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7 Hours Later — 🔥

You wake up in Hange's bed after a night of drinking, and with their roommate gone to work, things take a turn...

Can be read as a standalone, can be read as part two of 7 Freaky Minutes In Heaven

Type: Freaky

WC: 8k

Pairing: Hange x Fem!Reader

A/N: Tumblr upload attempt #3. I can’t believe it, this is my first smut. Also, this made me horny so many times while writing this??? I truly loved writing this. It’s so good to be free from uni activities. Did anyone miss me/my works? I know I missed writing.

Hange masterlist • ao3 link • ko-fi

❤️❤️‍🔥❤️❤️‍🔥

Your bed didn’t hug you in all the right ways like you remember, and yet it provided comfort just the same. Strange and unfamiliar, but comfortable enough. You snuggle deeper in its sheets.

Though you noticed that even the smell was different. Through blurry and squinted eyes you discover that the bedsheets didn’t look like yours, either. You try to recall if you changed them last night, only to remember that you don’t even have sheets in this color. And your detergent definitely didn’t smell like this.

You blink, groggy— yet slowly waking up. No matter how much you blink or stare or recall the colors of your stored sheets, you certainly don’t have one in this shade.

Now jolting up, you sit and try to collect your thoughts– to remember where you are.

If the bed wasn’t yours along with its arguably comfortable sheets, then so was the room you were in— an organized mess in all its glory— although it was definitely familiar.

Apparently you spent your night elsewhere. And beside you on the same mattress was someone with their back turned on you.

Upon sensing your movement they begin to sit up with you, and an attempt to drown out the worry was clear as day on their beautiful face. “Oh, whoa. Hey.”

You’re not sure what’s worse. That you were in another person’s bed, or that the owner— Hange— was in it next to you. Not only that, it’s come to your attention that you were positioned right beside the wall, comfortably nestled in the inner corner as if they were afraid you’d roll out of bed. Or maybe they were intentionally keeping you in?

Either your friends collectively rolled you here as you slept, or Hange singlehandedly carried you. Here, to their bed.

Willingly.

A small part of you hoped it was the latter, but Hange’s words snapped you out of your quick imagination.

“You okay?” Their voice was soft— calming, and their gentle hand rested on your back as you remained seated. “No headaches or anything?”

You pressed a palm to your head, as if that’ll truly assess anything. Truth is, you’re too embarrassed and wanted to hide away a little from their prying eyes— even if the owner of those eyes wanted to take care of you. Though there is indeed some remainder of a headache.

“A bit.” You mumbled, voice still deep from your slumber.

“Here.” Hange quickly hands you a glass of water and a pill of aspirin. God knows how long it’s been sitting by their bedside and was waiting for you. Quite embarrassing. “This should help.”

The water proved to be refreshing, and the pill will surely provide much comfort later on. You just hoped it was now.

You hoped for a lot of things, actually, like being transported back to your bed where you belong and where you should be, and that this was only a dream— that you’re not really in Hange’s bedroom, hungover like this, in such an insinuating and embarrassing situation.

But then Hange runs their hand on your shoulder and you’re transported. Not to your bed— theirs. This was real and this was now. Suddenly the hangover seems like the smallest thing you have to deal with today.

“You silly lightweight.” Hange provides context to your worried mind and quiet state, “You drank a lot last night, you know? Had to just let you sleep in ‘cause nobody was there to take you home. The others left early or had someone take them home.” They chuckle. “I hope it’s okay that we let you stay here for the night. You were deep in sleep. And Moblit doesn’t mind, so…”

Right. The birthday boy. Their wondrous roommate and good friend Moblit whose birthday party occurred the night before. He’s got a heart of gold, probably doesn’t— or rarely— says no to Hange’s weird antics. Of course he doesn’t mind.

“Really?” You managed to breathe out. Truthfully, your head was spinning from the current situation and all the information and could barely form sentences exceeding one word.

“Yeah,” Hange sighs, and your stomach rumbles along with the silence. “You know what? I should cook something.” They pause, “I should be cooking something. God, I definitely should’ve been cooking.” They mumble something about research that you don’t quite catch.

They get off the bed and hurry out the door, but not before stopping themself and looking back at you. “I’ll just cook us some breakfast, okay?” They smile excitedly, the nearby reflection of the sunlight making their eyeglasses shine bright. “Go rest. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

They didn’t mean their last sentence in any malicious, lustful way, however your legs shift closer the moment the words left their mouth. Thankfully, Hange had long disappeared when your reaction took place.

Now left with no one but yourself, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever forgetting last night’s events. Next came the intense need to find your phone, which luckily was also placed on Hange’s bedside drawer… right beside their phone. Which was open and bright.

You glance and find what seemed to be the methodology of a research article on the screen. Typical.

Now keeping up with your phone’s notifications, you were thankful to find some bits of worried texts from your friends, otherwise this day would’ve gone much worse— with Hange being your alibi in hunting your careless friends down— but they weren’t that, and even Moblit messaged you. You felt bad for crashing into their shared space like this, but also… not. How else would you have known how comfortable Hange’s sheets felt? Shaking your thoughts away, you quickly replied to his awfully sweet and reassuring message.

He states that it was okay for you to crash in their place for the night because “Hange’s there to look after of you anyway.” You try to block it out of your system, yet thoughts pester your mind regardless.

With the closest person living with them being this supportive of your longtime crush on Hange (alongside your friends, of course), surely Hange knows something already? And if they do know… is all this— the tolerance, non dismissive attitude— in any way a sign that they feel something for you too? Or are they just being cruel?

It’s hard to avoid such fallacies, but truly all you wanted was a safe place to fall back into, whether it was the (potentially false) extremities or not. Suddenly, dealing with Hange in the kitchen seems a lot better than all this mulling. So you get up and do just that— but not before heading to their bathroom to freshen up the mess that was you.

-

Jesus Christ, your mind spiraled as you looked into their mirror.

If the sheets weren’t yours and so was the bed you slept in, then so was the shirt and pajamas you were currently wearing.

Immediately, another question pops up: was this shirt Moblit’s or Hange’s? With their heights only being a few inches in difference, you’re not so sure. Although the lack of some fuckass design on it makes you somewhat certain it was Moblit’s.

But nevermind that, a shirt isn’t so much of a big deal. The pajamas… the pajamas you wore— which had a Godzilla pattern on it— were definitely Hange’s, which only warrants another question. It never ends. It never fucking ends: who changed your clothes and just how much did they see?

It’s not that you were mad. Your friends taking care of you while you were flat out drunk is a blessing. But you would love to know if it was your stupid crush or their roommate.

But knowing means going out there and asking, confronting. And there’s no other choice but to open the bathroom door and spend your morning with someone who potentially took care of you in your drunken state.

-

To get up and greet Hange was an immediate mistake, seeing as they were now right in front of you— arguably in their rawest and most relaxed state.

Messy hair in a ponytail, as it always was— although something about seeing it now, freshly made in the early morning and not buried deep in research or papers or screens but in front of the flickering steam of scrambled eggs instead was a sight to behold. An entirely different side of them, though at the same time, not really– surely Hange has cooked many times before. But at this moment, they were cooking breakfast for you.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Hange speaks directly to you despite their gaze being glued to the pan they were holding, catching you off guard.

“Hm, nahh…” You close the distance between you by a few feet, quite thankful for thinking of a quick comeback. You two always did love some banter. “I’d rather make you feel uncomfortable.”

But Hange has the upper hand. Hange always has the upper hand.

“Uncomfortable? Me?” They’re quick to turn off the stove and face you with a stupid fucking grin, catching you by surprise once more. “Who said anything about me being uncomfortable?” They say smugly, though the close distance reveals a slight blush on their face. With the sight in front of you, you try your best to instead think about why on earth those eggs took the perfect time to cook, enough for Hange to have the perfect time to make some stupid remark.

“Eugh, you smell.” You joke, at a complete loss for comebacks this time. You didn’t expect them to take your reply in stride at all.

“Meanie! I made us breakfast and all.” They quickly plate the meal and present it to you. “Ta-da! Scrambled eggs.”

“Okay, master chef.” The wondrous aroma fills your nose. You cave and admit. “Smells good.”

“Yeah?” Hange smirks, and upon seeing it you regret ever saying anything. “Well hopefully that’s what you’ll be saying about my breath when we eat and clean up, you meanie.”

You brush off the fact that the first thing that popped up in your mind was that it was a subtle hint that you’ll be close enough with them to judge the freshness of your breath. You shudder.

With your exasperated sigh and eye-roll being a clear sign of defeat, Hange giggles, and that lovely sound fills the air. “Come on, you need to eat something.”

“Yeah,” but there’s something else you wanted to ask. “Where’s Moblit?”

“Oh, pfft.” Hange sets the plates down by the small kitchen counter. A makeshift table perfect for two. “The poor guy has work today.”

Though the reason for his absence was fact, deep inside, Hange felt that he sensed the need to leave the two alone. After all, it was horrifyingly obvious to everyone at the party last night that there’s some need to resolve something between the two of you.

Not that you’d know about it. You’ll always deny your own feelings. You’ll always deny the possibility of Hange taking the hint.

That ends today.

You both eat up after your inquiry. The hangover relieved itself bit by bit, leaving you unsure if the remaining awkwardness that lingered and bounced around inside your body was simply due to the fact that you were eating breakfast prepared by your longtime crush.

“So,” you start, gulping down a forkful of scrambled eggs as an attempt to hide a bit of the awkwardness away, “whose shirt am I wearing?”

“Hm?” Hange stares as you eat away, and even with your eyes evading theirs, you can’t help but shrink a little. “Oh, it’s Moblit’s.”

It was a fact you figured out already. Although you hoped that the question about the shirt would lead to a discussion about the godzilla paja—

“The pajamas are mine, though.” They confirm with speed. You’d love to assume it’s because they know you well enough to know what’s going on in your head, but really, you have more faith in the high possibility that they just wanted to show off.

Now, you would love nothing more than to push your luck and ask about one specific thing, which was ‘who the hell changed me into these clothes’ but oftentimes your mouth runs faster when coming up with certain insults compared to saying something smart.

“Yeah? The fuckass design gave it away. Looks stupid…” you mumble, and you both know your half-insult was weak in itself. “Mhm, it actually looks pretty rad.” You add.

“Right. Glad to see that you still have taste.” Hange puts their hands on your shoulders as they collect the now empty plates, to which you shudder slightly at.

Touch is not what you were expecting. Perhaps you were on edge, seeing that you’re now nearly fully sober, spending time with the one person you admire?

You can’t help but notice how touchy they seem today. But then that’s just how Hange is… or is it? Once again, you’re unsure if this is the work of the hangover… which is disappearing… so maybe not.

You’re intentional about choosing your next words, making sure to mention Moblit so they can further verify things, “You two changed my clothes?”

“No, darling. Just me. Didn't want to subject the birthday boy to that.” They begin to wash the few dishes in the kitchen sink.

‘Darling’…? Since when did they ever use—

“Would you have liked it if he was the only one changing your clothes?” They say casually.

“Oh— uh, no.” Taken aback, you giggle nervously. “But thanks for caring of me. I mean— for taking care of me.”

Now it’s Hange’s turn to giggle. “Yeah, sure, it’s no problem. Now, there should be an extra toothbrush here somewhere…” they mutter while looking in some cupboards. “A–ha!” They pass you a clean, spare toothbrush.

“Oh jeez I don’t want to use up all your supplies…” You feel shy all of a sudden, looking all over the place in panic, “Maybe I should go after this…?” But the hesitation shows something else. You can sense them picking up this feeling as they dried their hands. You try not to notice how toned their arms look while doing so.

“Aw, why?” Hange pushes further, and it’s crystal clear they don’t want you to leave. “You have somewhere to be this afternoon?”

You don’t want to leave, either. You shake your head. “No.”

“Then stay awhile.” They smiled– and how could you ever resist that invitation, along with that sweet, sweet, gentle smile?

“Okay.” It was as easy as that. Though a thought lingers in your mind. “But—but what about you? Don’t you have… work? Today?”

“Nooo I…” Hange squeezes the toothpaste tube on the bristles of their purple toothbrush. They chuckle, mostly to themself, “I filed a leave.”

You’re unsure what else to say. “Oh?”

“I figured I was gonna get a bit wasted and drunk at Moblit’s birthday party, so I thought it was best to leave the next day free. Well, alcohol doesn’t have that much of an effect on me, but the company doesn't need to know that.” They ramble, “And, you know. I wanted to spend time with you guys.” There’s a noticeable pause between their last word and the one before it.

“Right.” You’re not sure what happened last night and you didn’t want to ask, so you join them next to the sink and start to brush your teeth alongside Hange.

It was strange. Slowly, you remember details of the night before. How someone carried you to bed, though still unsure whether it was Hange or someone else. Regardless, they felt strong. You were safely cradled in their arms.

The second you cleaned up and splashed some water on your face was the moment your confidence shot up. Something about a morning routine freshened you quickly, leaving you to ask: “So who tucked me into bed last night?”

Hange, who was long finished by the sink, looked taken aback by this, had their mouth slightly open and seemed to swipe their tongue on the roof of it while thinking. You would be lying if you said you weren’t going to look for that expression to make a comeback on their face. But the answer comes swiftly. “I did. Why?”

“Nothing, I just couldn’t remember who it was.” You leaned on the nearby, small kitchen counter where you had your breakfast. “So it was you.”

“So it was me.” Coming back to face you, Hange traps you by resting their hands on the countertop beside your arms.

Their arms brush along yours, and the proximity almost kills you.

“God, you really don’t remember anything from last night?” You’re unsure whether their deep, husky voice was intentional.

“Only some bits of it.” You bite your cheek.

“You don’t remember confessing your feelings to me?”

“What?” What?

“Hmm.” There’s a subtle, somewhat smug smile that lingers on their face, only noticeable if one was up close and personal with Hange– which you were.

“Huh?” Huh??

Hange fixes something on the hem of your shirt. Even without looking down, you’re pretty sure there was nothing there to fix.

“I like you, Hanji,” their voice changes slightly in tone, almost teasing, “I have for a while…” They keep their head low, keeping you from reading their facial expressions. It was majorly annoying considering this is one of the best ways to read whatever’s on their mind.

Hange deprives you of that. Instead, they give you their touch.

They bury their furrowed brows down to your shoulder, warm and hungry, “I have for a long time…” only then do you realize they’re reiterating your drunken words from last night.

With more exaggerated actions they wrap one arm around your waist. One hand comes up to squeeze your arm, assumably imitating how your drunk self was acting around them.

“Oh.” If you weren’t frozen in place before, you were now. “I-I said that?”

“You don’t remember?” Hange, to your dismay, goes slightly limp— then back to normal like they didn’t act all needy and all over you just now. It was an act, but you sure as hell wish it wasn’t.

Now you remember. You remember darkness. Soft sheets on your back. You reaching out, touching someone else’s skin. Hange’s skin.

“You were drunk.” They sigh, face twisting into repressed sadness as they turn away, “Maybe you were fucking with me, mistaking me for someone el—“

“What? No.” Much like some cheesy drama you manage to slip their wrist into your hand. Unsure of what exactly to say next, you mumble, “I do… like you.”

In the blink of an eye, their smug look faintly returns. “Hmm. So… I guess you weren’t fucking with me after all.”

“I was… not.” You mutter even more under your breath, now avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Silence lingers.

Their arms return to cornering you by their countertop just as your blood returns to your cheeks.

“I do like you.” Hesitant at first, you soon gaze at their gorgeous brown eyes, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I have for a long time, that's true. And I wasn’t mistaking you for someone else.”

You’re surprised you were able to handle the way they snake a hand into yours, holding up your knuckles for them to kiss. Who would’ve known one silent kiss could be the aid to your years-long denial?

“Well in that case.” But now the kiss runs up to the back of your palm, then to your wrists, the length of your arm, “I like you too,” and makes its final stop by the base of your neck, where a swipe of their tongue could be felt greeting your skin.

“Really?” You mewl out as Hange comes up to nibble your earlobe, “You sure you’re not the one fucking with me?”

Hange chuckles right beside your ear, causing the hairs on your arm and nape stand up in salute of their very presence. Their voice, low and teasing, doesn’t help your situation in any way. “I’m very sure I’m not fucking with you. You know how cute you were last night?” They add, “You didn’t want to let go of me.”

You pull away, feigning annoyance. “Please don’t remind me of something I don’t even remember.”

Another laugh escapes their lips, then a sigh. “Sucks that you don’t remember.”

Again, your mouth runs faster than your brain. “Mind if we redo my confession then?”

“Huh.” Hange pouts and looks somewhere else, ultimately confirming that they’re considering the idea. “Okay, how?”

“Well,” Your arms crawl back to where they belong: wrapped around their neck, “I guess it starts with you carrying me back to your bed.”

“Ookay…” Hange smiles as they feel your arms tighten ever so slightly around their neck, a go signal to lift you up. “Then?”

“And then… Did I say anything else?” You look up at them as they bring you back to their bedroom. You confirm your suspicions that the strong arms that held you were Hange’s.

“No.” They chuckle, and it’s clear in their distant eyes that they’re recalling a memory from the night before. “But you were looking up at me really sweetly.”

“Oh.” You look away upon noticing how you were unintentionally doing the same thing right now. “Huh.”

“What? Don’t be shy.” They kick their bedroom door open. “It’s cute.”

They set you back in what you thought earlier was your prison— their soft and comfy bed. Upon making sure you were laid down nicely, Hange’s quick to settle between your legs, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles and burying their lips within the grooves of it and saying, “How long?”

“What?” You blink. “How long what?”

“How long have you liked me, hm?” They press the back of your hand to their cheek and tilt their head lovingly.

You think about it long and hard before settling with “Don’t make me answer that…”

Hange laughs against your palm, your entwined fingers and their chest shaking as they do so.

“Well that’s not fair.” They whine, pouting. Something about their voice trailing off in a husky whimper makes you pause for a moment.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You start a pout-off.

“You could.” They arrange themself to lie down beside you. “And we’d probably have the same answer.”

“Probably.” You crinkle your nose as you smile before it fades as you ask, “Why didn’t you… say anything?”

“We could do this all day, asking each other the same questions,” they laugh, “I didn’t do anything because I didn’t think you would be into me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am not.” They hold up their hands in protest.

You tuck some bits of hair behind their ear. “How would I not be— have you looked at yourself recently? Seriously.”

Hange muffles their voice, chin leaning on their hand that propped them up the bed. “Maybe. Why?”

You look at them like they just said the world’s unfunniest joke ever.

“What? Why?” Hange’s jaw drops. “Is it because my arms have grown stronger over the years?” They flex the arm that’s not holding their body up, and you try desperately to lock your eyes into theirs. Unfortunately, the short sleeve of their shirt falls down and with it, your eyes follow the unveiling of their growing bicep.

They propose another hypothetical. “Or is it the fact that my face has matured and I look really better now?”

“Sh…Shut…” You close your eyes shut, but no act can ever erase the image of Hange flexing in your mind.

“Shut? Shut what? Shut up? Well I can do that— Oh actually, I can’t. Maybe you’ll have to do it instea—“

And shut them the fuck up you did, teeth clashing slightly as you lean in and let your lips magnetize toward theirs. Their eyeglasses bump your nose from time to time, but the messiness of it all leaves you increasingly feverish by the second. The feeling is as satisfying as its reward: the sound of Hange whimpering as they accept their situation and kiss you right back.

“Feisty.” They whisper, trailing a finger by your chin and angling themself back to being on top of you.

Your legs shudder as they hold it open for them to slide in between. You hope— with all your might— that they don’t notice just how hot your core has been getting.

Hange removes their eyeglasses, messily setting it by their bedside, and only then does it dawn on you how serious they are about this.

Shit.

You don’t know what kind of monster you’ve unleashed until you’re face to face with it: Hange between your legs, looming over you with one hand on the bedframe keeping their lean figure steady, the other holding your face oh so gently while their lips do not so gentle things to yours.

Their need and hunger has no pattern and so their lips are unreadable, kissing the gentle flesh of your lips everywhere and every now and then there comes a gentle suck on your bottom lip. All you could do was kiss back, whimper, and sob against their demanding touch, your fingers deep in their hair, the other holding onto their arm.

It doesn’t help that— while Hange gets lost in their own desire— they involuntarily press themself closer to your heat, your legs spreading even further in response.

You squirm, and your hope that it’ll go unnoticed by Hange becomes completely meaningless as the hand that held your face trails down to your thigh and up to your waist again. You can feel their thumb inching its way within the band of the pajamas you wore— teasing, asking, wanting.

There’s something to be said about Hange wanting to take off what you’re wearing— something that’s already theirs.

The band is loose enough, and Hange’s thumb draws lines all while their lips have traveled down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. It tickles in the best way.

You moan against their lips that have made a sloppy mess on your skin, and you find that they’re moaning right back. With the low whines beside your ear, the teasing little fingers and their ravenous tongue making rounds on your neck, you unconsciously grind against them and pull Hange’s body closer, legs closing in from desire.

“You want this too, right?” They purr in between needy kisses.

“Y-yes…” You breathe. Your focus flickers between Hange’s words and their tongue, dancing on your neck.

“Then…” A low groan escapes their throat, hunger threatening to spill even further. “Tell me what you want. I promise I’ll do my best to make you feel good.” Their lips travel down to the hollow space of your collarbone. “You want that, don’t you?”

“I-I do…” You gasp, lost in their words and their touch.

“Then show me.” They pull away at last, starved eyes fixated on yours. “Show me where it feels good.”

Your mind hesitates, but your hands don’t. Moving entirely on instinct, you bring the hand that lingered on your waist a little higher up— under the shirt you wore.

There’s something lewd about making Hange take off the shirt you wore that was owned by their housemate. True, he was your friend, but the indecent thought leaves a spark of happiness within you anyway. It fucking excited you, to say the least.

“Here, huh?” Hange reaches further to grope your tit, dextrous fingers pinching the bud that hardened even more under their touch.

They peel their fingers off the bedframe and angled their body in a more proper position: head buried under your shirt and sucking your tit, one hand fondling the other breast.

“Fuck…” You gasp, feeling their wet tongue making a mess of your chest. You crane your head deeper into their pillows as you feel pure bliss, nails digging on their nape urging them to go deeper.

Hange bites and sucks at the skin, grunting against their meal.

Their other hand remains adventurous, testing the waters by slowly, slowly reaching downwards and cupping your throbbing, clothed cunt. You roll your hips against their steady fingers.

Hange’s eyes were half lidded once they finally stripped themself away from your wet tits, shirt falling down and revealing your hardened buds underneath the fabric. The shirt absorbs the saliva Hange left, and the evidence of a lustful exchange reveals itself in the form of damp spots. They sit up and gaze at their beautiful mess.

“Oops.” Hange mewls, tone showing absolutely no remorse for the borrowed and now unkempt shirt. The musky scent lingers in the air. “Guess I’ll have to wash this shirt for Moblit, huh?”

Their fingers feels your cunt clench at their words. Hange raises an eyebrow, and you immediately regret the act.

“You like this, don’t you?” As they make themself comfortable between your legs, Hange fondles your breast, fingers spreading their saliva on even more on the shirt.

“Hange.” There’s no real bite to your threat. In fact, your voice has more passionate undertones than harm.

“You wanna be fucked while wearing someone else’s shirt?” They caress your waist, further asserting the fact that you’re buried completely in other people’s garments.

“Hange, please…” You squirm against the hand that rubbed your heat, painfully slow and deliberate.

“Please? Please what? Well, I’ll please you alright.” They let their head fall back onto your nipple, this time, over the shirt. They make another mess, and you pull them further in.

Their bites dig deeper, pinching your nipple between their bottom lip and their teeth. It hurts you in the best way and it’s disgusting how they’re doing this on top of another person’s shirt, but it’s a disgust you enabled them to do in the first place. Under their filthy touch and filthy words, you surrender to your desires.

Your guide their hand past the band of your underwear, but Hange stops you.

“Fuck!” Your grip on their wrist tightens in frustration. “Hange!”

They laugh against your chest. “Needy, are we? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

They pull your legs by the end of the bed, making them dangle by its edge. They kneel on the floor, face to face with your clothed core.

“Come on.” Hange tugs at the waistband of your pajamas, gaze darkening as they stare into yours. “Strip.”

The word alone is a command, and you gladly obey– although you leave your underwear on to be a cheeky little shit. Hange looks up at you and sees a flustered, smug little smile plastered on your face as you prop yourself by your elbows.

“Oh, you want to fuck with me, is that it?” Hange rips away the pajamas that pooled by your ankles, and their steady hands pull your legs up to rest by their shoulders. They begin to peel your underwear away, but your playful hands stop them from going further than your thigh.

“You…” Hange promptly gets back on the bed, one hand grabbing both your wrists and setting them above your head. There’s a low noise their throat makes against your neck– one between a growl and a laugh– and you immediately regret your actions as the noise makes your cunt even wetter than it already was.

There’s a strong force on your neck, and only then do you realize that Hange’s sucking at the skin. At the same time, they decide to punish you further by sneaking a knee between your legs. As they do, the soppy underwear Hange failed to remove makes contact with your clit, and your breath hitches at the sensitivity of your own body. Their other hand grips slightly at your hair, further raising your heightened senses.

With your hands being useless, you squirm and curse their name in protest, but all Hange does is make teasing and cooing moans against your flesh. Every flick of their tongue sends shivers down your spine, simultaneously enticing both you and Hange. They make their way up, eventually landing by your ear. Hange licks and nibbles at the sensitive skin.

“Didn’t think you’d be the brat type…” Their soft lips and tongue play with your ear. They chuckle as you shake under their touch.

“Haa– Aah! D-Didn’t think so either…” You mutter. “Stop… t-that tickles…” Moans leave your mouth in-between laughs.

Hange giggles at you, pulling their body up and freeing your hands in the process. “Alright, alright.”

“Wai– it was a good kind of tickle.”

They loom over you, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I know.” Their voice drawls out, eyeing your lips– not the ones on your face. “But let me give you what you want, hm?”

Successfully this time, they remove your undergarment, your legs back in their rightful place on top of Hange’s shoulders, and them back on their knees on the floor before their own bed.

Hange presses a kiss against your wet folds before licking at your sensitive clit. One of their hands removes one leg off their shoulder to instead focus on feeling the wetness of your entrance, the other reaching for something in their bedside drawer.

“Be good for me, yeah?” Hange breathes before submerging themself in you– licking, sucking, lips swirling around your needy clit. A finger spreads your slick around and your head falls back, one hand gripping their hair, the other at the sheets.

Your eyes flicker as Hange inserts their teasing finger inside your heat, testing your tightness as they curl it upwards in a slow, careful manner.

“Han— Hnn…”

Hange moans into your hole, the soft vibrations heightening your senses even further. Your hands shake as it tries hard not to pull their head further in, but Hange presses themself a little deeper anyway.

You feel a buzz on your clit.

“Wh—Fuck!” You involuntarily roll your hips closer to the source. It takes all the strength in your body to pull yourself up and see what Hange was up to.

There’s a reason why Hange had planted themself there by the end of their bed, and it was so they can get the tools they needed in order to make you writhe under their touch a little further.

A vibrator wand had been planted by their free hand, buzzing away at your sensitive clit as another finger makes a slow entry to your desperate pussy, stretching you out. They curl their fingers faster.

Hange peels their soaked lips away from your cunt as both their hands are busy pleasing you, gaze half-lidded and heavy with want.

“Yeah? That feel good?” Their steady fingers bring you closer to your climax.

The bliss leaves you mumbling incoherent, wordless whines. Your fingers leave their hair and fly down to the hand that holds the humming device. Slowly, your body stiffens, getting closer,

Hange, however, matches your earlier cheekiness and…

“Wh– Huh?” You look down and realize the buzzing sensation has stopped. “Whuh… wh-wh-why’d you stop? Hange…”

“Hmm?” Hange chuckles. “You having fun there?”

The wand is tossed beside you in bed and it takes an insane amount of willpower to not get your greedy hands on it and press it against your clit to please yourself.

“I-I was.” You pout, hand flying up to your forehead that you found was sweating profusely. “Where’d you get that from anyway…”

“My secret drawer, of course.” One that was definitely visible in plain sight, one where Hange put their phone down earlier. “You didn’t look through it, did you?”

Their gaze twinkles at your truthful, innocent gaze as you shake your head no.

Hange’s eyes darken faintly, “Good, good.” Standing up, they begin to tug away at their own sweatpants, but you crawl to them and take their hands into yours.

“Let me make you feel good this time.” Your eyes are irresistible looking up at them like that with your cheeks on full display right behind you, but they shake their head.

“No, no. The focus is on you.” They bend down to trap you in another passionate kiss. You pull their pants off slowly, along with their underwear. They shoo it off with their foot, joining your discarded pajamas on the other side of the room. “Besides, we’re just getting to the fun part.”

They press another kiss on your forehead before reaching inside the drawer and fixing a strap on themself. Hange’s breath hitches of relief as it clashes slightly with their own clit. A hefty dildo is positioned by its front.

You stare in a mix of awe and stun. “You planning to kill me with that thing?”

Hange snickers, eyeing you all laid down on their bed. “What, can’t handle it?”

You huff.

“What?” Hange’s expression softens at your childish demeanor. “You know I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will…” Your voice trails off as your gaze falls down to the sight of Hange lubing up their cock. The skilled way in which they stroke their length makes you stumble back onto the bed, closing your legs to satisfy the growing in your folds. You eye lands on the shut down vibrator on your right, and your hand moves instinctively–

“Don’t even try.” Hange snatches your wrist– enough to hurt, enough to satisfy.

“I wasn’t gonna.” You lie. Your free hand takes one of Hange’s, tugging them until they have one knee on the bed. “Just– fuck, can you just fuck me already?”

“Don’t need to ask twice.” The head of their tip slides by your entrance as they look deep into your eyes. “Let me take care of you… lie down.” They arrange their pillows for you to rest comfortably on.

You gladly obey. The sight alone of Hange closing in with their thick cock in their hand, tip meeting your tight entrance makes your eyes flicker the moment it slides in by a mere inch. Already, you want more. Much, much, more.

“Fuck.” They moan, pushing themself deeper into your heat.

Your throbbing cunt aches as it finally receives the sensation it’s been craving for so long. Hange’s face is what you look up at as they roll their hips further into you. Your lips part as you notice how focused they are– moans barely contained and escaping past their slick-coated lips, brows furrowed and eyes heavy, filled with desire.

“Hng– fuck– look how good you’re taking me…” Hange huffs, leaning once more to close the distance between your heated bodies. They take their time, cock filling your insides as they slide in. “Have I stretched you well enough? Can I fuck you hard now, hm?”

“Hange… f-faster…” You shut your eyes, aggravated at the slow speed.

Hungry eyes meeting yours, Hange’s slow pace ends shortly. Bit by bit, they slam into you, stretching and filling your hole with their girthy cock you thought earlier would break you.

“Ugnh– shit…” Hange lets out untamed grunts of pleasure, forearms by your head as they growl into your ear. “I’ve waited for this… did you know that? Hm?”

You cry their name out loud. “Hange… please, please, ple– aah!”

“You’re so pretty.” They coo, “So pretty for me, all for me… getting fucked in our friend’s shirt.” Hange lets out a teasing laugh in-between moans.

“D-don’t say that…”

“Mhm, turns you on though,” Hange catches their breath, “doesn’t it?”

Your heart says yes. Embarrassed, you don’t utter a verbal answer. But it’s not like they don’t know the beat of your heart, anyway…

The thought of breeding like rabbits while being half-clothed is disgustingly appealing. Though if you had known how today would go, you wouldn’t dare do anything different to change it.

While you bring yourself closer to your edge, Hange gets lost in how their clit grinds against the insides of their strap. They squeeze their eyes shut before plunging back into the sweet corner of your neck. They bite, gentler this time, a stark contrast to their wilder demeanor much earlier. Now, their mind goes to treating you more like a porcelain doll and less like a one-time opportunity.

You’ve imagined Hange being vocal in bed.

“Oh, you’re taking me so well… so well.” Hange rambles, fists buried in the sheets for support, one gliding hand by your waist. “Fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

You didn’t think your imagination would be proven true on a random weekday.

“So perfect for me, isn’t that right?” Their palm comes up and jiggles your breast. “I’ve waited for this, God you feel so fucking good…”

“Ha– aah… Hange…” You want more, to hear more of their voice.

“Yes, sweetie?” Hange thrusts hard, making you yelp as you clench your walls around their length. They can be so agonizingly mean at times, but they’re the only one you’d tolerate to be like this. “Use your words.”

“I-it’s good… you feel so good… fuck, please…”

“Yeah?” They suddenly give slow, powerful thrusts. “Am I making you feel good?”

“Y-yes…” You wrap your legs around their waist. Hange angles their cock deeper into you.

“Do I fuck you good, hm?”

“Yes, Hange– aah!”

Hange halts their movements. “Say it.”

“Whuh?” You take charge on your own, buckling your hips just to feel their dick slide in and out of you again. “You’re fucking me so good, please, please. Hange, please move again… I need you… I need you so bad please…”

“Fuck, that’s good.” The sight of you moving your body to fuck yourself on their cock raises their arousal in another level they didn’t expect. “Good job…. So obedient…”

They return to their steady pace while their slender, strong arms reach for the vibrator long left forgotten on the bed, and reactivate it once more to press it against your equally throbbing clit.

“Hn– ungh– Hange–” You cry out in surprise, “I’m close, fuck… fuck…” You buck your hips into the buzzing sensation, and Hange presses it firmly against your slick.

“Shit– you gonna cum, sweetie?” With your statement, Hange ensures a steady hold on the wand that hummed endlessly against your bud. “Cum for me.”

“I-I’m…” You can feel that you’re seconds away from coming undone. “Ngh… aah…”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Hange keeps their steady pace, arousal rising at the sight of your focused brows. “Cum all over me… all over my pretty cock… fuck…”

With their words, you feel yourself shudder and tremble, your tight cunt clenching around Hange’s cock as you feel the wave of your orgasm flow with pleasure. You cry out Hange’s name as you grip their sheets.

“Fuck, that’s it…” Hange slows their hips down, but their own arousal hasn’t reached its own end. “Shit— help me take this off. Come on…”

Your hands meet theirs– equally trembling– into getting their strap on off of their thighs. The dildo remains inside of you, and it hums ever so slightly as Hange aligns and presses the wand between both of your throbbing clits. They close their eyes, lost in the pleasure– the enjoyment of knowing they’re overstimulating you as they please themselves.

“Sh– fuck!” Your hole clenches the dildo while your hands try desperately to pry Hange’s hands away– move the device somewhere, anywhere, away from your worked up clit. “Hange!”

“S-still… stay still…” As if they couldn’t become more punishing, their other hand snakes their way into moving the cock inside of you. “I’m close… I’m…”

You writhe under their touch as they reach their climax, hips convulsing as they crash softly on your body, forearm rested beside you. Their shoulders are what you hold onto as the whirring device remains in contact with your soaked bud. Hange, as unfair and teasing as they are, has lifted their ass to stop from overstimulating themself on the vibrator.

“Hange… t-take it off…” Every time they bump the wand into you, you flinch right back. As going sideways only pleases you even further, you attempt to back your ass off into the mattress– but there’s no success in getting away.

“Aah– aha…” All Hange gives is a raspy chuckle in between their attempts to catch their breath. “You sound good though…”

“Hange!” Your hips twitch more and more as the seconds go by. “Please…”

“Alright, alright…” They show you mercy and finally, finally remove it from your slick-coated clit. A click can be heard, signaling the end of your suffering and equally great pleasure. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re a sadist.” You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe the hair and sweat from your forehead. “Why am I not surprised?”

Hange plops down on the bed beside you. “What? It’s fun teasing you.” There’s a kiss pressed to your temples.

“Thanks for fucking my hangover away.”

“Of course, anytime.”

You roll your eyes before furrowing your brows as they– with a seemingly endless source of energy– carry and arrange you seeing as you were both situated sideways on their bed. This must be the outcome of being physically fit. Once again, you’re tucked away in the corner of the mattress by the walls.

Their touch suddenly reminds you of the saliva-drenched shirt you were wearing and begin to take it off.

“Eugh…” You toss it near your discarded pajamas. “That really is Moblit’s shirt, isn’t it.”

“Mhm, yeah.” Hange chuckles beside you, vision fixated on your perky tits as you do. “Don’t worry too much, I’ll wash it. I swear.” They bring a palm up, a symbol of their supposed honesty.

Your eyes remain glued to the shirt that laid helplessly on their bedroom floor. “Why didn’t you put your own shirt on me, anyway?”

“Mhm…” It takes great strength for Hange to pry their gaze away from your breasts and stare into your eyes. “My clothes are filthy.”

“And the Godzilla pajamas weren’t…?” You raise a brow.

“They were fresh from the laundry.” Hange’s eyes widen, and their lips pout. “Don’t be mean to him.”

“To… Godzilla?” You huff. “You’re strange. You’re lucky I love you.”

“You do, huh? How lucky am I indeed.” They bring their lips to your cheek, covering your bodies with the soft blanket that held you comfortably in the morning. “I love you too.”

“Hange!” You giggle as you realize something, shoving them lightly. “You’re covered in my juices.”

“Oh, right.” They lick their lips, much to your (disguised) disgust. The thought brings you back to earlier events.

“Hange.” You whine as something pops up in your head. “I didn’t get to eat you out.”

“Oh. Aw, you’re sad about that?” Hange giggles. Slender fingers come up to pinch your cheek. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It’s not like this is the only time we’ll have to explore each other’s bodies.”

“Ah.” You nod, feeling blood rush up to your cheeks.

Tilting their head, they ask, “You’re so cute. Was it okay? Did I make you feel good?”

“Yeah.” Shyly, you look up at them. “Did you feel good?”

Hange nods, “I did, of course I did.” They kiss your head before asking, “You want some water? I’ll go get us some water.” They offer as you mull over the fact that there will indeed be more time for intimacy after this.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, sure.” But Hange was already on their way out the door, shirt hanging from their lean body. “Let’s clean up after.” You yell out.

“Sure thing!” They yell back.

As you drown yourself in the comfort of their bed, you’re astonished with the events that unfolded in the few hours that you’ve been awake. There were doubts running in your mind earlier– doubts that are now demolished with every thrust that Hange gave minutes earlier.

There’s a feeling of relief that washes over you. Relief that your years-long denial has been destroyed, constructed with a new truth. Relief in the knowledge that Hange will take care of you. Relief in the fact that– well– the feeling is mutual.

The same thoughts fester Hange as they prepare cold water and some coffee in the kitchen. The events have been… a workout, to say the least, but it was one they’ve dreamt of doing.

Your confession was a blessing, as was Hange’s reciprocation.

Now there’s only the future to anticipate– a future of being with each other.

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