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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

Note

I know you love Dilf Eren so let's go 👀

Dilf Neighbor Eren! Is so sweet to you. Always helping you repairing anything in your house, mowing the grass for you and taking you places here and there whenever you need a ride. He's also nice enough to let you borrow his pool, he usually stays inside to give you privacy so you can have fun. All that while he's on the second floor inside his room and near the windoow jerking off to you, thinking about going downstairs and having his way with you in the pool. 💦💦💦

Irresistable

Sorry this took me a couple of days to answer but... I took it a little too far. I would like to formally apologize for what you are about to read.

(I don’t actually believe Eren would ever do this but this is just for fun and trying my hand at yandere ok don’t come for me)

ME FINALLY WRITING A YANDERE EREN!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE OPPORTUNITY SLY I LOVE YOU. IDK IF YOU ACTUALLY MEANT THIS IN A YANDERE CONTEXT BUT ITS HAPPENING

LENGTH: 7.0K (I'm sorry)

CW: DARK CONTENT. NONCON groping and fingering, alcohol use (reader is drunk at one point), real sus behavior (messing with reader’s car, slightly possessive behavior, secretly jerking off to reader when she isn’t aware of it), manipulative behavior, masturbation, sexual fantasies, voyeurism, corruption kink, slight age gap (Reader is mid/late 20s, Eren is probably somewhere in his 30s), slight power imbalance dynamics (Eren makes reader dependent on him, Reader feels like she owes Eren in return.)

You couldn’t believe your luck when you first moved into your neighborhood. It was a house that belonged to your grandma, in a quiet residential neighborhood full of young families and retirees, a lovely quaint community with nicely manicured lawns and clean, wide streets. You were the only grandchild, and so when she passed you moved into her home that she left behind as a gift for you. It was small and quite old, in need of maintenance and repairs though you didn’t have much money for that sort of thing. But living in a free house was better than paying rent, so you accepted this house with the utmost gratitude, thanking your grandma for leaving this behind for you.

When you moved in, you pretty much immediately befriended your handsome next door neighbor, Eren Jaeger. He came up to you that very first day, offering to help you move in your things. At first you were suspicious, asking him with a quirked eyebrow why he would help you. But, as he explained, he used to help your grandma all the time with small repairs around the house, and that he wouldn’t mind helping you either. You thought to yourself that she never mentioned him before, but perhaps you just weren’t remembering things clearly? Afterall, you were so busy with college back then that perhaps if she had mentioned it you just forgot. So you shrugged and accepted his help, the man’s earnest green eyes and small smile so sweet and inviting, what harm could it do?

And over time, as things kept needing fixing around the house, Mr. Jaeger would offer to fix them. It started with an outdoor light that he pointed out to you was broken, which he just happened to have an extra fixture for. Then it was a leaky pipe outside, that was an easy repair, only taking a trip to the local home improvement store and a couple of hours of labor to fix. Soon you were relying on him for things inside the house too, only because he so generously offered to help you whenever you needed it. You didn’t know anything about fixing things, really, and Mr. Jaeger was just such a great help. He was always greeting you with a warm smile and a gentle demeanor, it became so easy to depend on him.

Not that he minded. Not at all.

For Eren, it started just out of curiosity. He was outside in his yard, about to start raking some leaves, when he noticed a car in his neighbor's usually empty driveway. He wondered to himself about the older woman who used to live next door, if perhaps the family had sold the house and he’d be getting new neighbors. He really dreaded the thought – what if it was some asshole who moved next door, aiming to make his life hell? (He’d definitely had those kind of neighbors back when he lived in an apartment.) Or maybe it would be a family with young kids, making a ton of noise and disturbing his peace? Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when you walked out from the driver’s side of the beaten-up pick-up truck. It was early Fall, still warm enough for you to be in solely a t-shirt and leggings, and boy did you pull those off. He caught himself staring at you before he even realized what he was doing.

He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts, turning his eyes down to the ground and returning to raking his leaves. But then he heard a loud thud followed by an “Ouch!”. He lifted his eyes back towards you and saw you had dropped a box, probably onto your foot by the way you were soothing it with your hands. That’s when it clicked in his mind that you were moving all the boxes from the pickup truck bed alone. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to lend a hand.

He came up to you introducing himself, and immediately noticed your suspicious glance. He worked hard to offer you a sincere smile and a calming voice, something to soothe your fears. After you told him your name (you were surprisingly so easy to give up that information), it clicked in his mind that you must have been his neighbor’s granddaughter she spoke to him once about. He then easily fabricated some lie about helping your grandma around the house before. He told himself it was to make you feel comfortable accepting his help. And you fell right into it too, affirming that you were gullible.

When you led Eren inside your home, a heavy box held in front of his chest, he subtly looked around the house whenever you looked away, making sure not to make it too obvious that it was his first time inside as he made mental notes of the state of your house. It was definitely in need of some repairs, he realized. But that thought was just that: a thought, categorized into the back of his mind. What did it matter what state this house was in? It wasn’t his home, anyway.

As he was thinking these things, you had slipped into familiarity, perhaps too soon, but Eren was just so nice. He would nod and offer the occasional hum as you told him how you acquired the house and how you were starting a new job in the area. When he asked why you were moving alone, you told him without a second thought that your family lived far away and you were single, new to the area, alone. Eren paid attention to the words you spoke, but also paid all his attention to the sounds. Your voice was high-pitched and cute, especially when you giggled. He thought he liked the sound very much, the way its innocence enraptured him. He also caught himself staring at you, much longer than was necessary, but could you blame him? You were just so pretty and it’s been a while since he’s been around such a beautiful young woman. It was tough not to stare.

When you both finally brought in your belongings (you didn’t have very much, not even any furniture, he noted), you apologized for not having any drinks or anywhere to rest. But he brushed it off with a smile, one that you thought was so charming. Before he even realized what he was saying, he offered to invite you over to his place instead, just for a drink and a place to sit, if you wanted. You didn’t see a reason not to, and with a shrug followed Mr. Jaeger the short distance from your house to his.

Once you were inside, you noticed the place was so clean and tidy, you were shocked. A quick glance around the living room and you were greeted with a few pictures of him and a tiny, childish female version of him.

“My daughter,” he piped up, noticing the way your eyes lingered on the photos.

“She’s cute,” you smiled. Fuck, your smile was so pretty too. Fuck.

“Yeah she is,” for a moment his eyes lingered on you, though you didn’t notice, too busy looking at the pictures. But, after his lingering stare, you looked back at him, noticing the way his eyes and smile were dripping with affection as he picked up a nearby photo. It was sweet how the love for her was obvious on his face. He answered the question your eyes were asking, “She’s with her mother right now. Ya know, divorce. Split custody.”

You nodded silently in sympathy, opting to move on to the kitchen to grab a drink instead of trying to think of something to say. He followed you, eyes swooping down your back as you were turned away, lingering on the way your leggings hugged your curves so tightly. Maybe he should stop staring. But he just couldn’t. He told himself since you didn’t notice it would be okay. It’s okay just to look. It's only a look.

But turns out you were really clumsy, in a “this feels like an obnoxious porn plot but it's real life” kind of way. Because as soon as you tilted up your bottle of water towards your lips, you tripped over the legs of one of his barstools and spilled the water all over your white t-shirt. You looked down, realizing in your embarrassment that your t-shirt had become see-through. Eren noticed too, shamefully taking a mental picture for himself, but made no mention of it verbally. While you were patting down at your shirt with some paper towels, he ran over to his bedroom, grabbing one of his shirts for you. When you returned from the bathroom, your wet shirt in hand, one of his old t-shirts on your body, you profusely thanked him and apologized, all the while he was having lewd thoughts about you wearing his clothing. He wondered when he had become such a pervert, before shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts.

You didn’t stay much longer than that, still reeling from embarrassment, leaving Eren’s house with a thousand thank you’s flying from your lips, clad in a t-shirt that smelled just slightly floral, like laundry detergent, but also a bit manly, like he did. You weren’t sure why, but you really liked the scent. Something about Eren was just so pleasant. It made you want to chat with him again, he just seemed so nice. Perhaps it was the combination of him helping you, his charms, and how he seemed to be a devoted father. But something about him just made you want to be around him more. Like a moth to a flame, you were.

Meanwhile Eren realized, as you walked across your shared grass between your homes, that with you now wearing his shirt, he had another excuse to see you again.

Eren still regrets the first time he ever touched himself in front of you. Partly because he did it — but mostly because of what it started.

It was a Friday, one of the first few times Eren ever drove you to work. Your car was in the shop, some mysterious churning noise coming from under the hood as you drove, leaving you with your only mode of transportation: either pay for a ride, or hitch one with Eren. And Eren wouldn’t let his lovely neighbor pay for a ride when he was more than willing to do it for free. See, he worked from home, something about software development, he never really went into details about it, but you knew he had flexible hours and barely ever left his house save for spending time with his young daughter. So he was the perfect person to do it, he said to you, because he was always available. The first time it happened, you took it as another one of his kind gestures, and with a shrug accepted his offer. Then suddenly your car just kept breaking down, and you found yourself getting more and more rides from Eren. But it wasn’t unpleasant, and he never seemed to protest about it.

This particular Friday was early on in your neighborly relationship, early enough where you still felt shy accepting his offers. Your coworkers had invited you to a mixer for singles, a strange practice, but you just happened to be single and it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try, right? You were lost in thought about it as Eren drove you home from work. Suddenly his voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Awfully thoughtful today, hm?” He asked, glancing at you briefly before his eyes turned back to the road.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you laughed just a bit, that cute little skittish laugh that Eren always managed to pull out of you. “I got invited to a mixer tonight. I’m a little nervous about it.”

Eren tried to hide his immediate interest in this gathering, steadying his voice as he said, “That sounds fun.”

“I hope it will be. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and meet someone,” you said wistfully. Eren didn’t even realize how hard he was gripping the steering wheel when you said that, knuckles white and fingers tense, until he felt an ache in his palms. He immediately released the steering wheel at the sensation, glancing at you in hopes that you hadn’t noticed. You didn’t, oblivious as always.

At this moment, you’d arrived home, Eren parking his car in his driveway. Once the car was fully stopped, he turned towards you. “Be safe tonight, don’t drink too much. Don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”

You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I’ll be careful, Mr. Jaeger.”

It was funny he said that, because a few hours later he’d be the guy you’d have to worry about.

You did drink just a bit too much at that mixer, despite his warnings. A coworker, one you didn’t really know all that well (you were still more or less the new girl at work, having only been here for a couple of months) offered to drive you home (better than you drunk in an uber), and in your drunken state you didn’t even realize you’d walked up to the wrong house. Your coworker wouldn’t have known any better, and assumed when the door opened and you walked inside that they had dropped you off at the right place, driving away for the night.

Eren was surprised to see you, staggering around in heels and that tiny dress of yours, muttering about how bad you were at karaoke, or something along those words. It didn’t take long for you to stumble on your feet and land on his couch, kicking off your heels and laying down with your head against the armrest. You were giggling, who knows what for, an arm coming up to rest over your forehead as you pressed your back into the plush cushions.

Your thoughts were scrambled: This isn’t my blue couch. I swore I left laundry on the ground, why’s it so neat in here? Is that Mr. Jaeger, did something break again? Why’s the room spinny, fuck.

Eren chuckled, your thoughts coming out as tiny mumbles from your glossy lips. Your makeup was just slightly faded, your dress hiking up so high you were borderline indecent, and he realized you were very very drunk. He was glad you’d stumbled up to his house – he would take good care of you, he promised himself.

He walked up to your weary form on the couch with a glass of water for you, but in your drunken state you were surprisingly playful. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, making him drop his glass of water with a loud crash and land with his knees on the ground and his chest right over you. His eyes were blown wide as you gave him a teasing smile.

“Your eyes are so pretty, Mr. Jaeger, have I told you?” You giggled, his face right above yours as you spoke. His eyes frantically searched your face but only found your cheery smile and your pupils blown wide with your intoxication. He hated himself for thinking how beautiful you looked now, a drunken mess below him.

“No, you haven’t,” he bit his lip to hold back a smile. You were so demure in the way you acted around him – he almost felt dirty being in your presence, thinking his vile and perverted thoughts. But with that tiny dress and that cleavage on display, could you blame him?

“They are so pretty,” his breath hiked in his throat as your soft fingers brushed over his lips, “and these are so… soft,” your eyes drifted to his lips, “I’ve always wondered if they were”. He wouldn’t dare breath, lest his breath would blow you away. Your fingers were so warm, he wanted to kiss them. But just as quickly as you touched him, you pulled your hand away, leaving his lips singed with your heat.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked suddenly, your smile fading and voice dropping an octave, this time making his whole body freeze, a chill surging to his bones. “Do you like me, Mr. Jaeger?”

“I–”

All inhibitions set aside, the liquid poison tainting your veins, you continued, “I think you like me,” you giggled once more, playfulness returning as quickly as it left. Eren was so close to you now he could practically taste the alcohol in your breath.

“I think you’re drunk,” he tried to play it off with a smile, though this made him on edge. Were you onto him? Did you know about his actions behind the scenes? Did you know the way he fantasized and obsessed over you? He began to wonder if you had the ability to read minds, a nervous sweat trickling down the nape of his neck.

You only laughed harder, “I’m just kidding. You looked so scared just now,” your whole body shook with your laughter, while Eren finally exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Your eyes softened as you looked over his features.

“I appreciate you helping me all the time, Eren,” you said, your voice losing its mirth, replaced with an affection he hadn’t felt in a while. His mind was stuck on the way you’d said his name, the first time you’d ever called him Eren and not Mr. Jaeger. He felt so anxious he could have exploded into a thousand pieces.

“It’s-It’s my pl…pleasure,” he said nervously, his throat closing in on itself, his fingers tapping against the sides of the couch holding him up from tumbling on top of you. The way you were looking at him just now… this was not good. Not at all.

You made it so much worse, placing a palm above his heart and the lightest of kisses on his cheek. “Thank you.”

As you laid back down against the couch, tiredness sinking in, he stroked his cheek absentmindedly with his palm, completely in disbelief. Perhaps you just meant it as a sign of gratitude, but Eren latched onto that kiss, savoring its warmth and basking in your brief touch. When he’d finally stopped reeling over it he looked down at you. You’d somehow fallen asleep, in a… compromising position. One leg straight on the couch, the other hanging over the edge, your legs split apart just slightly. Your breasts pushed towards your neck due to the angle, just barely covered by the neckline of your dress. And your lips, just slightly parted, tufts of air and soft whines leaving your mouth with every breath.

He tucked your loose hair behind your ear, watching for any sign of you waking up. His hand lingered in your hair for just a while, before bringing a lock of it to his nose. It smelled heavenly, like the strawberry shampoo he’d seen in your bathroom. It was so sweet, sweet just like you. His hand went further before he could reel it back, fingertips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, down the column of your throat. He touched a patch of skin by your collarbone that made you stir (must be sensitive here, he figured), before lightly grazing over your breasts, eyes trained like lasers on your face.

Don’t wake up, don’t wake up

His fingers went lower… just over the fabric of your dress cinched at your waist. It was soft, a dark velvet. He wondered what was softer, the fabric, or your skin… his fingers jumped to the skin of your thighs, he just wanted to find out. The answer was your thighs, wow they were so soft. He had an urge to grab at them, to dig his thumbs in the suppleness of your skin, but resisted. The smallest amount of restraint he could manage. His fingers went higher, his focus still on your face, but you showed no signs of waking. You were surprisingly out cold, even when his hand went higher, higher, kneading your inner upper thigh.

What if…

What came over him then, he wouldn’t know, but something possessed him to reach underneath your dress.

I shouldn’t be doing this… but… she did say she appreciated me helping her… she would love this, I’m sure. I’ll take good care of her…

He didn’t care if his train of thought made any sense, once his finger brushed over your clothed clit, because a tiny semblance of a moan escaped your lips.

Better than I imagined it… I need to hear more…

He felt the familiar ache of his growing erection in his pants. With a hand up your dress, he lowered his other hand to his sweats, peeling them down and freeing his cock. His only thought was hoping that you wouldn’t wake up, as he did the unthinkable. He, so very gently, pulled your panties aside, swiping a finger up your cunt. You mewled, and to Eren’s shock, you moaned his name in your sleep.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Was it terrible that that spurred him on, his fist pumping his cock swifty as he brought his wet finger to his lips. He was afraid you’d wake, and decided not to go further, just a taste of you would be more than enough for tonight. With an audible groan that he hoped you wouldn’t hear, he sucked on his finger and he pumped his shaft, thumb brushing over the head, precum leaking and coating his dick. His free hand went back to your tits, gently tugging at the fabric until one was free. But he didn’t touch, only looked, watching as it moved with each rise and fall of your chest with each of your labored breaths.

Fuck, this is so bad… but fuck I want to fuck her

His thoughts were such a mess, imagining himself sucking on your nipple, or fingering your cunt, or best of all, his cock buried deep in your pussy. He wanted it all, fuck he wanted it so bad. He just wanted to ruin you, that cute laugh and those innocent eyes, he just wanted to see you break, to come apart because of him. He wasn’t sure what this urge was that kept making him so irrational, but it didn’t matter, because the sight before him was just so irresistible. That’s all he could think, how god damn irresistible you were.

You smiled in content, a gentle hum leaving your lips, as Eren shot his load onto the hardwood floor between you, biting his lip so hard he drew blood in order to stifle his groans. When he finally came down, his fist covered in his seed, his floor a puddle of white, he lifted his sweats back up and shot up, grabbing some nearby paper towel and cleaning his mess and the broken cup from earlier as best he could. Every time his gaze would land on you, he’d see you smiling, your mind somewhere off in dreamland, even when he fixed your clothes back up, and even when he’d moved you to the spare bedroom in his home. You were an angel, if it was even possible to have an angel on earth.

And he so badly wanted to be the one to clip your wings.

“Good morning Mr. Jaeger,” you smiled up at the older man before you. He had just opened his front door, clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans, his tiredness showing in his features despite his welcoming smile. It was rather early this hot summer morning, earlier than he would choose to wake up on a typical work day, but he was doing it for you so he didn’t mind. He never did mind doing favors for you – whether it was fixing a leaky pipe, helping you mow the lawn, hell even giving you rides when your beater car would take a crap – he was always willing to do it, with that sweet smile and honeyed voice. Having Eren as your neighbor was a God-send.

This such morning was one of those times. Your car, having blown it’s third gasket this month (why does that keep happening, anyway?), was sitting in the repair shop, again. He welcomed you with a smile each time you needed a ride, just as he did this morning. He was easy to talk to, always asking you about your work and how things were going with you.

To Eren’s chagrin, you never seemed to notice how little he actually talked about himself. It wasn’t that he was hiding anything from you, it’s just that he enjoyed the sound of your voice. Sometimes he’d hear it when you weren’t around, late at night when he’d conjure up those images of you that he shouldn’t have been conjuring up. He’d replay the sounds as he laid in his bed alone, slowly, slowly moving his fist up and down his cock. He’d ponder what your moans would sound like, pictures of you bouncing on his lap playing behind his closed eyes. He felt so shameful when it was over, to be thinking of his younger neighbor who was always so innocent, so gullible. You were just so, so gullible. But somehow he loved that about you, that you would trust him so completely. You were such a good girl. He’d tell you that, if only you’d let him. He’d tell you how good you were for him, he’d make you feel so good, he knew it. He wanted to, God he wanted to, but for now, he practiced self-restraint. He’d slipped up once, and he wouldn’t allow it again.

After that incident, he relegated himself to watching from afar: watching through the window those times where you forgot your curtains were open, giving him the show he’d been hoping for; watching, when he’d come over to fix something in your home late at night, your thin nightgown leaving little to the imagination; watching, when you’d leave your home at night to go out in clothing that was nighttime appropriate, leaving little more to be desired. He was always watching.

When you came to his front doorstep this morning, he was watching the way you smiled brightly up at him. It’d been several months since you’d moved in and he’d gotten to know you more, and still he wasn’t used to how sweet and innocent your smiles were. Deep, deep down he may have felt just the tiniest bit guilty. But after each of his sabotaging actions (why else would your car and your house keep needing repairs?) he was rewarded with more time with you, and what was the harm in that? He wasn’t sure at what point he’d become so captivated by you: was it that very first day, the way you so easily offered him smiles and shared your laughter (and he got a glimpse of your chest…), or was it all those sneaky glaces through your curtains and all the proximity in the name of ‘neighborly’ help? Was it because you were just so sweet to him, a bandage for his broken heart? He told himself there was no harm in spending time together and watching you from afar (he considers that one drunken night a minor discretion, of course). He has to see it that way, or it would drive him insane. Or was he already? He couldn’t tell.

He opened the door with a cheery, “Good morning,” leading you past the entryway and towards the kitchen that you’d been in many times by now. He told you to pour yourself a cup of coffee, that he’d already made a pot, and watched from his place on a barstool at the counter as you reached up into his familiar cupboards for a cup, your skirt hitching up just below your ass, before pouring your cup of coffee. Eren would look, hell he would stare as long as you’d let him. Mentally, he’d be screaming at how badly he wanted to touch you, his palms on fire and your skin it's only coolant, but he didn’t want to risk even slightly pushing you away, not when he’d made so much progress.

Progress in the form of finally, finally getting you to accept the only offer you kept declining: the usage of his pool. He admitted it may have been a bit of a perversion, the way he watched you swimming in those tiny bikinis from his second floor bedroom window. But god was it worth it. The way your creamy thighs and your soft breasts were on display, your body was just barely disguised by those tiny pieces of fabric you called a bathing suit. There was even one day you wore a bikini bottom that may as well have been a thong and –

“Mr. Jaeger?” You asked in that cute little voice of yours, sitting in his passenger seat as he drove you the short distance to your work. He was staring off into space again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Eren shifted in the driver’s seat, his pants uncomfortably tight. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind me using your pool again for a swim after work?” You asked, twirling a lock of hair with your fingers as you watched the passing scenery through your passenger window. “It’s just so hot today,” you added.

“Any time, you know you’re always welcome,” he smiled softly, the car coming to a stop at a red light.

“How come you don’t swim? Feels funny, me swimming alone while you’re inside. You should join sometime,” you said innocently, oblivious to the way his breath hitched. He swallowed harshly. In truth, he never joined because he feared he couldn't control himself. To have you right there before him barely wearing any clothing – too much for him. Way too much. He’d rather stay inside, where he could keep his hands to himself. Or, frankly, on himself. He wouldn’t allow himself a repeat of that night. Only in his mind would he allow that.

“Oh I’m just not much of a swimmer,” he said, an easy excuse that you believed. You’d known him for many months now, and with all that time you came to trust him so completely. Such a good girl, you were.

“Then why have a pool?” You asked, your voice so sincere. It was a genuine question, one full of curiosity.

“My daughter really likes it.”

“That’s sweet,” you smiled.

You’re sweet

He bit his tongue before he could say the words. Luckily for him he was in front of your workplace, pulling off to the side to drop you off. You gathered your belongings before unbuckling the seatbelt. Your eyes averted from him, you didn’t catch him staring at your skirt, nor your blouse with some bit of cleavage on display. He wiped his hands down the fabric of his jeans over his thighs, sweaty at the sight of your bare skin in the summer heat.

“Thank you again,” you turned to him with a cheery smile that he returned with a smile of his own.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll see you this afternoon?” You asked as you opened the passenger side door, one foot out first, then your body, before you were completely out the door. Eren’s eyes, despite his mind telling him not to, watched your skirt as you got up, for any signs of your clothing underneath. Unfortunately your palm held down your skirt as you rose.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, the words coming out raspy, “Yes, I’ll be here to come get you.”

You shut the door with a smile and a wave, “Thank you!”

He waved you off, thoughts trailing back to how you’d asked to use his pool again today.

She’s gonna be the death of me. He thought, shifting in his pants once more in his driver’s seat, before pulling away.

The late afternoon sun was sweltering as you swam in your neighbor’s pool, one that was quite nice, large enough to hold multiple people if Eren ever so chose. But thinking about it, he never really seemed to have many people over. You didn’t dwell too long on that thought, too distracted by the heat on your skin and attempting to cool it off with your swimming. You came up for air, pushing your wet hair out of your face and gasping for oxygen. You rubbed at your eyes, stinging slightly with the chlorine, before blinking them open. You looked around briefly at your neighbor’s backyard, so perfectly landscaped, every bush neatly trimmed and the grass at a perfect inch’s length, a bright green even when you neighbors’ all had yellowing, dying grass. Eren really took good care of his home, you noted.

Speaking of green, your thoughts went back to Eren. You wondered what was more green, the greens of plants, of grass, of forests, or those sparkly emeralds of his. They always seemed to shine so brightly, twinkling every time he gave you a smile. Sometimes, such as now, you caught yourself thinking about them and about him. Was it normal for a man with his own life to be so attached to yours, always at your beck and call? Was he just being nice? Or were you imposing? Sometimes you worried that Eren was doing too much for you, and you were not doing enough for him. What was he getting in return for taking such good care of you – fixing up your house, letting you into his home, driving you around while your car was constantly in the shop. What did he really feel about all of that?

Your thoughts led you to turn towards his house, for no particular reason other than because you were thinking of him. Your eyes flickered up towards the window you knew was his bedroom. For the briefest of moments, you thought you saw him in the window, looking back at you. But just as quickly as you could blink, he was gone.

Did I imagine that? You wondered.

You pushed back your hair from your face once more, before deciding you’d swam enough for the day. You walked over to the ladder, gripping each side and pulling yourself up, a foot tentatively taking each step up until you were standing on the hot pavement. Then you sauntered over to one of the patio chairs after putting on your sandals, plucking your towel off the back, and wrapping it around your soaking wet body. Tying it tightly in the middle, you then took your hair in your hand, forming a ponytail to wring out the water, splashing the wetness from your hair onto the ground below you. With your damp body still slightly dripping, you made your way back inside Eren’s home, aiming to get changed and head back to your own place for the evening, fearful that you were beginning to take advantage of your neighbor’s kindness.

There was a reason Eren stayed inside, but he’d never tell you the truth.

As he watched you swim laps across his pool, your body face down, your back and ass in the air, he definitely did not want to tell you why he stayed indoors. A hand pushed aside the curtains to his window, allowing him to see you in the pool from up above. It was vile, he knew, but was it any harm, the way he’d watch you swim from the privacy of his room? Each time you swam across, he’d get that nice view of your perky ass. And each time you came up for air, you’d bob in the water, breasts bouncing with your movements. Not to mention the way your skin glistened in the sun, water droplets reflecting its rays, making you look almost ethereal. Was it really so wrong to admire a goddess in all her beauty?

Actually, what was probably wrong were his other thoughts. How he wanted to press you against the side of the pool and rip off your bikini, not caring if any of the other neighbors saw, your legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth latched onto your tits. How he wanted to bend you over the edge and fuck that pretty little cunt till you screamed his name in that cute voice of yours. Or how he wanted to eat you out as you were sunbathing in his lawn chair, begging for another taste of your nectar.

It was one of these many fantasies of his that propelled him to reach down with his other hand, unbuttoning his jeans, slipping his cock out of his boxers. He watched as you stood up in the pool, wringing your hair out with your fist, and he imagined he’d be holding your hair like that if you were on your knees. You adjusted a fallen strap from your bikini top, and he imagined how it would be like to pull it back down, his palms brushing against your shoulders as he’d kiss you, peeling off your top as tantalizingly slowly as his fist was currently running up his shaft. You dove back into the pool, calves kicking in the air, and he imagined how soft they were and how he wanted to kiss up your legs, leave bite marks, leave any trace of himself on you. With every movement of yours, he’d imagine something so impure, a small part of himself repulsed by his actions. But the biggest part of him, the part that was currently fisting himself as you hung over the edge of the pool, the part of himself that was imagining his hands on your hips and his cock buried deep in your folds, that part of him always won out.

He slowed down, prolonging his peak, teasing the head of his cock, as you came up for air one more time. Fuck, you were so beautiful. You gasped for air, lips parted, and he wondered how your mouth would feel around the head of his cock as he brushed his thumb over his slit. He groaned, loudly, unable to control his reactions to his self-pleasure. With his lidded gaze onto your form below, he brought his fist back down to the base, his cock twitching in his palm from the need to cum. And he almost did, a few more pumps would have done it, but then you turned around and looked into his window. For a moment he froze, wondering if you were actually seeing him, as his eyes made contact with yours. Could you see him from down there, the compromising position he was in: his cock rock hard and glistening with precum in his fist, his pants down to his mid-thighs, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor of his bedroom. Did you catch him in this repulsive behavior?

He quickly shut the curtain, placing his aching cock back into his pants and reaching for his shirt. Pulling it over his chest, he turned and peeked once more past the curtain, but you were gone, your towel was gone, your shoes were gone.

Fuck, she saw me.

He panicked, thinking the worst, heading quickly down the stairs, hoping you wouldn’t notice the tent in his pants. He was going to head to the bathroom, perhaps splash some cold water on his face, anything to cool him down (he still felt hot from his session earlier), but when he landed at the bottom of the steps you were already there, dripping wet and clad in your towel.

“Hey, Mr. Jaeger. I was just about to get changed. Sorry for dripping water inside,” you smiled at him, a bit embarrassed by the trail of water behind you. You normally dried off a bit more outside, but with your thoughts earlier you suddenly wondered if you were imposing or not, and felt like perhaps you should just head back home.

Meanwhile, Eren was too busy trying to will away his boner, still raging at the sight of you dripping in your towel.

“It’s fine, no worries,” he said, though his voice was strained.

You caught onto the tone of his voice and it only made your fears worse. “Are you sure? Have I been asking too much of you? Be honest,” you said, your eyes looking sad, like a kicked puppy. He wondered what made you doubt his kindness. Was it because you saw him?

“Never, I promise I don’t mind,” Eren stood before you, uncomfortably shifting on his heels, eyes pointed at the wall behind you in order to not gaze at your body.

“I know you’re always doing these favors for me, and letting me borrow your things… I wish there was a way for me to make it up to you.” You watched his stance, the way he looked so uneasy on his feet. Your eyes trailed downwards, and you could have sworn you saw something, something that brought your mind back to the many sleepless nights you had, wrapped in your sheets, thinking about your handsome neighbor Eren Jaeger.

Eren’s lips parted in surprise when he noticed your gaze. He thought you wouldn’t notice. Afterall, you were always so gullible.

“I…” He started to speak, but your gazes met for a moment. Something clicked in you then, like you’d had your eyes closed for months and now suddenly they were open. He saw the change in the way you eyed him. With that, he finally gave himself permission to stare openly at your body, and your skin felt hot under his gaze.

His pupils were blown wide, eyes so dark you’d forgotten they were once green, as you set aside your towel on one of his barstools, crossing the distance between you, his name gently leaving your parted lips.

There it was again... the way you said his name...

When you came close enough, those doe eyes of yours trained on his soft lips, you watched as they formed the words: “I think I know a way.”

Y'all who were up for dark content: @j0livi0ni @coyloves @fqiryspit @softjaegerhours @yeagerfushiguro @deathnxtess @erentoes @vivi-et @andriathorne @mikasavqx @missyasma @blondeboyfriend @psaikichic @levi-br0 @brooks-lin @idgaf69 @jeanreinersex @omg-ginvodka @emonaculate @jeansbabycake @misslovingpearl @ackersune @fwess @erenyeagersimpagainbby @bloody-theif @cottonheadedninnymugggins

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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

Note

how long does it normally take for you to write something? just out of curiosity cause it takes me a couple hours if i’m in a writing mood but it could take a couple days haha

Oh boy it really depends how long I can keep myself focused. Sometimes I feel like I get stuck while writing and I hate everything I type. So it’s a lot of deleting, rewriting and repeating lol

For example the Giyu fic I just posted wasn’t part of the group of things I’ve been working on. But the idea came to mind and it flowed pretty quick so I was able to write it in about 24 hours or so.

Unexpected on the other hand took me about a month and a half? I wrote a ton of it about mid December and then got stuck and gave up. I returned to it a few weeks later and suddenly it became 7k words lol

The next part I’m writing starts off right away with smut. But I feel like I’m getting a little repetitive with the phrases I’m using. So I’m taking a little breather from it to write a request instead

So — long story short it can take me anywhere from a day to about 2 months to write a full length fic

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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

Text

Synopsis: After a deadly disease spreads rapidly across the globe survival of the fittest becomes an understatement. With violence around every corner you’re left no choice but to do what you must to live besides you aren’t one to turn down easy pickings. So when you come across a huge compound with tons of resources and slow guards you get comfortable. A little too comfortable. Stealing more rare items that make them suspicious that eventually leads to your capture by a mountain of a man who leaves you to the mercy of his vermillion eyed boss. And now all your roads are leading to a dead end.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, spitting, body horror/gore.

Chapter Six: What lurks in the Shadows? wc 1609

Master List : Here

The voice is raspy and yet song-like, the kind of sound that age and a few too many cigarettes can change. Two books are on the old cart as the figure comes more into view. The old floral dress is tattered, gnarled hands glued to the tarnished golden metal, a wedding band with a modest diamond on the ring finger pushes the cart more into the light.

The woman, or Walker, you should say looks different. Skin tight against her bones and for a moment your heart lodged into your throat. Her eyes are missing, nothing sits behind the rims of her glasses, just two dark holes with paper thin skin stretched across her features. Her gray hair is tucked away on top of her head, falling in some places. Floral dress faded from age still in place an old yellowed name plate catches your eye.

Keep reading

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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

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Chapter 5 , synopsis and warnings here

“What’s the location of that hoard?” You ask Bakugou for the eighth day in a row and still he answers.

“None of your goddamn business.” But they must be close as he is armed to the teeth, a bat with nails driven through the thick head joins his usual long knife and machete, while a strong ax is snug on his back. It was annoying and fucking worrisome that you still were not allowed your own weapon in addition to being tailed by Kirishima or Bakugou this entire time. Even though they keep you weakened by giving you little food and a tonic that keeps your muscles weak they seem to have Kota in good care. He hangs around Eri and although he still has no weapon you know that he will be able to handle his own with a Walker no matter the type or stage.

As long as it wasn’t a Colossal he would be okay with only his two feet and thank god you forced him to run laps growing up.

“Morning.” Farmer Graham puts his fingers up in a wave, the chickens squawk happily as the sun starts to rise. Brutus happily prances around the coops, but only after giving you a snarl in warning, you roll your eyes, stupid mutt.

Fuck you hated mornings and all you do is wave back before you grab a heavy bucket to take towards the coops near the back of the small grocery store that Graham lives in. Spread the seed on the ground to distract the chickens so you can collect eggs.

Per the usual, Margaret still sits in the coop, feathers bristled as she strikes your outreached hand.

“Marg, fuckin please.” You chide, “You’re too old to be having chicks that’s Steph now.”

You point to the other chicken who sleeps soundly while Marg pecks at you again this time drawing blood.

“I’m gonna enjoy eating you Margaret.” You hiss, striking quickly to pin her down while your other hand slips under her large warm body to grab three large eggs. The threat is mostly empty with the way Marg drops out eggs and the size of them, it would be a long time before she’d stop producing eggs. As you finish collecting eggs you hear soft footsteps and soft cooing towards the chickens.

“Bakugou-nii-san!” Eri’s sweet voice rings out, “Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

She comes to collect eggs every morning and it makes you wonder if this used to be her job that you were forced to take over. She fondly talks to the chickens while Bakugou grunts back.

“Kirishima asked me to give you this.” Eri adds, pulling some scrap paper from her pocket as you exit the coop. Bakugou grunts again, his eyes looking over his shoulder at you before he opens the slip. Brutus comes to circle Eri, trotting around like her shadow.

“Oh are these from sweet Margaret?” Eri skips over towards you, eyes gleaming as she looks over the eggs, you look up at Kota whose cheeks you think you see are flushed.

“I’d hardly call her sweet.” You hold the basket out towards her so she can take her pick but her red eyes fly towards your hand.

“Ah you’re bleeding.” She says so concerned, patting her pockets for something. The startle in her voice has Bakugou looking up from his paper, hand on the handle of his bat and when he sees Eri produce an old worn hello kitty Band-Aid still in the sanitary wrapper he returns back to the report of sorts.

“It’s really no biggie.” You say pulling your hand out of her grasp, “Save that bandage for someone important okay?”

She gives you a puzzled look as she tries to understand how you weren’t important. Kota comes closer keeping Eri in his arm’s reach as he looks over the chickens.

“The bacon is gonna burn.” Kota murmurs to get Eri chan to move. She worries her lip before she turns away from you with her eggs of choice.

“Thank you.” She smiles your way and you give a weak one back before Eri starts to chat with her newest shadow. You follow their movement and when you put the basket of eggs beside Graham’s you stare at this building that’s been mocking you all week.

The architecture of it looks older than the town, the same way that churches usually predate the rest of the buildings. It is off to the side, yet still almost central to the once bustling town, you watch people scurry quickly past the dead boxwood bushes and the overgrown sidewalk towards a set of doors under an arch. The top of the building has a dome and for a second you half hope that the building actually might be what you think it is.

“Graham.” You say, voice still a bit hoarse, “What’s that?”

The gruff man follows your finger towards the ominous building just across what was once a two-lane highway. He grunts, putting his thumbs underneath the straps of his threadbare overalls.

“Library I reckon.” He says spitting onto the ground as he has a stare off with the old building, “No one can stand the place.”

“Stop fuckin sharing with the fugitive, Graham.” Bakugou barks but there is no bite. Still your face lights up.

“You’re telling me no one has looked in the four years y’all have been here?” You say exasperated, bet there was a lot of useful information in there. It had your skin humming with curiosity and excitement.

“No.” Graham says, “No reason too, plus it gives everyone the creeps.”

“Oi, asshole.” You say, coming closer to your guard, “Lemme go check it out.”

“No.” He shoves the paper into this pocket and cracks his neck. The bags under his eyes are prominent as the morning sun hits his face. He scratches at his stubble before he crosses his arm as if it helped him glare at you better.

“Hear me out. You want this mission you’re trying to drag me on in a few weeks to go smoothly, right?” When Bakugou doesn’t answer you go on, “There has to be some nice old maps in there. The building looks old as hell and huge.”

Still he says nothing but him not exploding was a good sign in your book.

“There could be some useful information about farming and preserving….” You say loud enough and the old man Graham perks up.

You were noticing he wasn’t hard of hearing at all but just had selective hearing.

“Woman…” Bakugou snarls before Graham comes to your aid with a small comment.

“Could be useful for sweet Eri to learn how to can. My wife, God rest her soul, knew how to do it but I was always too busy with the farm to do it properly myself.” He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, “Ya got a willing soul here.”

He slaps your back almost affectionately but his thick fingers sting against your skin. You give him a tight smile as Bakugou stares at the two of you. He’s about to say no again but Graham really sweetens the deal.

“I mean what’s the worst that could happen? A ghost gets her? Ain't no Walkers in these walls we know it. We keep each other safe.” He pats his old pistol before he flicks up the brim of his old straw hat, “You keep us safe.”

Bakugou must take the bait before a growl sounds from his throat.

“Fine.” He grabs your wrist tightly pulling you closer to him so he can linger in your face, “But you go on your own time. No guard, no help. And if I see you on those walls, I’ll have them shoot on sight then Kota will go right in that pool, got it ya shitty woman?”

“Loud and clear.” You snarl back, pulling your arm free before returning back to your long grueling day of manual labor.

After hours of tending to the garden, pulling weeds, lying down the chicken manure for crops that will be planted by the beginning of fall you’re finally done. Reaching towards the late afternoon sun with cracking bones. Stomach growling as Bakugou makes his way back to the house for dinner, Brutus in his wake.

“Remember, on fuckin sight.”

“Shut the fuck up. You bark way too much.” You growl going straight across the crumbling street as he follows it towards the town center where his large house sits atop the hill. He watches you until you disappear down the old overgrown path turning away after you’re out of sight.

The old doors are locked but nothing your precious picking set couldn’t fix. It had only taken you ages to find the tension wrench and pick again after being taken by that asshole. Nothing but the half-moon painting the grass in little to no light, still when your fingers found that familiar metal it felt as if you struck gold. The lock in the double doors is old, probably from the 80’s so it should be easy to pick.

After a quick minute you hear the locking mechanism sing, and the handle gives way as you pull it open. The door creaks and the sound almost hollows out your stomach. Stepping over the old carpet you open the second set of doors that thankfully aren’t locked.

Dust coats everything and the windows surprisingly let in a good amount of natural light but as you get deeper into the belly of the library the windows disappear altogether. The afternoon light seeps into the building but there are still some corners that are shrouded in shadow. Carefully you listen for noise and when you hear nothing you walk through the old stacks.

It's always weird walking through a building that hasn’t been touched since the Before. Rare is a building that hasn’t been raided by at least one person. A surreal thing as you see everything in the same place as one would expect. Children's books litter the small tables, lying open with melted crayons in their wrappers stuck in the dark commercial carpet. A laptop covered in dust near the reference section, a few romance books stacked on the floor between the aisles.

You stop half way down the aisles, not feeling brave enough to explore the parts that were thrown in darkness, the open doors of the Archive Center pull your attention the letters painted over the large double paned wired window chip with age. The carpet leaves a plume of dust with every step you take, leaving little footprints as if it were merely gray snow. You wrinkle your nose, getting distracted by the front desk, slipping behind it to see a dark office, door locked so you continue to explore the counter.

Old dried out ink pads and stamps sit neatly stacked on the shelves, books covered in cobwebs sit in the return bin while an exploded pen sits next to an open ledger. You look over names written in the same neat, old script. The type of cursive almost all older folk write in. The swirling letters spell out who checked out what and how long they had it. If they owed money for keeping it longer than normal time allotted for check out. Some names were written neatly to use the computer before they initialed their in and out by the time the librarian wrote.

An overwhelming feeling of melancholy and unease settles in your chest. Wrapping around your senses as you read the date. Your brain is unable to process how much time had really passed and how most likely that everyone on this list was dead.

It was feeling less like a check in ledger and more like an obituary column. Running your fingers along the list of names you silently read them.

Liam checked out a book on Minecraft and returned it not even a week later. Akito was sure to borrow the Witch in Red and she must have devoured the book as she continued to check out a new book in the series over the course of six days. Braxton needed the computer for an hour and a half with the reason of “school paper” while Charlotte needed the computer to put in an application online for some local college you’d never heard of.

You swallow thickly, looking at the last name on the list, the book checked out an hour after the first wave of Walkers took over major cities.

No one took this parasitic virus seriously and in a matter of two months the entire world fell into chaos. Survival of the fittest and even more so when the power finally was cut a month after that. Just as you’re about to duck under the counter to look at the old ledgers that are decades old you hear something rustle in the distance. Finding an old, rusty pair of scissors from what had to be the fuckin sixties with how heavy they felt in your hand, you arm yourself. Ears perked as you listened. Eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in the back.

With a fluttering sound something shoots from the darkness and bangs loudly against the glass doors. It takes your mind a moment to catch up as you see the injured bird on the floor feet from you. Your eyes catch the hole in the ceiling near the back left corner, the light must have been blocked either by the bird itself or the thick oak bookcases that lined the room perpendicular to the door.

Just as you’re about to step closer to see if the bird broke its neck or not you hear a faint squeaking. Like old wheels working hard as they push against carpet and you watch a boney figure come into the light with baited breath.

“Shhhh, dear.”

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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

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Chapter 4 of apocalyptic bakugou au, please see warnings synopsis on the mater list here.

A cold sweat coats your skin as you shoot up into a sitting position. Fingers taking a moment to register the sinking plush mattress and the soft blanket. The window to your right has streaks of orange and pinks, swirling together like sherbet as you try to orient yourself, was it sunrise or sunset?

“Sunset.” A voice says as if they read your mind. The tall man with his back to you looks over his shoulder before you see a bit of steam bellowing up from a pot, “Glad you’re up. I’ve made tea.”

He pours some of the murky liquid into a chipped cup, coming towards the bedside table. Just as you’re about to lunge for the man with a bruising grip and scream your demands, a large hot palm wraps around your wrist. His skin burning yours like a brand as you slowly look over your shoulder to your left to the shrouded corner Throbbing head thinking of how you didn’t even notice the asshole who gives you a shit eating grin.

“Bout time you joined the living.” He squeezes tighter until the bones in your wrist creak, “Thought I’d have to start diggin a six foot hole.”

You take a sharp inhale through your nose, about to direct your demands to him before the door bursts open. A tall young man, kicking against the electric blonde who holds his arms behind his back, his mouth gagged, walks into the small room.

Black eyes locking with yours.

“Like one of those shitty family reunions!” Bakugou laughs.

“LET GO OF HIM!” You try to scream but your voice comes out a rasp, a gravely whisper. As if his hand was still wrapped around your throat.

You hadn’t kept this kid safe for five years only for his young life to be cut so short. You’d be fucking damned before that ever happened. He rears his head back and bashes the nose of the guard holding him, having worked his way out of zipties like you taught him. He rips the gag from his mouth, letting the dirty cloth fall around his neck like an ascot.

"I'm an electrical engineer not a goddamn guard!" The electric blonde hisses covering his bloody nose with his shirt.

“Did you do this to big sis?!” He growls, lunging for Bakugou in the corner. The hot head makes his way to stand, broad hand on the butt of his knife, the sight has you seeing red. You press your hand on Bakugou’s sternum, shoving him back so hard the chair goes onto two legs before falling back onto four. If it hadn’t been for the wall the hot head would be flat on his ass by now.

“Kota.” You growl, giving him a sharp glare, that type of look you get from your mother when you’re doing something you shouldn’t. He snarls his teeth at the ash blonde before he sinks to his knees to better see you, his hands shaking as he reaches for your bruised throat. Blacked with finger shaped bruises.

“I was so worried, you’d never been gone that long.” He drops his hands and with it his gaze to the bed, “I stayed like you said and when I heard them coming I tried running but…but that red headed brute was too fucking fast.”

You place your hand on his, squeezing his fingers and only speak when he looks at you.

“I know, that bastard got me too. I’m just happy you're safe now.” He glares at you again before he snarls out

“This isn’t about me, this is about you.”

“Stop talking.” The doctor says, holding the tea out for you to take, “Your larynx was damaged but thankfully it wasn’t permanent. Drink.”

You stare into the drink, wanting to knock the hot tea from his hands, fingers twitching from the thought.

“Or don’t, you can stay mute if you want, rat.” Bakugou chuckles, threading his fingers through the black hair of the young man as he pulls his head back to expose his throat, gleaming knife pressed against the boy's jugular, “Who’s the brat haaah? He yours?”

“If you touch him, I swear to God I’ll skin you alive Bakugou and I’ll make your brat watch.” Although your voice is weak, the weight and truth of the threat shines through, Bakugou’s nostrils flare, upper lip twitches into a snarl as he tries to school his facial features but fails.

“Eri’s her name right? She’s so sweet, I’d hate for such a kind, frail girl to see such a traumatic thing.” You’re pushing it, you can tell and you know you’ve struck a nerve when his anger comes out low.

“You’re in no position to threaten me.” He bares his teeth, “I’ve got quite the insurance policy on you, stupid bitch.”

He nicks Kota’s throat on purpose as you hold his vermillion gaze, nothing gives away your worry and rage aside from your deep inhale through your nostrils.

“The drink is going to be awful cold.” The doctor swirls the tea between you and Bakugou, breaking the stare down at the same time. The tension doesn’t melt totally but it does dissipate some. Lingering around the room like a heavy fog.

“Shut the fuck up, Shoto.” He growls, throwing Kota’s face into the bed hard enough that his head bounces back up before Bakugou shoves him aside. He looms over the bed, gripping at the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you back so you’re facing him. Staring deep into your eyes for a long moment before he growls out.

“Don’t you ever fuckin threaten Eri again.” He bites, you suck your teeth to gather spit but he places his hand over your mouth and nose. Keeping his calloused palm pressed tightly against your face so you can’t breathe. He waits until your eyes flutter as Kota tries to pull at the bulky man. Kota is so thin compared to the thick body that was Bakugou. Harden muscle from the time spent maturing during the End times, holding up the weight of the world for the people around him. He lets you go, letting you sway in the bed before he steps away. Going to sit in a chair by the door now, Kirishima comes through the threshold with a stack of papers relieving the electric blonde who cracks his nose back into place as he walks into the hallway.

“Here it is, boss.” Kirishima passes the document to Bakugou before the giant red head stands by the door. Your palms itch, there were too many people in this small guest room of this grand house. Too many threats to have to keep Kota safe from although he had proven himself to be strong when he needed to.

“The tea.” Shoto says again, and when you don’t take it, he sighs heavily, “Jesus christ.”

He pours the tea into a basin, sure to turn to face you, pouring the tea from the pot. He holds eye contact with you, downing the half cup of burning liquid before he pours another.

“Drink.” He says exasperated, “You need it, I am not using another IV bag on you. No matter what he says.”

But he never gives away what he is referring to. You assumed Kirishima, whose eyes linger on your neck. It almost makes you feel self-conscious how many eyes are looking at your most vulnerable spot.

Tonguing your cheek you take the tea, drinking the bitter liquid with a wince.

“You made it look so easy.” You hiss to the doctor who gives you a rude, tight smile.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll keep my insurance policy safe, healthy, hell maybe even happy but it’s going to cost ya.” Bakugou says rising again, “Kirishima tells me your little bunker in the woods was filled with valuables.”

You say nothing, sipping that damned tea. You could deny it but the panic on Kota’s face reveals your cards and his.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Not supplies like that sweetheart. You’ve got some rare shit in that rat’s nest.” He shuffles through the pages before he tosses them on your lap. A long detailed hand written account of what lied underground. Your life's work, probably being hauled from those four walls to benefit this shit hole right this second.

“Bandages, tools, canned goods, alcohol and even seeds.” He smiles at your agitated look, “Seeds for food and herbs too Doc.”

Bakugou holds out a page to Shouto with a flick of his wrist, the tall well-dressed man grabs the document, heterochromatic eyes reading over the neat script.

“Not a lot of course but you’ve got a map, don’t you? Pretty damned detailed. Like you’ve been to these places before…” Maps weren’t rare in the Before as paper maps were becoming more and more obsolete. So finding that damn scrap of paper that wasn’t already a decade old by even Before standards was a pain in your ass. Warehouses and old big box stores were outlined in your cryptic text in the legend of the map, places with more loot than you could carry home but with it came higher risk.

Much higher risk.

And for the time being stealing from Bakugou’s little outpost was simple and low risk enough. Especially so considering it took them a whole year to notice that things were starting to disappear.

“Too bad we couldn’t find a cipher….” Bakugou chuckles, “You keepin up with me, Princess?”

“Yea I fuckin get it.” You bite back, earning a sadistic smile from the blonde.

“So to repay my kindness for housing you these past four days-”

“Fuck your hospitality.” You snarl, and he grips the foot board leaning over to keep his face level with yours.

“Rat, are you really this dense?!” He laughs darkly, “I’m the one who says who lives or dies in this fuckin place. I suggest you watch that damn tongue for the sake of those around you.”

Burning ember eyes bore into yours before they flicker over to Kota. The only family you had left. Although he wasn’t related by blood you would be damned if you watched anyone else die in front of you senselessly.

The only person’s death you would delight in now would be the hulking man who leans over the bed, dangling so much over your head with that stupidly handsome smile on his scarred lips.

“I show you one, one, really good spot, then Kota and I would have more than paid back your ‘kindness.’” You snarl leaning close to him, voice hoarse and yet still impactful, “Or I will keep my promise to skin you alive.”

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the-petals-are-falling · 3 years ago

Text

Please see synopsis and warnings for this apocalyptic bnha au on the master list here

Chapter 3! That almost got forgotten to get posted and in which things heat up 👀

Three days passed and it felt as if your time was quickly slipping through the hourglass. Each afternoon is disrupted with spit to your cheek or a yank of your hair to press your face to the bars. He asks you the same questions every day.

“What compound ya from?”

“How many people were there?”

“Are you infected?” Even though he knows you aren’t, you would have had symptoms the first time he woke you up. It takes a twenty-four to seventy two hour period to incubate before a person was consumed by something else entirely and all that thing wanted was flesh and blood.

And your least favorite question of them all,

“Cat got ya tongue still rat?”

“Come on, Princess.” He pulls so hard he takes a chunk of hair with him before he regrips, tears well in your eyes. He looked at your state, you were starting to get to a point where the doctor would suggest an IV of fluids to keep you alive. Your skin had lost its shine, the ridges of the rebar stayed imprinted on your cheeks longer than before and your glassy eyes paired with chapped lips said it all.

No rat was worth an IV bag. They were hard to come by. Still he was surprised you hadn’t started begging yet.

Most people did and he didn’t smell rot on your breath which meant you hadn’t drank from the stagnant soup that festered in the sun day in and day out. He narrows his eyes and wonders if you’ve got a strong will or if you’re just too fucking stubborn for your own good.

“Hoards a comin’ ya know.” You go rigid beneath his touch and he smiles wickedly, “Guess you are scared of something.”

“Sir, lunch is ready.” The young woman, who’s name you learn is Eri, bows as she stays on the patio. You swallow thickly, knowing that he’d be sitting right in your view so you could watch him eat and drink.

“Perfect.” He drags you by your hair until you can rest on your knees, quickly grabbing your wrist with his free hand while he keeps your head turned away from him. The bite wound on his arm from you is healing and he learned quickly. He chains your wrist before removing his arm, turning your head again and chaining your other wrist. Now you kneel before him, hands forcibly above your head.

“Eyes on me, rat.” Reluctantly you look up at him as he lounges in an old pool chair, taking a huge bite out of his buttered bread before getting a mouthful of juicy chicken. Brutus drools by his side and he rips off pieces of chicken to feed him. Pouring some water into his bowl that is outside as you hear the giant pit lap at the water.

Funny how people only needed five years to forget their humanity, the mountainous man behind him makes no motion to stop the brute.

But it wasn’t the food that made your mouth water, it was the clear liquid that he drank in excess. Sure to waste it as he let it dribble down his chin and onto his shirt.

“Fuck that’s good.” He stands at the edge of the pool with half of the glass of water left, “Maybe if you opened your mouth nice and wide, I could give you some.”

This was a trick, this had to be a trick, what little drool is left is only making you thirstier as you swallow. Watching his Adam's apple bob as water replenishes his throat. Your lower lip quivers and you’re about to do it, about to open your mouth wide for this utter asshole but you stop yourself last second. A man who ate full meals in front of you wasn’t going to give you a drop.

“You’re just no fuckin fun huh?” He pulls water into his mouth from the cup before he spits a stream of the water onto your face. It gets in your hair and soaks your sweat stained shirt, “Now thank me for my generosity.”

He laughs before he sets his glass down by the pitcher of water on the table by the half-broken lounge.

He leaves it there for you to stare at as he makes his way back inside to do god knows what.

All you can think about is how you could suck the water out of your shirt and hair once your hands were free, it would be safe to do in front of the red head, at least he wouldn’t mock you. With the way he looks at you lately you’re beginning to wonder if he’s regretting bringing you back here.

You were going to have to work with what you had, dirty shirt water was going to be what you needed to escape tonight.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your last two nights of escape attempts only showed just how much of your strength was depleting. The water pitcher sweats in the hot sun, when the fuck was Kirishima going to let your arms down? They were starting to numb.

As if he heard your thoughts he comes over and unlocks you from the cuffs and you turn away from him, shoving your salty shirt into your mouth to suck out the water.

“Stop.” He says softly, this time the pitcher is hovering just above the six inch space, you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Take it.” He says lowering it towards you and you take it with both hands, gulping down harsh pulls of water, fighting with your instincts to tip the pitcher all the way back and let it fall down your face and chin.

You stop half way through, wanting to save the water but Kirishima shakes his head no. Fighting the initial burn of tears in your eyes you slowly finish the pitcher. Gently raising it back up for Kirishima to take. You bow your head in thanks and he just stares down at you.

“Kirishima, word from your scout, Jiro.” Eri says, bowing her head slightly and garnet eyes flicker from you to the young woman's.

Night can’t come fast enough and if you’re being honest, you’re having trouble staying awake. Your throat is already dry and still you force yourself to use the bars like monkey bars. Weak arms pulling you across the jail cell as the full moon rises high in the sky.

It's now or never, pick and tension wrench in your teeth as you pull yourself to the lock, hooking your shaking arm to hold your body weight as you move the lock around. Turning it over as best you can before you thank the stars for being right. The lock was an old master, and would be nothing to pick due to the manufacturer's fatal flaw. Placing the tension wrench in just right, giving it a test wiggle before jabbing the pick straight down. The lock responds delightfully with a light click and the arm pops up.

Now you just had to figure out how the hell you were going to get enough momentum or force to get the bars to swing up. With labored breath you swing your feet up, climbing backward just a bit and give it a test push.

At this point your arms are burning and this was the issue the other few nights. It didn’t help that you didn’t prepare for your journey to this damned compound like you should have.

Like you knew you fucking should have but you weren’t expecting Kirishima to keep up with your pace either. Normally you could outrun or out smart guards, so you hadn't bothered to bring rations or eat much on the way.

A rookie fucking mistake that was about to cost you EVERYTHING.

You push just enough that the bars go up and fall away from the opening with a bang. Without looking for lights to come on in the house, you hoist yourself up and out, pulling at the grass and pushing your tired body to its limits.

You still had to run and run far enough to get to the wall, not to mention to lose whoever would be sent to chase you down like the rat you were. Rising to your feet you push it all away from your mind, focusing on breathing and what it feels like to run.

Strong arms wrap around your weakened body, pulling you away from the edge of the hellish cage as he drags you towards the brick wall of the old pool house, your back to his chest.

“You think you can get away from me, rat?” His voice is deep and you were sure you’d start to hear it in your dreams, “Shitty woman I’m not done punishing you yet.”

He takes one of his hands and moves it towards your throat. Choking you with intent, watching in the light of the full moon as your eyes flutter, thrashing against him in hopes to loosen his grip. It was like watching poor game thrashing against the teeth of a lion, only for the big cat to sink its canines deeper. Your arms become heavy, numb even as you still peel off ribbons of his skin with your sharpened nails, vision turning black and just as you’re about to pass out he lets up on his grip.

He lets you take in gasping breaths for only a moment, letting the air burn your lungs before his vice grip is back. His large hand engulfed your throat as it bruises against his touch. He enjoys the cycle of you gasping for air and the soft desperate pulls you take through your nose only for the air to stop as he crushes your windpipe. This was it, this was how you were going to die.

Your only regret, not getting the satisfaction of killing this asshole first and for your hoard to go to such a fucking waste.

And of course, not being about to make it back to him.

“I could crush your larynx ya know?” He laughs again, letting up just enough for your focus to come back although blurred with black dots, “Not that you fuckin talk anyway, rat.”

“Fuckin, asshole.” Is all you can rasp out, and you see the gleam in his eyes.

“So ya can talk?” He squeezes too hard again and you’re starting to pass out sooner and sooner. Teetering on the edge of nothingness about to fall only for him to pull you back into balance.

Or at least enough to keep from falling completely off.

“Fuck.” You inhale deeply, “You.”

He squeezes again but this time all it does is cut the blood flow from your head, your body goes limp, head falling back onto his shoulders as your arms fall to your sides. Still somehow conscious.

“You’re so lucky ya know?” Bakugou growls in your ear, “I wanted to kill you, I wanted to watch you die for trying to steal out of the mouths of my people but Kirishima got to liking your rat ass for some reason.”

He holds up your emancipated body, he turns your chin harshly with the fingers on your throat so that you’re facing him. For once your harsh features are softened from lack of oxygen and your eyes are doe wide, the fire in them hazy.

“He started looking into you, found your little markers that could lead you back to us or better yet us back to you.

“No.” You rasp, genuine fear clouding your eyes, a bit of fight comes back to you. Your nails come back to claw at his skin weakly. Bakugou is delighted that he’s finally found your weak spot.

“Oh yes.” He smirks, pressing his face closer to yours making sure you see him in your blurring vision, “We found your little hideout rat. Your hoard.”

For a fleeting moment you think he got away, that stubborn nineteen-year-old must have finally listened to you. It only took him five fucking years.

“And that boy.” A surge of rage takes over your tired body, a last second wind as you thrash so harshly against him he almost loses his grip.

Almost lets go of your thinning waist and throat before he bares his teeth. Bruising in his grip as he readjusts, his nourished body serves him well as he uses his power to his advantage.

“Careful, one wrong move from you and it lights out for him.” Again, he forces you to face him as he squeezes so hard, your vision quickly clouding with black and you barely hear him add.

“And I’ll make it worse for him than I ever did for you.”

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