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xoxo-gossipgirlrp · 5 months

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Vanessa or juliet

This is good because both of them are gonna bring drama but I would love to see Vanessa here.

#faq #answered #vanessa abrams #juliet sharp #Anonymous

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doll-elvis · 11 months

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I would love to know more about Elvis’s relationships/affairs with the actresses who starred in his movies. Many of them were close in age to him too but they’re rarely discussed except for like Ann Margret.

I do think Ann Margret is particularly special, therefore talked about more, but I totally agree that his other leading ladies/costars deserve some love also !! <3

here are some of my personal favorite offscreen romances// (names are in order of the photos) Yvonne Lime, Juliet Prowse, Joan Blackman, Anne Helm, Tuesday Weld, and Jane Elliot 🎀

and while Shelley Fabares and Nancy Sinatra both deny ever having a romantic relationship with him, I know that Elvis had a massive crush on Shelley (who played his leading lady more than anyone else) and there were definitely mutual feelings between him and Nancy 👀

and another girl that’s rarely talked about (who worked behind the camera as a wardrobe consultant) was the beautiful Nancy Sharp!! Elvis was very serious about her and he even flew to Missouri to meet her parents

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amorseart · 2 months

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Morse code jewellery inspired by Yuzuru Hanyu 4/?

Adding to this collection, you can now order bracelets that read:

ÈTUDE IN D-SHARP MINOR

ÈTUDE

ROMEO + JULIET

SOMEBODY

These pieces are a little different from my other collections - this set is made with different beads meant to evoke the colour schemes used in Yuzu's costumes for his 2011-2012 season.

All of the listings have options to add charms inspired by each programme. You can order the bracelets separately, in a set of SP + FP, or in a set of all three, including the gala.

There are custom listings available for this collection too if you'd like any of these pieces in the usual range of colours, or if you'd like a custom message inspired by Yuzuru Hanyu coded into a bracelet or necklace!

You can check them all out on Etsy!

Taking a little break from adding to this collection now, so the next update will be 11 May! Let me know which of Yuzu's programmes you'd like to see in bracelet form then!

#yuzuru hanyu #hanyu yuzuru #ètude in d-sharp minor #etude in d sharp minor #yuzuru hanyu etude #yuzuru hanyu ètude #romeo and juliet #romeo + juliet #romeo and juliet 1.0 #romeo + juliet 1.0 #somebody to love #justin bieber #amorseart #photos

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lovebugism · 10 months

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Eddie x Gareths sisterrrrr????? Like Romeo and Juliet type stuff where Gareth is like my sister is NOT dating you

thanks so much for your request, anon!! i had so much fun writing it!! there isn't much conflict with gareth, but i hope you like it anyway! jealous!eddie x girly!reader (1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Gareth picks you up from the mall at six o’clock sharp.

You say goodbye to your friends, all of them wearing the same tank top and pleated skirt duo you’re in, before getting into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. You’re dressed too nicely to be sat in such a beaten-up thing. Too pretty for it, too.

“Wanna get something to eat?” the boy asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, talking over the Dio song blaring on the radio.

He’s wearing his usual flannel vest over a tattered Metallica tee. The former is riddled with various vintage pins fitting for a metalhead. Down to his skull necklace, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers — the two of you couldn’t be more different.

You flip down the visor and use the mirror to put on a swipe of glittery lipgloss. You feel almost naked without it. “Slurpees?” you offer before smacking your mouth to spread the sparkly glaze.

“That’s so not dinner,” Gareth laughs as he shakes his sandy curls.

You arch a manicured brow in his direction. “Got a better idea?”

“Nope,” he concedes, popping the ‘p.’

He’s got too much of a soft spot for you to deny you of anything. Perks of being the youngest sibling, you suppose.

You feel butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach, their wings brushing the edges of your ribcage as he pulls into the gas station — and it’s not because of the $1 Slurpees. Your stepbrother’s best friend, Eddie Munson, usually deals drugs in the back parking lot on weekends. Like the absolute dreamboat he is.

It’s been days since you last saw him. Six of them, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything.

While Gareth waits in line to pay for your drink and his food, you decide to quell your yearning. It’s much more like a hunger, though. Whatever innocent crush you used to have is far more salient now. You miss Eddie like a dinner you didn’t get to eat — noticeably empty, weakened without his smile to bring you back to life.

You round the corner to the back lot and find him flipping through a wad of cash. He leans against the brick wall with one dirty sneaker kicked up against it. Despite the middle of summer head, he hasn’t yet forgone his leather jacket and dark denim jeans duo. He looks killer, as usual — so you could only imagine how he’d look out of them.

When he hears the sound of footsteps scuffing against pavement, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze is halfway hidden beneath his fluffy bangs before he turns to face you wholly.

He grins at the sight of you, and you fill whole again.

“Hi, Teddy,” you greet with a smile, stained blue from your raspberry Slurpee.

He rises on both feet and tucks the money into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His head tilts to his shoulder as he looks at you, too cute for his own good. “Whatcha doin’ out here, princess?”

Your stomach flutters at the nickname you’ve heard too many times to count.

“Came to see you,” you shrug innocently, curling your smile around the straw of your drink.

Eddie beams, brows raising in amusement and cheeks reddening at your answer. He hopes you’re too far away to see his cheeks glowing as pink as they are now. He’d just blame it on the summer heat, anyway.

“Really?” he lilts, voice light and airy with mirth.

You shrug as you swallow down the fruity slushy. “Gareth brought me for Slurpees.”

“How sweet.”

“Right?” you hum with a blue-tinted smirk, slowing when you finally reach the boy. His weed-tinged, woody musk envelopes you completely — he might as well be embracing you. “Best brother ever.”

Gareth isn’t really your brother, despite how often you call him that. You’re related by marriage, not by blood. You’ve known him your entire life, though, so you figure you might as well be.

Eddie knows this, so he smiles and takes a rather dramatic step back from you. “And that is exactly why I have to stay approximately three feet away from you at all times, princess.”

“Why’s that?” you squint at him.

When you take another step closer, he takes two more back.

“‘Cause he’s been threatening to beat my ass about dating you since we were thirteen.”

A smile quirks the right side of your lips. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you lilt.

Eddie’s brows raise at the mischievous inflection in your words. This time when you step towards him, he stays in place. “You’d really do that to him? To the ‘best brother ever?’”

You take another daring step towards him. Your chin tilts up to look at him in your ever-shortening proximity. “I’ve done far worse things than think his best friend is hot, Teddy.”

“Yeah?” the boy coos, chocolate eyes dancing with amusement as his chin dips to his chest to peer down at you. He makes the mistake of looking lower — at your breasts in your pretty little tank top and the silver of your stomach showing beneath the hem. He wants so desperately to hold you, despite everything that tells him he shouldn’t. His best friend, namely.

“And what’s that, princess?” the boy croons to you.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you blink innocently up at him, then shrug. “Sorry.”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he is.

You’re not his, but god, you were so good at making him feel like you were. You were around so often, always so sweet in your way — sometimes, it felt like you really did belong to him. The thought of his girl with someone else makes him feel like puking.

Jealousy radiates from him like steam, palpable enough for you to feel.

You grin.

“Don’t worry, Teddy,” you singsong, taking another goddamn step closer. Eddie knows he should be taking a thousand more backward, but your chest brushes his torso and he forgets how to walk. “I only have eyes for you.”

The boy swallows through a tightening throat. He nods for a moment, trying to work up the courage to use his voice. He’s scared that it’ll break, and he’ll lose all cool points with you. And he’s the rockstar, the older brother’s best friend — he can’t possibly have that.

“Good to know,” Eddie finally nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. Might have to find some other metalhead to give me attention.”

Your smile widens when his jaw clenches, honeyed glaze hardening at the thought of you finding someone else. Your heart flutters when you realize that he sees you as his. He’s already been yours for a long, long time.

Gareth calls your name from a distance, muffled and far away. It’s nearly inaudible, but it knocks Eddie from his stupor all the same. “You should go, princess.”

“My parents usually go to bed around nine. Gareth’s usually sucking in the ceiling by eleven,” you maunder suddenly, wide eyes sparkling with roguishness. “If you park your van a few houses down around midnight, no one will be the wiser…”

“You want me to sneak into your bedroom?” Eddie laughs softly to himself. He hasn’t done that since he was sixteen. He thought he was over chasing girls like that. Turns out, he wasn’t really. Not when it came to you, at least.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a firm nod, lips wrapping around the red straw of your slushy right after.

“And what’s in it for me, huh?”

Truth be told, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He already knows he’ll be at your house at 12 o’clock sharp, climbing up your trellis like some kind of offbeat Spiderman. He just wants to hear you tell him something, anything — a wish for him to go on for the next several hours while he’s stuck dealing in the heat, thinking about you.

You don’t answer him with words.

You rise on the tips of your toes, holding onto your Slurpee with one hand and using your free one to cup his cheek. You usher the boy softly towards you as you press your mouth to his. And it’s not the most heated kiss in the world or anything — just a languid, honeyed thing that makes your lips lock like they were made to do it.

Eddie’s idling hands rise to your waist. His ringed fingers squeeze the bare skin of your sides as he sighs against your mouth. You taste cold and sweet — like blue raspberry and ice and lipgloss — his savior in this heat. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours, desperate to melt with you entirely. He thinks it might be close to possible, having you so close in the sweltering summer evening.

He’s breathless when you pull away from him.

“More of that,” you answer through labored breaths. “And maybe a little extra, if you’re good.”

Eddie doesn’t bother denying his want for you anymore. Fuck it, he’ll just fight his best friend. He can take a punch if he has to, but he’s not sure Gareth could even throw one — especially not at the boy he’s known for practically half his life.

“Your bedroom’s the last window on the light, right?” Eddie asks through rosy, kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you grin, backing slowly away from him. “I’ll leave my light on.”

He nods until the words catch up with him. “Okay.”

“See you then, Teddy.”

When you turn the corner for the main parking lot, Eddie can finally breathe again.

The air is noticeably less sweet without you around.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #bug's summer fic fest!

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character-babblings · 2 months

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i am once again on my Luke Castellan bullshit but listen hear me out.

MDNIIIIIIII 18+ only

Luke who is so in love with the daughter of Eros. he swear she put every single star in the sky. he's always watching from a distance. he's so obsessed with the way she just floats around campus. watching her sit in a meadow when she thinks she's alone. he watches as she eats fruit and how it stains her delicate finger tips. the way the sun just glows on her skin. it drives him crazy. he just has to have you. and he does everything from picking flowers to making cute little gifts for you. finally caving and saying yes to being his.

and you both love each other so hard. like romeo and juliet style. you do anything and everything together. like when you play capture the flag he's making sure your hear is all right and tight before giving your helmet a kiss and telling you to be safe in your designated area.

then that night you two sneak off and make your way to the water. and he just lets you talk about anything that comes to your mind ever. occasionally chiming in or tucking some hair behind your ear and making you blush. he just fucking loves you.

and when it came to making love he was willing do whatever you wanted. he can eat you out for however long you can take it. he loves eating you out on the beach (with a blanket under you of course to protect you) kissing every inch of your body and telling how much you mean to him. he's a whiney mess sometimes. like if you get on top and ride him doing slow and deep strokes as the moonlight just makes you fucking grow. he's reaching grabbing for the back of your head with hooded eyes so he can kiss you.

"oh pretty girl. you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen. everything about you is so gorgeous. look in my eyes and tell me what you need sweet girl." when you tell him you need him so back he's quick to flip you over. his thrust picking up slightly as he can practically fucking feel you cream all over him. "fuck i can feel you getting wetter sweet girl. do you feel me right here?" guiding your hand to the bulge in your lower tummy as you whine. "oh princess don't whine like that. i'll blow inside you way too fucking quick. just be patient little one." he grunts in your ear as his teeth tease your ear lobe. as he soaks in every inch of your naked body. he's so obsessed with every curve, with every stretch mark, with every mark or scar. he's obsessed with fucking you.

and sometimes he just really needs to fucking give it to you. when he's frustrated he likes to use you. well actually you like it A LOT when you let him do whatever he needs to do. and of course he loves his little fuck doll. his fuck doll who just gets so insatiable sometimes. pawing at his pants in the middle of the forest begging to put it in your mouth as his hand goes to caress your face.

"of course you can, my pretty little slut. you can suck on it as long as you want. but i'm cumming so deep in your pussy. my pussy i should say. because this sweet little dripping thing? belongs to me. let me hear you say it sweet girl..." he trails off. "your pussy sir." you mumble. he sighs giving your face a slight sharp tap. "that's not how you should say it. open" as he spits in your mouth before prompting again. when you finally correct yourself he smiles before just wrecking your mouth

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut

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senamarais · 2 years

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4.04 a touch of eva Nate Archibald looks part 2,

like or reblog if you save please <3

#nate archibald #nate archibald outfits #nate archibald looks #chace crawford #gossip girl #gossip girl aesthetic #gossip girl fashion #Aesthetic #fashion #gossip girl couple #nate x juliet #juliet sharp

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justmeinadaze · 4 months

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Little Girl Gone (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is the story I mentioned yesterday! Trying something new for me but I hope y'all enjoy it. I've always found Mafia Eddie incredible sexy <3. This is an AU with a mixture of Stranger Things you will definitely recognize :). I wrote with the idea that Hawkins is a big city so keep that in mind lol

Warnings: Mafia Gangster Eddie/ Officer (slightly mean) Steve Harrington/ Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, use of the color system, degrading if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, etc.

ANGST, Obviously (and not just because I am me lol), Eddie runs a rival gang in Hawkins and is in love with Steve (Romeo and Juliet style), Steve mentions being jumped and Eddie retaliates getting hurt in the process, mentions of murders by Eddie, Reader takes care of them both performing surgery on the gangster, guns are pulled and our boys are threatened, cliff hanger ending because I can.

Word Count: 8284

"Little girl gone, got a gun from a gangster Run little girl, run little girl, bang, ha."

“Officer Steve Harrington.”, you read from his chart as you enter the exam room before flashing him a big smile. “I’m Dr. Y/L/N. How can I help you today?”

“My, uh, Captain said I needed to come get a checkup. I was wounded in the line of duty a few days ago.”

“Oh no. I’m really sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

“Does that matter?”, he snapped.

You dealt with sassy patients on the regular. It came with the territory especially in the area your office was located in. In this part of the city, your clinic usually catered to people who didn’t want to check in at a regular hospital because their name could get dinged for other offenses. You always felt like everyone deserved care so when you opened your clinic, you made sure to do what you could within the means and resources you had available.

Officers normally never entered your building but within these past few months you had seen them more and more frequently. You had heard rumors of a new gang in the area trying to make things more…democratic…so there was less chaos in the streets but in turn that brought more of a police presence because most of the people around here hated being threatened into submission reacting violently if need be.

Thankfully, you weren’t easily shaken so this admittedly good-looking man of the law raising his voice didn’t frighten you one bit.

“It does if you want me to assess you properly.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I like to be polite at first. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or should I mark in your file here that you refused to answer so your Captain can deal with you?”

Steve’s amber eyes scanned you over briefly before a small smirk painted his beautiful lips.

“I got jumped by one of the rival gangs in the area. Beat me up pretty good.”

Sitting in your wheely chair, you slid toward him and carefully lifted off his shirt, his face wincing as he lifted his arms. Large purple bruises were splattered along his ribs and around to his back. Just from the wounds alone, you could tell he was kicked and punched repeatedly. His face had some scratches and swelling but it looked like nothing compared to his upper torso.

“Oh wow. I’m so sorry. Did you go to the hospital?”

“I did. They did some X-rays and shit. Thankfully nothing was broken but, obviously, moving around has been hard.”

“Beside the bruising, have you experienced any other pain? Like a sharp stabbing pain in your side or anything like that?”

“Uh, no. Just emotional pain.”, he chuckles as his eyes look past you into a memory.

“Ok, I’ll get you some medicine I think will help as well as some cream to sooth the pain of those bruises and swelling. I’ll be right back.”

You weren’t gone long but as you were returning you could vaguely hear his voice through the door between you both.

“Naw, she said she’s going to get me some meds and shit…Baby! Seriously, you worry too much. I’m fine… No, NO. Don’t you dare go over there or I swear God—” Hastily, he hung up his phone when he heard you knock and reenter the room he was in. “Sorry. That was my, um, my boss checking in. Just reiterated what you told me.”

“Good. Now this will help with the pain…”, you instruct as you hand him some medication before flashing him the cream. “…and this will help with the swelling. Just put this on your bruises every six hours and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

Opening the bottle, you squeeze some of the medicine in your hand, and gently rub it along his admittedly muscular abs.

“You’re, um, going to feel it tingle a bit and feel warm but after a few moments it will cool down.”

That smirk you saw previously appeared on his lips again when he caught you staring as your hands slowly rubbed along his skin.

“That feels really good actually. Your hands not the cream.”

“Hm. I’m sure your girlfriend touches you enough.” Steve raises an eyebrow at your insinuation. “I mean unless you call your captain ‘baby’.”

A slightly nervous sigh leaves you as the officer’s grin grows and his eyes meet yours.

“Hm. Bad girl listening in on my phone calls. Do you always misbehave like that?”

“This is my clinic, Officer Harrington. I can do whatever I want especially when I have signs everywhere that say, ‘No Cell Phones in the Exam Room.’”

His palm abruptly takes hold of your wrist, pulling you closer to him till your nose was just above his own.

“This may be your clinic, honey, but these are my streets. I keep order here.”

“I think the gangs here would disagree.”

“Pfft, like you know anything about what goes on out there.”, he spits as he lets you go.

After throwing a scowl his way, you pretend to be preoccupied with washing your hands.

“I know that when I first moved here, the fatality rate in this area was extremely high until that new gang leader took over the Munson crew. I believe, if the rumors are correct, the new boss is actually the son of the old leader Al Munson. Since the son has taken over, oddly enough, the streets have become safer. More kids come out to play and I’ve seen less addicts in the last couple of months.”

As you dry your hands and turn to face him, you notice the hardened look on the officer’s face as he listens to you speak.

“I also know there have been more of a police presence on this side of town as well. I’ve seen a lot of innocent civilians put in ambulances or worse due to the push back of change. Tell me, Officer Harrington, which side are you on? Which gang did that to you? The Munson’s or The Carver’s?”

“I’m on the side of peace. That’s my job.”, he seethes through gritted teeth.

“Yeah… you’re good to go, officer. Have a nice day.”, you growl in annoyance as you leave the room without waiting for him to retort.

##############

Today had been an incredibly long day. After your appointment with Officer Harrington, you had back-to-back visits from so many clients just needing a little bit of help. Your mind was racing as you and your staff did what you could but the truth was you desperately needed more funding. You were running low on supplies and the equipment you had wasn’t the best. It killed you to see your patient’s sad faces when you strongly recommended they head to the nearest hospital for certain tests that you just couldn’t provide at that time.

Your mind was still racing as you began to gather your things to head out for the evening which is most likely why you didn’t even hear him till you exited your office and were met with a gun pointed at your face.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not…I’m not here to hurt you. We need help.”, Steve panted with a heavy breath as the weapon shook in his hand. He was still dressed in the uniform he was wearing when you last saw him but now it was stained in blood and sweat.

“I-I-I…”

Roughly, he took hold of your bicep and dragged you to your waiting room where another man was sitting with his head leaning against the wall. You knew he wasn’t a cop because he wasn’t dressed like the man beside you but instead in an expensive looking black suit with the white button up shirt underneath his jacket now stained with red. You noticed immediately his palm was holding his side and that area of his clothing was a darker shade than all the rest.

“I can’t help with a wound like that. He needs a hospital.”

“Oh you don’t say?”, he snarled as he tugged you to his chest. “If I could have taken him to a fucking hospital I would have! But I brought him to you, now HELP HIM!”

“Steven!”, the long-haired man grumbled as he looked your way. “Be nice. She’s just being…honest. Right, sweetheart?” He sighs when you nod and tries to get to his feet but the officer is quicker, running to his side to help him stand. “See, the thing is, princess, if I go to a hospital I’ll die anyway…because they will put me…in jail especially after they find out…what-what I did tonight.”

“What did you do?”

“That doesn’t fucking matter right now. He’s losing blood and fast!”

Swallowing nervously, you step forward to unbutton his shirt and examine the cut you found. He needed stitches as soon as possible and most likely a blood transfusion unless someone got to his wound fast enough. Gesturing them both to follow you, you power walk to an exam room and begin searching for supplies as Steve carefully places the man on the table. While he removes the bloody clothes from his top half, you prep a syringe.

“Is he allergic to anything?”

“No. What is that, that you’re giving him?”

“It’s a pain killer. It won’t be as strong as ones at a hospital but…”

As you stick the needle into his stomach just above his cut, he flinches causing Steve’s expression to flood with worry as he moves the man’s hair out of his face. After quickly cleaning the area, you let out a long sigh as you glance their way.

“Even with the shot, this is going to hurt a lot I’m afraid. I’ll try to go as fast as I can but, officer, if you can distract him that may help.”

The man on the table chuckles as he turns his head towards his friend.

“She keeps calling you ‘officer’. Did… you not tell her your name? Or did you… scare her too much to use it?” He cringes as he hisses once you begin sewing in his stitches. “You like to…pretend to be so badass…but we both know you’re a…sweetheart.”

“Pretend to be a badass, huh? You’re one to talk.”, Steve scolds in a light sounding tone as he softly places his forehead against his own. “Eddie, I told you not to go over there.”

“They tried to hurt what was mine…”, he growled low in his throat even making you pause for a moment before focusing again on your task. “They wanted to send a message, well, message received.”

“I could have handled it.”

Grabbing Steve’s cheeks roughly, he brings his lips to his own.

“No one takes my things and NO ONE hurts what’s mine. You belong to me, baby, and I promised I’d keep you safe.”

Finishing his sutures, you bandage him up and wrap some gauze around his lower waist.

“Thank you.”, he whispers exhaustedly as he extends his shaky hand towards you. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re safe and I promise neither of us are going to hurt you. I’m Edward Munson but you can call me Eddie.” Your eyes widen as you slowly back away from them causing Steve to rise to his feet. “Ah. I see you’ve heard of me. Then you know you can trust me.”

Eddie tries to stand as well but sways before Steve steadies him.

“You…you should be in a hospital. That wound needs to be looked after and you need to rest.”

“I can take care of him.”

“Steve…”

“No. No you can’t. That’s why you brought him to me.”, you sass in frustration as you try to display an air of confidence. Both men scan you over as they try to get a read on you as you continue. “If you refuse to go to a hospital, then give me your address and I can come—”

“No. No addresses. We can’t have you giving it to the police.”

“Oh you mean you?!”

You and Steve square off, tightening your stances as you glare at each other until Eddie laughed beside you both.

“Brave girl with attitude. I like it.”

“I don’t. Little girl needs to be put in her place.”

“I highly doubt you’re the man to do that.”, you sass.

“Yeah well good thing there’s two of us, honey, and trust me, whatever I start Eddie can definitely finish.”

Sighing, you fold your arms as you argue with the internal dialogue inside your head.

“You can come to my apartment but I have one condition. After he heals, I never want to see either of you again.”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Eddie finally nods.

“You have a deal, princess.”

############

“Um, I don’t have a spare room or anything but the couch is comfortable. Just make sure to stay on your back if you can.” Eddie nods as Steve places him down and hastily begins removing the gear attached to him. “Let me grab some blankets and pillows.”

Disappearing into your bedroom, you grab any extra bedding you had and began to head their way but paused when you heard them talking.

“Why are you being mean to her? I thought you said she took care of you.”

“She did. I just… I was worried about you. It’s my job to take care of you to, honey.”

“And snapping at the woman who’s trying to help will do what exactly?” Steve laughs through his teeth at Eddie question. “I think it’s because you like her.”

“Pfft what?”

“Oh, look at Officer Harrington blushing.”, the long-haired man teases as he reaches out to touch the boy’s face. “I know I just met her and she was busy saving my life but I can see why…”, he chuckles before wincing as he grabs his side.

“Are you alright?”, you ask as you come back to the living room and kneel down on your knees in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve been through way worse than this.”

You take quick note of his wound before handing Steve the things you found, watching with fascination as he tosses the things for him to the side before placing the pillow on his lap and guiding the man back to lay down.

“If, um, if you notice it bleeding through or he starts getting a fever, come and get me immediately.”

The officer nods as he throws the blanket over Eddie and comfortingly rests his hand on his chest, his thumb gently running along the man’s tattooed skin.

***

Your alarm goes at 4am that morning, startling you as you shoot up right. Groggily, you shuffled to your bathroom and grabbed the items Eddie would need so you could change his bandages. Both men were fast asleep when you entered the living room, Steve still clinging to him with his other hand very close to where his gun was resting on the little table you had beside your couch.

“Mr. Munson?”, you whisper as you sit on the coffee table across from them. When he didn’t stir you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to visually take in one of the most notorious gangsters in the city. You had never seen a picture of him and he definitely wasn’t what you pictured when you heard the rumors from people in the clinic.

He did have an air of control surrounding him but his voice and face were incredibly soft especially when it came to Steve. You heard him get upset though so you imagined that amplified out in the streets and you hoped you never met that version of him. He had a lot of tattoos painting his upper torso that seemed completely random except for the symbol of his gang that was tattooed on many other men and women you had seen previously minus the tiny initials “S.H.” inscribed within the design.

Eddie was fairly muscular appearing more toned in his abs and upper arms. Slightly blocking your view was Steve’s massive palm over his chest, almost as if that was his way to make sure the man was still breathing. He had been exceptionally rude with you but with the gangster, he transformed before your eyes, becoming softer and listening to everything the other man said without question. They both obviously seemed to care strongly about each other which you found slightly amusing given their slight Romeo and Juliet story; one being a cop and the other a criminal.

“Mr. Munson.”

Extending your hand, you tried gently shaking his upper shoulder and in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and held you tightly as he raised his fist in the air prepared to defend himself. Swallowing nervously, you froze as his intense eyes scanned your own.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t…” Eddie promptly let you go and winced as he sat up in front of you.

“No, no. It’s ok. After what happened, I completely understand. I just need to check you out and rewrap your wound.”

“Would it be easier for you if we went to the table?”

“Oh, no, this is ok but I do have to turn on the light.”

Eddie follows your eyes as you glance towards Steve.

“Trust me, it won’t bother him one bit. I don’t think he’s had a consistent night’s sleep since he was hurt.”

“How long have you two been involved?”, you ask as you begin the task in front of you hoping to distract him as well from the pain.

“In my business or each other?”, he smirks when you breathily laugh. “Both answers are more or less the same. He had the balls to arrest me on a charge we both knew wouldn’t stick. I knew he was different when he tried to get me to flip sides and sell out my friends. Usually, cops knew better than to do that especially with me.”

The gangster paused when you tried to clean his cut, flinching as he gritted his teeth.

“What happened? Did he take you in?”

“No, I did when I let him fuck me handcuffed in the back of his cruiser.”, he chuckled, slightly surprised when you did as well. “We’ve been watching out for each other ever since. He’s actually not as big of an asshole as he seems. Steve just has a big heart and wants to take care of everything himself. He likes to be the big, strong man, you know? That’s why he’s been so short lately.”

“What happened there? He didn’t tell me; just said he was jumped.”

“I don’t think that’s something you should know. The less we tell you the better.”

“Mr. Munson, you, a well-known Mafia style gang leader, showed up at my clinic after hours with a police officer bleeding out. I think that line has been crossed.”, you grin up at him finding his eyes watching you again. “I assume it was someone from Carver’s side. You told Steve something about them sending a message.”

“Yeah… Jason Carver isn’t exactly a fan of mine even more so since I took over. My dad was always a…shoot first ask questions later which is why he’s in jail right now. He was sloppy and greedy like Jason. I don’t want to hurt people I don’t have to.” Leaning forward, you start wrapping the gauze around him but you can’t help to inhale the strong scent of cigarettes and cologne. You don’t see it but his own head tilts slightly, inhaling your shampoo from the night before when you finally had time for a shower and the regular smells of your office that attached to your skin.

Eddie’s lips ever so slightly grazed your shoulder that was exposed due to the tank top you were currently wearing causing you to shutter softly as you pulled back to cut the bandage.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”, he asked in a low tone that had you exhaling as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Mr. Munson, I work in a city filled with crime and scared citizens. I don’t really have the luxury of being afraid.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Calloused fingers reached out to grip the bottom of your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. “Even though I take no pleasure in it, I have hurt and killed people. I killed two people just last night. Carver got the idea in his head that roughing up the man I love would have me submitting to him and his whims. I’m not the submissive type and I made sure he knew that by slitting the throats of the two men that put hands on him. I don’t regret it and I’d do it again.”

“How did you get hurt then?”

“Unfortunately, Carver isn’t an idiot. He had more men appear and try to take us out. Steve showed up and someone pulled a knife… Let’s just say that someone got in a good attempt before I snapped his neck.”

The way he spoke about such violent things was so even, almost as if he could be reading from a grocery list. This was his every day and you could tell by his tone he knew it would continue to be. But there was something about him… something that made you feel safe.

“No, I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Munson.”

“I think under the circumstances, you can call me Eddie.”

A cell phone ringing pulled you both apart but didn’t stir the man it belonged to as he continued to snore with his head leaning over the back of the couch.

“Steve. Steven.”, the man called as he shook his arm rousing him from his deep sleep. “Your phone is ringing.”

Without opening his eyes, the officer reached into his pocket, producing his device, and placing it to his ear as he answered with gravelly “yeahs” and “mhmms”.

“I have to go in. Someone called in about the shooting on the eastside and they found Carver’s guys.” Rubbing his eyes and as if he forgot you were there, Steve tenderly kissed Eddie’s lips before rising to his feet and putting on all of his gear once more. “Please keep an eye on him and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I have to go to work.” Pausing, he exhaled heavily as he turned and flashed you an annoyed look. “I have to. It would look weird if I didn’t. I’ve never missed a day but if we leave early enough…I can bring him with me and keep him in my office.”

“Is it ok to move him that much?”

As if to prove a point, Eddie rose to his feet.

“I’ll be ok. I’m a quick healer. Don’t worry about us.”

###############

Thankfully, you didn’t have too many patients today so you were able to keep yourself locked in your office with the gangster you were attempting to hide. As soon as you brought him in, he fell asleep on your office couch, allowing you to leave him be so you could do what you needed.

As you were reading a chart however you heard giggling in the exam room beside your office and quickly went to investigate, finding Eddie sitting next to a child on the exam table making her laugh.

“Look, princess, you can’t trick me like that.”

“It’s thumb war! You have to be stronger.”

“Ok, best two out of three.”

“Kylie, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”, you beam trying not to startle either of them.

“Hey Dr. Y/L/N! My mom told me to come down to see if you had any more samples of my inhaler.”

“Oh, honey. I don’t. I’m so sorry. I usually try and save one for you but I had another patient who had an emergency so I had to give it to him.”

“Why do you need an inhaler? Is it for the other people whose breath you take away because you’re so adorable?”

Kylie giggles as she turns towards Eddie and blushes.

“No! I have asthma. My mommy brings me here to get my medicine because we can’t afford the stores.”, she sighs as her head hangs.

The man’s eyes meet your sympathetic ones before softly smiling and giving the little girl his attention again.

“Hey. Can you keep a secret?” The small child nods in earnest making his smile widen. “Have you heard of a little convenience store called Cunningham’s Corner? It’s about a 5-minute walk from here. Go to that store and ask for Chrissy. Tell her Eddie sent you and you need an inhaler. She’ll give it to you for free.”

Kylie’s eyes widen as if this man just told her a fairytale.

“Free?”

“Mhmm. But you can’t tell anyone! Because then other people will take advantage.”

After giving him a hug, she jumps down from the table and starts to head for the door.

“Hey! Here. Give Miss Cunningham this paper when you tell her what you need, ok?”, you instruct as you hand her a prescription with the name of what she needs.

“Ok. Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N!”

“Thank you. That was really nice of you.”

Rising from his seat, he waddles with you back to your office.

“It’s not a problem. I heard her coughing and crying so I wanted to make sure she was alright. Is she a regular?”

“Yeah and, unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for her to come by herself. Her mom is a single mother who works 60hrs a week trying to make ends meet. They came to me when she started having her symptoms but there’s only so much I can do here with my resources.”

“Are you underfunded?”

“Yeah. I do what I can but because of where I’m located…”

“Why don’t you move to a better location?”

“I can’t do that. I can’t leave these people. They need someone to help them since a regular clinic would immediately turn them away since a lot of them have no money or no insurance.”

“You’re a very kind woman, Y/N.”

Flashing him a smile, a knock makes you jump as you quickly get up to see who it is.

“It’s Hawkins PD Detective Jim Hopper. I’d like to have word with you for a moment.”

Right as you scan your room, Eddie hides himself in front of you against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen when you finally open the door between you and the gentleman.

“May, uh, my we come in?”

“We?”, you ask as your eyes flick to the wide, stern eyes of Steve behind him. “What’s this about, detective?”

“I don’t know if you heard but we had a gang related fight in the area and we got some intel that Edward Munson may have been severally wounded.”

“Ok? And what does that have to do with me?”

“It wasn’t far from your clinic so we thought, maybe, you heard something or saw something?”

“What time was this?”

“Around 7-8pm.”

“My clinic closes at 6 so—”

“I mean, as a doctor though I’m sure you work late hours—”

“Not last night.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie mime with his hand for you to calm down a bit and you close your eyes as you sigh before responding again. “I’m sorry, Officers. It’s just been a rough week. I left early last night to come in early this morning and do some work. I haven’t heard or seen anything but I can be on the lookout.”

Hopper nods, tilting his hat as he begins to walk away.

“I’m just going to give her some details and information so she knows what to be on the lookout for exactly.”, Steve informs his colleague who confirms before disappearing to lean against the waiting room desk.

Pulling out his notepad, he steps closer to you pretending to write things down.

“Where is he?”, Steve whispers, smirking when your eyes flick to the side. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“You like it.”, Eddie murmurs. “Should we be worried?”

“No, a few of Carver’s guys are in the morgue.”

You had seen many people come and go during your time as a physician so when the officer shook his head looking away down the hallway, you could tell he was lying.

“What aren’t you telling him?”

Steve’s angry, amber eyes met yours as an annoyed grunt left his lips.

“Nothing. Stay in your lane, doctor.”

“Hey.”, Eddie growled low beside you. “Watch your tone. You wouldn’t keep anything from me would you, Steven?”

“I was questioned this morning seeing as how I was jumped and then suddenly men from Carver’s gang show up dead.”, the cop sighs. “I told you not to go over there.”

You could feel the tension rising between them but you were still being watched and couldn’t risk the gangster being seen. Eddie was slipping to far in his own frustration to think that far as he began pushing off the wall to scold his partner but you quickly placed your hand on his chest lightly pushing him back down.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“No.”, he responds to your question. “But I am being watched a lot closer hence the detective.”

“And your bruises?”

“Huh?”

“You were hurt to. Is the medicine helping at all?”

Steve’s eyes take in your face clocking in your genuine concern.

“It is actually. Thank you.” When you smile back at his answer a tooth filled grin paints his features. “I, um, I should be done here by about 7 or so. I’ll head to your place, come get him, and then…we’ll be out of your hair.”

#############

“Ok, so, make sure to keep this clean and if you find yourself in any excruciating pain or like I told Steve if you get a fever come back to me so I can take a look.”

“Hm. I thought you never wanted to see us again.”, Eddie teased as he carefully put back on the shirt you gave him.

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I want you to get sick or die or whatever.”

The gangster’s smile grew as he watched you blush.

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend or husband or whatever?”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“Because if you were our girl, there’s no way I would have gone two days without calling or checking in and I’d definitely have something to say if I found two men sleeping here.”

“Our girl?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Any woman I date is with Steve as well and most can barely handle my attitude and temper let alone both of ours.”

“You seem nice enough to me.”

“I can be mean when I want to be.”

“I’m always busy…to answer your question. A lot of relationships I’ve had can’t handle my schedule.”

“Hm, I understand that. Steve and I have conflicting schedules all the time.” Eddie’s eyes watch you as you gather the trash from cleaning his cut and head towards the trashcan to avoid his gaze. “But we make time for each other. That’s what you do when you care about someone.”

“Yeah, well, I guess no one really cares about me.”, you sassily smirk as you sigh and wash your hands in the sink.

Feeling the energy shift, you turn coming chest to chest with the man himself.

“I care about you. Steve cares about you.”

“I’m pretty sure Officer Harrington hates me.”, you giggle but it tapers off when his face remains stoic.

“He doesn’t. He wouldn’t have brought me to you if he didn’t trust you.”

“You don’t know me, Eddie.”

“I know enough.”

Shaking your head, you laugh again trying to lighten the intense atmosphere as you begin to walk back towards the living room but his hand promptly grabs your bicep and moves you till your standing in front of him once more.

“You saved me and helped him. I just watched you all day take care of people who can’t normally afford care. You have a kind heart and you’re extremely beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?”

A knock on your door startled you but not him as he continued to stare down at you waiting for an answer. Silently, you allowed Steve entry who immediately took in your rattled appearance.

“Everything ok?”

“Mhmm. I was just asking Y/N if she knew how beautiful she was.”

His gorgeous, honey hues widen slightly as if he was surprised before turning his attention back to you.

“You know you are, right?”

“I-I think you both should leave.”, you whisper with little to no confidence in what you were saying.

“Is that what you want?”, he mused as he strolled further into your apartment. “Because we can leave right now and like you asked, disappear from your life forever. Or, maybe, you can let us thank you properly.”

“I thought you didn’t like me…said you wanted to put me in my place.”

They both chuckle making your face turn a deep crimson in embarrassment.

“Baby, that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means that I think I’d have a lot of fun playing with you.”

“Playing with me?”

Steve subtly nods his head as Eddie slowly moves closer to the living room where you two were standing.

“Teasing you, kissing you, taking care of you…taking control of you and your gorgeous body till you’re begging me to let you cum.” Tilting his head, his eyes meet yours as his fingers caress your face. “When’s the last time you had someone take care of you?”

The other man comes up behind you, sandwiching you between them as he gently places his palm on your stomach under your blouse.

“I asked you something, honey.”

“It’s been a while.”, you jest making Steve smirk as Eddie stepped closer to you till your back was to his chest. His hand continued to run along your skin with his fingers just barely floating under the waistband of your pants before coming back up to rub your stomach. “I’m scared.”

Everyone freezes in place at your words but as the gangster tries to drop his hand, you quickly catch it and hold it in place back on your tummy.

“Of us?”, he asks.

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Resting his head on your shoulder, his palm wonders again this time going further as you feel him slide into your underwear and cup his hand around your heat.

“You won’t, sweetheart. I promise, you’re safe with us. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“And neither will I. I can protect you from getting in any kind of trouble with the law or anything like that. You have two men here who control both sides of the coin…” As Steve’s voice dropped into a more and more seductive register, Eddie’s lips gently pecked your shoulder and up to your neck as his finger graze your clit while gliding them through your folds.

“You just need to let go and let us control you.”

“Fuck.”, you groaned as he slid two of his digits into your core.

“Is that a yes?”, Steve chuckles sassily as he watches your eyes close as you lean your head against his boyfriend.

“I think so, Harrington, because pretty girl here is just dripping all over my hand.”

“Yeah? We need to hear her say it though. Do you want us to take care of you tonight, honey?”

“H-He—mmm—Eddie can’t with his…with his cut.”

“Oh trust me, Y/N, that won’t be an issue. Now answer my question, please.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to take care of me.”

As if they could read each other’s minds, Eddie’s hand slipped out of your pants and Steve picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried you to your bedroom.

“Ow! Something in your vest is stabbing me, Officer Harrington.”, you giggle before he tosses you onto your mattress.

“Sorry. I forgot to take this stuff off. I was blindsided by a stupid question when I came in.”, he grinned as he began removing his equipment and placed them on your bedside table.

Eddie carefully climbed in and you hastily set up pillows so he could lean back comfortable against your headboard.

“Thank you. I don’t think that question was ever answered. DO you know how beautiful you are?”

“Sometimes I need reminding.”, you sigh as your nervous eyes meet his soft ones.

“We can do that, sweetheart.”

Taking hold of your cheeks, he brought your lips to his and your body ignited with an electricity you had never felt before as his lips carefully but firmly mingled with yours. Steve’s laugh echoed through your room as he looped his arm around your waist and pulled you away from the gangster to bring you in front of him at the edge of the bed.

He had taken off his shirt and out of habit as a doctor you scanned his bruises to make sure he was ok. Clocking your care once again, his fingers gripped your chin and brought your mouth to his own.

“It’s ok. I’m still a bit sore but you helped me a lot.”

As he continued to kiss your lips, you allowed him to undress you making him pause when you were fully naked in front of them.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I told you, princess…beautiful.”, Eddie grinned.

Smiling widely at their compliments, your hands roamed Steve’s chest, kissing a trail along the way till you reached his belt and fumbled with the barrier before fully pushing down his pants. You gasped when his cock sprang free causing them both the chuckle again as you practically gapped at the size.

“I know. It was a shock to me to.”, the gangster teased as the officer stuck out his tongue playfully.

“You liked it. And I promise, honey, you’ll like it to.”

Gripping the base, he held his mushroom tip towards your lips and moaned when your tongue darted out to lick the small beads of precum that had begun to leak. Steve pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch as you slowly wrapped your mouth around him and gradually began bobbing your head.

“Shit. Atta girl. Flatten that tongue. J-Just like that.”

Another set of hands softly ran down you back and over your ass before the cool sting of metal hit your behind.

“Did you like that, pretty girl? Did you like Eddie spanking you?”, the officer asked when you moaned loudly.

Fingers glided ever so slightly through your pussy lips and even you couldn’t deny hearing the squishy sound of your slick that obscenely filled your bedroom.

“Oh Stevie. She definitely enjoyed that.”

“Yeah? You like it a bit rough, little girl?”

Eddie guided his middle and ring fingers inside of you eliciting a mewl from your throat that had the man inside of your mouth grunting with pleasure.

“Fuck. I think…I think you can take me a bit deeper.”

Thrusting his hips a bit, you gag around him spilling drool and spit down his length as you mentally take note of the fact that that wasn’t all of him you choked on.

“Come on, honey, take more. I know you can, baby.”

Tears stream down your face as you try but barely take more of him in. Gripping your jaw, he pulls out of your mouth and leans his face in front of yours as his eyes search yours.

“Green, good. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Fuck… green.”

“Ok, then why are you crying? We haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“I-I-I wanna take more. I want to make you feel good to.”

You heard your tone as it came out of your mouth but you barely recognized it. You sounded like a child who was told she couldn’t play outside because it was raining. What was it about these men that transformed you in this way? In relationships or even one-night stands, you never cared about this kind of thing. Usually, men never complained and you were never fully satisfied after they left resorting to your vibrator to get you the rest of the way.

But for whatever reason, you wanted to impress them. You desperately wanted them to feel good because some part of you had a feeling that they were going to do the same for you.

Steve’s eyes softened as Eddie’s fingers slowed inside of you.

“Be nice to her, babe. She’s got a good heart and she did take care of us.”

“Can you keep your mouth open for me, pretty girl?” He grins when you nod your head, wiping your tears with his thumb before kissing your cheek. “And you are making me feel good. Your mouth feels fucking amazing.”

You beam with pride as you do what he asked, whimpering when Eddie began building you up again.

Holding your head still, Steve guided his cock back between your lips, doing the slow thrusts he was doing before as you kept your mouth closed around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as his pace began to quicken, his tip occasionally hitting the back of your throat.

“There you go, baby. T-That’s it. See? Doing—fuck—doing so well. Now, stay still.”

As he began fucking your face, the gangster matched his pace making you groan as obscenities flowed from the officer’s mouth.

“Shit. Take it, little girl. That’s right. You love the taste of my cock in your throat, don’t you?” Reaching over you, his hand calm down hard on your ass and your palm pushed at his legs signaling you needed air. “Are you gonna cum? Ask him, Y/N. Ask Eddie if it’s ok.”, he commanded as he forced your head towards the other man.

“Eddie, please. Please… can I…”

“Yeah, princess. Cum on my fingers.”

You collapsed as you came, moaning loudly into the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. You weren’t given much time however as Steve manhandled you till you up on your hands and knees again with your face hovering over the bulge in the other man’s pants.

After unbuckling his belt, he pushed them down just enough to free his own cock from his denim confinement and you didn’t hesitate as you wrapped your tiny hands around his thick girth. Hands clung tightly to your waist and you braced yourself when you felt Steve collect some of your arousal with his length before gradually pushing into your entrance.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“How does she feel, Harrington?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to focus on the man in front of you, letting a long glob of spit land on his tip as you stroked it with your hand.

“S-So…So fucking tight.” His palm came down on your ass and you groaned as he continued to push further inside of you.

“I like my view here. Make—mmm—make sure you fuck her nice and deep. Beautiful girl deserves it after everything she’s been through.”

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. I plan on ruining this little pussy.”

Eddie chuckles as he watches Steve lick his lips as your cunt tightens around him at his words.

“What about you, princess?”, he murmurs as he tenderly pets your head.

“He’s…so BIG.”

“Yeah, he is. Does he feel good?” You nod as your head hangs and he promptly grabs your jaw forcing you to look his way. “Say it.”

“Fuck, Steve, you feel so fucking good!”

“That’s a good girl.”

You mewled when you felt him bottom out, his hips connecting with yours, allowing you to feel every inch before he pulled back and slammed back into you. Eddie’s mouth fell open as you bobbed your head on his cock. While he wasn’t as big as his boyfriend, he was definitely thicker and you felt like your mouth was full of him.

He was much gentler with you, continuing to play with your hair and mutter praises as Steve pounded into you, rocking you further down the gangster’s length as you choked and spit around him.

“God, honey, this pussy is too…fucking…good.”, Steve grunted, smacking his lower half into yours between each word. Leaning over you, he rolled his hips, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt as your eyes rolled back. “His dick tastes amazing, doesn’t it? Mmm—fucking love when he shoves it down my throat.”

Moving out of his way, Steve envelopes Eddie into his mouth making the gangster moan as he extends his hand to tangle in his hair. As his boyfriend continued to fuck you, your own groans vibrated against the long haired boy’s balls driving him crazy as he growled through his clenched teeth.

“Fuck! You’re both so fucking sexy. That’s it, baby boy, take my cock.”

After pumping his hips a few times, Eddie let him go and Steve pushed up onto his knees pounding into you till you were seeing stars. Taking the man’s length in your mouth again, you mimicked the other boy’s movements trying to keep a steady pace as you hurdled towards the edge.

“A-Are you about to cum? Fuck, Y/N, you better fucking ask one of us, little girl, if you want to fucking cum!”

Your glassy, needy eyes met the chocolate ones of the man in front of you, pleading as you began to shake.

“Ask, Y/N.”

“Please, Eddie! Please, I need to cum!”

Taking a hold of your hair, he firmly tugged you till your face was fully visible. A small smile flickered across his lips, watching you struggle till he finally nodded granting you permission.

Steve reached around and took hold of your throat, lifting you till you were pressed against him, squeezing you tightly as he fucked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Are you on the pill?”, Steve roughly growled in your ear, his rhythm and intensity increasing when you said yes. “Good because I’m going to fill up this pussy and you’re going to take it like a good little girl. You’re going to take everything I give you and be fucking thankful.”

He grunted in your ear as he held your lower half against him as he rolled his hips aggressively, pumping his release into your cunt.

“Steve.”, Eddie called in a firm tone you barely heard through your haze.

“Excuse me, honey.”

Carefully, he pulled his softening cock out of your aching hole and gently laid you on your side before crawling up the gangster’s legs and taking him into his mouth. You watched with hooded eyes as his boyfriend took him all the way down his shaft, massaging his balls with his palm, as Eddie groaned.

“That’s my good boy. You wanna swallow my cum?”

Steve nodded as his eyes met his own and with a few thrusts of Eddie’s hips, his head fell back as he released his spend down the man’s throat. After sharing a soft but passionate kiss, they turned their attention to you.

“Are you ok, babe? Do you need anything? Water?”

“Will you lay with me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course.”

You didn’t even hesitate when you scoot to Eddie’s side and wrapped your arms around your stomach, placing your head on his chest. The last thing you remember is feeling warmth behind you and the sound of Steve’s steady breathing on your skin before you fell asleep.

***

“DID YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THERE WOULD BE NO CONSEQUENCES?!”

Your head shot up when you heard shouting in your living room. Eddie and Steve were missing but the voice you heard definitely wasn’t theirs. Quickly throwing on the officer’s shirt you listened as the voice continued.

“Did you really think you could come on to our territory, break into one of our stash houses, and kill a bunch of our guys?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how easy it was for me and my guys to break in.”, Eddie responded angrily.

“Shut the fuck up, trailer trash! You think because you moved out here and took over Al’s business, you’re different but you aren’t. You’re still that garbage that he left behind with his brother before you suddenly decided you wanted in. Ah ah ah! Don’t make me shoot you, Steve. I have no problem killing a law man.”

“If you’re not here to kill us, Andrew, then what do you want?”, Steve spat.

Glancing quickly around the room, you realize his gun was still in its holster near your nightstand and as quietly as you could pulled it from its home. Tip toeing out into the hallway, you held it in front of you as you peaked around the corner.

The person you didn’t recognize had his back to you as he pointed his own pistol at Eddie and Steve who both had their hands raised where he could see them.

“Jason just wants Edward so we can make an example of him and what happens when you cross the Carvers.”

“I think you underestimate the Munsons, Andy.” Slowly, you creeped up behind him, praying he wouldn’t turn around. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere. I hope Jason understands that this wasn’t a good move.”

“Yeah well, you can tell him yourself. Now come on or I will shoot him.”, Andrew threatens as he points his weapon Steve.

“Not if we shoot you first.”

At Eddie’s words, you cock the gun and pull the trigger.

##############

532 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

please can you write a little fic about Leah’s beanie in her most recent insta post, like her gf thinking she looks cute and making her post a pic or taking the piss out of Leah for posting a pic in the beanie x

garden gnome II l.williamson

"god its fucking freezing!" you shivered, subbed off with ten minutes to go as your body finally cooled down from all the running, the brisk london air sharp as needles as the wind blew on and you collapsed onto the subs bench.

"thank you less." you sighed in relief as alessia handed you your puffer, the blonde sending you a smile as the two of you leaned into one another a little more to stay warm, lia joining in on your other side.

all three of you jumped to your feet buzzing with new energy as the whistle finally blew announcing your victory. "steffyyy!" you cheered loudly, jumping on the older girls back who stumbled but let out a laugh as you kissed her cheek and hopped down.

"if you play like that with jet lag we're sending you back to melbourne for the week." you teased as she hugged you properly. "puddin points are best cooked under pressure." caitlin flung an arm over your shoulder with a grin as she and steph high fived.

you were flanked by lotte, vic and alessia as you did your thank you lap, clapping to the fans as you caught your girlfriends eye in the stands, clapping up at her making her roll her eyes with a smile as she chatted away to ellie who gave you a wave.

"lovesick much." alessia teased, bumping her shoulder into yours as vic echoed her word making you stick your tongue out at them. "look at her all bundled up and in her little beanie, she's so cute i just wanna go and give her a cuddle." you sighed still looking up at her.

"oi! jealous much?" you pushed vic who gagged at your words, the force of your push sending her tumbling onto her bum as she glared up at you. "run." alessia patted your shoulder as you took off, a string of angry dutch following you as the two of you raced in laps around the pitch until she caught you and punched you sharply in the arm, the team all called in for a huddle.

"hello gorgeous." a pair of arms tightly wound round you from behind as you settled happily into the extra warmth, tilting your head back and smiling up at the older blonde. she stayed holding onto you as you all bunched up for the post match talk, her hands only moving to clap loudly as jonas finished up talking.

"mum wants to see you." leah mumbled with a kiss to your cheek, nodding for you follow her as you both made your way into the fast clearing stands. "amanda!" you grinned as the woman pulled you into a tight hug. "love you played brilliantly! even if leah wouldn't shut up with her personal coaching the entire match." she rolled her eyes as leah protested the accusation.

"oh i've no doubt once we're home i'll get the full debrief on everything i could have done better. gaffa williamson loves to come out after a win!" you teased, leah pinching your sides with a stern look as you only smiled, pecking her lips.

"try raising her, every single little thing gets feedback even if you don't ask for it. for someone who can't cook god she just loves to critisise everyone else who can!" amanda added on with a dramatic sigh.

"yeah i bought the wrong brand of ham the other week. should have heard how she moaned about it for days!" "used to yell directions at me and scream for me to go faster when i drove her to training every week, as if i didn't drive her there every week."

"right fuck off what is it pick on leah day! i'm injured here thanks how bout a bit of sympathy?" your girlfriend huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl. "oh sorry baby i forgot how sensitive you are. is everyone being mean to you?" you continued to tease, pinching her cheeks in your hands as amanda watched on fondly.

"you look so cute in your beanie lee lee, my little garden gnome." you cooed mockingly, smooshing her face in your hands as her eyes burned into you with a murderous glare. "gnome-o and juliet eh?" amanda grinned making you high five her with a cheer.

"mum! god don't fucking don't encourage her she's relentless." leah groaned, pulling you into a headlock as you smacked her stomach through the three layers she was bundled in. "you love it." she let you up and pulled you into a tight hug, her arms curled around your neck and resting on your shoulders as the two of you chatted with her mum for a bit.

"oh i need a photo before i go! to mark the win." amanda was about to leave as she perked up, pulling out her phone as she tucked herself in beside you, leahs chin resting on the top of your head as the three of you smiled happily and amanda took a few selfies.

"beautiful. i'll see you both round for dinner yeah?" she reminded firmly as you nodded. "yeah we'll be round after five mum, i'll pick grandma up on the way." leah confirmed as amanda beamed, hugging you both goodbye as the three of you descended from the stands.

you and leah hung around for another half hour chatting with your team mates, cuddled into one another the entire time as you battled the ongoing teasing from your team mates, both claiming you were just keeping one another warm.

"what are you doing now?" leah sighed as you both made her way toward her car and you dropped her hand, pulling out your phone and ordering her to pose.

"capturing the memory. i'm gonna start a little garden gnome scrapbook of all your beanie pictures, this ones disappointingly not as pointy as normal but you still look adorable." you beamed snapping a few photos of her as you reached her car, the back lot where the players parked basically almost empty.

"leah!" you laughed as she huffed and yanked off her beanie, hair tied back into a low and loose bun as she pulled her hood up and advanced on you. "hi baby." you grinned as she pushed you against the side of her car, smile tugging at her lips as her arms caged you in.

"lee!" you laughed again as she tugged her beanie down over your head, covering your eyes and attacking your face with kisses as she held the material down on your head and you struggled to push her away.

"whose the little garden gnome now?" leah sung out, flipping up the edge of the beanie so your eyes were free to meet hers, the blonde giving you a dazzlingly bright smile. "still you, you've got the pointy cone head not me." you shrugged, tapping on the top of her head as her mouth formed a small o of offence.

"what am i going to do with you?" leah tutted, shaking her head with a sigh. "kiss me and never stop." you whispered, hands grabbing the sides of her hood and pulling her mouth to meet yours. though before anything got carried away she gently intertwined your hands and pulled away.

"oh just you wait till we get home cheeky girl."

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso blurbs #woso #woso imagine #engwnt

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theragethatisdesire · 1 month

Text

quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

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stark-raving-romantic · 7 months

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Since we all agree the Harry Potter is NOT it...here's a fun poll! These are just my picks but if you feel that I've neglected one, tell me and I'll make another poll, the winners can face off or something.

Please reblog to break containment!

Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged , that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Northanger Abbey: No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine.

Anne of Green Gables: Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

The Graveyard Book: There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

Romeo and Juliet:

"Two households, both alike in dignity

(In fair Verona, where we lay our scene),

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Tuck Everlasting: The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

Fahrenheit 451: It was a pleasure to burn.

The Hobbit: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

A Christmas Carol: MARLEY WAS DEAD, to begin with.

The Secret Garden: When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Far Out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

Percy Jackson/The Lightning Thief: Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood

#pride and prejudice #northanger abbey #anne of green gables #the graveyard book #romeo and juliet #tuck everlasting #fahrenheit 451 #the hobbit #a christmas carol #the secret garden #the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy #percy jackson #the lightning thief #bookish things #polls #booklr #booklover #bookworm

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wildfloweronwheels · 6 days

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the more I sit with the tortured poets department, the more it makes perfect sense as a body of work taylor would create/release especially when you consider the fact she operates much more closely to an indie artist artistically than a lot of her contemporaries.

so honest it's catching people off guard? she's been doing that her whole career from the minute she put people's real names in her songs. lyrically sharp and slightly alarming? may I present "and you come away with a great little story about a mess of a dreamer to adore you" or "you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter." bold and sonically strange? she's been blurring the lines of genre since her earliest albums, regularly blending country, pop, folk and even rock. 1989 has been her only traditionally dare I say 'sonically cohesive' album and the only reason its palate is so clean is because of the risk a pure pop album posed to her successful country career. if she hadn't nailed the landing then, she wouldn't be where she is now. *it also feels worth noting her most adventurous 'weird' but music has come AFTER she thought she'd had her last chance at mainstream success (lover) and as a result, thrown away the checklist because she thought she had nothing to lose. she was just making music for herself with no expectation of success*

'there's too many metaphors and characters/the muses are murky and I can't tell what's real. does she have to write so much fiction now?' this is the girl who immortalised her neighbours love story, who rewrote romeo and juliet, dreamed about crashing a wedding and was inspired by bob + ethel kennedy for god's sake. she's always written stories and imagined.

'I just can't understand why she'd make this and take this risk when we all liked her so much?' my friend, have we been paying attention to the same artist all these years? taylor swift not taking creative and honestly quite punk career risks would be like christopher nolan films without cillian murphy. she walked away from a development deal at age 14, took a chance on an independent label she built from the ground up and then bet on her future when they held her past hostage. took a genre they said wasn't for teenage girls and transformed it. wrote an album on her own after her songwriting was questioned. took a 10 minute song to #1, directed music videos and a short film worthy of oscar buzz, stretched her muscles and is directing a feature film AND re-recorded all her old work in arguably the biggest potential interruption to her career not for any perceived gain but for the statement of an artist's worth. but the world doesn't view them as risks because they worked

tldr; the tortured poets department is the most taylor swift thing taylor swift has ever made.

#taylor swift #hannah post™️#the tortured poets department #ttpd #ts ttpd

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lovecanyon · 10 months

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STYLIST!Y/N GRAMMY BLURB!

MASTERLIST | PATREON

Y/N couldn't believe her luck as she walked arm-in-arm with her husband, Harry Styles, towards the red carpet of the 65th Annual Grammy Awards.

While she took in the sights and sounds of the most prestigious music event in the industry, she couldn't help but feel proud of the role she played in preparing her husband for his big night.

As Harry's personal stylist, Y/N had worked tirelessly to create the perfect ensemble for him to wear when he took the stage to perform his latest hit song. As they made their way down the red carpet, cameras flashed and fans screamed Harry's name. But Y/N's attention was focused on their ten year old daughter, Juliet.

She looked beautiful in her little black dress, which Y/N had carefully chosen and accessorized for her. Being able to share this special moment with her family made Y/N feel incredibly grateful.

Once inside, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the grandeur of the event. Everywhere she looked, she saw music legends and industry heavyweights.

But as Harry's performance drew nearer, her focus shifted once again. She made sure that he was looking sharp and feeling confident before he took the stage.

As Harry's performance began, Y/N felt her heart swell with pride. She couldn't believe how far he had come since they first met on the set of The X Factor. Now, here he was, performing at one of the most prestigious music events in the world.

Y/N knew that her role in his success was small but she couldn't be happier to support him in whatever way she could.

When it was Harry's turn to accept an award, Juliet was jumping up and down with excitement. Y/N held her hand tightly as they made their way to the stage, feeling like the proudest wife and mother in the world. Harry gave a heartfelt speech, thanking his fans and family, including Y/N for always keeping him looking sharp. Juliet couldn't stop clapping and cheering for her dad.

Throughout the night, Y/N and Harry were constantly being approached by fans and reporters alike, but they made sure to keep Juliet close and protected from the crowds.

Juliet, on the other hand, thrived on the attention and was more than happy to snap some pictures with fans and even some of the other celebrity kids in attendance.

After the show, Y/N and her family joined the after-party. She mingled with other stylists and industry professionals while Harry and Juliet danced the night away.

As they left the party, Y/N looked back at her family with a sense of contentment. She was proud of everything that they had accomplished together and couldn't wait to see what the future held for them.

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

#harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #boyfriend!harry #harry styles writing #husband!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles blurb #stylist!y/n #harry styles angst #dilf!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist

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