#cheating cw

[prettyboykatsuki]

you say the word, im on the way | e. yeager

♤ tags ;; fem!reader, cheating (on reader but not by eren), exes to lover, past toxic relationships, arguing and insults, very emotionally charged sex, co-dependency (in a way), childhood friends to lovers, streamer!eren (BARELY mentioned), make-up sex, oral (f!recieving),, unprotected sex, so much dirty talk, praise kink, petnames angel, baby, pretty girl, eren kinda.. talks to ur pussy djhsdj, 18+

♤ wc ;; 10.2k (utter agony)

♤ a/n ;; i really like. this isn't the best. but that's fine i had a lot of fun alr. very self indulgent. title from teenage fever by drake.

♤ synposis ;; after your boyfriend cheats on you, your ex, eren, shows up for you against all odds. you give into him against your best interest.

You wait for him on the side of the road. 

The rain is coming down in heavy sheets. You’re soaked to the bone having left in a hurry with only a single suitcase of your things. Your phones nearly dead, less than 20 percent with an ever-depleting battery. The closest place to charge your phone is too long to walk in this weather.  And it’s so late the buses have stopped running. 

Even if you could leave, it’s dark and dangerous. Your heart is in your throat, and the only streetlight is so far it hardly makes you feel any safer. You don’t know a single person in your ex-boyfriend's hometown other than his parents, but you aren’t sure you can face them right now if you wanted to. 

It’s not like you wanted to call Eren. Or for him to see you as sorry as you are. Dehydrated, exhausted, emotionally battered - you don’t even like seeing Eren when you’re at your best. You’re sure as soon as you get into his car, he’ll start arguing with you. You’ve spent the last 15 minutes mentally readying yourself for his harsh comments whatever they may be. 

You don’t have the luxury of being picky. He’s safer than venturing by yourself or taking an Uber. And he owes you one, anyway. Nows a good of a time as any to take him up on that. 

Relief fills your whole body when you see a car pull up onto the side of the road. It’s an all-black sports car. Typically Eren, it sticks out sorely from all the other cars that have passed by. Wiping your eyes, you clear your vision to see Eren inside. He’s wearing a black cap and mask. 

Your feet sink in the mud as you walk up to the car, but he beats you to the punch. Approaching you in the dead of night with a sort of anger you can feel before you even look at his face. He has a jacket with him made of that thin plastic material. 

Before you open your mouth, he’s pulling the poncho over your head. He puts your arms through before he drags you by the wrist to his car. Hurriedly, you grab your suitcase and track it through the mud while you follow. Your voice is too hoarse to protest him, but you shout over the rain. 

“Fuck Eren,” You half yell, wriggling your wrist free from his grip “Let me go,” 

When he does, you stumble forward. You don’t get a look at his face as he walks over to the driver's side. In your exhaustion, you don’t think twice about it or assume he was doing it on purpose. You resign yourself. Hearing the back trunk of his car open, you try and read his face through the tinted windows. But even with the lights on, you can’t. 

Sighing, you truck it towards the back. Your feet sink into the soft earth under you, huffing as you pick it up and shove it into the trunk. After you close it, you hurry back to the passenger seat, finally opening the door to see Eren. 

He doesn’t even look at you when you do, eyes focused on the road. You stare at the interior of his car, grimacing at the thought of having to pay him back for getting it covered in mud. Left without a choice, you get in. 

The plastic on his seat tells you he might’ve thought ahead. You aren’t sure if you should be comforted by that or not. 

The door closes with a soft thud as you get to sit. The sound of the rain is muted almost instantly and leaves you with nothing but the radio, virtually silent, and Eren with a hand over the wheel. You put your seatbelt on and then settle more into your seat. Turning your body to face the window. The tension in the air is so thick you can feel yourself choke around it, breathing through your nose. 

Eren’s car smells like spearmint. You’re expecting to be berated at some point, for inconveniencing him or otherwise. After all, you called him through a sob and asked him for something you’re sure he’d rather not be doing. 

Instead though, he puts the car in drive, steps on the gas, and does a turn until he’s back on the road home. 

He doesn’t say a word or even looks at you. Maybe reminding him of the fact he owed you meant he was going to treat this interaction as entirely transactional, which is infinitely better for you. You let out a breath of relief, shivering. He turns on the heat without you asking. 

You decide against speaking and give him a glance of acknowledgment. He doesn’t return the gesture. 

You hear your phone buzz in the pocket of your pants, and fish it out. As you expected, it’s just your ex-boyfriend. A slew of missed messages and calls. Your eyes hurt getting adjusted to the bright lights as you send him a quick stop texting me tonight before clicking it off. You want to throw your phone in the river, and yourself. To float down somewhere far from here, and pretend nothing ever happened. 

With the white noise of rain no longer drowning out your invasive and sad thoughts, you find yourself choking back more tears. The wound is still fresh, tender, and bleeding. 

You’ve always had bad taste in guys. 

But you thought this time would be different. He was different. Patient, and attentive and so thoughtful. It was always stable. You met his family, for fuck sake. His mom, dad, and sister - are all good people. A nice house with a garage, health insurance, and a college graduate. From a different place than you and your friends. 

It was never all that exciting, but you thought it was better that way. To keep it simple. You put in the effort to make it work. Got comfortable with complacency, and waved off all of your friends when they insisted you should date someone better. Someone who suited you more. 

Maybe someone like Eren. The thought makes your stomach sour. 

But your ex, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t so easy. He was safe, and after your other experience with romantic relationships- safety wasn’t something you could dismiss with the idea of deserving more. More was abstract and intangible. Slippery. 

 You were content, so you stayed. Stability, you told yourself, I just want stability. 

He was the last person you could imagine cheating on you. Unsurprisingly with a girl from his hometown who he’d told you about before and swore he got over. Feeling stupid, you let out an exasperated laugh. It’s your fault for trying so hard. For taking his inch and trying to turn it into a mile.

For believing it’d be enough to try. Maybe you know better than anyone, there are just some people you never get closure with. That distant look in his eyes concerned you. But a guy like him didn’t seem like he’d cheat. 

You’ve never been so wrong. 

Your stomach rumbles as you close your eyes and go over the fight. Subsequently, you forget Eren is even in the car with you. His presence fades into the background, face pained as you think of your exes apologies. He seemed sorry. 

But you’re not someone who can forgive or forget easily - so you broke up. It just complicates everything. Already broken up, but you have to get your things. Find a place to stay for the month because it’s too expensive to go home early. Delete him off your socials, and maybe get in touch with your therapist again. The laundry list of post-break-up things to do is the most frustrating and most taxing. 

The emotional healing and distrust go in some compartment until you can actually unpack them. After the initial devastations scabs over, you’re sure the sore feeling of sadness will come back with a vengeance. 

That’s later though, and this is now. 

Moping is a pipe-dream, seeing as you’re in a place where you have no one and nothing. The only person you know lives here is Eren, but you’re not really expecting any help from him after tonight. Maybe 3 days max, if he’s feeling generous enough. 

At the very least, he must feel pretty sorry for you. No snippy remark or sarcastic gripe since you’ve gotten in. You can’t figure out what he’s thinking, just as before. It’s almost impossible to get a read on his face, and that thought leaves your mouth bitter. 

As bitter as a favor. As bitter as a memory, you swipe your tongue on your teeth to rid yourself of the taste but it lingers. 

You avert your eyes to your hands, peeling the skin off the edge of your fingernails. After a minute or two, you drive in front of a stoplight. The red reflects onto your sneakers and into Eren’s car. 

“So,” He starts, voice filled with that familiar sharpness “How’s the boyfriend?” 

Ah. There it is. He almost disarmed you with his silence. It’s a weird way to start scolding you, but you’ve never really understood why Eren does what he does. You sigh, clearing your throat. It’s thick with tears you’ve been shedding all evening. 

“Ex-boyfriend.” 

The light goes green, and he takes a right. He lives farther than you thought. 

“How’d you fuck it up this time?” 

Normally, his insistence on blaming you would frustrate you. It’s classically Eren. The projection was always the name of the game when you two were dating, especially at the sour end of your relationship. 

Your desire and ability to fight are diminished though, turning into ember and ash. Giving him a shrug, you laugh a bit. 

“Don’t know,” You say with a little more honesty than you were intending to  “I just uh. I don’t know.” 

He sighs this time, and his voice goes a touch soft. Sympathy feels worse than his anger. How pathetic you must look settles in. 

“...What happened?” 

It’s hard to get yourself to say it. Even though you know it. Getting the words out feels like climbing a mountain. You lean back into the headrest and turn away from him. Watching the passing cars intently, you smile. 

“He cheated on me. From uh, a girl with his hometown,” You say, forthright. Hoping his pity might make him go easy on you “His first love. I came home and found them in our bed,” 

You can feel him go stiff beside you. 

You realize that anything he said to you right now probably wouldn’t hurt. The numb pain outweighs everything else that you think it’d slide off your back.

“And?” 

“Uh... I don’t know. She left. And we got into a fight. Broke up with him and said I’d figured something out. Just didn’t really want to be in the same room with him,” You sigh, rubbing underneath your eyes “Packed my shit and sort of wandered around trying to figure out what to do. Called you when I saw how late it got,” 

“Should’ve called me earlier,” He says simply. You chuckle. 

“Like when?” 

He huffs. 

“Earlier. Would’ve picked you from his place and fought him or something.” 

You smile somberly. 

“I thought about it, buut I thought that'd upset him, so I didn’t,” 

This he scoffs at, anger in his voice. 

“That’s so like you,” 

You wish you could disagree. 

“Yeah,” You say back, unsure of what else to do “Yeah, guess it is.” 

“What’re you gonna do now?” 

You take a deep breath in. 

“I won’t be in your hair long. I’ll try and score an Airbnb and wait it out. Leaving early is expensive as fuck.” 

“You could stay with me if it’s just a couple of weeks,” He offers easily “Airbnbs are more expensive than a ticket, right?” 

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that? Does she know you’re picking me up?” 

He stares out into the road, jaw clenched. 

“We broke up a while ago.” 

“What happened there?” 

“None of your business.” 

You scoff. 

“Of course, it isn’t,” You reply, a little angrier than you can control “Your personal life never is. My mistake. I’m a little rusty on how this works.” 

His voice is so cold it’s chilling. 

“Don’t,” He grits, hands hard on the steering wheel “Don’t fucking start,” 

“I’m not trying to start anything. But it’s hypocritical for you to ask me about the shit that just happened and not even tell me why you and your girlfriend broke up.” 

“I’m doing you a favor,” He justifies in a half-hearted way you’ve grown accustomed to “I deserve to know,” 

You laugh, voice strangled. 

“You deserve a fucking foot up your ass,” You spit, suddenly shaking “A simple ‘It’s complicated or ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now’ would’ve sufficed.” 

“You’re still good at picking fights,” He goads, mouth twisted in a sneer “Did you nag him too? Maybe that’s why he went crawling back to his first love” 

It’s too far. He’s too far, and he knows it. It’s all over his face, even masked in anger. You shoot him a deadly look, arms crossed over your chest. Suddenly, tears well up in your eyes and you can’t even look at him. It was a mistake, of course it was. You shouldn’t have bothered. Expecting anything from Eren was your own fault. Even basic decency.

Whatever camaraderie you used to have dissolved a long time ago. You bite your tongue

“You’re the fucking worst,” You sniffle, closing your eyes “Just drop me off at a hotel. I don’t want to be around you. It’s my fault for assuming you’d be civil.” 

His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. 

“Tell me how you really feel,” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I think I’m being plenty civil right now,” 

“Fuck. Do you get off on provoking me? On hurting my fucking feelings?” Your voice comes to a scratchy yell, unable to contain the anger in it “I just got fucking cheated on. In the middle of a city where I don’t know a single person other than you. You’re the last person I want to fucking see, Eren. The last,” 

“So why’d you call me crying?” 

“I didn’t have a choice! If I had a choice, I would’ve called anyone else. Would’ve called Jean or Connie or Armin—anyone. Anyone who isn’t fucking you.” 

He clicks his teeth. 

“Liar,” He says with the sort of confidence that floors you “You would’ve still called me even if everyone we know was in the city,” 

It stings that he’s right. Your strength crumbles. 

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter that I thought of you? That’s always been my issue, right? How’d you put it again?” You laugh out loud, a little out of it “I should stop expecting anything from you, right?  It’s my fault. I should just stop having expectations for anyone. It must be me.” 

He looks a little strained. Almost sorry. You scoff. 

“Yeah,” You mumble, exhausted “You’re right. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. No matter how much I heal, or how hard I try to do the right thing” 

“Y/N—” 

“I worked on myself. Went to therapy. Took time off from dating altogether. Did everything right and still,” Your mouth fills with iron “Still. Still. I can’t find one person to treat me decently. Congrats, Yeager. It’s just like you hoped.” 

The silence that follows says more than you ever could. You rub your temple. He’s probably right that you pushed it. 

“Sorry for snapping on you,” You reply, voice tense “But, I still want to be dropped off at a hotel.” 

“Why?” 

You laugh. 

“What do you think? Think we’re gonna be able to play house for two weeks? It hasn’t even been an hour and we’re fighting,” 

He’s thinking. You can see it on his face, the tight strain of his jaw, and his brows. You haven’t seen him in person for more than a couple of years. But the familiarity always lingers. It doesn’t feel unusual, even the fighting. 

He hasn’t changed. That much is obvious. 

You shouldn’t have called, you think. It might’ve been better to get hypothermia and walk to the nearest motel.

“It’s not your fault he cheated on you,” He says. You think it’s his way of apologizing, a piss poor attempt at comforting you “Guys are just scumbags. Hung up on their first love or whatever. It’s not uncommon,” 

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Frankly, you don’t have the energy for either.

“Does that include you?” You attempt to joke. To your surprise, he laughs. His voice is hoarse, and a touch resentful. Not at you, though. That feels important. 

“Yeah.” He replies, not looking over at you “Me especially,” 

It’s the first time he’s said as much about himself in your presence. Before it was that you didn’t understand him or that you didn’t get it. It’s too early to retract your previous statement. Hope sparks anyways. For what, you don’t want to know. 

You nod sagely.

“You especially,” You affirm without any trouble “At least you know.” 

This time, he smiles at you. It’s barely there. This whole conversation and the good nature of it is like walking on eggshells. You both know that. 

Eren breaks the silence first as he pulls into another lane. 

“Stay with me for tonight,” He offers “Just tonight,” 

You don’t know why he insists. A loud yawn slips through your lips and your inclination to protest dwindles before being snubbed out completely. Shivering, you nod. Your head feels heavy. 

“If you say so,” 

You think you feel a pair of eyes on you before sleep washes over you like a tide. They might be Erens, but in your delirium, you can’t be sure. It doesn’t take much for you to succumb to sleep. 

__ 

After your car ride ended, Eren woke you up gently to help you inside. This time, he took your luggage without your asking and helped you into his home. 

He lives in one of those luxury apartments with a doorman. It’s fancier than you could ever imagine yourself living in. There’s a chandelier in the lobby, with a gym and a pool.  Trekking mud into such a nice place makes you feel guilty. Eren seems unbothered. 

You take the elevator up to the 7th floor, and then a right into the hallway. Eren fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

This is a bachelor pad. It’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you enter.

 The decoration is minimalist and expensive. Boyish in its extravagance, littered with pricey things only Eren Yeager would buy. The couches are black, the carpet is white and the windows are big panes that overlook the entire city. 

A flatscreen takes up most of the room. There’s a kitchen but it looks unused. It’s lived in, in the way that there are running shoes and clothes. Mess that happens when you spend your time somewhere, but it’s void of things a girlfriend would have in the house. You would know. 

On one of the walls is a painting of a woman's naked body, tastefully done. From what you remember of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, she’d have his head over something like that. 

Eren clears his throat behind you. When you turn to look at him, he looks a little sheepish.

“Broke up a while ago huh,” 

He looks surprised at your deduction. You poke your head at the painting. 

“She would’ve beat your ass for even thinking about putting that up,” 

His expression is affirmative. After you’re done taking it in, all of your sensory issues hit you all at once. You pull the sleeves of your soaked hoodie over your hands but you’re freezing. His eyes widen. 

“Ah, shit. Let me get you a towel. I’ll turn the heat up too,” 

“Thanks, ‘ren.”

The nickname slips out of habit, but you don’t get a chance to retract it as Eren shuffles off to grab you a towel.

 It doesn’t take him very long, a few in hand. You watch him idly as he turns on the heat before hurrying back over to you, shoving towels your way. You make him hold them for a minute, taking off your poncho and hanging it to him. 

You dry yourself off to the best of your ability as Eren goes to put away the raincoat. 

“Mind if I shower?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Would be concerned if you didn’t. I can get us food or something while you’re in there,”

“That’s… thoughtful of you. I’d appreciate it. I can Venmo—”

He puts a hand up, sitting on the back of his couch while you dry yourself off. 

“Save your money if you’re worried about it.” 

“I don’t want to owe you anything.” 

Your frank way of speaking to him irritates him, same as always.

“You won’t owe me,” He assures first “I know we hate each other's guts now, but I’m not gonna let you go hungry.” 

Warm. It makes you feel warm. You avert your eyes as you dry yourself off. 

“Your mom would have your head,” You murmur. He laughs. 

“My mom might forgive me. Zeke and my old man would hang me like a flag,” 

“How’s Zeke been?” 

His expression goes dry. They’re fighting. Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. On my ass, as usual. Business is good. I’ve got a niece now. Zeke’s wrapped around her finger,” 

You’ve seen it floating on social media. You feel a little melancholy. It must show on your face. 

“You should still visit home sometimes. Don’t be a stranger,” 

You smile sadly.

“Easier said than done,” 

“...Even if you don’t see me. I’m not the only one who misses you. Jean hasn’t stopped bitching about you going to see just Armin.” 

You don’t know if he catches it. He misses you. You’re too afraid to confront it but unable to ignore it. You think over his words.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” You start, voice slow “But after everything… after everything.”

There’s a minute where neither of you talks. Yet it’s not silent. The room is tense with everything you want to say or everything you did. Every regret, every memory starts to buzz all at once inside of your ribs like a spark of electricity through your hollow. 

“If tonight didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have ever seen you again,” 

He shakes his head with the same confidence as before. 

“I would’ve found you.”

He says it like it doesn’t need any explanation. As casual as relaying the weather to you. He gives you a look, scratching his jaw. 

“Go shower. How’s Thai? Same as before?” 

It takes you a second to find your voice. 

“Y-Yeah. Same as before. Where’s your shower?” 

He directs his eyes towards the bathroom. You grab your small luggage on your way, offering him a quiet thanks. The sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, faster than the pounding rain. 

__ 

Time passes like sand between your fingers. 

After a shower, a change of clothes, and a full stomach - you and Eren are left totally in each other's company. Your expectation of it being awkward or even marginally uncomfortable becomes unthinkable after a while. Despite how late it is, you aren’t tired or all that sad. 

Truthfully, you don’t know how to handle how familiar Eren feels. Like a durable winter coat with a heavy and comforting weight on your shoulders. It’s not burdensome to talk to him. He matches your pace and picks up easily on your quips. Natural lulls in conversation don’t feel uncomfortable and every misdirect or anecdote opens the door for more conversation. 

Maybe you should’ve expected that. You and Eren grew up together. Along with Mikasa and Armin, and everyone from your hometown. It shouldn’t surprise you that Eren is comfortable. 

When you look at him, you see home. If your gaze lingers. even a second too long or if you think for a minute more than necessary, you’re caught in the web of memories you’ve spent your whole life making. 

You wonder about your ex-boyfriend. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. Maybe it hurts because you understand perfectly. No matter how much you love after, there’s nothing like first love. If he saw that in her eyes, it’s all that much harder to feel angry. 

The only thing keeping you grounded is remembering that you’ve tried before and it failed miserably. It sinks you when you float too close to your heartwarming nostalgia. 

The acrid truth is that this is all temporary and circumstantial. 

Every now and again you remind yourself you’ve just been very vulnerable. And Eren’s grounding presence is helping you. 

Again and again, you remind yourself that. 

“High school was so ass,” Eren leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out “Mrs. Carnegie was such a bitch,” 

You give him an unimpressed look. He looks like you remember when he’s like this. Having changed into his own clothes, hair tied up messily. He’s adjacent to you on the couch, far enough to stretch his limbs comfortably.  

“She was nice to me. She was a bitch to you because you kept interrupting class,” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“And who was I doing that for?” 

Your heart skips a beat. . 

“Man, whatever.”

He laughs at you. 

“Weak come-back,” He hums, laying his head on the back of his couch. He tilts his head in your direction “I was a good boyfriend in high school at least,” He adds, a little softer. 

“You were. You were kinda like a puppy,”

He groans. 

“Don’t say it like that, that’s humiliating.” 

“What are you talking about? Puppies are cute.” 

“Yeah, but hearing that now is embarrassing. I’m a man now,”

You raise a brow.

“Men can't be cute like puppies?”

“No,”

“But Armin is right there,”

“Doesn’t count. He literally looks like a fairy prince. Statistical anomaly,”

That makes you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts. 

“Why’re you laughing? Am I wrong?” 

“You just said it so seriously. He is an anomaly but I think Connie is cute in a puppy way too,” 

“Connie’s bald ass? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I like it, his hair looks good buzzed.”

“You’d find something nice to say about a pile of trash,” 

“I like your long hair, Yeager.”

He gives you an unimpressed laugh as you break out into laughter. 

“Low fucking  blow,”  

“Cry,” 

This time he laughs instead, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it easily, holding it to your chest. 

“I do like the hair though. It’s all you ever talked about,” 

He gives you a little smile. 

“You remembered. I thought it’d make me look cooler. Alternative or whatever. Don’t know if it’s working,” 

“Your fans seem to love it,” 

He looks sheepish at the mention of his work. You laugh. 

“It gets a mixed response. A lot of people miss the short hair. I mostly keep it long because it’s easier to style,” 

“Both are nice. I like your short hair more when I think about it,” 

“Yeah?” 

“I guess it’s cause it was short when we’re growing up. And uh,” 

“When we were dating?” 

You give him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah. When we were dating, it was always short,” 

He closes his eyes, suddenly deep in thought. 

“You wanna know why I kept it short?” 

You think you’d be better off not knowing.

“...Why?” 

“When you’d play with my hair,” Subconsciously, he pushes his hair back a little “I could feel it better when my hair was shorter. Thought if I’d grew it, you wouldn’t touch it cause it’d get greasy quicker.” 

All at once, you pull back. Whatevers on your face isn’t enough to make Eren waver when he looks at you. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of something dark. Tempting like an abyss or a siren song. You swallow a lump in your throat. 

“It’s something I’d do,” 

The way Eren stares at you is so intense. You’re dancing around it now. What you both want to talk about it. A conversation that’s gone untouched for more than 4 years. Sober and aching. Different but the same. 

Eren breaks the tension first. That’s twice.

“I’d cut my hair short if you asked me,” 

You’re quiet. 

“I’d do whatever you want,” 

“Eren,” 

“What?”

What do you say? Don’t? Please? What could you say that means more than his name in your mouth? 

“You know what,” You say weakly “You know,”

A conversation you’ve had a hundred times before. It burns like bile rising in your esophagus. Crushed windpipes under the burden of love. Your hands grip the ends of the pillow tighter. He sits up straighter. You don’t want to talk about it. 

“Do I?”

“Eren,” A warning. 

“There’s not any point in talking around it, “ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie “Around this. Around us.” 

“There is no us,” You correct sharply, shaking your head “Not anymore,” 

His face doesn’t have anything you can read. You know yours must read of resentment. Eren is his usual blank. 

“There could be,” 

You shatter at the sentiment. The hopeful, easy way he says it. Like he doesn’t remember anything, and that you two are strangers. You know better that you aren’t. That no amount of healing can take it all back. Maybe you could forgive Eren, and somewhere far down the line - you could even be friends. 

But us is impossible. You tried us. It blew up in your face. 

“Fuck you for even saying that,” Your voice comes out garbled “Fuck you for even thinking it,” 

“How is it fuck me? For wanting to fix our relationship, seriously?” 

You hate him. With everything you have in you, with a burning fiery sort of anger. A resentment that’s spent  years strangling you. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue, all the time you tried to fix it. 

It’s all so messy and so unspeakbly touchy. 

“The sooner you get it out of your head there’s a relationship to fix, the better off we’ll be,” 

“Bullshit. Bullshit there’s nothing. I make you feel nothing?” 

It’s not what you said. He knows that, but he means what he’s saying. And he knows your answer already because he’s like that. He already knows everything about you. Where to make you hurt, and how to make it sting. Eren is a scar, not a bruise. He stays, for as long as you’re alive. No matter how faint, or how healed - he stays a part of you. 

He knows that as much as you do. That’s why it took you so long to leave. Of course you’d end up talking about it like this, but that’s not what you wanted. Or maybe it is. You don’t really know what you want from Eren. What you were hoping for when you stayed up late to talk to him and reminisce. You think just camaraderie. 

“I hate you so fucking much,” You croak, wiping away angry tears “More than anyone in my life, I hate your fucking guts,” 

“You don’t mean that,”

“I do,” Your reply comes in an angry hush “I can’t forget how we ended Eren. The months after I left were some of the worst of my life. Do you know how long it took me? To get better?”

His jaw clenches. 

“I didn’t think you would leave,”

His confession stuns you into silence. His arrogance never fails to astound, Like this, it feels incredibly frustrating. Your stomach sours. 

“...You thought I would stay? After everything?” 

“You said you would,” He raises his voice this time. He sounds hurt. Angry. Sad. All things you didn’t know he could still feel “You—you fucking promised. It was supposed to be forever and you left first.” 

“You can’t be serious,” 

“You promised,” 

“Yeah,” This time you sit up. Everything hits you at the same time “When I was 17 and in love. Before you treated me like shit,” 

He winces. So he does know. 

“You remember now, don’t you? You changed. You left for college, you stopped picking up my calls. You were such a fucking flirt that half of your campus thought you were single till I moved in. You remember that Eren?” 

His silence makes you madder. 

“You remember. right? How I’d desperately try and fix our relationship while you ran around doing whatever? You always looked so fucking indifferent. All we ever did was fight. Nothing I did worked,” 

“Y/N—” 

“I didn’t know anything other than you. If it was anyone else… But it was you,” 

“I’m—”

“You used to tell me when we were kids that if any boy hurt my feelings, you’d kill him. You remember that?” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Don’t make it sound like I just up and left for nothing. We both know that’s bullshit,”  You choke back a sob as you think about it. The gaping hole in your chest that Eren always left splits open again. 

“I’ve always loved you. Always. From the minute I could walk and talk. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Eren,”  Even now, you don’t want him thinking that “I left because you didn’t love me. I left because I realized that” 

The silence that follows your rant exhausts you so much you slump back into the couch. You learned your lessons the hard way. That love was meaningless to safety. That stability was a luxury few can afford. Nothing is guaranteed.

This second time around, you know that love can’t be one-sided. Maybe that’s what all of this has been trying to teach you. 

You cry silently, taking in deep breaths. You have no idea what he’ll say, and you don’t know if you care. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“....What?” 

“I’m sorry,” His voice breaks a little this time. You don’t remember the last time you saw him cry “I didn’t mean for things to end like that,” 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” 

You know it’s a mean thing to say. It’s not kind or forgiving. His sincerity doesn’t even feel real to you at the moment he says, but sorry doesn’t make you feel better. Sorry doesn't fix it.

“I know,” 

“Then why say it?” 

“I still love you,” 

Drowning. You’re drowning in murky waters, hardly getting air. 

“You don’t love me,” 

“Don’t say that,” His voice sounds weak and desperate. You haven’t heard it like that in so long. Vulnerable “Even if you hate my fucking guts. I still love you, always did. Always.” 

“Then why did you do that to me?”  

“I was terrified,” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Eren. Spoken to him, or even called him on the phone. Years. Checking on him through his social media and streams was all you ever got. Sometimes Armin would fill you in, or Mikasa.

But Eren, in your eyes, had remained how you left him. He got arrogant you think. He got his fix and grew up to be tall and handsome. Had aspirations and grew out of his shyness. 

And instead of growing together, you grew apart. You started to accept the fact that the Eren you loved was no longer someone you could reach. The young, doe-eyed lovesick boyfriend. Eren was just a college boy now. Not your only exception, not the love of your life. 

Accepting that was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in your life. 

So why does he sound like someone you used to love? And why now, of all times? 

“When you talk like that, it makes me think you’re different.” 

“I am,” He stops for a minute, hands folded “I’m trying to be.” 

“...Why were you scared?” 

“It’s uhm, I don’t know how to say it,” 

“Take your time,” 

“Doing long distance made me realize how much I needed you,” His voice is hardly over a whisper. “It was ego. But I hated that. I had it in my head that you were off with other guys, and I—I don’t fucking know—I was stupid. I wanted to feel like you still wanted me,” 

“So what? You made me chase you?” 

“Yeah. Something like that. When you moved in, it just… I don’t know. I saw how everyone looked at you. I didn’t think it would make me so angry to see you like that,” 

“Sounds like…” 

“Self-sabotage,” Eren interjects “That’s what my therapist said, at least.” 

“You’re in therapy?” 

“Only a few months, but yeah. It helps.” 

“I don’t understand you at all,” You shake your head “ Not at all,”

“You bring out the best and worst in me.” He replies with a humorless laugh on his lips “Still. Around anyone else, it doesn’t matter. What they do or don’t do,”

“And me?” 

“You,” He rubs a hand over his face, voice shaking. He tries to be lighthearted but the sentiment is sincere “I make myself sick thinking about you,” 

It feels hot under your clothes. 

“We shouldn’t be… I shouldn't—”

“I know. You drive me so fucking crazy and I get so angry. I know, but how the fuck could it ever be anyone but you?” 

Your breath hitches. 

“What’re you saying?” 

“That I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I don’t want to ever be away from you ever again. I can’t help but want that,” 

You can feel him coming into your space. How he scoots closer to you, just enough that he’s moving across the couch. He’s so much bigger than you remember. Stronger. It's all moving so fast. When he puts his hand on your knee, you tense but don’t move. The dizzying smell of his cologne catches on your tongue and tickles your throat. 

His eyes dart down to your lips. His hands running up your outer thighs. You’re defenseless. Weak, you pull back a little. He doesn’t move. 

“I can’t just forgive you overnight—” 

“I know,” He leans in a little more. Close enough that his breath touches your skin “I’ll keep trying. I want to try again. I’ll earn it this time. I’ll chase you, and you can ignore me all you want,” 

He’s being cheeky as much as he’s being serious. Classically Eren. You’re so screwed. 

You feel your throat close up as he inches forward. 

“You’re so bad for me.” You whisper, the words too heavy. 

“Two sides of the same coin,” He says back, then he smiles “We’re made for each other. You think that too. I know you do,” 

“I wanted stability,” 

“I’ll try to give you it. If that’s what you want.” 

“And if you’re just a rebound?” 

“As long as I’m yours,” 

“You’re such a scumbag.” 

“I know,” 

Everything falls from under you the minute you kiss him. 

A little noise of surprise leaves his lips that instantly morphs into desire. It’s an uncouth display of emotions, so animal that you can hardly call it love. It’s something in between love and hatred, the opposite of indifference. All the intensity of life, of every terrible emotion you’ve ever had. You kiss Eren Yeager first because you miss him, despite yourself. Everything after that is just another blurry detail. 

He moans into your mouth. Where your hand has landed on his chest, he grabs your wrist and then drags you into his lap without ever breaking apart. You end up over him, with his lap under yours.

When he has you where he wants you, he hugs you close to his body. You can feel the hardlines of muscle through his shirt, his arms secure around your back. Your tits are pressed against his chest, bra forgotten. The slightest brushes are what make you feel the most.

Eren’s shaky breaths and the overwhelming way his lips move against yours. Indecision in how to treat you. Soft kisses that are followed by rough ones. The intensity of your own desire consumes your ability to act cordial, as you squeeze against Eren tight. 

You can feel the rapid beat of Eren’s heart in his chest, grinding your hips into his. 

In between kisses, he makes sure to nip at your jaw. You can feel his teeth pierce your pulse point, his tongue lapping over the leftover wound that leaves you shaking. 

He litters bites like that on every inch of your skin, your neck left with an ache. There’s something ironic in Eren licking your wounds over, but the words escape you before you can utter them.

Even in just being claimed, the feeling is intense. It makes you visceral. Not to be worked up from touch or words, but something else entirely. Something cosmic in it’s very existence. 

Eren finally pulls away from you, just barely to glance at your swollen lips. He meets your eyes as his teeth sink into the lower one to make you whine. He talks to you while your eyes are locked. 

“Fuck,” His voice is thick with lust. Heat splits you right in half “Fuck, fuck, baby. Been so long,” 

“Y-Your hands,” 

“Can’t take em off you,” They’re smooth as they feel you up. Shamelessly squeezing the fat of your hips in between in his fingers, grabbing your ass hard. A guilt creeps up for comparing him to your ex-boyfriend. 

But all you can think about is how Eren is the opposite of stability. Images pop up of when you used to have sex, so many years before. He was meeker before, less assured. You thought his confidence would make you sick, but it doesn’t. 

Rather, the look on his face while he gropes you makes you wet. Chewing his lower lip, feeling your body like he’s dying to see it under his clothes. Impatiently and unabashedly wanting you in a way that is distinctly Eren. 

There’s truth in the sentiment that no one could ever fuck you like Eren could. It’s one you’ve kept to yourself for so long that you almost forgot it. Eren knew your body and shaped it to his hands years ago. You like being touched because of how he touched you, a memory you carried like a torch. 

It was Eren who wanted you first, who fucked you first, who made you cum first when you were both so awkward and clumsy. 

“Look at you,” He groans. His hands inch under your shirt, skin on skin. Pinching your nipples gently, till they’re hard against your shirt “Look how sexy you are,” 

He knows what you like, what you like being told. 

“My pretty fucking girl,” 

Fuck. Of course, he remembers that. 

“Oh, you—” 

“So pretty,” He parrots. Even with electricity buzzing in his movements, he’s patient. Undresses you gently. When your skins bare, your shirt tossed to the other side of the room, he kisses the underneath of your tits. Each one, he kneads them. Appreciates them,  worships them. All of that undivided attention that he always used to give you when you were dating. 

When you were in love. 

“You still like when I tease ‘em too,” 

His tongue runs over your hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, His free hand occupies the other, taking time to give them both equal attention. Your body starts to ignite, little sparks of electricity flitting up your spine. 

Letting your fingers card through his hair, you glance down. He looks up at you with his mouth full, eyes lidded. His lashes are long against his olive skin, sun freckles over the bridge of his nose. Your hands reach to touch the moles along his cheeks, all in places you remember. 

You don’t resist the urge for intimacy. Not things you did with your ex, but with Eren. You press a kiss to his hairline and his hands get a little tighter. Your want expands, fills like a balloon. 

Feeling his cock nudge against your shorts is surprising. A blush crawls over his face, grinding his hips up into you. It’s muscle memory to do it back - rocking yourself until he’s nestled between you. Dry-humping like this makes you feel like a teenager again, doing this in Eren’s dingy basement when you weren’t ready to lose your virginity. 

Except Eren knows what he’s doing. He shifts his weight, sitting up enough to push up against your clit. His mouth deatches, a string of saliva in his place. The cool air against the swell of your tits make, adds to the sensation. 

He grabs your ass again, this time just to push you up. To set a pace as you grind against each other. 

“Wanna know something?” 

You choke back a whimper. 

“Mm,” 

“I used to jack thinking about you,” His voice is slick when he speaks, a low whisper “Remember? You used to be too sensitive so you’d rub against the edge of your bed. Thought about it all the time after you told me,” 

Your jaw drops open. 

“You—” 

“You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Not too sensitive for this, but—,” He does it with more purpose, a long slow drag so you can feel his shaft against your clothed cunt “you still like it slow,” 

“Eren, holy—” 

“Everything you like,” He hums, this time matching how he moves you with his own body “Still remember every detail,”

“Y-Yeah?” 

“Yeah baby,” He dips his head to kiss against the column of your throat again, this time sucking deep dark hickies. You can feel his lips when you moan “Everything. Kept me company,” 

You’re almost too afraid to ask what he means. 

“Eren,” You half beg, fingers twitching with want “Don’t tease me,” 

“What do you need?” 

“Uhm,” Embarrassed. For some reason, Eren asking you is making you embarrassed. You’ve never been before “This is so humiliating,” 

“You were always shy about asking for it,”

“So why’re you making me, asshole?” 

“I like watching you squirm,” 

“Shut up, you’re awful,” 

“Put something in my mouth, then?” 

Your eyes go wide, and he smiles. His breath brushes against the shell of your ear. 

“You wanna sit on my face, right? Shut me up,” 

It was a stupid arguement you had. At the latter half of your relationship, sometimes the only way you two resolved things was sex. Eren referencing it makes you mad as much as it makes you wet. 

When you were both a little inebriated, he used to beg you for it.The memories of that make you nod. Your voice is coarse with lust.

“Wanna sit on your face,” 

“Take your shorts off,” 

Taking off your clothes is haphazardly done. You and Eren part ways. He takes off his shirt and hoodie to reveal a body cut from pure marble. He was always athletic, but clearly his gym rat posting on his IG story were genuine and not for show. He sends you a little smirk when he catches you staring, flexing his muscles a little. 

“Do I look good?” 

You nod, awestruck as you wriggle out of your shorts leaving you in just your socks. Eren does the rest slowly, stood up and taking off his sweatpants His thighs are muscular, strong with a little dark hair. It’s on his stomach too, just barely there. 

The fabric of his boxers strain against his cock. It’s big, bulges against the black material that you can see the skin. It’s intimidating to look at. 

Your eyes follow him to the couch. You watch him get comfortable, moving pillows around to make sure there’s enough space. He flashes you a smile when he’s laid down, untying his hair as a last touch. 

“Come here, angel,” He signals, waving you over “Come sit,” 

The air brushes past you as you approach him. He reaches a hand out to lace with your hands. 

“Face that way. So you can hold onto my hair, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” 

It takes you a minute. It’s easier to climb over his chest, inching towards his face. When you’re spread right over his neck, he gives you a cheeky grin. His hands reach over your thigh, pulling you apart. His eyes are zeroed in on your clit, finger brushing back the hair on you. The affectionate way he does both makes you want to hide away.

Eren is holding you in place so you can’t move. 

“Look at that,” He whispers, breath fanning your cunt “Look at how wet you got for me,” 

Instead of putting his tongue where you need it, he cranes his neck to one side and presses kisses into your inner thigh. Licking at the skin, he holds your eyes. 

“Tell me something,”He goes an inch highe and leaves a hickey before repeating it a little bit aove “Did he ever get you this wet? You can be honest,” 

Your clit throbs between your legs. Eren grins, as you squirm. You look down at him, shaking your head. 

“Not like you. I mean, he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t—”

“But he wasn’t me, was he?” He goes on, his lips pressing right against your achy clit, arousal on his lips that he licks with ease “Could never be me, could he?” 

“Eren,” You whine. His smile gets bigger, tongue licking one long stripe against your folds. 

“Say it baby. That I’m the best you’ve ever had?” 

Your reply is a meek yeah. It’s hard to do anything with confidence or self-assurance when your entire body is begging to be pleasured. Eren gives you a few more kisses on your clit, like he’s making out with it. It’s sweet and lazy, making your hips buck for more. 

“I’m the same,” He coos, sticking his tongue out as he forces your weight down so you’re not longer hovering but sitting on his face “There’s nothing like you,” 

He doesn’t hesitate to dive in right after that. Burying himself deep, your hands immediately fix at the base of his hair. He’s not shy about it, his tongue laid flat, creating just enough suction around to feel. It’s perfectly pracited, familiar. 

Eren eats you out from memory. That much is obvious to you as soon as you feel him, the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue. It’s a measured build of pleasure, soothing a long-time ache that slowly escalates to something more. 

A mewl escapes your throat. He moans against your pussy, nose bumping against you. Tugging at the roots of his hair, you wiggle your hips to get him to give you more. 

You feel the coil in your tummy when Eren goes a little deeper, sucks a little harder, moves a little faster. Encouraging you to use him to the best of your ability as he pushes your hips, nails dug in the skin to keep you steady Looking down makes you see him completely blissed out, like he’s in a comfortable dream. 

You don’t really remember the last time someone went down on you like this without asking. Like he’s enjoying it all on his own, like he wants you. There’s vigor to how he takes you into his mouth, tastes you greedily, with appreciative grunts and groans. 

The word perfect falls flat to how Eren licks your pussy. Perfect is too prim, too neat. Whatever Eren makes you feel between your legs, is far from perfect. Eren is something more. More intangible, hard to touch. He eats your pussy perfectly, but messily. Desperately, lovingly. Every inch of you is wanted, tongue nestled against your folds and on your hard clit like he wants to stay. He looks at you intoxicated and it shows in how much joy he takes in tasting you. Hitched to your very existence, like a planet revolving around the sun. 

He does it like it’s a privilege, a divine gift. Sucks like it’s sweet, ripe fruit in scorching summers. Water in an oasis, deserving of only the highest praise. Not worth wasting even for pride. Shameless. 

You can feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the familiar edge. Each second pushes you to it, closer and closer and closer before you feel the feeling again. Deep in your body, undoing you completely.

“Eren, oh—” 

You cum hard. It’s the first one, the most intense. Eren is unyielding as you hit your high and start to fall back down, catching on each layer of the ozone. You moan his name over and over, Eren, Eren, Eren. It’s all you can think to say. The only person you’d trust to catch you from this high, you fall foward. Hand gripping on the couch, you try to wiggle away but he won’t let you until he’s had his fix. 

When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath. 

You lean back, catching sight of his face. It’s dripping down his chin. He reaches his hands to wipe it with his fingers, then sticks his hands up to you.

“Open your mouth up,” He says, pushing his fingers against your tongue “Or come down here and clean me up, maybe?” 

You widen your eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you wiggle down until you’re face level with him. He gives you a glance, encouraging you. Unsure, you push your tongue out against his neck, tracing down to his adams apple. He groans, voice vibrating. 

“Fuck yeah,” His hands comes around the back fo your neck “Just like that baby. That’s perfect,” 

Your memory reminds you. You repeat your actions, tongue dragging over his nec and chin, presses kisses and bites all along his jaw and neck. Eren moans above you appreciatively. The sound is pleasing. Hearing it over and over eggs you on to “clean” him up well until you reach his lips. 

The way he kisses you is sweet and gentle. He kisses your lips before peppering them on your face. 

“Fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.” 

“Making you sappy?” 

“Already was. I’m so hard for you right now, it’s fucking stupid,”

You let out a whine.

“Mm,” 

“Condoms upstairs,” 

“Don’t need ‘em. ‘s fine. Just give it to me how it is,” 

He shivers against your body. 

“I wanna cum just thinking about it,” 

“Don’t think about it and come fuck me,”

He laughs, handing coming down on your ass. 

“Get up,” 

You stand up and Eren follows suit. He gives you a quick peck before whispering in your ear. 

“Bend over the edge of the couch for me,” 

Shivering, you nod your head and walk beind the couch. You shoot Eren a look over your shoulder, seeing him ease his cock out of his boxers to give it a quick stroke. It’s just high enough that you struggle to get over it all the way. His eyes are piercing, watching you as you bend over like he asks. You push your ass towards him. 

“Like this?”  

“That’s perfect, angel. Stay like that,” 

You can hear him coming towards you. The weight of his body, bare chest against your spine is almost startling. He’s not crushing you, but you’re still completely pinned under underneath him. You wriggle your hips back, struggling to move.

His hand creeps lower and lower, finger slipping through your folds. He feels you up like that for a while, whistling. 

“You’re so wet,” He coos. His voice is smooth in your ear. You moan. He rests his chin just over your shoulder as you turn your head to kiss him. Slowly, he slips his middle finger inside. You’re surprised how little resistance there is really. The pad of his finger reaches far, rubs against your g-spot without second guessing it.

Your squealing makes him do it again. It’s a careful move. Your body responds to him eagerly as he slips another one, steady. Until he’s knuckle deep, stretching out unhurriedly. When it’s no longer a tight fit, he pulls away from you. 

Over you, he repositions. You can hear him spit in his hand behind you, the way his palms move against his cock. It’s all completely quiet besides that, lewd little noises that clue you into what he’s doing. Not seeing him makes the anticipation greater, leaves you vulnerable to whatever he wants to do. 

“Missed this pretty pussy so much,” He hisses, the head of his cock pushing past your folds until he’s snug against your hole. The muscle clenches “So fucking warm,” 

“Eren,” 

He pushes forward, a calculated push of hips. You both moan when he enters you. Just the tip, just the familiar curve of his cock. Your inside ache, deep inside. A place only Eren could reach, you think. He groans nto your ear. Your feet are barely touching the floor in this position, Hardly reaching the ground, toes holding you up. The back of the couch digs into your stomach. It’s puts a pressure on your lower belly, that Eren must feel.

All your muscles are tense. Tight. The tip of his cock rubs against your walls. He’s so hard. Intrusive. You clench around him again. Jaw agape, you moan as he pushes even further. 

“See that?” He whispers, against the shell of your ear. His hands grab yours, putting them behind your back till your defenseless “She remember me,” 

The moan you let out is entirely involuntary once it hits you he means your pussy. Your walls spasm around him. He chuckles at that. 

“That’s right. She loves me even if you don’t, doesn’t she?” Pulling his hips back until your empty, he fills you again. Harder this time. You choke on air “We made love tonight, didn’t we?” 

“Eren, shit” 

“I like when you say my name baby,” He says, another thrust “Like when your pretty pussy welcomes me home. It’s mine, isn’t it? Always has been. Bet he wasn’t making you feel like this, was he?” 

All at once, you feel Eren for what he’s worth. You feel his cock, the curve and the shape the weight as it drags inside of you. You feel the weight of his body, all the stretch in your thighs as he casts over you like a shadow. The gravelly way that he speaks reverberating in your bones. He’s fucking you like he’s all the way in the bottom of your stomach. 

Like a puzzle piece, Eren completes you on a level no one else in the world could. The way he talks to you reflects his, confidence not unearned. He’s cocky and awful, but his dick is doing this to you. Making your mouth fall open until your drooling underneath him. He answers every craving you ever had, that bone-deep sense of dissatisfaction that you’ve spent an entire year burying. 

Eren fucks you like he’s in love with you, and only you. His cock kisses your cervix, and it feels like the same kind done at weddings. A vow to you, a promise. It feels so fucking good when Eren fucks you. Nothing in the world could ever quite comparing to that satisfaction. Deep in your body, primal and hungry. 

“You were made for me,” He pants in your ear “Made just for me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you. Remind you that. You get it now?” 

You whimper out loud. Yes comes out naturally. Eren kisses your shoulder blade before sinking his teeth into it.

“Knew you would, 

Eren fucks you the only way he’s ever known to. Deep and paced. You can’t say how he does it with anyone else, but with you it’s always been the same. Like he’s carving you out with his cock, the way you’ve always needed. You know you’re starting to be close again with each thrust. It’s a memory that your body welcomes. 

Eren knows what you need to cum, but he waits. Like always, he keeps at it until your walls are tremor. Until you’re just getting there, and you need the extra push to get you to your end. He keeps you at the end as he fucks you, whispers filthy things in your ear until you reach the point of desperation that you’re begging. 

“Please, Eren,” At your limit, pleaing “Please make me cum,” 

“There’s the magic word,” 

He snakes a hand around, reaching your clit and giving it a gentle rub. Everything happens at once. It’s perfect motion. Equilibrium. You can feel your knees start to give in as he gives it to you, the tension gently easing out. A carbonated soda, cracked open slowly to make way for the big finish. The release. Eren speaks to you again.

“Cum for me angel. Give it to me,”

Like a seismic wave, you cum hard on Eren’s cock just like he asked. He’s not far behind you, thrusting through the waves of pleasures. Your brain melts out of your ears completely, babbling to him to give you his cum too.

And he does in record time, shallowly rutting into you until you’re full of him, shooting deep. You feel your insides painted white, content at the feeling. 

When he pulls out of you, you feel it drip onto his hardwood floors. You’re unsure of what comes next, but he pulls you right into your arms. Into his chest, even with wobbly legs. 

“I’m not gonna let you go again,” He assures, more to himself than to you “You’re mine. Forever and always,” 

Against your better judgement, you give in. Just for now. Just for the time being. 

#eren x reader #eren smut #aot x reader #aot smut #writing tag #toxic cw #cheating cw

[clov3sr]

Break up with Your Girlfriend. | Jude Bellingham

♢ — author annotations: I live for aggressive y/ns. I do. esto es para mis amores afrolatinos bc that's who I had in mind while making this, <3

♤ — c/t w(s): cheating! Dancer!reader and not proofread bc I'm lazy

♧ — synopsis: He justifies it by reminding himself: he was going to break up with her anyway.

♫ — music inspo.: Break up With Your Girlfriend, I'm Bored x The Boy is Mine

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 2:22 ─────ㅇ─── 4:03

"break up with your girlfriend, 'cause I'm bored,

— the boy is mine."

In a way, you're an actor.

The same seductive drawl that actors have to lace their tongue with is what you fill every vein with, and every limb and bone and muscle moves with the same story to tell. Every fiber of your being, in these three minutes, exists as a shrine to the plot of whatever song you've been choreographed into.

It’s not really just a story, though, is it? Not when he's eyeing you like that.

He has a girlfriend.

That used to dispel your thoughts immediately, but at some juncture they began to linger regardless. You think it's seeing the degrading way she treats him, but maybe it was seeing how uninterested they looked in each other’s presence. Maybe it was how nervous he got when you looked him in the eyes, how his Adams Apple would visibly bob when he swallows back whatever’s threatening to escape his throat. How you couldn't help but give a sly little smile and downwards glance through your eyelashes. Some people would say that you're a homewrecker, that maybe you know exactly what you're doing to the poor couple.

Some people are right, and if the prize is Jude Bellingham, maybe you don't give a damn.

The story you're telling is intricate, multifaceted and difficult to consume in one sitting like your audience is doing. It has multiple perspectives, a dynamic setting, and characters with depth — two main characters — that spiral around each other until they give in to their own selfish needs. And she's a side character, comic relief. An obstacle.

The way she's clinging onto Jude's arm and displaying him to her friends like a purse is getting on your nerves now. But you'd completed your dance, and he watched. You've preyed on him with your lynx-like gaze, and he's stared back with intent to act. You've laid your bait, and as always, you nearly pray he bites.

You turn your back to the couple, making your way outside the studio. The late-winter chill immediately sprints across your skin, cold nipping at the exposed areas that your dance attire leaves. You inhale sharply at the intrusion. You could've sworn it was going to be warmer today. Still, you resolve that it's at least a welcome respite from your draining performance, both physically and emotionally. The cold air is visible in thin wisps while you work to catch your breath, and you lean haphazardly on the railing of the studio's back steps.

“D’you want my jacket?”

Hook, line, sinker.

You hum lowly, glancing backwards. He's meant to be watching her dance now, but you doubt she'd even notice he was gone. When you dedicate a performance to someone, in your experience, they're all you can sense: the deity in which your three minute shrine revolves around. She doesn't dedicate songs to him like you do, she can't. He can't worship her altar of movement like he worships yours.

"Too sweet," you murmur under your breath, but he catches it regardless and shrugs a little in an attempt to play it off. His outstretched hand with his jacket remains. After just enough silence to make him a little nervous — you can't help but tease a little — you turn and take the jacket, lazily slotting your arms into it and smiling up at him, "Thank you, Jude."

His hands retract back to the pockets of his sweatpants, and you take a moment to admire the veins that run across his arms.

Turning back to the rail, you lean over it again, admiring the glazed blue of the afternoon sky and stratus clouds that aren't dense enough to contain the yellow tint from the sun behind them.

"You're an amazing dancer."

He hasn't moved from his spot, but you're still so content with being out here with him alone.

"I appreciate that, but the real props must go to the choreographer."

"No, it's you."

His response was brisk, and you can hear a slight stutter in his next words as he governs himself to a less animated tone. You see that signature waver of his Adam's Apple in your head, even with your back turned to him.

He clarifies, "Yes, the choreographer is amazing, but it's you who brings the dance to life."

Head tilted in amusement, you find yourself swiveling around, now leaning backwards on the rail.

"Isn't she dancing right now?"

He blinks a few times and looks down and away from you momentarily. You hate to bring her up when it's just you two, she's like a dart that scrapes your tongue every time you speak of her, but you decide it's time to push a little. If he doesn't want to engage, he won't, and you can finally resign from this game of cat and mouse.

"Yeah,"

"And you're out here."

Another blink. You're on the brink of inhaling from slight disappointment in your wasted efforts when he looks you in the eye, a reinvigorated want flooding his expression. He steps forward a bit, trapping you between himself and the railing with those strong arms you admire so much.

"I am."

You're not sure if you're the cat or the mouse anymore.

"Are you..." you trail off, and Jude's ego swells realizing that it may be the first time he's seen you falter like that. Because of him, finally.

"Do you know what you're doing, Jude?"

He licks his lips, and a part of him suggests he should push away from the rail right now and preserve the frail integrity he's been losing for however long this game has been going on. Then, he catches the way your eyes dart to his lips, the rapid up and down movement of your chest, those damn eyes peering through your lashes, and his integrity shatters immediately.

"I do," he leans down to your level, his broad shoulders encasing you. You feel his lips graze yours almost innocently, but all of this is far from that; It excites you beyond words. He takes his time now, deep brown eyes scanning your own and then trailing down to where your lips are hairs away from meeting, "I think you know what you're doing too."

♢ — author postnote(s): I'm obsessed w this mashup rn,,, n trust me mis amores, we don't condone cheating 'round here. Don't be weird.

#jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham #bvb imagine #football imagine #jude bellingham fluff #fanfic #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #cheating cw #cheating fic #pablo gavi #neymar #borussia dortmund #england #england fc #bvb dortmund

[wri0thesley]

omg omg I have no idea if this is necessarily lore accurate (I’m pretty new to genshin!) but I can’t get the idea of one of these men on some kind of undercover mission seducing the lovely and lonely wife of their mission’s target, either to try to get information (the professional version) or just because they can lol (the nasty version) after all, if you leave such a sweet, innocent young thing like yourself unprotected, who knows what could happen?

oh, anon . . . not exactly what you're talking about, but this has childe written all over it. after all! he sometimes does take on debt collection missions - and though he'd originally come to your abode in search of a fight, it's something else that gets his blood pumping hot in his veins when he discovers you there instead.

cw; afab reader, cheating (not on childe), reader is in an unhappy marriage, dub-con-ish. fem reader, gendered pet names (princess). not sfw, minors dni.

(send me a genshin kink thought/thirst for elucidation and drabbles. this one is not a drabble. it got away from me.)

Your husband had never even mentioned taking out a loan, much less one from the Northland Bank. Though the Fatui endeavoured to keep their more disagreeable affairs clandestine, rumours are bound to spread - and you have heard of what happens to those who do not repay their debt.

You protest weakly to the red-haired, friendly young man who comes to your door with bright blue eyes to have what he terms as a 'friendly conversation' about the money you didn't even know that you owed. You can feel your lip trembling, your eyes filling with tears, even as your voice dips and quavers. You are not too proud to beg, you don't think, when your life is on the line--

But the young man has seen through you.

"He didn't even tell you?" He asks, watching the way your hands are shaking like leaves in the breeze. "Aww. That's a low move, princess. Why would you even want to stay with a man like that?"

(Because you have nowhere else to go. Because, despite how he ignores you and leaves you lonely, he does support you. Because it's what's expected of you.)

"I--I--" You try and open your mouth to come back with a rebuttal, but he's moving closer and closer to you, eyes burning brighter and hotter. "I s-suppose . . . I don't have anyone else."

A brief coldness descends over his gaze, but it's gone as soon as it arrives, and the young man reaches out and cups your trembling cheek in a gloved hand, sympathy rolling off him in waves.

"You poor thing," he says, "family is supposed to take care of one another, you know. And your husband . . . well, he's just left you all alone here, hasn't he? Knowing that he's made a major faux pas . . . Oh, his business probably won't recover from this. The Northland Bank don't give second chances, you know." You look up at him beseechingly, the tears that have been threatening to spill from your eyes finally making good on the promise. "Archons, he might never even bother coming home. Just leave you to deal with the fall-out. Doesn't it make you so angry, princess?"

The thought of your husband making a run for it and leaving you to face the cold harsh truth of everything alone has never occurred to you before - but even as the young man says it, you realise that it wouldn't be entirely out of character for him. And that . . . yes. That makes you furious.

Something on your own expression must change, because he grins at you suddenly like a cat who has found themselves with a glut of mice to hunt and feast upon. This time, when he smiles, there's a glint of desire making itself known in his gaze.

"I'm Childe, by the way," he says, as that hand moves down from your cheek, trailing a finger down your neck, the hollow of your throat, to where your shirt is open. " . . . I think it's high time you got to have a little fun of your own."

Childe's idea of fun, as it turns out, is goading you onto straddling him on one of your battered kitchen chairs. His idea of fun is kissing you like he's battling with you; teeth biting at your lower lip, his hands roaming all over your hips and your waist and your chest, tugging at your clothes with little care about how you hear stitches pop and seams rip.

"M-my clothes," you say, breathlessly, breaking the kiss to look at him hazily-eyed and swollen of mouth. Childe pouts.

"I'll buy you new ones," he tells you, as if that's a foregone conclusion. "What can I say, sweetheart? It's nice to be a little bit rough with toys, sometimes."

Against your will, your thighs clench at the pet name, at the brazen confession that he's considering you a toy to play with - and Childe doesn't miss it, his pout quickly fading into a grin.

"Come here," he orders you, as if you aren't currently straddling his lap. He yanks you closer, making sure that the hot part of you burning between your legs is pressing against a stiffness in his trousers that is abundantly obvious. "I hope that cute little spark of defiance won't go out when I'm inside of you."

Your cheeks heat. Instead of responding, you reach down between the two of you to tug at your skirts yourself, and Childe groans as you also reach for the placket of his trousers. Before you can get any further, he's suddenly got his hand around your face; thumb and forefinger squishing your cheeks together, forcing you to look into his eyes. That bright, burning hunger is there again.

"You're cute," he tells you, sounding entirely earnest. "You're really too good for your husband, you know. I think I'll take you with me when we're done here."

Childe's idea of fun, as it turns out . . . is lowering you down onto his cock, inch by slow, aching inch, holding onto your hips with a strength that his lithe frame didn't bely and chuckling when you squirm.

His idea of fun is only letting you have another few tantalising tenths of an inch every time you beg him, until you're trying to push down in his grasp so that you can take him all inside of you and your nails are digging hard into his shoulders. To your surprise, the feel of your nails digging in (your fingers like claws, your squirming getting more and more desperate) makes Childe hiss in a breath and growl low in his throat.

"Well," he says. "You fitted it all in, princess. Colour me impressed." He reaches between the two of you, delving between your thighs to pinch the pearl of your clit between two fingers. You squeak, heat washing over you, curling further around him so your head buries itself in the crook of his neck. He chuckles. "Why don't you see if you can impress me even more, huh?"

He's goading you.

But you have, for so long, been expected to be pretty and mild and sweet. You have never thought there that much fire in you; you are, for all intents and purposes, a perfect and modest little wife. But Childe . . . he seems to want to draw out what little anger and heat has been left to smoulder inside of you and kindle the flame. When he kisses you, he bites at your lip. When he squeezes you, he does it hard enough to leave bruises. And when you begin to slowly fuck yourself on his cock, the wet sounds of your sex sucking him in echoing around the kitchen, he groans aloud and begins to thrust his hips in tune with yours like you are dancing.

You lose sight of anything except the feeling of his cock drilling into you. Your slick dripping down your thighs and down his shaft, heat roiling through your body to converge low in your stomach. Childe's lips brushing your neck, teeth tugging at your ear, growling and groaning--

And you respond to his noises with soft mewls of your own.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs against your collarbone, before he bites down hard enough into yielding flesh that you yelp even as you realise you like it. You'd never thought pain could intermingle with pleasure in that way - your own hands reach around Childe, tugging at soft locks of his hair as revenge, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you. "Shit. Mmm, I could do this for hours--"

"I'm n-not-- stopping you," you breathe out, bouncing on the balls of your feet and re-angling your body just so, so that with every bounce and thrust of yours and Childe's body his cock rubs along a sweet spot inside of you that you don't think has ever truly been stoked like this. "Ahh-hnn--"

"Have things to do . . ." Childe groans in response, even as his own hips begin to jackhammer inside of you. You don't recall how long the two of you have been enmeshed like this, but you also don't really care. If your husband does come back and find you fucking the man sent to collect his debt, you doubt even that would make you feel guilty for the pleasure that Childe is wringing from you with every movement of his body. "Would rather be doing this, though, believe me--"

You reach down between you this time, to toy with your clit. You'd never dare be so shameless normally - but Childe's eyes watch everything you do with fervent admiration, and you cannot help but be bolstered to be wanted so terribly.

"I'll speed it up for you," you say to him, sweetly, and he growls low again. As retaliation, he begins to truly jack-hammer his hips up into yours with a desperate need that permeates off of him. Your own fingers swirl around your swollen nub, playing with it in sweet circles that you know from experience will send you over the edge sooner rather than later. That pressure inside of you builds to an all-consuming need, hot behind your eyes and in your chest.

"You're going to come, huh?" Childe says. "Go ahead, princess. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me feel how good it is."

So you do. You let the orgasm wash over you - you let your toes curl, your mouth shape a perfect 'o' of pleasure. You feel yourself clench and pulsate around the cock inside of you, the rush of your own release.

And Childe follows suit, the sweet way your inner walls are clinging tightly and throbbing around him simply too much for him to resist. You feel a thick, wet heat fill you as he shoots ropes of his come deep inside of you. You grind and rock against him to eke out the last few pleasurable shudders and shivers of your orgasm, your still-sensitive clit rubbing against the flat plane of his pelvis in a way that makes you wonder, if you tried, how many more times you could come today.

Eventually, though, you're left with no choice but to collapse onto his shoulder, gasping and panting, feeling his come dripping down out of your sex even where you're stretched taut around him. From the steady noise, there's probably some of it on the kitchen floor beneath you--

"I wasn't kidding, you know," he says, quietly, after the two of you have caught your breath. "Come back to Liyue Harbour proper with me. I'll take care of you. A damn sight better than anyone else would, I'd bet."

It's a tempting offer. You think about being Childe's. On the arm of one of the Fatui, you think people would avoid you - your old connections would not want to see you ever again, perhaps, knowing what he's capable of.

(But don't you find that thrilling? The thought that the hands currently tenderly running over your body have blood staining them? You might not have admitted it before today, but . . . you do. And did your connections, your friends, your husband - did they ever ask what you wanted?)

"Yes," you murmur to him, and he lets out a noise of pure pleasure. You pull back from him, your eyes half-lidded. You bite down on your lip, walking your fingers shyly over his chest.

"But first," you say to him. " . . . My ex-husband gave me a very nasty surprise today, I'd say. I think I'd like to leave him one, too. We've made a mess of the floor already . . . I think I'd like to do it to every surface in the house."

Childe lights up like Lantern Rite.

"Oh, sweetheart," he purrs, with not remotely disguised pleasure. "You and I are going to wreak havoc."

#childe x reader #genshin impact smut #tartaglia x reader #childe smut #tartaglia smut #not sfw text #drabble #ask game #fem reader #genshin impact posting #not sfw #dub con for ts #cheating cw #this is 2k sorry it got away with me. as always #writing

[lady-crowned-with-stars]

Open to (mutuals/non mutuals): m/f/nb, Connection: lover, Plot: my muse is having an affair with yours, Setting: anything you fancy, ancient times, medieval, fantasy, modern etc., Rules/About

Do not like my starters!

"If my husband learns about us... " Gilrin starts to say but stops as the other begins to trail kisses along her jawline, making her moan softly; the perfect distraction, it almost makes her lose focus on what she has to say, what she must say for the sake of them both.

The brunette's husband is a powerful man, one without any tenderness for his wife, and so she has to seek such from elsewhere, from her paramour. But she does not want to risk her spouse learning about her infidelity. In spite of knowing his own dalliances with other women.

"You will be dead, and so will I." The brunette tries to reason; she knows she should put a stop to this, to whatever is going on between them, whether it is love or lust, she cannot decipher; perhaps it is both.

The yearning in her heart is there all the same, and so is the ache between her legs at the thought of the other alone, at the memories of her nails scraping along their spine, the way they taste on her tongue, the way they know just how to touch her.

"This has to be the last time we do this, darling." She murmurs, her fingers tangling in their hair.

#open indie starter #open indie rp #open smut rp #open smut starter #cw cheating #tw cheating #cheating cw #cheating tw

[cyancherub]

Simeballs in the wild wild west who do you think ends up running drunk and naked with just a cowboy hat covering their junk? I feel like it's inevitable

this is sero being chased out of a lady's apartment by her disgruntled husband who is waving around a shotgun ... sero ducking and weaving the shotgun blasts and covering his head while sprinting away. the cowboy hat is staying on his pp by sheer force of will

#thotbox #thotmail #slimeball au #cheating cw #i guess LSDKFSLKDF #tasteless cherub

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Please forward all distress and letters of complaint to the Piarles server. This is their fault.

As long as Pierre has known Charles, she has used her to measure time. When they were kids, it was how long until Charles could come over to play and stay for pizza and sleepover. When they were teenagers it was how long until their Thursday night study session that would always end in Charles falling asleep in Pierre’s bed while a movie played. When they were away at separate colleges, it was how long until their next planned visit. When she married him and moved away, it was always the time between calls or holidays.

Until.

Until Charles came home to her and at first, it was the time between smiles, the time between Charles laughing, the time between Charles slipping into bed and actually sleeping. The time between Charles leaving for that shitty office job and coming home with a sack of groceries and a story about her idiot boss. Pierre was counting the time between early morning diner breakfasts and late night movies on their couch and the small words that Charles would speak that broke Pierre’s heart. I’m not broken, right?  I don’t deserve to be cheated on? I’m not useless.

Pierre didn’t want to use those moments to count time, but she did because they became less and less frequent until they rarely happened. Until they were standing outside that diner they really liked and Charles slipped her hand into Pierre’s like she had done a thousand times, but when she had looked at Pierre...she had known it was different.

So now, Pierre measures time between lazy kisses on the couch that always end with Charles in her lap, Pierre’s hands tangled in her hair. The time between Pierre wiping her smudged lipstick off at the door as she leaves for work and when she comes home, slipping her shoes off at the door and climbing onto the counter while Pierre cooks them dinner. The time between Charles waking up in their bed and the first I love you of the day.

It’s the way it was always meant to be, she thinks one night while they’re sitting on the couch together, Charles’ feet in her lap, popcorn bucket clutched in her hands. Pierre looks at Charles and knows that they were always going to get here - that all the measured time was worth it and she just - “Have you ever thought about getting married again?”  Charles’ eyes are wide for about .3 seconds before they soften, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.  Pierre thinks it’s the worst bit of time she’s ever had to measure. “Do you want to get married, Pierre? You’ve never said -” and she waves a hand in the air to mean, you always said marriage wasn’t for you. The problem wasn’t marriage. The problem was picturing herself married to anyone but Charles. She swallows and wraps her hand around Charles’ ankle. “If it’s you. I’d like to get married, if it’s you.” Charles is quiet for too long, staring at the place Pierre is brushing her thumb over her ankle. “I’d get remarried. I’d want to -” her eyes meet Pierre’s and she can see the tears there, “If it’s you. I’d want to if it’s you.” “Okay,” Pierre smiles at her. “I’ll...we can talk more later, but okay.” Charles doesn’t immediately restart the movie though, wrinkles her nose up for a beat before saying, “Maybe I’ll ask you when you least expect it. Have you considered that?” Pierre’s heart goes wild at the thought and Charles sees it because she smirks and restarts the movie. She’ll do it, she realizes. After years of knowing her, she’s already made up her mind and this is something she’s decided to do.

Pierre has always measured time by the moments she has shared with Charles and these are the best of them.

#lesbian piarles #we went cuckoo in the discord server and I have brain rot #piarles #I'm sorry but uh I guess #cheating cw

[thekillingmoonmoon]

unholy: tokyo revengers

haitani ran

Pairing: Bonten! Haitani Ran x Fem! Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, cheating, angst, toxic!Ran

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You see the wedding ring before you really see him, noticing his Cheshire grin and the dangerously designed lines of his suit next. At first, you write him off, just another sleazebag trying to get some pussy because his wife doesn't satisfy him anymore. But when those lilac eye linger a little too long on your limbs, you know you're a butterfly trapped in a spider's web. You're caught, ensnared in his lap, grinding down on his hard on like your salary depends on it. But this dance is for free, for the next set of lingerie you'll find in your dressing room, for the bouquet of roses on your front step.

You hear who he is through hushed whispers, know who he is by the dark marks staining his throat as he gulps down his expensive liquor. And when it escalates, his ring becomes irrelevant, especially when he's got his face buried between your legs, stroking your furnace into a fire. He’s pure poison, and you swallow him down with willingness, letting him take over you body with every twitch and turn of his wayward hands. All he has to say is “come” and you’re already there, dressed in his latest gift, ready to get railed in the back of his expensive car at the end of the night. You know it isn’t love, but it’s the closest thing he can give you, especially with a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. He’s always so apologetic when he leaves, humming over your spilt tears and wet cheeks. He whispers sweet nothings as he fucks you, giving you empty promises as he coaxes you to climax. You cling on to him, his hair tangled in your sweet hands, his shirt stained by your lipstick. You try to claim him, to leave your mark on him, but his woman, his wife, she never notices. You know her, have watched her. You’ve watched her walk around her neighbourhood, swollen with the child of the man you love, greeting each and every one of her neighbours with a joyful tone. You approached her, once, to try tell her who you are, what you mean to Ran, but you lost courage halfway, only congratulating her and disappearing away. She is sweet, ripe and honey-rich. You are nothing. Nothing but a doll for Ran to play with. A doll to fuck, not love. But you love him. You tell him so. As he spills himself into your throbbing cunt, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his cum trickling down your thighs, you tell him you love him, and he only hums in reply. The next morning you’ll get a new gift, a new toy – normally with a bunch of red roses and a card marked with his name. But you’ll never get a ring, never know his true affections. But you stay, stay at his command, opening your legs for him whenever he seeks you out. Because something is better than nothing, even if you’re being torn apart.

#ran x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #haitani x reader #haitani ran #haitani smut #haitani ran x reader #fem reader cw #cheating cw #toxic cw #killingmoon n/s/f/w #killingmoonmoon tr

[prettyboykatsuki]

malice of a pretty face | scaramouche (wanderer)

✮ tags ; adapted from genshin canon but not genshin canon, gn!reader, forced marriage but they ally together, role reversal, scaramouche is called bride mostly jokingly, physically smaller than reader, reader has a female concubine in their bed and kisses them / had sex w them, reader is a tyrant ruler type, age gap (scara is 20 ish and reader is like 28), opium usage, raiden shogun is scara's mother who sold him out, political affairs, handjobs + making out 18+

✮ wc ; 3.4k

✮ a/n ; what if i want to be the tyrant emperor for a change huh. what then. also scaramouche is called bride but gender and stuff is whatever in this universe.

some background, this is not genshin techincally. its like adapted to be a royalty au. reader is a recent ruler of their homeland. scaramouche is a raidens son. he didn't get a lot of choice in coming but he has no political power in his homeland

(this is a rewrite of a concept i posted a while ago but i cant find the ask where someone tells me to expand so hope this finds u anon

✮ synopsis ; your "bride" hails from inazuma and comes to you dressed in white, with eyes full of lightning.

A knock on your door snaps you out of your pointless thinking. Your close companion and Royal Advisor clears his throat before addressing you. 

“Your bride has been prepared for you,”

“Come in.” 

The brown door creaks as it opens, the gold embellishments on either side catching light. The hallway behind is empy but bright. Your advisor stands behind your esteemed guest with a look of mild exasperation. Subtle as it may be, it makes the corner of your lip quirk in amusement. At the door is your betrothed. 

Your bride comes to you wrapped in white. 

“I’ll leave you too it,” Says your advisor, code for please get along that has you nodding your head. You hum quietly, waving him away. He sighs as he shuts the door, leaving your guest standing at the door awkwardly. 

As the rumors have said so many times over, the Raiden Shoguns only heir is strikingly beautiful. Pale thing he is, white as a porcelain doll and nearly half your size. Even in the lowlights of your bedroom, the blurriness of candlelight, you can see the sharpness of his eyes. A signature purple, the color of royalty and trademark of the Inazuman dynasty and bloodline.

For a peace offering, he reeks of defiance. Just standing there with his arms crossed, fists clenched and jaw tight. He looks like he wants to burn the entire palace to the ground where he stands. You’re sure if you picked him apart enough he’d tell you just that. Intel tells you he’s easy to provoke, and for a Prince of his nation - he’s quite the fighter too. 

You aren’t sure how much he knows of this by now. Or if he knows that you’ve learned all sorts of things about him.

Most of all, he’s intriguing. Beautiful but prickly and poisonous. You’re captivated by how much he seethes. You tilt your head as your leg up, your back against the wall. You glance briefly at the concubine asleep in your bed, back exposed. Your robe is half-fallen over your shoulder, the bandaging on your chest and shoulder visible. 

You take a long inhale of the pipe resting on your bed, lungs filling with opium before you push it. Another cloud of smoke fills the room, relief in your back as you exhale. You tilt your head at him. 

“Will you stand there the whole time?” You ask placidly. It angers him even more for a reason you’re unable to discern. 

“Why would I get near a belligerent tyrant like you?”

You chuckle. Despite himself, there’s a tinge of anxiety to his protesting. He’s young and on guard. You’re sure your reputation with the Royal Harem has served you no favors, so he must think you’re going to pounce on him. 

You shake your head. 

“I like to sedate my prey before I eat it. I won’t lay a hand on you.” 

Surprised by your deduction, a flush draws on his features. You smile wispily, before another thought crosses your mind. His name dawns on you, Scaramouche you think it was. 

“Ah, or is it this that’s troubling you?” You say, gesture vaguely to the naked person in your bed laying comfortably “Should I send her away before we speak?” 

Your conversation stirs her. Scaramouche stares on. Instead you glance at the woman before you as she wakes, turning to her side. Barren skin save for jewelry, she runs her hands through her hair as she yawns. 

“Oh, Your Highness. Already another round? I hardly got any rest.” She pouts. Her behavior is amusing to you always.

“Not today. My spouse has come to visit, so I’m sending you back to your chambers.” You say smoothly. She pouts, sitting up. The sheets that covered her so thinly have fallen, revealing the rest of her. A set of gold anklets that match with gold necklaces and gold bracelet. She sits up on her knees and wraps her around your neck.

“How cruel,” She whines, rubbing herself against you “How could you abandon when you favor me so much, hm?” 

“You’re quite clever aren’t you? Trying to seduce me in front of my lover, and all?” 

She pulls back to giggle. 

“So you’ve seen through me. I don’t care for being sent away, you know?”

“What would you like as reconciliation?” You say.

“A kiss goodbye,” She replies easily. This time you look to Scaramouche. His face is burning red. 

“Is it alright with you?” 

He scoffs “As if it matters what I think.” 

“I’ve asked you haven’t I?” 

“Do as you please.” 

You laugh. He says as much but he can't help but stare. He looks embarrassed, albeit you can’t imagine which thing is troubling him so much. It’s entertaining.

You kiss her goodbye as she’s asked, though you know what type of kiss she’s asking for. A deep kiss, the kind where you have to hold her by the nape of her neck. Salacious in nature, where she squirms and holds the front of your robe. You pull away with a laugh, rubbing her lower lip. 

“Send my regards to everyone. It might be some time before I visit again.” 

“How heartbreaking. I’ll do as you wish, Your Highness.” She stands to her feet, pulling herself out of bed and putting on the clothes left on the floor with a sigh. Her feet pad against the marble floor as she walks away. 

She stops to look at Scaramouche before leaving, bowing her head in respect before standing back. She whispers something to him (that turns his face into a blushing mess once more) before patting him on the shoulder gently. 

“I’m off,” She says, waving a hand but not looking back. The door clicks back shut a second time, leaving the two of you alone in silence. You take another drag from your pipe. 

“Come. Sit.” 

He does as you ask this time, stomping with a characteristic frustration that you stop to laugh at internally. He sits on the corner of your mattress, legs crossed. You get to see him up close this time. What delicate features he has, he couldn’t be any older than 21. The white silks he’s dressed in are fine. A thin, lace collar goes up to his throat.  A skirt with high slits about the legs and lacy socks to cover the legs. He’s wearing something over it too, draped over his shoulders. You can see the cut-out of his chest. You only glance. Any longer than this and you’re sure he’ll protest. 

“What troubles you, my bride?” 

He grits his teeth. 

“I’m no bride.” 

“I know,” You say, without any hesitation “You’re the only filial son of the Great Raiden Shogun. I may be a tyrant, but I am no fool.” 

This information surprises him. He wears his emotions on his face, as expected. He’s not gotten so far without being clever. The bounty on his head is insurmountable. There’s a tension in the room, an unspoken heaviness in the air. Quite a fragile thing he is. 

“Then this, this marriage  - it’s fraudulent isn’t it?” He says, angry. You hum. 

“I knew before we wedded. Under the law of Tevyat and in the eyes of the Nation, you are my betrothed.” 

He’s catching up to all that you know. You know it all. The rumors of the cold and unyielding Raiden Shogun. The desolate lands of Inazuma, the loss of childhood and the change in the young man. Rumors of the angry Crown Prince and his bleeding heart. How he was sacrificed for power to your hands, for the eternal vision of Inazuma. 

Of course you know.

“Then why…if you know about me, then why?” 

“The Raiden Shogun offered you to me to get in my good graces. There’s political fairs involved but the simply reason is because I wanted to. You’re easy on the eyes.”

He ignores your flirtatious comment as you expect. 

“What are the political affairs?” 

“Inazuma wishes to strengthen it’s naval army and a small nation requires resources. Since I’ve only just gained power after killing the Emperor, my position for the throne is destabilized and marriage was the best option to stabilize it again,” You explain, already bored just hearing yourself. 

“We don’t gain anything from joining hands with Inazuma as it stands. And plenty of people have vouched desperately for my marriage. The simple answer is because an offer like the only child of the Raiden Shogun, who’s beauty is world-renowned is quite the tempting offer.” 

He looks down, away from you and you resist your own laughter. 

“I despise you,” 

“I know that too. That pretty face of yours doesn’t leave much for imagination. What will you do my dear? Will you run? Cry? Scheme into driving a knife in my heart? Lure me into security and disappear?” 

“...You’re personality is quite twisted.” 

“I’m curious about the faces you make, that’s all. What will you do, how will you react, how you think. But I do not intend to make you miserable. There’s much to discuss,” 

“....Why are you posing as if you’re kind?” 

“A caged animal will lash out for it’s freedom,” You say, titting your head to one side “But a looked after one will never bite the hand that feeds.” 

“Wouldn’t you be the one closer to an animal with your tendencies?” 

“A beast, I hear so often. My point is the same. If I intend to make you even a begrudging ally, I’m not interested in angering you. Nor forcing myself upon you for that matter,” You add the last part intentionally. 

“Disgusting,” He says, all while staring at the curve of your neck and your body “Really,” 

“I do not intend to force you, but if you’re so against the idea - I think it’d only be fair I’m allowed to see my concubines. It’s your choice.” 

He frowns at your explanation. You grin.

“Are you so troubled by it? Would you prefer I only long for you?”

“D-don’t word it like that.” He says, a shake in his voice. You hum, taking a long drag from your pipe. 

“Maybe you’re the sentimental type? A lover from the homeland? Or perhaps, you’re just too inexperienced to be confident?” 

You can see the exciting look on his face. That type of shame that very few nobles wear. Most of them degenerates, or liars. Prim and properly deceitful. You look at Scaramouche’s honest face and feel something between your legs. How much he wishes to admonish you, or even push you away but is all too curious to refuse. An expression like that is a jewel, a diamond waiting for polish. 

You have to chip around it, bit by bit. Too much force and you’ll scratch his beautiful surface, you only pull at him gently. Tease him so tenderly he can’t scurry off. 

“Shut up. You know nothing about me,” 

“If you’re unsure, you can always try. I can teach you much easier than most,” You say. You wonder if he’ll call your bluff. But he doesn’t. He sits and folds his hands in your lap. He reminds you a bit of those Glaze Lily’s all the way from Liyue. Cold and blue and eye-catching. 

Scaramouche does not call your bluff. He shifts to cover his legs and something is overwhelmed inside you. You hold your breath a little. So skittish. 

“There’s nowhere for me to return to,” He says first, surprising you, a bitterness in his tone that pleases you “It’s not like I want to stay here or be your ally. But returning to a place that has discarded me is even more disgusting.” 

“So we’re allies for now. Understood,” You say, glancing at him “Then, are you giving me permission to sleep with you?” 

His eyes widen, face reddening to an impossible degree. A belly laugh leaves you. What a simple person in the end. 

“You―W-we have to consummate the marriage, don’t we? A-and if I stay here, I’ll have power. Leaving it open means it’ll be nullified and―” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. If you feel too embarrassed about your desires, you may spread rumors about simply quelling my appetite,” You say with a mild expression, intending it with sincerity “It’d be a shame to do nothing when you’ve dressed up so nicely for your arrival. Come closer,” 

Your comment must bother him, but he resigns himself. He does as he’s asked, slowly getting on his knees and crawling towards you. His eyes are erratic, skin flush. He’s simply sitting across from you and he can’t look at you directly. You’re a little astonished by the extent of his innocence, especially with all the violent rumors around him. You blow out the flame of your pipe, and lean to one side away from you.

Then you stretch your legs out, placing your hands gently on his waist so he doesn’t startle. You manuever so he’s stradling you, his knees on either side of your thigh. Looking at him closely is exciting. There’s makeup on his face. Crushed pink pigment smeared on his lip and smoothed with oil and eyes lined with something dark. You reach your hand up to cup his face, and he manages not to flinch. 

Though you can hear his heart beat. It’s tremendously loud. Nervous.

“Relax, I won’t eat you, for now. I’ll take take responsibility. Have you kissed anyone?” 

“S-so what if I haven’t?” 

“We’ll start there. Close your eyes and follow me.” 

He listens obediently again, closing his eyes. His hands are clenched over his knee. You grab them and let them rest over your shoulders before sneaking your hand to the side of his face. You lean in to kiss him gently, his skin soft. He smells like lavender and oats, the hairs on his nape brushing against your fingers delicately. His lips are soft as you start slowly, opening your mouth just a little. He learns quickly, following your actions without trying to take lead. 

You pull away and do it again. Again and again and again until you’re used to the pace. You use your free hand to squeeze at his delicate waist, relishing in how easily he succumbs to the feelings. He lets out something like a moan that embarasses him near immediately as he pulls away. He’s clumsy but it’s cute, and makes you want to kiss him more. 

He turns his head, using his wrist to cover his mouth which you grab swiftly. You grab his chin too, rubbing your thumb on his lip. 

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” You say, a little more eager than last. He makes a face but listens. You mimic him before kissing him one more time. The feeling of your tongue must surprise him. Either way, his body responds so beautiful. He nearly melts in your arms as you wrap them around his waist, fingers dancing to any bare skin you can. He makes a pretty, pitchy sound for you but doesn’t pull away this time. 

When you stop kissing him, his face looks hazy. Frustrated, he almost goes to chase your mouth but stops himself. You smirk just barely, before busying your mouth on his chin. Open kisses trace his jaw as you lean into his pulse. 

It beats under your teeth, his heart does, so red and so loud. For a minute you really do want to eat him alive, devour him in one swallow. But you restrain yourself from such desires, instead putting little marks on his body for tommorrow. So everyone knows not to say anything about his status. He can resent you later but for now, it’s a safety precaution. 

He makes sounds like a melody, a string insturment in the warm sun. There’s something divinely beautiful about him. His body reacts to your simple touches, a shiver running up his spine as you kiss his neck and grope him lightly. It excites you, those innocent reactions. Makes something stir in your gut and grow hot between your legs. 

You feel something shift underneath you. When you look, there’s something hard poking from his clothes. It makes a tent in the delicate fabric where he stands. You pull away just to stare at it, amused by how hard he is.

“Stop looking at it or I’ll gouge your eyes out,” 

“It’s cute,” You say with conviction, wrapping your hands around the base with the fabric and squeezing the base “I should get to look,” 

“W-what are you?” 

“I’ll bet a stuck-up prince type like you didn’t get much education. There are more ways than one to feel pleasure than sticking it in. I’ll show you, so don’t run away,” 

He doesn’t have the words to protest. He doesn’t refuse you, just watches through his hands. You rub him so slightly through the thin material. Can see it clear with your eyes adjusted. It fits easily in your palm, tip harsh pink and curved. You place your thumb over the tip, smearing the pre-cum leaking onto the fabric. He’s so sticky, so hard and hot in your palms. 

“It’d be better if I touched you directly, but you’re cute like this. So lewd,” 

He has nothing to say. A whine or protest gets cut short with a groan of pleasure. You laugh a little. You search the bed for a bottle of oil with your free hand. When you find it, you pull away and drip it into your hands. 

“Hold this up for me.” You say softly. He hesitates but does, pulling the skirt up until his cock is visible. You rub the oil into your hands, warming it before wrapping around the shaft. The skin-to-skin proves to be a lot for him, his body already trembling though you’ve hardly touched him. He’s much heavier like this, His cock is smooth and he’s near hairless, You can see so much of him, the plane of his stomach and the musculature of his thighs. 

He’s got lithe muscle, nothing too hard or too defined but there all the time. He’s got a dip in one of his hips and a mole that you’ll kiss some other time, just above where you’re touching. You wonder if there’s more. Once you have your way with him you’ll count. 

You stroke him slowly and easily. Any more than this might be cruel since this much action seems to be too much. You watchi his expression as you build to a steady pace, paying special attention to the head. His expression is debauched. Inexperienced as you expected, but perhaps even more than that - sensitive. He’s throbbing against the curves of your roughened skin, gasping and holding hard onto your shoulder as he tries to keep himself tight in one place. You lean your head forward, kissing just under his pec. 

“This is as far as I’ll go today. Cum for your beloved, hm? Show me your face?” 

That seems to do it for him. The use of lover in such a context pushes him over the edge and it only takes two more strokes to spill into your fingers. Thick, hot ropes of cum makes a mess of your fingers as he ruts his cock into your palms chasing his high.

When he’s finished, he nearly collapses into your lap. It sedates all of his previous angers, something you note in the back of your mind. 

You bring your hand up your mouth, tasting it. He gasps, scandalized. 

“That’s dirty!” 

“I’ve done worse. Besides it wasn’t bad. Hand me that,” You gesture. He tosses you the rag to wipe your hand with and you toss it in the basket at the end of your bed. Before he can push you away, you pull him into your arms and laydown. 

“What are you doing?” He says, indignant. 

“Holding you,” You say without blinking, looking down at him. You wrap your arms around his waist and let him cuddle into you “The concubines get angry if I don’t after,” 

“...Don’t talk about them right now,” 

You laugh “Right, sorry.” 

“....What about me?” 

You laugh a little at him pretending he isn’t worried. 

“I know you said not to mention it but I’m all worn out for today. So get some sleep. I’ll have my Advisor prepare more in the morning but you should rest.” 

“Ugh. Fine. If you insist,” He says, melting into you anyway. You laugh to yourself as he closes his eyes. 

You’ve signed up for something fun.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshim impact x reader #genshin impact smut #writing tag #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #please read this i rlly like how it turned out sdjkdkfj #ask to tag #age gap cw #infidelity cw #cheating cw #<- its not cheating its like common in the time period but im tagging anyway #okay. going to disappear again after queueing a bit bc im supposed to be on hiatus till goj is finished

[whileurmine]

open to: m/w/nb

character: alice nightingale. 21. has never had anyone take care of her in the entirety of her life. former disney channel star. sometimes a lil unhinged a lil cukoo i say with peace and love

connection: can be the friend or the boyfriend and ill make the bff an npc or someone vaguely related idk life is ur oyster.

"Fuck it!" She had watery eyes. Face red and tear stained. Rage mingling with a terrible frustration that she couldn't deal with anymore, not one second longer, "I'm in love with him and he is in love with me! And don't you fucking look at me like that, because I didn't fuck your boyfriend! You were broken up for three weeks and three days before we even had sex! Plus you guys are terrible for each other and you know that! You guys can all judge me all you want but I do not care! I have never ever been happier!"

#indie rp #independent rp #alice penelope nightingale ╱ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 #cheating cw

[loomiskiller]

if you don’t treat your wife right, billy will Fuck her and ruin your marriage.

#he’s a home wrecker but only if the person in question is being mistreated by their spouse in some way #i know i know billy is apparently supposed to be against cheating #one he was only against his father cheating #two that is a fanon thing #three he cheated on sidney #four i do WHAT I Want #cheating cw #nsft #& gaslight gatekeep ghostface ( ooc )

[wri0thesley]

cw: arranged marriage, dub con, yandere-ish, corruption kink, cheating. ayato who may as well be his own warning. 

ayato’s sweet little arranged marriage fiancee who has been raised to be the perfect companion to ayato; obedient arm candy and very little else. who has been sheltered from the cruelties of the world and as a result is soft and sweet and wholly untouched - who is introduced to ayato, who bows and kisses their hand, and who truly thinks that he is some handsome fairytale prince who will provide them everything they have ever wanted, the way they have always been told he would. 

ayato’s sweet fiancee who ayato wants nothing more than to ruin. to corrupt; to teach the sweet feel of his tongue on their body, his kisses on their mouth and throat and skin, his long fingers skimming all of the places they have never even been looked at before, let alone touched. ayato’s sweet fiancee who he wants to jealously guard and keep to himself - who he wants to lock behind key and gilded cage, because does he not deserve this one selfish indulgence? who he is, perhaps, sometimes a little cruel to. who has everything chosen for them, from what they wear (that underwear, that colour, perhaps a size too small, hmm?), who he denies orgasm, who he is too rough with when frustrated, who he occasionally patronises and mocks because the poor little thing, they don’t know what the world is like, isn’t it better if they simply sit pretty and let ayato do everything for them and take his reward in their body--

ayato’s sweet spouse, by now, who has one bright spot in their whole existence; thoma, smiling and warm and sympathetic, who blushes when they ask him questions about what ayato does to them, who brings them gifts from the outside that they are only allowed to view on ayato’s arm in official yashiro commission business. ayato’s sweet fiance who has been taught by ayato’s treatment that their worth is in their body and the pleasure they provide and what they do for him - and, to show their gratitude to thoma, thinks that perhaps they ought to do the same thing for him. 

thoma, who knows he shouldn’t, but can’t help but want to show them kindness. to treat them sweetly. to cherish and adore them. 

and ayato, who has been waiting for this exact moment, and already has a hundred plans in how to use this development for his own personal pleasure. 

#not sfw text #dub con for ts #dark content for ts #concept postin #cheating cw #yandere for ts

[bakvrue]

let loose

izuku x reader (bakugou x reader)

cw: cheating and the fallout, fighting (violence but its hot), complicated relationships, ~1.8k

part 3 to mine and mimi's (@izvmimi) cheating scandal. part 1 | part 2

Izuku flexes his hands trying to quell the rage inside of him as the elevator dinging whittles away at his sanity.

His girlfriend and his childhood best friend... just thinking about it makes his blood boil, but for some reason, he can't stop. Questions and blurry images of the two of them race through his head. How did she let him fuck her? Was she on her back opening her legs for him? Did she let him breed her? Beg for his cum to fill her up? Or did she beg for his kiss, swearing that she couldn't finish without it?

Izuku’s stomach turns as he imagines her hands threading through his hair in pleasure. Even though Izuku got his revenge, sleeping with Bakugou’s fiancee did nothing to quell the sea raging inside him. If anything it made it worse.

He digs his fingernails into the flesh of his palm but he barely feels the sting. He doesn't know what is going to happen once these elevator doors open, but he knows it's not going to be pretty.

The final ding of the elevators alerts him that they have arrived at the floor, and he looks over at you. Your eyes are set straight ahead and clouded with the same red haze he saw the night you told him of their affair, but there’s something different about you. Something almost incorporeal.

Izuku follows you out of the elevator, looking around at the office that has housed betrayal. The desks and cubicles are almost identical to the ones back home, did that make it easier or harder to fuck him on?

The pair of you turn a corner and that's when you see them. Izuku’s girlfriend steps out of the room, her clothes just slightly out of place. Izuku can feel his lip twitch in disgust when her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

And then Bakugou steps out of the room, some of his spiky blond hair still sticking to his forehead.

The second Izuku sees the asshole who ruined his life, his fingers twitch. All of his wrath courses through his body, and every ounce of him feels like it's on fire as he struggles to keep One for All at bay.

“You fucking…” his legs moving on their own, carrying him faster and faster towards the source of all his problems “You fucking Bastard!”

Izuku fists Bakugou’s shirt, slamming him against the wall of his office.

“I know you fucked her.” Izuku’s voice is a low growl as he stares into the red eyes of a traitor.

Bakugou’s eyes are wide, he looks at Izuku and then at his fiancee, his eyes searching for some hidden answer that would solve his problem.

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow and his grip on Bakugou’s shirt tightens before he slams him to the wall again, the drywall cracking from the force.

Deku feels a tug on his arm, his girlfriend looks up at him with tears in her eyes, begging and pleading, but for what Izuku can't fathom, “Izuku, please!”

He wishes that he had time to focus on her tears or to even show her one ounce of the kindness that he used to have for her. But right now he feels nothing but betrayal and fury.

He shakes off her hold on his arm, “You know, staying quiet is just as bad as saying no.” Izuku’s voice is something darker, playfully toxic as he laughs in the face of these two cheaters.

Izuku can't stand to be next to Bakugou as the man's mouth opens and closes, still trying to answer. He uses his grip on the blond's shirt and throws him down the hallway, watching as his friend crashes into a cubicle.

Turning to his girlfriend, Izuku reaches into his back pocket, pulling out the beautiful diamond ring he had bought six months ago, back when things were right. Back before any of his friends' dicks had been inside you. The diamond sparkles in the dull office lights. What a shame.

“This should have been yours, you fucking…” he snarls before stopping himself. Even after all this, he can't bring himself to call her a whore, or a bitch, or any of the other words that should describe her in this situation.

He looks at the ring and then at the finger that it was supposed to go on and bile rises in his throat when he thinks about what that hand has touched.

He closes a fist around the dainty piece of metal and channels all of his emotions into his fist. The diamond stays strong while the metal around it bends and warps as he crushes, and crushes, and crushes. And when he opens his palm the beautiful ring is nothing but a piece of metal and a gem no longer sparkling. He lets it slip from his palm and fall onto the floor.

He looks at his girl with a lip curled in disdain, “I can't believe you. Wasn’t it you who was always scared of me leaving? Wasn't it you who always thought that I would screw up! And then look at you! You're here! With him! Just know that it wasn’t me who ruined us.” Every word gets louder and louder as he scratches her right where he knows it will hurt.

She clutches her chest and her bottom lip trembles, “Izuku, please it was a mistake. I never meant—”

“HA! You never meant what? Never meant to have sex with him? How does that work?”

She takes a step towards him, her hands reaching for stability he can no longer offer, “I don't —”

“You don't know how your legs opened and his cock started fucking you? Is that what you're going to say?”

Izuku takes a few steps back from her and turns his attention to you. Your eyes are on Bakugou as he struggles to stand.

You hold your head up as you speak venom loud enough for both of them to hear you. “It's a good thing that I had Izuku to comfort me. You know what they say, nothing like the arms of a friend to keep you warm at night, right?”

You let your words sink in for a second before you take off your own ring.

All the years of love, everything this ring meant to you, all of it is useless now. This stupid diamond is as ugly to you now as the coal it was made from.

“Take your ring back, Katsuki. You cheating fuck.”

Bakugou’s face is unreadable, like he's feeling every emotion all at once, but he chose this, he let it happen. You throw your ring at him, throwing away the future you had planned with him too.

It lands on the ground right in front of him, and he picks up the tiny band of his love, cradling it in his hands before bawling them into fists.

Bakugou stands, his head and shoulders slumped forward “Izuku, are you telling me that you slept with my fiancee?”

Izuku scoffs, he can read Bakugou's movements from a mile away, and he knows exactly what's about to happen. He will let him get one hit in before breaking him.

“Yeah, Kaachan. I did.”

Bakugou starts moving even before Midoriya finishes his answer, running towards him and jumping into a punch that lands square across Izuku’s face.

Izuku’s head whips to the side with the force of the blast but his body remains unmoved. Just as he expected from his explosive friend.

“How does it feel?” Izuku asks, leveling his gaze on Bakugou, “How does it feel to know that someone else has fucked your girl?”

Bakugou pulls back to punch again, his face contorting in anger, but Deku sees this coming too. Izuku is faster, and stronger, punching him with enough force to crack bones and send him flying backward through a wall.

Bakugou drags himself out of the rubble, looking like a feral dog. There's blood streaming down his face that he swipes away with the back of his arm.

Midoriya has hardly broken a sweat and Bakugou is already winded and bloodied.

“I'll kill you!” Bakugou screams, stepping over the broken pieces of desks and chairs with a small limp.

Izuku laughs. Bakugou is going to kill him? Him?

Bakugou is the one that started this! Izuku didn't ask for this, he didn't go out of his way to sleep with someone else's girlfriend. What he did was him getting even with the man who’s had an edge over him his whole life. They fought together, almost died together, and then this is what happens in just a few months? No, no, no. Bakugou has no right to kill him, he's going to be the one to die by Izuku's hands instead.

One for All crackles as Izuku runs at Bakugou. Bakugou tries to dodge but the extra strength building in his legs makes him run faster. Izuku lands a kick right to Bakugou in the chest, flinging him into another wall.

Bakugou falls to the floor for only a second before igniting his quirk, maneuvering in the tight space of broken walls and office furniture to get behind Izuku. An explosive hand right at the back of Izuku’s neck sends Izuku flying forward.

Midoriya’s head hits the ground, his ears ringing from the blast, and his skin is burned. That blast took him by surprise but the familiarity of the situation suddenly dawns on him: they're both using this fight to push down the feelings they can’t bear to process, just like all those years ago at UA.

But this time is different, this time it’s different. This time there are no words that can fix this level of betrayal. 

Bakugou is about to set off another blast to Midoriya’s head, and Izuku feels like his body is moving in slow motion as he twists in the air. 

Images of his girlfriend roll in his mind like the film of an old projector: every smile, every laugh, the first time he held her hand, the sparkle in her eyes when he first said ‘I love you.’ His heart clenches in his chest as he yells, powering up the force of his own body.

Izuku swipes through the air with his foot, creating a concentrated air blast, and sends it directly at bakugou. Rubble and broken pieces of furniture break through the exterior wall of the building, and Bakugou is thrown out with them.

The crash of debris hitting the ground below is almost drowned out by the sound of Bakugou saving himself with his quirk, blasts scorching the side of the building as he prepares for an aerial assault.Izuku grins maniacally, wiping the blood dripping from his nose off with the back of his thumb, ‘Finally, I can let loose, he thinks as he activates float and jumps out of the window aiming a punch directly at Bakugou.

----------------

part 4 <33

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #cheating cw

[tbrma]

DAY 5 -  Betrayal & Bad Ends

Coming home early with a little gift...

@madatobiweek2022 <3

#idk if tobirama would feel more betrayed by madara or hashirama... truly the worst possible end for him;; #madatobiweek2022 #madatobi #tobimada #m #gmciab #infidelity cw #cheating cw

[boatdriinks]

I've talked about Kerry's kids, so let's talk about Kerry's (ex)spouses. Because this got long, I think I'll do separate posts for each ex-spouse.

This one is about his first wife, Zohrin Kai.

It'd been a while since he dated a woman, but it was clear Kerry was all over her. Kerry the risk taker, Zoh the worrier. Kerry thought she was adorable, and believed she was the sort of person he needed in his life. Someone that grounded him, brought him back to Earth for the sake of his family. They married in 2020 after dating for 2 years.

In the midst of that happiness, though, Kerry knew he was still harboring feelings for his best friend. He was still in love with Johnny when he proposed to her. He was still in love with him when he asked Johnny to be his best man. He had to pry his eyes away from him sometimes at his own wedding reception. He really should've known then that it wouldn't end well. But, he was hopeful. He wanted this to work.

In 2023, Johnny died and Kerry's world collapsed with it. He was still doing poorly when he found out from Zoh that he was gonna be a dad again. Despite it all, though, he was happy. What made him anxious, though, was how close his second daughter's birthday would end up coming before the anniversary. Three days before the first anniversary of Johnny's death, Kelvy was born. He held Kelvy and cried. This was supposed to be about the birth of his daughter, a great moment for his wife and himself, but it still ended up relating back to Johnny.

The cracks became clear by then. Kerry had no excuse for why he cheated on her. He never tried to give Zoh any excuses, just apologies. He didn't fight her when she said she wanted a divorce.

He moved back to his home in North Oak in April on 2026. While on tour in the summer of that year, he'd foolishly end up leaving his oldest daughter, Derry, home alone. In July, he'd find out that she was missing from Zoh. He cancelled his tour, immediately racing home to aid in the search for his missing daughter. Unfortunately, they would only find her body. Kerry's already fragile mental state had only gotten worse.

Zohrin, while sympathetic, still went through with the divorce. In September of 2026, the divorce would be finalized and Kerry would lose custody of Kelvy due to unhealthy lifestyle. Zohrin assured him it'd only be temporary. When he got himself to kick his addictions to booze and pills, when he became more mentally healthy, he could see her again.

While Kerry would understand her actions far later in life, at that time he was just enraged. He'd just lost his oldest daughter, and now his ex-wife was taking their baby from him? He was enraged. Pissed. Hateful. For a long time, there'd be a disdain for her.

Kerry saw Kelvy for holidays and her birthday, but otherwise was not allowed much contact past that until she was nearly 10 years old. By then, Kerry's relationship with Zohrin strictly through her telling him about what their daughter had been doing in her life.

Things would become more civil with time, but neither were ever particularly close to one another ever again after that. By 2077, he hadn't heard from her in about 4 years.

#i'd rather bleed than settle for less { kerry ; headcanons } #child death mention cw #divorce cw #cheating cw

[cyancherub]

stealing nobara from her shitty boyfriend who doesn’t fuck her right

#look. i will be mr steal ur girl #cheating cw #JUST IN CASE #iI NEEED HER #talky cherub

[clemencetaught]

11. how comfortable is your muse with their appearance and their body? 16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)? 19. how many serious relationships has your muse been in? are they experienced or inexperienced when it comes to dating? 28. would it bother your muse if they had differing interests from their partner(s), or would they delight in it?

romancé for the ( repressed ) gentleman ( romance & relationship meme w/ @byanyan )

11. how comfortable is your muse with their appearance and their body?

at this point in his life, he's pretty content with his appearance and body. like yeah, he is non-binary, but he also doesn't like drawing attention to himself. honestly his real gender is 'gentleman' so as long as he can dress semi-formally he's all good.

( that being said, there was a time back when he was with felicity when he experimented with androgynous styles...aka felicity buying clothes that are 'too big for her he should try them on once before she goes to return it'- she's a good gf like that <3 )

16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)?

surprisingly, for someone who reads a ton and studies words and text for a living, his love language is actually quality time aka paying attention to the little details. he has very distinct if not rather esoteric likes and opinions and especially when he was younger, he was often, not really teased so much as ignored as a result?? or rather the people around him were more disinterested and so he learned to curb a lot of his obsessions to make more room for them.

( he's also touch starved and has no way of expressing that so bonus points to his partner when that's initiated )

19. how many serious relationships has your muse been in? are they experienced or inexperienced when it comes to dating?

two! the first one was a college relationship that lasted about 8 to 9 months during his junior year of uni. that one, he dumped his girlfriend because she was cheating on him aka he caught her making out with another person....so he approached the pair, told her she'd get her stuff in a few days, and then left the party. and he went back to his dorm, packed her stuff, called hyuk and proceeded to get smashed. and he never spoke his ex again.

the important one, however, is with felicity- they met while he was a TA at oxford university and she was one of the students for one of the classes he was helping out with. i can make a whole post about this later, but basically prior to her death, they were together for about three to four years. at that point they were sharing the same apartment and he was planning on proposing to her the day she died. let's just say for the last ten years, her death has haunted him and so he hasn't tried to date anyone else since then ( until hyuk ).

28. would it bother your muse if they had differing interests from their partner(s), or would they delight in it?

he would be delighted! patrick is a lifelong learner and i actually think he prefers it when his partner has at least some different interests than him? not that it's a necessity, buuuuuuuut since his work is esoteric and would most likely only be understood by academics, it's a nice change of pace when he can hear about something else....that and he always adores it when his partner starts rambling about a passion of theirs <;3

( they do have like puzzles to be with him tho, sorry i don't make the rules here :'3 )

#cheating cw #byanyan #the gentleman ( headcanons. ) #believe in a precious world ( headcanons. ) #thanks for these grey <3 <3 <3 #hope you dont mind the link....past me often does a better job at explaining things than present me will fjskldfjslkj