “May I?”

“You’re the one sleepin’ on it,” they watch, drinking the last of their beer as you plop down on the seat with a satisfied ah sighing from your lips.

Your question is answered instantly. It is comfy. It envelopes you and supports your back well, and it’s perfectly aligned with the tv. You try for the lever, its handle is wooden, but you pull it back and struggle. “I think it’s stuck,” you call out, but Hange’s long hand appears too fast.

You look up and watch, their eye’s only focused on the lever as they take hold and pull. You’d be embarrassed if it gave right away, so when it doesn’t budge you consider yourself lucky. That is until they squat down, eye level with you now, and you’re forced to stare at the way their forehead creases in their focus. The way their hair frays in small chunks which frame their tired face. The way their lips glisten in the yellow tinted lighting as they briefly lick them down.

“Fuck,” they breathe, pulling those lips together with a tight jab of another failed attempt. It causes the whole recliner to tremble and you grin so wide that they take one glance and immediately look back down.

“Cheaper, you say?”

Squatting, they scratch at the side of their neck in defeat, “Side of the road bogo deal with that goddamn table.”

You belt into a laugh, and it’s vicious. It’s one of those laughs that comes from your gut and aches if you let it stay too long. This makes them chuckle by your side. “See, you are funny.”

Hange’s chuckle turns into just a smile. Just a grin as their head hangs and their eye retreats to the carpet at their feet. They let the lever go,and by that you know. All that’s keeping them here is you.

“I’m serious, Hange,” you don’t blurt, you think it through. But the way they look at you is like you’ve just said something completely mind boggling. Their brown eye tries for your gaze, but it struggles. That’s one thing you’ve picked about them, they can’t hold eye contact very well. But it’s odd, every time they talk to others, like Nanaba at the bar, they stare them down like a true detective would. “This is such a weird night, but you can count on me. I swear I’m not always so…hot-headed?”

“You’re not hot-headed,” they comment in an almost whisper. From this view, they have to tilt their chin up ever so slightly. Their arms rest on their bent knees and their hands, long and tanned and veined, idly reach out for the suede. Something sensory to keep them afloat.

Fully, you turn in the chair. You sit up and look down at them like you could be God herself. “Can you tell me why you’re in therapy?”

Their mouth opens like they’re about to instinctually respond, but they stop. Their head tilts as they look up at you, “That’s a very loaded, and…sudden question?” Their face scrunches up with confusion mixed into curiosity; but their mouth twitches with amusement.

“Like your gun?” your eyes poke at the thing still strapped to its holster on their waist.

They drop to look at it too, in silence as a grin twitches the corner of their mouth. “I…appreciate your curiosity, but…”

“I get it. It’s okay if it’s too personal. I have a lot I don’t tell anyone either,” you assure them, watching as they offer half their face to you, “But I hope one day, when you get used to me, we can talk about it.”

“You’re so sure about that,” they comment.

“I am.”

Hange decides to look at you, and maybe that’s their mistake. However, if you could thank them for it, you would, because when they look at you their eye doesn’t reflect yours, it stays on your cheek. Dryly, they swallow and dryly, you lick your lips.

“I don’t really like havin’ people around here,” their voice makes a sudden change. It’s not exactly flat, it’s nearly whispered and you swear, under it all, there’s a tinge of fear laced between their words as their eye migrates to yours.

“I know,” you admit, “I’ve always wondered that about you. I think I used to be upset with you. Jealous maybe.”

Their brows downturn, softly wrinkling their temple, “Used to be?”

“Everyone loves you. I mean, they threw that whole party for you when you moved back here, I didn’t get that.”

“They threw a party because they wanted an excuse to get drunk,” they try to brush it off, but you’re no fool.

“They threw that party because they were glad to have you back home. The drinking was just a bonus,” you slightly joke, but Hange doesn’t laugh. They don’t react at all. They return to their solitary demeanor and like sand between your fingers you try to cling onto them, “They love you. You’re the big city cop.”

They take a second to digest, to process everything you say. They chew it between their clenching jaw and like clockwork their gaze slips from your eyes, now to your nose. “You know…just because Yelena’s an idiot, doesn’t mean you’re worth less than anyone, or anythin’,” they’re so careful with their words, it hurts.

Sincerity is something you’ve never seen from them. For a second, you question it, if they’re just talking to talk. But Hange’s good eye grazes over your lips before they stand with a sigh.

“I’m clearin’ the room,” slowly, they step to the door they shut and you watch the way their button up wrinkles against the faint sway of their shoulder blades, “Just gimme a few.”

“Kay,” you call. But the thing is, it’s way too late and you’re used to 5 am wake up alarms. By the time Hange finishes clearing their room for you, they find you fast asleep on the recliner with a head slumped to the side.

They drape a blanket over you before retreating to their own bed.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Of course, the next morning it just has to pour. The rain clacks against the large windows of the diner, sending the world outside into a messy collage of colors and vague shapes amiss a gloomy sky. Spring time - as much as you love it, you hate it just the same.

This morning, however, you’re gloomier than the weather it seems. It wasn’t a walk of shame, but the way Miss Kirstein looked at you as you left Hange’s apartment just as the sun began to rise would make anyone believe it had been. There was no time, no desire, to go home and change. So you did the unthinkable: it’s Hange’s fault for leaving their laundry basket in the living room. You swiped a battered blue flannel, one you hoped they wouldn’t miss much, and traded it for the slightly sour smelling one you wore to curse Yelena out.

“So,” Sasha’s voice is warm against the cold. It smoothes over the bar as she leans into it, watching you from across as you manage your opening chores of wiping every table clean. “You wanna talk about it?”

Glancing back for one second, your eyes roll as you return to your rag and bend over the table, trying to get those last few straggling crumbs. “Nope.”

“Ugh,” the girl dramatically sighs, “You know, that’s not fair. You gave me the drama of the century and now you’re refusin’ to talk about it?”

“That must be so terribly hard for you,” looking back, you smile teasingly, watching the same expression explode over her mouth before she rolls her eyes further than you had.

“Did you break it off at least?” She retreats to the coffee bar, flipping switches as she starts the first pot of the day.

Straightening, you wring out the rag, letting the crumbs collect on the floor to sweep later. “I think the fact that I broke her nose is enough of an answer to that.”

Sasha laughs from behind, “Cold-hearted, y/n. I love it.”

The front door chimes as you move to the next table. You stare out the smeared windows for a moment before you hear their voice, all gruffed and morning-sick, “Mornin’.”

Your eyes take a small double-take as you find Hange standing there, in front of the bar like always. Now you know why Sasha started the coffee so early, the imprint of their work car is painted into the watercolor windows by the off red and blue lights on its roof.

“Mornin’, Hange,” Sasha greets them as you turn away, fully, “Give it a few, I got it brewing for ya.”

You continue with your chores, awkwardly. It wouldn’t be the end of the world for them to see you, but you hadn’t even had the time to properly wash up. And maybe fleeing from their apartment, never minding their stolen shirt, was a tad bit rude.

“Thanks,” they don’t intentionally mumble, but everything they say ends up like that anyways.

It takes less than a minute for you to hear the faint sound of keys jangling and heavy footsteps approaching before you know, they're right beside you.

“Is that my shirt?” Hange keeps their voice low as you look at them, acting surprised as if you truly didn’t notice they’d come in.

Your head tilts to catch the blue flannel before you flash an apologetic smile, “Yeah, sorry. Mine was kinda gross.”

This morning, they’re dressed the same. As per usual, they never try to spruce up their uniform. But today it’s colder than usual, so over their white button up, they have a thick brown jacket shielding them. Even their hair, it’s like they make no effort to fix the way it frizzes and strays. Still in that low bun with strands poking out in frantic patterns, they look you over. “If you’d’ve woken me up, I have extra shit you coulda borrowed.”

You shrug, dropping your gaze and returning to your task as you idly wipe the table. “Did you want me to wait up and make you breakfast too?” you look back, catching their focus held steadily on you with a puzzling expression on their straight face. Whether it’s the lighting or not, they look handsome.

A static call comes in through their walkie. They skim a hand under the jacket at their hip, exposing a cluttered clip of keys latched to their belt loop on their thigh. They unclip the device and pull it up to their ear, stretching its tightly coiled wire. Hange turns away from you, only halfway with a foot still pointing at you.

Moving away towards the next table, you can’t look at them anymore. Your thoughts turn warm and fuzzy, something forbidden when it comes to them specifically. To your knowledge - which means the town's knowledge - Hange’s never had a partner of any kind. You don’t even know if they’re interested in women, but hell. Looking at them, you know the damn answer.

“Yeah, be there in ten,” they speak into the walkie before clipping it back on their belt. They sigh heavily, turning back to see you with a pursed mouth wringing out your rag. There’s a notebook clipped to your belt, mimicking them as they notice it and look away before they can smile. “Listen, I gotta talk with Yelena about last night,” they explain and you stop, staring at the ground between you.

“Can you tell her she needs to get the fuck out of my house?” you say it as a joke, but your voice is so dreadfully serious they can’t tell until you grin softly. “Just let me know if I gotta be involved with anythin’ else. If I don’t have to, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

Hange looks you over, and to your utter shock, they reach a hand out and take the cornered front end of the flannel between two fingers. Their brows downturn in a faint focus before they drop it and look you in the eye, “Yeah. Just keep it.”

“Hange!” Sasha calls with their coffee - ready to-go in a styrofoam cup.

They give you a nod with a tight-lipped, seemingly forced smile before turning around, leaving a five on the counter, and heading out the door with their caffeine for the day.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When your shift ends at 2 pm the next afternoon, you receive a call from the station. However, when that number flashes across your phone screen, you let it ring until a voicemail pops up in your inbox. Silent in your car, you listen:

Hey, uh, listen, I need you down here to go over Yelena’s statement…and I need a better one from you. Call me as soon as possible, it’s urgent. There’s a long pause. This is Hange, by the way. Sorry, bye.

And through all the frustration you feel over your situation, you crack a smile.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“I said give me a call,” Hange’s leant over their desk, one hand spread atop the flat surface with a pen in the other - stopped mid sentence as they scribbled something down - as they look up at you.

Thanks to the receptionist, you walk into the back of the station without having to notify them. The place is slightly dark and hauntingly boring. There’s a few other officers at their designated desks, but they all kick their feet up or are too indulgent in paperwork to pay mind to anything else. Walking up to their desk at the end of the room, you pull the sides of your coat together and grip the fabric with your life.

“At least I’m here,” you give them a forced grin, one just as unpleasant as your mood. When you near them, Hange straightens up.

In uniform, with that same brown jacket puffing them up, they close their pen with an eye on you. As they begin cleaning up their work, they gesture a hand to the single metal fold out chair by your side. The pegs scrape against the floor as you pull it in and sit down with an overbearing huff.

“Y’want water, or anythin’?” they ask and your smile, arms crossed as you watch them from below.

“Soundin’ like a broken record.”

They glance at you with a flat expression before collecting their papers and filing them away. “And again I say…” they start, and when they settle into their chair from across the desk, they finish, “politeness.”

Trying not to prove them right, you don’t roll your eyes. “Can we get on with it?” quickly you add, “Please.” but nothing could have prepared you for this. Hange slides a file they already had prepped on their desk in front of them. They open the yellowed thing and look over their handwriting - it’s messy but to them it makes absolute sense.

“So, I talked with Yelena yesterday,” this you already knew, “And she had some…colorful things to say.”

Your foot begins to tap.

“For starters, she only referred to it as an assault. Which, by law definition, it was,” they poke an eye at you, causing you to look away with an annoyed scowl, “said she’d never done nothin’ like this to you, it was unprovoked, everythin’ was fine, bunch of that shit. Basically, she’s claimin’ you attacked her out of the blue,” they swallow, “and she wants to press charges.”

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. With your head turned away as you listen, it begins to shake softly.

“Now, don’t go getting pissed, I already-” you cut them off.

“Getting pissed?” your eyes snap back to them and Hange instantly leans back in their seat at the contact. Luckily, the anger Yelena introduced you to is able to fade just as quickly as it erupted. Besides, you don’t want to say anything that could disrupt them.

You take a breath, breaking away before coming back to them with a softer face. “It’s just bullshit,” you state, calmer, “I know what I did was wrong, but I’m not violent. I know it may be hard to believe that, I’m sorry, this all has just wound me up so tightly, I don’t even feel like myself anymore,” you end in a slightly bittered laugh. But Hange doesn’t even smile.

“I know,” is all they say. So certain, so serious. They move for the file and pull out a document. Their fingers extend over the white sheet as they slide it to you. “As I was saying, I already looked into her. Whereas this is your first, very minor, offense, Yelena’s got shit under the rug.”

The writing is small and printed and goes on for an entire page.

“There’s a charge that was put on hold, and she has an overdue parking ticket.”

You look at them and you could almost smile. “You’re gonna charge her with a parking ticket?”

“No. I’m gonna get her to drop charges and get the hell out of your place,” at first, you think they’re joking. Your mouth twitches up but drops when you realize they’re nothing but serious. They slide the document back to their folder, looking at as they organize the paperwork again. “If she’s smart about it, she’ll be outta there in a couple days.”

You sit here grappling it all for a long while. They’re able to organize and even put away their pen before they sit back in their chair and cross their arms in a slouch. Leaning in, you just about whisper, “Are you blackmailing her?”

“No,” they’re flat faced with a quiet tone which reads with something more, “I would never break the laws of my job.”

You know immediately. The tiny smirk on their lip just proves it for you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re at the station a few more times before Yelena gets the news. She was livid, but it worked. That’s what Hange said, at least because for the days following you refused to stay in the house with her. Instead, Hange so kindly cleared their room, and the kitchen, for you to sleep for a couple days.

However, you hardly stayed there unless you needed to. You even refused to take the same car to work in the morning - Hange offered since they need their coffee anyways. Instead, you’ve been hanging out with Sasha after work. You’d go for dinner, on errands, even her dentist appointment because anything was better than having to sit in that apartment with the person who has officially begun to make you fall.

It’s stupid, you know this. But it gets to a point, when they’re off work and even more tired looking, that you can’t stand to look at them without feeling giddy, just as you had once with Yelena.

Hange’s room is cluttered just as the rest of their apartment. But, in here, you find a piece of yourself in them as you stare at the bookcase on a wall. It’s wooden and filled to the brim with books and knick knacks and other odds and ends. But your eye catches on one thing in particular: a badge left to collect dust.

It’s engraved as follows: TOST CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT in blue lettering over the gold.

Trost city’s where they fled to, and where they fled back from. Hange was a rookie for almost three years before they left. They weren’t fired, neither did they resign. It was a mutual decision, for the betterment of their health.

You’ve heard a few stories, and as you graze a finger over the cold badge you recall each and every one of them. But Nanaba, your boss at the diner and one of the only people you’d consider one of Hange’s friends, told you what you believe is the closest to the truth.

Hange was one of the best recruits they had. It wasn’t long until they were put on a squad and sent off into the city. Coming from this place, you know how exhilarating that feels, to finally be set free into such a big open world. But something happened. Maybe not a single event, but many small, and equally as breaking inconveniences. Nanaba claimed the last straw was what happened to their eye.

You don’t notice Hange’s presence until it’s too late. You’re surprised when they call for you, and your shoulders hardly jump as you turn your head and catch them lingering in the doorway. There’s only the light of their nightstand lamp that’s on, and it dimly tints them wholly warm and yellow.

You take your hand away from the shelf, from the badge, and hold them behind your back. “Hi, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” they shrug. You didn’t even know they returned to the apartment, it was a late night at the station, you assume. “Everythings dealt with, with Yelena,” they break the news softly, “She’ll be gone tomorrow mornin’.”

A smile flashes on you, staying for a few seconds uninvited. “Thank you, Hange.”

They give you an infamous tight-lipped grin and break away. They sway in the doorway, debating whether or not to just leave you be. “Just don’t tell anyone, ever, that I did this.”

They pull a soft laugh from you, “I’ll take it to the grave.”

“Yeah…goodnight,” they’re light, but as they turn to leave you call.

“Hange,” they stop, glancing back as the light illuminates half of their hardened face, “After all this, I don’t wanna stop seeing you. Like spendin’ time with you and stuff.”

They take a pause to process, you can tell by the way their gaze drops to the carpet with a couple harsh blinks before they watch you again. Specifically, they watch the way your hands anxiously fall to your sides and run over the sides of your thighs.

“I’d like that,” they’re fragile. Like they’re afraid their voice may break if they’re any louder.

Over the next few days after Yelena’s leave, they keep your number. In addition to their morning stops at the diner, your small conversations, they call you. You text them. And they tell you goodnight every single night.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re left so ecstatic at finally having your own house again that you don’t exactly know who to call first. Sasha says she’ll be over tomorrow, but tomorrow is too late. At 6 pm, you decide to call Hange from your landline for the first time.

Ring.

“Y/n?” they answer right as they pick up, defeating your hopes for an element of surprise.

Your loose smile fades on the other line, “What? How did you know it was me?”

They sniffle softly, speaking through an invisible grin, “You ever heard about caller ID?”

“Oh…well, fuck never mind, do you wanna come over?”

Hange enters a fit of coughing at this. On the other end, rain pours, just the same as outside your home. “Excuse me?”

“Do you, wanna, come over,” you break it down for them, indulging in the way they stumble as your mouth smiles all on its own.

The faint sound of embers burning sizzles through the phone, they’re smoking. With lungs tight, they tell you, “When?”

“Right now.”

They take a second, one far too long before their throat clears, “Okay.”

Your smile widens, “Nice. Bring a four pack, and the rest of whatever you’re smoking.”

Hange breathes a laugh through a closed mouth, “Yes, ma’am.” They’re soft and honey-thick as you hang up.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Your house is rented, but it’s yours. You’re everywhere, in the knick knacks which take over the plethora of bookcases you’ve collected over the years. It’s on the couch, in the blanket you crocheted hung over the back rest. Your walls are covered in framed pictures, paintings, photographs, anything really. It’s a one bedroom and you adore it for all it’s worth, and with Yelena gone you’re free to move everything that once was back into place as Hange knocks at your door.

Quickly you open it, finding them in attire that nearly makes you laugh - not out of amusement, but out of that uncomfortable warmness which comes from knowing they cared enough to make an effort. They’ve traded black slacks for clean cut blue jeans. A navy blue tee shirt tucks into their belt, and of course, there’s that same damn belt buckle which swallows up the button of their jeans. They’re still Hange though, their hair is kept the same as always and it makes you wonder if they ever let it free. The black patch stares at you as they stand on your porch.

They look you over the same, like you’re painfully aware of the way you study each other. You’re dressed in nothing fancy, something similar to them though you opt for a pullover rather than a tee shirt in this weather.

Hange holds a cardboard four pack out to you, like a ticket entrance fee, and the veins of their arms prod out as you take it from them with a smile. “Thank you very much,” you’re gleeful, excited even, “Come in.”

The floor creaks and so does the door as they shut it behind them. They’ve never seen the inside of your house before, so all they can do is gawk as you enter the kitchen on your right hand side. “I can order pizza later if you’re hungry,” once you set the four pack down on your neatly clothed table, you look back to see their eye focused on anything but you. They look over the walls as if they’re in a museum.

“Don’t like pizza,” they’re throaty and so low you almost miss them.

“What the fuck? Why not?” your hands rest on your hips.

“Too messy,” Hange finally looks your way, catching the disappointment in your eyes, “And I have a growin’ suspicion I may be a little intolerant.”

But your disappointment turns into softness, “A little?”

In the coming weeks, Hange’s started to smile more. They grin before looking away, to the bookshelf on the wall just before the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were into all this.”

You know your collections well. You know the shelf they’re referring to hosts your mounding plethora of books. “What? Didn’t think I’d like to read?” you step back into the living room, finding your places besides them as you look over your achievement of a collection with pride.

“Wouldn’t say that,” they mumble.

Sighing lightly, you lean against the back of your couch, crossing your arms with a perked brow, “What would you say then?” slowly they turn and face you, “What did you think I was like?”

Hange shakes their head, just after their eye soaks you in, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“No fun,” your voice lowers with them, just as your eyes move down the tightness of their shirt until you catch the mound poking out of their front pocket.

They notice, and without breaking away, they reach in and pull it out. A zip lock bag of weed.

“Jesus, officer,” you laugh through your words of shock.

Hange tosses it, you barely catch it at your chest. “Keep it, it’s from a bust. Couple of high school kids this mornin’.”

Curiously, you open the bag and take a whiff. The scent is overbearing and strangely sweet. “More where this came from?” your smile halves.

“Don’t push it.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Two beers down and half a joint smoked, life can’t get any better than this as you - slightly drunkenly - sift through your record collection with Hange sitting, knees spread, on your couch.

“This one, is fucking fantastic,” you tell them, excitedly besides the tv stand.

Hange hangs their beer right at their lips, smiling before taking a small sip, “You got a player for those things?”

“Obviously,” you tear yourself away from the filed stacks. Your record table is a bit of mystery, you see it on Hange’s face as they watch, silently and intrigued, as you pull a lever under your coffee table. The middle piece of wood pops up. You take it and pull to reveal an empty record player built into the furniture.

“Shit,” their brows lift as they take another sip.

“What’re you in the mood for?” you turn back to the records, skimming through as Hange studies the inner workings of the table behind you.

They trade in their beer for the joint left smoking on an ashtray, right besides where the player popped out from. “Surprise me,” they pull in a lungfull without looking at you. They’re too focused on how such a thing exists as you pluck a record out and eagerly pull it from its protective case.

“I have one condition though,” your fingers work carefully as you set it all in place, perfectly placing the needle on the track you want. Hange raises their eye to you as a response. “D’you like dancing?”

“Absolutely not,” they mutter and you’re quick to groan in dramatics.

“Come on, have a little fun for once,” the record begins to spin with the push of a button, instantly it fills the room with the oncoming sweet roar of Jensine Benitez’s Sparkle In Your Eyes.

“You don’t think I have fun?” their lips lock around the joint as they watch you from below, elbows pressing into their knees.

But you don’t entertain their deflection. You welcome it yourself as you hold a hand out for them to take with a look like a defeated child. “What’s your idea of fun?”

Half of you expected for them to reject you. You prepared yourself so heavily for it. So when Hange takes your hand after a moment's contemplation, you have to try and hide the way your heart begins to pound wildly in your chest.

With the joint hanging from their mouth, they stand at your command. But they’re awkward. Their foot gets caught on a leg of the coffee table and they stumble for a quick moment, all before your hands eagerly grip the sides of their biceps to keep them steady. You smile, looking up at them as their mouth works around the joint to answer, “I like football games, those are fun.”

Your hands slip down from their biceps to their wrists as they straighten. They take the joint from their lips as the two of you take place in an open space besides the couch. “What else?” you ask as you look down. Softly, you tap their foot with yours, egging them on to fix their stance.

“Uh,” they stammer as you take the top of their shoulder in your palm, “Movies.”

Once their feet are spread enough, you look up and swipe the joint. You hold it between your lips as you take one of their hands and place it on your hip. You inhale once before pulling it away, smoke exits as you speak, “What’s your favorite movie?” their eye locks onto yours with little effort. In the coming weeks, they’ve grown more comfortable with you, as you have with them.

On their own accord, Hange takes their free hand, the one you hadn’t manually placed, and takes the joint straight from your mouth to theirs as the two of you enter a casual sway. Their brows furrow as they hit it, “Fuck, I don’t know,” they admit, softly and with a small chuckle under their words.

Your hands seem to have minds of their own. They move from Hange’s shoulders to the nape of their neck. Their skin is warm and flushed when you touch them, tangling the tips of your fingers into the mess of their scattered hair.

“And you?” they question in return, keeping the joint between two fingers in the hand they connect to the other side of your hip, “What’s your version of fun, since you wanna shit on mine.”

“I am not shitting on anythin’,” you scoff with an amused mouth, “But I do think this is very fun.”

Their hand twitches on you, you feel it as their thumb absentmindedly grazes your side.

“I also may be a tad bit tipsy,” your words softly jumble together, “So, please just indulge me.”

At this, they fully smile as they look away, before returning to find your eyes surveying everything but their stare. “Okay,” they start, “I can do that.” Like a true gentleman, Hange pushes their slight bashfulness to the side as they reach to take your hand.

It’s not like the movies. It’s stubbornly real and awkward as they try to spin you. You laugh the whole way before they enclose you into a supporting embrace. Their chest presses into your shoulder blades as their arms hold that hand, and your waist.

“Does this fancy you?” they ask as smoke trails up, surrounding the two of you but you can’t find a care. Your smile is endless and it would take a stampede to deter it. They speak into your ear, hovering just above one shoulder and it takes a small effort to find them.

“And you say you don’t dance,” their hands spread open on your hips, one even inches closer to the front of your stomach in a way that makes you weak at the knees.

Half a grin graces their mouth as they look at you, “I don’t.”

Only now do you understand just how little is left between you, as their breath skims over your cheek with no effort. They smell of beer and weed and a musk you’ve grown to associate with them. Your hands, like theirs, lose care as they fall to their knuckles. In one hand, you simply cup them, simply feel every vein as it pops with the slow sway you enter. But the other takes two of their fingers into its grip, squeezing softly.

“I think you got it down,” you tell them, as they inch their face closer to remain respectful, to keep your eye contact from behind, “Could use a little practice, though.”

Instantly, they smile wide, “Fuck you,” they breathe, quietly laughing as your own intermingles.

A crucial moment comes, a moment where you need to make a decision that could easily affect the rest of your life. It seems so idiotic, to refer to their lips as such a groundbreaking event, but this is Hange after all. Smiles fade as the two of you look past each other, through your eyes and directly into each other's secret thoughts - those secret places where desire is held and stored away.

Hange is the first to break away. They’re the first to trade your eyes in for the swell of your lips. Soon you follow, and soon your closeness becomes suffocating as their nose meanders your way until they achingly touch you. Lightly. Timidly. They’re afraid, as are you as your brows twitch into a needful frown.

Breathing through an open mouth, your breath touches their lips until a second comes where a nervous twitch of their neck makes their kiss skip over your bottom lip like it’s nothing. And truly, it is nothing. That passing graze of your mouths stops with the song that comes to a sweet end, just as your closeness as the two of you part and laugh it off.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Hange texts regularly. They call frequently. And you see each other every morning at the diner. So when the day comes where you pass by their apartment on your way home only to find them packing their car full of boxes, you slam on your brakes.

The brakes make an awful screech and gravel churns beneath the tires. You barely pull the brake on before you’re swinging the door open. Hange notices, of course, and stops with a deep sigh as they rest their hands on their hips just after plopping another box into their trunk.

“Hey,” you call, lighthearted at first, but the way they look at you - with tired eyes and a look of guilt - makes your stomach drop, “What’re you doing?” you approach with a small smile, crossing your arms at the hood of their car like they’re up to some kinda Hange-thing; you’ve passed by a few times where they’re bent over the engine with oil staining their hands. But Hange’s clean today, in fact, they look about ready to leave.

There’s a cigarette burning between their fingers that they drop and ash. “Packin’.”

“Packin’ for what?” you cling to your lightness, the same way you cling to the sides of your jacket which you pull together at your chest.

But Hange’s making it hard to be hopeful.

They look at the ground, at the ashes mixing into the dampened cement from this morning’s showers, and shrug. “I’m movin’.”

Your world doesn’t stop, it crashes and burns. Your skin turns defensive as you lips part in shock, “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

With the shake of their head, they try to dismiss you, “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“I’m not the one making things harder, Hange,” you scoff, “Why are you moving? Where to? Are you goin’ back to Trost?”

At that, Hange turns, “Don’t talk about that shit like you know anything about it.”

“I’d know if you just tell me.” And you’re right. They know this, by the look on their face, the way it sinks before they look away, they know it well.

Hange takes a small step towards you, lowering their voice just the same as their eye as they try to level with you. “I apologize, I really do. That shit at your house, us talkin’ and all that, it shouldn’t have happened.”

Your head enters a state of disbelief as it shakes silently as they go on.

“I didn’t mean to drag it on so long.”

“No,” you’re loose. Hollow. You even grin something bitter as your arms drop at your sides in defeat. “Why are you acting this way?”

Hange runs a hand over the side of their face as they sigh, “Actin’ like what?”

“I get that you’re scared of me,” you take a step in, “I get that you don’t like people comin’ around. But this is bullshit, and you know it.” They don’t have a response. They just look at you with that same blank, thinking face they always seem to wear. “Do you even have a place to stay out there? Or is this just some impulse and you’ll figure it out on the road? Is that how scared you are?” your questions turn towards jeers and with another step towards them, they clench their jaw, “You went head to head with Yelena and you’re meanin’ to tell me I’m the final straw?”

The two of you stand there, eye to eye, echo to echo as your words float around the cold air. After another handful of seconds, you turn towards the car and take the handle in your fist. “Let’s go then.”

“Y/n.” they try, but you ignore them.

You open the door and begin to rearrange the front seat they had begun to pack tight. “If we wanna make it somewhere by night we gotta get goin’ now.”

“Y/n.” their voice grows hoarse, sending your attention over your shoulder. “I’m serious.”

With a stern lip, you bite, “I am too.”

Hange doesn’t give you a warning. It seems like their mind switches from citizen to officer the second they grab you by your arm and begin pulling you towards the apartments.

“What the fu-” you struggle, trying to pull away as your feet stumble on the pavement leading up to the outside stairs, “What’re you doing?”

They’re fast, and unforgivingly strong. They don’t hold you tight enough to bruise but they don’t need to. You’re a waitress, not a hard laborer. They stop at the foot of the steps and here they finally drop your arm. “Go to the apartment,” they demand without looking at you.

Perplexed, you glance back at your car, still left parked in the middle of the street, right besides theirs with its trunk popped open. Cursing under your breath, you nearly stomp up the first couple of steps, until Hange places a hand at your back, gently pushing you up.

You swat a hand back, shoving them off you, “I fucking got it.” Your temper is explosive, you know but you can’t help it. Not today and not with your heart stuttering in your chest. You continue up the stairs at a rapid pace as you think about how the hell it’s gotten to this point. Weeks ago, Hange was just Hange and that was that. You didn’t look forward to seeing them every morning, you didn’t rely on them wishing you a goodnight. They were someone who had little effect on you until now.

When you level with the second floor, Hange skips ahead of you, opening the door themself and allowing you inside as you mutter, “This is so fucking ridiculous,” you can’t stop your tongue, but at least their apartment is warm.

Hange shuts the door as you notice the chair’s gone.

“Did you toss the damn chair?” you ask, pissed, turning halfway before they meet you with a harsh fist gripping your arm and before you can mutter another onset of pointed comments, Hange does the unthinkable.

In their apartment, with the door shutting out the world, with no peering eyes left to see, they take you with one hand slipping around your wrist and the other gripping your hip. They pull you in so suddenly you hardly feel it at first; their lips on yours, with no more room to laugh it off.

At first, your breaths stop. Neither of you move until your hand finds their cheek, slipping over their jaw and down the side of their neck as your mouths open and something horrifying begins. They press into you with little precaution, and their hands certainly are well unaware of their strength. They hold onto you as if you’d break away any moment, but it becomes obvious, as your free arm wraps around their nape that there’s nothing else you want other than this.

What starts off as sweet soon turns into desperation as they try to find the will to stop. Their own hand skims over the base of your neck, simply holding you there as if they could ever find it in them to strangle it out of you; that thing, whatever it is inside you which makes you tick so fast. It drives them insane, in that way only you can. In that way that’s been eating at them since the day you snapped in the back of their car.

For you, this release comes in small waves; like their hands, their breaths running ragged under your nose, or their mouth which tastes of tobacco and mint. Hange is scruffed, wounded, and rough around the edges. Everything from the clothes they wear down to the grating texture of their palms. But the thing is, you’re not a stranger to coarseness. You’ve existed in it for far too long. So when Hange kisses you - as if they’ve gone years without water and you are the plentiful oasis - the only way you can describe it is soft. Tender. They lull a whimper from you like they were placed on this earth just for the task.

Quietly, and with words muffling into your mouth, they break in between those soft, tender kisses, “I want to tell you,” they purse, “Everything. I’ll tell you everything.”

Breathless, you smile against them, pursing into them the same, never wanting to let go, “Tell me,” they eat your words, “That’s all you have to do, Hange,” their forehead meets yours as your kiss dies down, “You don’t have to pack up and leave.” with this, you allow a breathy laugh. It’s unserious, and it’s contagious across their mouth.

“I’m a bit, uh,” they can hardly put a sentence together, “Temperamental. Like you.”

“Good,” your hand runs down their cheek, soothing them as their breathing slows, “We can understand each other then.”

They shake their head, vigorously. As if they’re trying to prove to themself it’s okay. Those fraying hairs which crown their face stick down on their skin. Your fingers become caught on their patch every few moments, but you don’t stop. Hange stands in your grasp as if they weren’t the one to pull you in first.

For the second time and by your own avolition now, you lean in and press your lips to theirs so gently that they’re the one to quietly whimper. They’re the one whose fingers tremble and grip you like the wheel of their car. You’re sure their knuckles are white and velveted.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #jae.recs🌚#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan

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