#so you can have those moments all come one right after the other (or even at the SAME time) and knock the reader off their feet

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

[spidey-webz]

Hi ☺️

Can you write a fanfic where reader/Bucky (you can choose) is sick and the other takes care of them .

Thank you

In good times and bad | B. Barnes

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you're sick.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Content warnings: reader being sick with the flu, bucky being the bestest boyfriend, reader has a fever, itchy throat and feels quite wobbly

Words: 1.4k

A/N: thank you for requesting this! i know bucky loves to take care of you any day!

Masterlist | Ask

The scratchy feeling in your throat just didn’t want to go away. You were on your third cup of tea for the day and you started to feel increasingly more tired. Your head was starting to hurt and all you wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep.

However, you still had a huge pile of work lined up on your desk and your boss would probably complain about you once again if you didn’t finish everything by the end of the week. The light of your laptop screen was hurting your eyes and you instinctively rubbed over your temple with two fingers. 

Just a little more and you could go into bed, finally able to get some rest-

“Are you alright, doll?” 

Bucky’s deep voice echoed over to you and when you looked up from your desk, you could see your boyfriend leaning in the doorframe to your office. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes radiated concern. 

“Just tired,” you insisted, gaze returning to the work at hand. The sound of Bucky’s footsteps filled the room soon after as he crouched down next to your chair and placed a big hand on your thigh. 

“I can tell you’re not feeling well. Don’t you want to take a little break? I can make you-“ He stopped when he noticed the cup on your desk. “I can run you a hot bath or make you some warm soup,” he suggested instead, seeing that you were already well-supplied with tea. 

His free hand moved up to your forehead and he shook his head right after. “You’re having a fever, sweetheart.” 

There was never a point in lying to Bucky when it came to your well-being. He would always find out sooner or later and… he would always look after you.

“You know how my boss is though if I don’t finish this…” you insisted, pointing to the documents on your desk and your laptop. Bucky wasn’t up for discussion though and pushed himself back to his feet, his hand closing the laptop slowly but surely.

“I get it. But you need to take a break and get healthy first. Let me bring you to bed, alright?” His voice wasn’t demanding, but rather soft. You grabbed his hand when he held it out for you, his calloused fingers closing around yours. Your legs felt even more wobbly when Bucky helped you out of the chair a second later. His eyebrows furrowed with concern and he let his hand rest on the small of your back as he helped you back to your shared bedroom. Even if you weren’t sick enough to lose consciousness, he still didn’t want to take any risks. And he certainly didn’t want you hurting yourself by bumping into the doorframe or the corner of the desk. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled when you reached your bed eventually. Bucky shook his head dismissively. “This is nothing you have to thank me for.”

While you were getting settled on the bed, Bucky disappeared for a short moment, coming back with an extra blanket from the living room. “We have to keep you warm,” he insisted, but quickly shook his head when he realised that you were still wearing your jeans. “Let’s get you out of those clothes first, don’t you think?” He suggested and you gave him a small nod. 

You opened your jeans first and Bucky helped you pull them down your legs, handing you sweatpants a second later. His sweatpants. One of his sweaters followed soon after and you were happy to get comfortable in it. It was bigger than your own, but also warmer and you could still faintly smell Bucky’s scent all over it. Your nose was getting increasingly more stuffed though, so you doubted you would be able to enjoy it for long. 

Your boyfriend helped you get comfortable under the blanket, making sure to tuck you in properly. Bucky even planted a small kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to eat something, doll? My mum always made chicken soup when I was sick.” It filled your chest with warmth to think about a young Bucky, untouched by the horrors of his adult life, that just enjoyed his mother’s soup when he was sick. The offer was too good to turn down. “I would love that,” you smiled softly and pulled the blanket a little higher. 

A few minutes later, you already drifted off into a light sleep. Bucky woke you up again when he was done cooking, gently brushing your hair back with his metal hand. The vibranium felt cool against your warm forehead and you were close to asking your boyfriend if he could just keep his hand there. “You need to eat something,” he insisted with a soft voice, helping you sit up against the headboard. 

He handed you the bowl of soup and a spoon, as well as an extra tea towel if you needed it. Bucky sat down next to you on his side of the bed, rummaging through the little basket in which you kept all kinds of medicine. “I’m trying to figure out what to give you first…” he mumbled, showing you the pain killers and some medicine against the fever. 

It was simply adorable how much he was caring for you. He could have just brought you to bed and left it at that, but you knew your boyfriend wanted to make sure you’d be back on your feet as quickly as possible. “Just let me take the pain killers first,” you smiled, taking the first sip of the soup. It tasted really good. Bucky was more talented in the kitchen than you could have ever imagined and homemade dishes like this seemed to warm your body as well as your heart. 

Bucky handed you a glass of water and let you take one of the pills, before you went back to eating. “How about I run you a bath later? Unless you want to sleep some more. I wouldn’t have woken you up if the soup-”

You interrupted Bucky with a small laugh. “Thank you, Buck. I’ll happily take the bath and it’s good you woke me up. I love this soup,” you assured him. Your boyfriend chuckled softly, leaning forward to press another kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad. We could watch a movie before you take a bath? Maybe instead of another cup of tea, I can also make a cup of hot chocolate.” 

How did you deserve a boyfriend like this? “Whatever you want more, Buck.” You didn’t this to be all about you even if you were the sick one at the moment. “Mhm, then let’s go with some hot chocolate and a good movie. I heard there is a new rom-com out on Netflix.”

You had introduced Bucky to rom-coms throughout your relationship and they had grown on him quite quickly. By now, they were your favourite kind of movies to watch together when it was just the two of you. “I don’t want you to get sick too if you keep kissing me,” you pointed out, moving the spoon around in the bowl of soup. It wouldn’t be nice if the both of you would get sick at the same time. 

Bucky didn’t seem to mind even a little though as he slipped under the blanket with you and wrapped his flesh arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. He always wanted to keep you safe and sound. “Don’t you worry about that, doll. I will be fine. Don’t get sick too often, you know?”

You and Bucky were trying to keep life as normal as possible for the both of you. You sometimes forgot about his super soldier powers and how they changed his immune system as well. “But don’t you complain if you’re bedridden next week,” you insisted, glancing up to your boyfriend. 

He gave you another soft smile, pressing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose. “I know you’ll take good care of me if I get sick myself.”

“You’re right. But I can’t replicate this chicken soup,” you grinned, turning your head when Bucky turned on the TV and started to look for a movie to watch. 

It was nice being pampered and cared for when you were sick. Especially if it meant more time spent cuddling with your boyfriend. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu imagine #bucky barnes headcanons #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[lieslostinsilence]

i'm willing to be wrecked

Author's note: I am a first timer doing this haha. So for some time, I have been wanting to write imagines. I happened to write this one down. I shared it with a couple of close friends and they encouraged me to post it. It is very brief so I do apologise for that as I just want to test the waters out first. So this is really out of my comfort zone hahaha but I do welcome feedback or any thoughts!

Max Verstappen x fem! reader Reader is going through a break up with Carlos. Max is their best friend and helps them through it.

It has been a week since I ate or slept properly. Since Carlos and I broke each other’s heart. The pain seems to engulf me and I desperately need a release from it, from everything. I want to forget him even just for a brief moment. I know my friends are worried about me. Especially Max. He drops in everyday since he lives across from me. I don’t want anyone around but he doesn’t care. “I am your best friend so I’m not gonna let you be alone” After the first 2 days, I no longer protest his visits. I sit up on my bed and look towards the darkening sky. I get off my bed and walk towards my pool. I jump in and slowly let myself sink to the bottom. A peaceful solace blankets me and I sink further.

Suddenly I feel a movement in the water as the surface is broken. I open my eyes to see someone swimming towards me fast. The minute they grab my shoulders, I knew it was Max. Both of us came up for air and he was furious. “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? WHAT IF YOU DROWNED??!!” he yelled wiping his face. “I just wanted to be free of my thoughts” I whispered. His face softens, “Please don’t do this especially when you are alone” he says softly. Looking at him, a thought creeps into my head. A very selfish thought. I swim away from him to the edge overlooking the Monaco skyline. I can feel him coming next to me. “Tell me what’s on your mind” he says. I can’t ever hide my feelings with Max. “For once Emi, I want to be selfish. To just think for myself.” I say without looking at him. I can sense him looking at me. “I am tired Emi. I haven’t slept in a long time and I just want to sleep. I want to forget everything and sleep. Tire myself out and sleep. I know I shouldn’t be asking this of you but you are the only one I would trust with all of myself at this moment.” I turn towards him. His face portrayed the emotions he was feeling: confusion led to him understanding of what I was asking. Then a pained look painted his face. Rejection..

Just like that, it really dawned on me what I was asking of my best friend and that felt like a cold shower. I moved away from him shaking my head, “I’m so sorry Max, I shouldn’t have asked you that! I don’t know what I was thinking..” I whispered ashamedly. I tried to move away further when he held my wrist. I did not have to courage to face him so there we stood, floating in my pool with my back facing him.

I heard him coming up close just an inch away from me, his chest touching my back. As I felt his hot breath on my neck, he moved my hair away from left side to my right side. “Do you know what you are asking of me, Y/n? Will you be able to handle what I’m gonna do to you once you say yes? How I gonna wreck you?” his breath soft but hot in my ears. His words made me shudder involuntarily. I took a break and answered him quietly. “Yes, I know Emi and yes, I can”. As soon as those words left my mouth, I heard him exhale. Then his lips closed over a spot on my neck while his hands wandered across my body. I leaned my head back and breathed a sigh.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one imagine #f1 fandom

[mint-yooxgi]

What About Me? - San X Reader

Part of the CODN Spring Event - The Language of Flowers

Genre: Angst, Non-idol!AU, Best Friend!AU

Pairing: San X GN!Reader

Words: 1,704

Rating: E for Everyone :)

Warnings: Jealousy, alluded to the fact reader doesn't have a shirt on at times

A/n: So, I really wanted to play around with how different flowers have different meanings, and could be interpreted differently depending on the person. Hehe, As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: An innocent gesture, or something much deeper?

Yellow Rose - Jealousy

The sound of his knock echoes loudly in his ears as San stands on your front porch. A bundle of flowers rests in his hands, shifting himself from foot to foot as he waits for you to answer the door. You had asked him to come over, and as he recalls the reason why, he cannot help but let out a sigh.

“Oh, good!” You grin as soon as the front door swings open. “You’re here!”

Without wasting another moment, you tug him inside.

“Andy will be here soon, and I just can’t decide if I should wear the red shirt, or the yellow shirt!” Your voice is a little frantic as you waste no time marching right back into your room.

You didn’t even notice the flowers.

Slipping off his shoes, San follows you silently into your bedroom where he already sees you tossing clothing everywhere onto the floor. You’re rambling about this new guy you met - Andy - and San cannot help but to nod almost absentmindedly along to your words.

He’ll give it a week, and then you’re sure to come crying to him again about how yet another man has disappointed you. Another man that isn’t him.

If only you would give him a chance. Maybe then you could see just how much of a gentleman he could be to you. He already treats you like royalty, but you simply refuse to acknowledge that anything is there.

San knows he’s not the only one that sees it. All of your other friends have always commented on the chemistry the two of you share. From jokes about getting married, to teasing remarks about already being a seasoned couple, every comment seemingly goes right over your head. That, or you simply refuse to acknowledge how well you two fit together.

No. After so many years together, you refuse to acknowledge San as anything but your friend.

It drives him insane. Can’t you see how much he cares for you? Do you not realize the extents he would go to lay the whole world at your feet, if only you asked him to? Either way, San knows that he’s desperately in love with you, but you never seem to feel the same way.

Letting out another sigh, San sits forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he fiddles with the large bouquet in his hands as your voice dies out in your throat.

Finally, it seems as if he’s gotten your attention.

“Who are those for?” You blink curiously, leaning into him so that he can practically smell your intoxicating perfume over the scent of the yellow roses clutched in his hands. “Did you finally manage to score a date yourself after so long?”

San’s gaze, which had been intently focuses on the blooming flowers, shifts upwards to met your own.

“No. If I were bringing flowers for a date, they wouldn’t be yellow.” He hums, sitting up fully in his spot.

“I was gonna say,” you chuckle, moving back over to your closet to pick out another shirt. This time, it’s purple. His favourite colour. “If you’re going to get roses for someone whom you’re romantically involved, yellow is probably the worst colour you could choose.”

“Oh?” San quirks a brow at you, watching you intently.

“Yeah.” You hum casually, turning back to face him once your slip on your shirt. “Don’t you know that yellow roses signify friendship?”

This time, both his brows raise at you in mild disbelief. “Do they?”

That’s certainly not what he was going for, but if that’s how you want to interpret them, who is he to stop you. It’s probably better if you think that, anyways. The last thing he needs is to get into another argument with you over his jealousy.

“So…” you trail off, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “Who are they for?”

“Well, obviously I brought them for you.” He offers you the bouquet of roses, just as he’s always offered you his heart.

And like always, his meaning seems to go right over your head.

“Oh, Sannie!” A brilliant smile stretches out across your features as you reach out to take the flowers from his hands. “You shouldn’t have!”

Little do you see the way his whole body jolts, his breath hitching as your fingers brush lightly over his skin. The gently kiss of gratitude you place upon the skin of his cheek only serves to make the warmth in his chest blossom, spreading outwards pleasantly. All the way until it reaches the very tips of his fingers.

“What’s the occasion?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice as you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen.

San, of course, is eager to follow you out, his eyes drooping slightly as he purses his lips. Though, the moment you turn around, a glass vase in hand, he’s back to looking every part of the chipper male you’ve come to know.

“Can I not bring flowers to the most beautiful person I know?” The corner of his lips quirk upwards, but the grin doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“You can bring me flowers like this anytime, Sannie Boy,” You giggle, and the melodic sounds sets his heart racing inside of his chest.

Hearing such a joyful sound, and knowing that he’s the cause of it… well… to him, there is no greater feeling. Even if he’s stuck as your friend for all eternity, that is where he wants to stay. There is no place he would rather be than by your side, where he knows he’s always belonged. His only wish is that he could be more.

“I’m just glad you like them.” His reply is gentle, glancing up at you through his lashes.

San watches you as you place the bouquet in that glass vase, noting the way your fingertips gently trace over the side of the silken petals. If only he could being doing the same to you right now. He’d pull you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he whispers that you’ll never have to worry about another thing ever again. He would tell you all about his promises to protect you, to be there for you, and how he only wants to make you smile every and any chance he gets.

You are the light of his life, and he only ever wants to be the light in yours.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He blinks, so caught up in his own thoughts for the moment, that the final touch he had brought with him nearly slips his mind. 

Reaching into his pocket, San pulls out a small red ribbon. Stepping forward, he ties a simple, neat bow around the stems of the roses, smiling at you all the while.

“San.” A soft smile pulls at your features, a hand coming up to rest over your heart as you breathlessly sigh his name. “Thank you.”

“I’m just glad you like them.” He repeats his words from moments earlier, inclining his head softly. 

His eyes shine with nothing but adoration for you, longing to step forward and cup your cheek in his hand. Only, he cannot. So, he’ll happily settle for the small moments, such as this, that you give him now.

You meet his gaze, that tender expression still pulling at your features. An expression of which that causes San’s heart to absolutely flutter inside of his chest.

“Oh, I more than like them, Sannie.” You pause in your movements of brushing your thumb over a petal as you smile at him. “I love them.”

You tug a single rose free from its confines in the vase, careful not to ruin the beautiful display.

“What are you doing?” San quirks a brow, watching as you step closer to him with that single rose in your hand.

A blink, and you offer it to him with a large smile stretching across your features.

“Giving my best friend a flower.” You reply cheekily. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Though your meaning might be vastly different than his, his heart still warms at the action. 

He wastes no time in reaching out to gently grasp the stem you offer him, bringing the fresh bloom to his nose and inhaling its scent.

The corner of his lips twitch upwards.

Just as he goes to respond, another knock sounds at your door. The way you visibly perk up, scurrying over to answer whoever it is, makes San’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

You had just been sharing such a tender moment, too…

With one final look at the golden bouquet, San turns away. Letting out a long breath through his nose, he walks towards your font door, leaning on the wall lightly with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze scans over this new guy - Andy - and the first thing San notices is how empty his hands are.

Not even a single flower for you.

San shakes his head. His eyes narrow pointedly at the tall male across from him, hand tightening on the single stem held in his own hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” Andy says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. “You look beautiful.”

At the giggle you let out, San feels his heart squeeze painfully in his chest once more.

He purses his lips, listening to you chat excitedly with this new male, who, in San’s opinion, does not deserve even a second of your attention.

Andy doesn’t bring you flowers. 

San does.

“Alright, I’ll be back later.” You say, reaching for your bag as you send one final look San’s way.

San can only offer you a tight smile in return, your focus almost immediately back on Andy as soon as those words are out of your mouth. He can only watch on, a crushing pain in his chest, as you exit through the front door, waving a final goodbye to him over your shoulder.

As San watches you walk away from him, yet again, in the arms of another male, that familiar jealous beast inside of him rears its ugly head.

The stem of the yellow rose finally snaps in his hand.

#cultofdionysusnet #code: spring24 #san x reader #san imagines #san drabble #san angst #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabble #atz x reader #atz angst #atz scenarios #atz drabble #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop x reader #kpop au #ateez au #san au #kpop drabble

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard (Castlevania) finding his beloved's art room, that is filled with various forms of art of him? Paintings, sculptures, poems, etc.

He doesn’t want to use the term ‘stalking in the night’ because he feels like it’s a trope for half of his blood line and Alucard doesn’t like stereotypes. But that was what he was doing.

It wasn’t for anything nefarious though. Night after night, his beloved would sneak off into some dark, deserted portion of the castle alone. With just the two of them there were a lot of spaces like this in his father’s old home. It also wasn’t as if they needed to spend all of their time together. Alucard appreciated that people needed & desired space. He himself needed it from time to time. It was just the pattern that had left him curious.

With his natural born stealth and tactical advantage of growing up in the castle, Alucard followed just behind them as they walked through the dark corridors and through one large, old, heavy door near the end. Almost forgotten by everyone. The dhampir arched a manicured brow and gave them a moment, and when they didn’t come out Alucard pressed on. Opening the door with much more ease and finding the room filled with a surprising amount of light despite it’s clutter. “What are you doing in here?”

He heard his lover shriek once in surprise, and something like sticks fall on the ground before it was followed by a larger commotion. “Damnit!” They cursed before they picked up what fell as Alucard came closer. A canvas and paint brushes now right side up off the floor. “What are you doing here?!”

“I asked you first.” Alucard told them as he looked around. “What is all this?”

He knew the castle very well. Although there were secrets his father kept from him, a vaults worth of art was not among them. Before he changed Dracula was actually a great patron of the arts. Finding beauty in almost all artistic expressions. So this was a new addition to his childhood home.

“It’s just…a hobby.” They confessed. “I find it soothing.”

“Art can have that effect on people.” He agreed as he looked at one of the pieces. Like his father, he liked art, but had no knack for it. Only the art for the sword had been his gift. “I meant more what is all this doing here? Why hide all this?”

“I don’t know.” They told him honestly. “I guess I just thought they weren’t very good.”

‘Not very good?’ Alucard arched his brow again as he looked at the works around the room. They were all wonderful. Even the unfinished pieces. “I never made any money selling them. And no one ever seemed interested in my art. So I just keep them here. I don’t have the heart to throw them away.”

“People are philistines. And you shouldn’t throw them away.”

Alucard picked up one of the landscapes and looked at it. He remembered this place. From one of their travels. “Can we put this in the dinning room?”

They seemed surprised by his ask. “You want to?”

“I liked this lake. Those trees. I’d like to remember it while we have meals. Think on that picnic.”

He went through the other pieces and asked if he could put up more. They weren’t his to decide what to do with, but he wanted them to encourage them to put it out. “Are you planning on turning the castle into my debut gallery?” They finally ask.

“If you’d let me.” Alucard replied after he’d collected over a dozen paintings, sculptures, and displays to bring out into the light. “Or at least a private gallery.”

They blushed but let him continue to go through the pieces. When he was done, Alucard came over and gave them a soft kiss. “You should never feel that your talent is less than. Your work is incredible. You’re incredible. You shouldn’t keep it in these dusty rooms for no one to see.”

He took the original picture he selected and left. Giving them privacy to paint while he went to hang this in its proper place in the dining room. He’d come back for the others later. Ready to bring them into the light, when they were ready.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #castlevania #alucard castlevania #castlevania alucard #castlevania scenarios #castlevania imagine #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #imagine #scenarios #castlevania imagines #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes

[phrandallanton]

ranfren headcannons

I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_･ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!

Randal

• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop

• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)

• has tear stains on his homework sometimes

• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)

• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.

• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"

• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")

• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.

• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.

• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.

• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.

• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.

• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.

• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.

Luther

• he can dance but it's weird.

• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.

• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.

• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.

• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"

• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.

• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.

• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."

• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.

• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.

• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.

• eats ice cream with his front teeth.

Nyon

• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.

• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)

• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.

• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.

• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.

• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)

• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)

Nyen

• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")

• good at math, sucks at reading.

• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)

• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.

• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.

• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.

• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)

•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):

Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..

Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...

*they then discuss this for an hour or so*

• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.

• oddly very ticklish I bet.

~~~~~~

That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.

"I'm going to sleep" -bop it

#ranfren #catmen #luther ranfren #luther von ivory #comic #web series #nyon ranfren #Nyon #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #Nyen #randals friends #randal ivory #ranfren randal #headcanon #Ranfren headcannons #i need to sleep now #yawn

[naompspsps]

*Backflips into your ask box* DONT WORRY I WASNT ACTUALLY FALLING DPWN OR UP THE STAIRS but at this point you probably already know what I’m gonna say! I’d like to see how the other dorms, like Pomfiore would react to 1950s reader 🤭 I imagine rook and Vil would be quite happy to see how fashion was back then

"He found a new favorite lmfao"

Summary: Vil and Rook officially loves you as his model. Forget Epel, He picked you up from the streets and kept you /hj

Ft. Pomefiore Boys

A/n: *Opens ask box and npc jumps* omg hi again, oh whats that? Pomefiore?? *brings out draft folders* HERE I ALREADY HAVE IT 😊 *smacks with the post*

Ahem, Yeah here. This is Pomefiore yall, My favorite dorm. YOU CAN TELL WHY ITS MY FAVORITE DORM VILS THERE. I genuinely want to be his favorite wth

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

You were the expert with self defense. In your time, You would always slap or smack the heck out of all the kidnappers. But on the other hand, You were also a sweetheart, someone that loves doing makeup. Someone that really... Hates getting stalked by a horse.

What can you do? Hit the horse? Tell your parents? Yeah, You tried telling your parents and they checked from afar saying there's nothing there. You look back to see and nothing was really there. Are you getting haunted?

The only way is to approach it carefully to see its true intentions. On your way to your friend's house, you see the horse again. You recognize that carriage, the horse staring into your soul, and the slow walking.

You slowly approach it. It doesn't move away or anything, You think it's a good sign. As you get closer to it, You take an apple out of your pocket, softly handing it one.

The horse was looking at it for a moment before taking a bite of the apple. You really thought it was actually nice? Never believe anyone or anything out the window.

The horse knocks you out with its head, and you end up waking up is such a hassle, hearing weird voice whispers, your eyes blurred but you see some things floating. Once you open your eyes, you turn back to see a monster-

Wait, That doesn't look like a monster. That's a cat! When the cat turns around, flaming cat? Huh?!

You panic, what kind of- You get up and back away from the flaming cat, and you run out of the room.

At this point you don't know where you're going.

Just run as fast as you could.

You can hear it screaming and chasing after you. What do you do?-- Kick it?! That's called animal abuse.. Is it for a good reason? Is getting chased down a good reason?

Oh whatever, just keep running. You stop at a library, running around. That is until you bumped into a man. You have absolutely no idea what could happen to you right now, You ask him millions of questions. Questions that he may be unable to answer as he was more confused.

He wasn't angry or anything, he just took you in this room with seven more people in the same clothes as you. However, A red haired and one with glasses left the room to escort that flaming cat that chased you around.

"Mx. [Name], Meet the Housewardens." Crowley points at them. You tilt your head to the side, what the actual gardening is a housewarden??

"Uh- I'm not a housewarden." Lilia raises his hand up. "Just here cus' Malleus isn't." He adds. "And I was only forced to go.. Because of an emergency that doesn't even look like an emergency.." Idia mumbles, covering himself with the hood.

"Whatever. Anyways, This poor student is very confused, and it's stressing me out. This headmage is generous, only to receive such stress.."

"So Dramatic, He could fit in perfectly with my next film." Vil whispers. Lilia looks at you, inspecting your makeup and your hairstyle. Feels like he's seen those before.. Oh, And those accessories? That's what he gifted Malleus on his birthday more than 50 years ago.

Weren't those jewelries already gone in the 60s? How come you still have them? Ah dear.. It's probably just from a grandparent. He needs to stop making these theories. "My, My, what beautiful fashion you have there." Vil speaks up, breaking the awkward silence in the room.

"Oh, Uh.. Thank you! It's actually trending these days." You smile. "Trending??" Idia asks himself. He does not know what trending you mean by that, but whatever it is he knows from the internet that Vil's makeup is the trending one. "Okay, I'm getting reaaal confused here.." Idia mutters.

"That's my issue, Mr. Shroud." Crowley lets out a frustrated sigh. "Okay- You all aren't obviously useful, So I'll just handle this." Vil shoos everyone and walks closer to you. He puts a hand infront of you, asking for a handshake. "Vil Schoenheit." He introduces himself.

You accept the handshake. "Nice to meet you." You smile. "See? It's just that easy. No need to treat them like a lost sheep." Vil turns to all of them. "So- You're gonna help me?" Crowley asks. Vil just rolls his eyes. "Yes. If anything, I know you aren't gonna do anything,"

"So I suggest you should just go." He looks at you, completely happy. "I'd be happy to help you answer all your questions. Let us go back to my dorm, and clear everything out of the way."

Finally, Someone helpful. You thought to yourself. "Thank you." You bow your head. "It's not a problem, My dear."

Everyone's gone back to their dorms, And you followed Vil in a magical mirror. But before he entered, he lookd at you. "Do not be afraid, just enter the mirror." He walks in the mirror. "Okay.. Don't be afraid. Don't... Be- AFRAID-"

You rush in the mirror, Safely entering, You look up. Woah! "Is this your house?" You ask him, and he just laughs. "Oh, No, This is the dorm."

Ohhh... You hum lightly and follow him all the way inside. "Rook! We have someone you might like!" Vil shouts, And Rook just comes out of nowhere. "Yes, Roi du po- Oh my! Bonjour!" He waves at you.

You wave back, yet it was a bit awkward. "That's Rook, And Rook, This is [Name]."

"Such a beautiful name for a beautiful person!"

Vil walks up to a couch and sits, patting beside him. "Rook, go get us tea."

While Rook was gone, Vil clears his throat. "So, On our way to the dorms, Lilia was talking to me about you, So I'm just testing if he was really true about that." Lilia?? Who's that? You wonder. "Uh, Sure?"

"What year do you think you're in right now?" Huh? What kind of question was that? "Erm, 1957?" You answered truthfully. Vil was quiet. You thought you said something wrong. Were you supposed to say something else? "I see, Seems like Lilia was right about his guesses."

"What do you mean?" You ask him. Seriously, You're so confused. "How do I say this.. Well, would you believe me if I said you aren't in 1957?" You freeze in your spot. "Pardon?-"

"You aren't in the 50s." He directly replies. "But don't be afraid. Must be because your fate should've been in the modern, so the horse picked you up from the past and took you here."

Is he smart? Looks like it, But do you believe him? Also yes. If he mentioned about the horse without you mentioning it first, then he must be telling the truth, that's just how you tell if it's the truth or the lie.

"Ah yes.. The horse- I- Uh, Does it knock you out like that?" You ask. "It knocked you out?" You nod, crossing your arms. "Mhm, I was feeding it an apple thinking the reason why it kept following me was because it was hungry, but knocked me out a few seconds later."

"Strange, It's supposed to just wait as you enter. That's.. A pretty violent way to help you enter." Vil chuckles lightly. "Well I'd call it kidnapping if I was supposed to enter with no explanation." You add. Vil hums, placing his leg over his other leg.

"Interesting. The 50s makeup looks very Interesting." He points at your face. Rook comes back. "Here is the tea, Roi du Poison."

Vil takes the cups of tea, giving one to you. "Thank you Rook, Sit down. I have unbelievable news about them." Vil takes a sip of his tea, And Rook sits down beside you, taking his cup of tea from the table.

"Do you believe in the rumours about the horse taking people from the past due to the fate's decision?"

"Yes." Rook answers, He looks at Vil, Who was gesturing you with his eyes. It took him a while to understand, but when he did. "Ohh.. What?! They came from-"

"1957." You cut Rook off. "But something to add in the rumour, The horse knocks them out instead of waiting for them to enter." You watch the two interact. You wanna laugh at the way Rook has his jaw down, does he really just not believe the knocking out part?

"No. Way." Rook sips from his cup. "Yes way." Vil sets his cup on the table. "My, That explains the beautiful style you have." Rook observes you more. "Haha.. It's just- 50s makeup."

"It looks amazing." Vil chuckles, then stops after having an idea in mind. "Actually, I want you to wear what you all used to wear. You may use my wardrobe, I have tons of clothes that you might take as your liking."

"That's.. Not a bad idea, Roi du Poison! Amazing thinking as usual!"

"I know right~" Vil flips his hair, His hair is a bit short, but how on earth did he manage to flip it like how long haired people would? "I don't see any trouble with that." Your eyes sparkle. You're obsessed with fashion, so seeing how people dress these days can also help you, but you have to dress up like how people in your time would in return, of course.

"What the actual heck- I MEAN- What is this." Epel appears inside the lounge. He just wanted to get his textbook.. Not bump into Vil! God.. "Oh yes, Right. This is Epel!" Rook points at him.

"Epel should really learn better from [Name]."

"WHO EVEN IS THAT??" Epel looks at Vil, Then his eyes focuses to you. "Ohhh, It's them?" Epel nods. "Alright. Cool.." He mumbles before leaving the lounge. You tilt your head confusedly. "Sorry, Epel is just.. Bad mannered. He needs to learn to stop using defense."

Oh. Damn. "Uh.." You awkwardly hum. "What is it, What's the matter?" Vil asks you. "It's just that.. He.. Isn't the only one that uses defense?" You whisper.

"I uh, Also use defense.." You can hear the silence grow, Should you say something else? "B-but it's not for anything bad, no! Back in my place in that time, There's just alot of kidnappers. So I learned self defense." You think about it again. Was that a good reason?

"Well, That's a good reason to use it. But he just uses it for fun." Vil shrugs. You and Rook automatically look at each other and showing each other eye gestures that you surprisingly understood.

"Well, Let's just go try out the little fashion show idea-" Rook stands up, as you laugh nervously and also stand up. Vil sighs. "Why, Of course, How could I forget that." He smiles softly.

The three of you head to Vil's room, still talking about how things are in your time. While you all talk, Epel watches you all from afar with other Pomefiore students. "Wow." A pomefiore student whispers.

"He found a new favorite, Lmfao." Another Pomefiore student says. Epel jumps in victory. "I'M FREE! WE'RE FREE! HE'LL FINALLY STOP NAGGING US TO BE WELL-MANNERED!"

"YAHOOO!!"

...

"Do you both hear that?" You ask Vil and Rook. "Ignore that." Rook adds, shoving you in Vil's room before he enters and closes the door.

Author's End Note: Yall actually didn't change in the same room, You guys just went to grab some clothes to try in the dressing room. 💀 VIL, ROOK AND YOU AS HEATHERS??? Epel as Veronica HAHAHAH "do you have a problem???" Srsly tho, You Three being a gossip trio.

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #gn reader #twst #vil schoenheit #twst vil #twisted wonderland vil #rook hunt #twst rook #twisted wonderland rook #epel felmier #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel

[jadedxhearts]

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

After not being able to have alone time with Law for a while due to all the events taking place, you’re finally able to get what you want one evening. Note: I know everything in the beginning of Wano kinda happens in one day but for the sake of this fic it does not lol.

originally posted on Sept 14, 2022

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

Having nearly no privacy was incredibly frustrating, especially having to live in a ruined palace. No closed off rooms, just massive holes in walls to make separate “rooms”.

Hell, you couldn’t even go have a bath alone. All the water had to carefully be stolen from the farm, so you had a very limited amount to wash yourself with; meaning you were basically just splashing water on yourself fully clothed and hoping it would be enough.

And go for a walk in the woods? You’d either be followed or worse, run into trouble, get caught.

So therefore, you had absolutely no way to be alone with Law. Somebody was always in the abandoned castle, always following you into the woods, it was always something.

Until today.

In a rare moment, everyone had left the hideout to search for those with moon tattoos on their ankles. And as for the three idiots on your crew, Law had kicked them out saying they were on “spy duty”, because surely Luffy and the other Strawhats would be showing up one of these days. And boy did they eat it up, grabbing their binoculars and running off, talking about how important this was.

So here you were now, in the present situation;

After making sure the boys were far off, Law laid back, pulling a finger in an inward motion to tell you to come forward. You gladly hopped onto his lap, running your fingers along his chest. “Finally.”

“Don’t get too excited. They could come back at any moment,” Law advised. “Though, I doubt that idiot will show up anytime soon.”

Sighing, you slipped a hand under the top of his robes, placing your hand on his firm chest, the other one around his jaw. You leaned forward and down to press a kiss to your lover’s lips.

“Surely we can sneak something in, Law? Please, I’m so tired of not being able to touch you…”

“Is that not what you’re doing right now?”

“You know what I mean!” You snapped, pulling your face away from his. “Maybe you should just be blunt with them and tell them you and I need alone time.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” He asked, smirking.

“Wh-well I, no. That’s embarrassing.”

Law rolled his eyes, and put a hand on your back, pushing you to lay right up against him. “Then I guess you won’t get what you want.”

You bit playfully at his lip, a fake glare sent his way. “Fine.”

Law chuckled very briefly, before reconnecting his lips with yours. His right hand moved to your bottom, cupping it through your kimono.

You shuddered at the aroused feeling going straight to your core, welcoming Law’s touches. You slipped your hand underneath his head, grabbing at his hair and deepening the kiss.

“So impatient…” he mumbled against your lips, both of which were now wet with spit.

“It’s been too long, Law. I need you, now.” You whined.

Law unoccupied hand slipped up to your chest and under the folds of the kimono, finding its resting place on your right breast, gently massaging it and flicking at your nipple.

You let out a soft moan, wanting him to go further, go lower.

He bit at your lip before kissing you, and pulled back to speak; “you need to be quiet, y/n. The others aren’t too far away.”

“I don’t care,” you told him. “Let them hear the way you fuck me so good, baby.”

Law’s hips involuntarily jerked up, rubbing up against your covered heat, which in turn made you grind down on him.

“Fuck, quit saying shit like that. Makes me wanna take you right here, where we can get caught so easily.”

You moaned again, pushing your lips back into his own to try and muffle the sound. You adjusted your hips so that your legs could be around his thigh, pushing part of his clothing aside so you could plant yourself onto his bare skin. With small movements that weren’t incredibly noticeable, you began rubbing your cunt on his thigh, the only barrier being your panties, which were growing wet quickly.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my thigh like a stupid slut.” Law praised you. “Such a good girl…”

His lips returned to kiss you, and you continued to moan into his mouth, gripping his sleeve and pulling on his hair.

“Law, please, need you…” you whined.

“You can wait, love. I know you can.” He teased, “besides, I don’t need those idiots catching us, I never want anyone to see you like this.

“You know why?” He asked.

“Cause I’m, ah-” You let out a cry as you felt yourself getting close to releasing. “I’m all yours, Law. Only yours.”

“That’s right” he said, connecting your lips once again.

The kisses turned hot and passionate, but with lots of panting and whining in between. Law was starting to actually worry somebody would walk in on the two of you, but you were relentless, grinding yourself onto his thigh. He could feel your slick against his skin. Truly, it turned him on so much he couldn’t stop you.

“Law, baby, I’m-“

“CAPTAIN!!!”

“Fuck!” You cried, stopping your movements and smacking your fist against his chest. “No…”

“CAPTAIN!”

Just before Bepo, Penguin and Shachi could fully walk into the abandoned castle, Law quickly removed his hands from your chest and instead placed a hand on your back, while you hid your flushed face in his neck.

“What.”

Law seemed annoyed.

The boys stumbled back, surprised at the position the two of you were laying in. But instead of commenting on it, they blurted out the last thing you expected to hear.

“MUGIWARA’S HERE!”

—

Unfortunately for you, Law had to abandon you at the castle, leaving you all worked up and alone. When he finally returned, you feared that there was absolutely no way you’d be getting to finish, as now Luffy and all the Strawhats who weren’t in the Flower Capital were now here.

You had sulked all day, and now you sulked in Law’s arms. Or, arm, really.

You leaned against him, only one of his arms around you, as you both stood outside with your crew, while the others inside were learning of the events that took place twenty years ago.

“Law,” you whispered, turning your head to look up at him. “Can we please… just go off in the woods?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “In the dirt? I don’t think so, y/n.”

You lowered your head, frowning. “Please, Law… it’s too painful.”

“Are you that desperate?” He asked.

“Yes! Just… tell the others I have a stomachache, and I don’t wanna puke in front of them or something.”

“You drive me insane,” he muttered.

But to your surprise, he pushed both of you up off the wall you were leaning against, and began walking you towards the woods.

“Y/n doesn’t feel good,” Law announced. “I’m going with her. She’s too embarrassed to throw up in front of you guys, apparently.”

The boys began laughing, making some comment about how nothing would be as embarrassing as what happened to Bepo earlier that day.

But they let both of you go without any issues.

It wasn’t too difficult to find a secluded spot, since the forest was fairly thick and it was dark out, the only light being from the moon.

You only hoped the distance was far enough that nobody could hear you.

You looked behind you, searching to see exactly how far you’d walked out. Unable to see the ruins, you figured it was good enough.

You felt Law’s hand on your jaw, gently forcing you to look up at him.

“They won’t hear,” he reassured you. “And if they do, they can just deal with it.”

Breath shuddering, you leaned forward to close the space between your lips and the smirk that his lips formed. Placing another hand on your back, Law pushed you closer and connected the both of you.

Your hands found their way up to his hair once again, running your fingers through his soft locks of messy hair. With one hand, you took his hat and placed it on your own head before returning your hand to play with his hair.

“Step back,” he told you.

Listening, you removed your hands and took a couple small steps back, allowing Law to move.

He took the cloak that hung over his shoulders and laid it out on the grass, dropping his katana next to it.

“Lay down.”

You smiled. “Aw, you don’t want me to get all dirty,” you said. “How sweet of you, Law.”

“I don’t want to get dirty.” He corrected you. “But yeah, it would be bad if you got dirt on you. Cause then I’d have to get it off.”

Giggling, you sat down on the cloak and leaned back, holding yourself up with your elbows behind you.

Law kneeled in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. “Tell me what you want, y/n.”

He leaned forward to bite at your collarbone, sucking on the skin between his teeth. You miserably failed to hold back the tiny whimper you’d been holding in. “I… want your fingers,” you told him.

Law kissed the now hickey on your neck before removing himself to pull back just a little, pushing your kimono away from your legs and grabbing the panties you wore underneath, pulling them off of you. He examined them for a moment, before tossing them behind him.

“Law!” You protested.

“What?”

“Now they’re gonna be dirty! What am I supposed to wear?!”

“They were already dirty with you nearly cumming inside them earlier. You can wear nothing until we get back to our stuff.”

You were going to whine, but then Law pushed a finger against your clit without warning, sliding it down to your wet folds.

“Look at how soaked you are, y/n. You’re such a slut.”

“I can’t help it,” you whined.

You cried out as he began to rub your clit with his thumb, his index and middle finger running along you to wet them, before he slowly slid them inside your cunt. The movement on your sensitive bud slowed down as he gently felt along your walls, scissoring his fingers to stretch you just a little, before he curled the two digits, rubbing up against your sweet spot.

“Law, baby,” you moaned.

“You're such a good whore, y/n, coming all undone just from my fingers. And to think you almost came on my thigh, without me even touching you. Pathetic.”

You squirmed and moaned, knowing you were close to cumming, desperately hoping you’d be able to release this time.

You threw your head back with a groan as Law added a third finger, speeding up his motions and thoroughly fingering you. Your fingers tried grabbing at the cloak underneath you, but due to your position and the weight on it, you were unsuccessful. With nothing to ground yourself, you clenched your fists and cried out, moaning Law’s name.

“Law, I’m close, fuck-“

“Gonna cum on my fingers, hm?” He asked.

“Yes! Please, Law, please let me cum, I-“

But Law pulled his fingers away just as you were mere milliseconds away from climaxing, and you let out a frustrated cry. “No! Law, please!”

“You begged me to come out here and fuck you. You’ll play by my rules,” he told you. “Being that you won’t cum until I say so. Okay, wife-ya?”

You let out a whine at the pet name, moving your arms away from under you so you could lay back fully on the ground. Your hands found their way to your face, which you held in embarrassment.

“Okay, Law…”

Peeking through your fingers, you saw him smirking. You closed your eyes as he lowered his head, feeling his breath against your soaked cunt.

“Maybe I should eat you out, hm?”

You trembled and clenched around nothing, trying to buck your hips forward so they’d reach his mouth. But then Law pulled back.

“Or maybe I should punish you for what you did earlier. Get on your knees.”

You obliged, pushing yourself off your back and onto your knees, placing your hands on your thighs and waited.

Law stood up, his hands reaching underneath his hat which still sat on your head, hands making their way underneath your hair so he could get a good grip on your head.

“Go ahead,” he instructed.

You pushed the robes away so that you could get your face between his muscular thighs, gently freeing his cock with shaking hands.

It’d been a while since you’d had him shoved down your throat. You wondered if you’d be able to handle it.

Positioning your hands, you brought the tip to your mouth and kissed it, gently suckling on it.

Above you, Law let out a small groan that caused a chill to run throughout your hot body, making you squeeze your thighs together in some pathetic attempt to pleasure yourself.

You ran your tongue up his shaft a few times before finally widening your mouth, praying you wouldn’t gag and mess it all up.

As you brought the tip into your mouth fully, Law moved his hips forward, practically shoving his entire length into your mouth. You tried protesting, but it was all just muffled noises as you choked on him.

In an attempt to gain access to air, you grabbed at his hand, squeezing it.

Reluctantly, Law pulled his cock out of your mouth, and you began coughing and spitting.

“Too much?” He asked.

You nodded, wiping the spit from your face. “I can’t… handle it,” you answered.

“That’s okay. We’ll try again and again until you can take it all.”

Your head returned to him, and you took just the tip of him into your mouth, running your tongue around his cock.

“Good girl,” Law praised. “Can you take a little more?”

You nodded, and he pushed just a little more inside. And then a little more, and more until he was fully inside your mouth once again.

“Breathe through your nose,” he reminded you.

Finally, you were able to take him once more. You squeezed his hand again, letting him know it was okay to move. He let go of your hand to place it in your hair and began thrusting, but very gently.

Eventually, the more comfortable you got, the faster he moved. He was fully deepthroating you now, his grip on your hair nearly painful now. You didn’t mind though, because hearing his little moans was the greatest sound you’d ever heard, and it turned you on to no end knowing that you were the one giving him such pleasure.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” He cursed, unloading himself into your throat with no warning.

He quickly pulled out after, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe right without any warning. You swallowed what you could, but started coughing again, head resting on his hip.

“You did so good, y/n.” Law told you, rubbing your tender head. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled and let the praise go straight to your head. You hadn’t even noticed that Law was moving, until he moved you to sit on his lap.

“Now I’ll fuck you, just as you wanted. Okay?”

You nodded and raised your hips so he could position his once again hard cock underneath you. Holding himself with one hand, he brought the other one to your hip, gripping at the soft flesh. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you sank down onto him, moaning at the way he stretched you.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so… tight.”

“Law, I- I can’t, too big-“

“Yes you can,” he reassured you. “I know it’s been a while but you’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you, love.”

You teared up, one singular tear rubbing down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t know if it was from his sweet words, or the way he was practically splitting you in half.

“Move when you’re ready,” he said, running a hand through your hair and kissing you.

After a moment of simply sitting halfway on his cock, you finally lowered yourself, swallowing up his entire length.

“Good girl.”

You whined as you slowly lifted your hips again before sliding them back down. You did this a few more times before you felt ready enough to fully ride him.

Testing the waters, you rocked your hips forward once, shuddering and clenching on his thick length.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your hips back, and then forth again.

“You’re doing so good, y/n. Taking my cock so well, like a good little slut.”

“Law,” you moaned his name, “feels..so… good.”

He smirked as he watched you begin to bounce on him, your eyes shut tightly and mouth hung open as moans fell from you.

Feeling more confident, you sped up your movements until you were completely riding him, bouncing up and down so quickly your moans weren’t catching up with it anymore.

“Oh, Law, baby… I’m gonna- mmm.”

His right hand was now underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit. “I know. I can always tell by the way you start clenching on me.”

“F-fuck!”

You threw your head back, slowly opening your eyes and looking down again, seeing the sight before you. Law had that stupid smirk on his face again, but you could see in his eyes that he was truly loving this.

But then his mouth fell open, and he began panting and groaning, his hips shaking as he was now incredibly close, too.

His left hand gripped your hip even tighter, and his other started rubbing your soft bud faster.

“Cum with me, baby,” he told you.

You whined, loving when he called you baby. Out of all the stupid shit he’d call you, nothing else made your heart flutter like this.

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm overtaking you, releasing all your sweet juices down onto his cock as he came again, his hot cum filling you up.

You both stopped moving, and Law laid back so you could collapse on top of him.

“Better now?” He asked.

You nodded, kissing him.

After another moment of laying together, he slowly pulled out of you, causing your mixed cum to flow out of your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Think you can walk back to base?” He asked, helping you up.

On wobbly legs, you nodded. But it was obvious you couldn’t.

Sighing, Law lifted you up, over his shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He picked up his things and your panties before heading back towards the ruins.

Before you could reach the clearing, you felt ready to walk again so he let you down, throwing the cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm.

It seemed everyone was passed out, so it was easy for you to get a clean pair of panties on before you laid down with Law, arms wrapped around him as you drifted off to sleep, fully satisfied.

#law x reader #law x reader smut

[okminer07]

A Match Beyond Measure Pt 2

(Name may be subject to change)

“Y-you… You’re the only one outside?” 

“Far as I can tell, yeah.”  

“Outside the Grounds and Sounds cafe?” 

She waited with baited breath for his answer, that last damning piece of evidence, “Yeah, looks like it. Are you sure you’re alright?”  

No, no she was not alright. She was anything but alright! The person outside was Garret, the giant outside was Garret! This whole time she had been talking with a giant! The giant outside was waiting for her! 

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she sat there curled up on the floor. What was she supposed to do? Out of all the things that could have gone wrong! 

“Uh hey, you still there?” 

She jumped at the sound of his voice, this time knowing the owner was looming right outside the door. Did he know? Did he know she was human? He couldn’t have. He sure acted like he was expecting someone… someone more like him. 

What should she say? Did she really want to let him know? What would happen then? She shivered as hundreds of scenarios entered her mind all at once, all of which horrified her. But she had to say something! If she didn’t he’d remain standing out there and get more and more suspicious. 

“Garret” she muttered, “I’m a…. The cafe you're standing in front of, that’s the cafe I work at.” 

Silence on the other end.  

“Wait what?” Cecilia couldn’t think of anything else to say, she was… she was-

Suddenly, the ground jerked so violently it catapulted Cecilia from her seat with a yelp. She caught herself before she could smack her head on the floor, releasing a shaky breath as everything went still. Her phone had been knocked out of her hand and was now lying on the floor, cracked.  She grabbed it before rolling over and backpedaling back to her spot pressed up against the cabinets. After a few seconds of more silence, she slowly straightened her legs and pushed herself up, turning around as she did so.  

Her heart nearly stopped. Outside, practically taking up the entire glass wall, was a face. A face turned sideways trying to peer in with two blue eyes the size of dinner plates. A massive hand was holding something that looked like a phone the size of a car against the side of his face. Garret’s face.  

His eyes widened when they fell upon her. Cecilia watched his mouth fall open in shock, revealing massive teeth that she couldn’t help but imagine morphing into sharp fangs.  

Just as soon as she had stood, she fell back to the ground, trembling, “Wait!” the shout reverberated through the walls. She snapped her eyes shut, clasping her hands over her ears. Just go away, her fingers clawing into her head and grabbing bits of her curly red hair, “Wait come back!” 

She winced, squeezing her eyes even more shut. Just go away! She pleaded. 

“Cecilia?”  

Everything seemed to freeze once again. Her name rang in her ears. Garret’s voice rang in her ears, only not the thunderous one she’d heard moments ago, but the one she had gotten to know. Slowly, she let her hands slide off her face and into her lap, still shaking. 

That had reminded her that this… this was Garret. 

What difference does that make?! One side of her screamed, get out of here now! 

She glanced to the door leading to the back and the back exit. If she was quick about it, she could slip out and run for it. But…. she looked at her phone, laying on the floor next to her. She couldn’t just do that, giant or not, he at least deserved an explanation. 

But what if he got angry? She felt herself cringe at the thought of those huge features twisting into a visage of rage.  

She hit herself, shaking her head. Stop it! Stop thinking like that! If you are anything close to a decent human being you will say something! 

Her phone felt ten times as heavy as she picked it up and lifted it up to her ear. 

“G-Garret?” she managed to mumble. 

“Hey” his voice responded sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to scare you there, heh. This is just a little unexpected”  

Cecilia let out a mumble of agreement. 

“But uh hey, I could stop blocking the door and you can come on out and-” 

“No!” 

Cecilia slapped a hand over her mouth, looking down horrified.  

There was an audible pause on the other end, “Is something wrong?”

How is he being so cool about all of this?! 

“I uh….” she racked her brains for what to say, “It’s uh…” 

“It’s not what?” 

“It’s not your fault.” she blurted out. 

Garret fell silent. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad. 

“What’s not my fault?” 

“That I’m… that I’m-” 

“I’m going to stop you right there” Cecilia went still, “I know this isn’t what you were expecting or what we had planned, but hey, I haven’t much experience being around humans but have always sort of wanted to”  

Can’t say I feel the same way. 

“There’s a restaurant a couple miles from here that’s got some of the best burgers I’ve ever had. If you want we could go and hit it up.” 

She cringed, clearly he had no idea what she had meant before, and now she felt like she had dug herself into a deeper hole. Her lips were dry as she tried to come up with the right words, “T-the thing is, I’m…. not really….” She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. What if he got offended? That was the last thing she wanted to do, for more selfish reasons if she was being honest. 

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything, I just…. Your…. Your-” Just spit it out dammit! “Your kind make me feel uneasy”  

Uneasy seemed like the most harmless word to use, but it didn’t at all really describe how she felt at all. She didn’t really even want to think of the words to properly describe it in case it just made those feelings worse. 

“Uneasy?” Garret still sounded confused. Sheesh, he really hadn’t spent much time around humans. Uneasiness was said to be quite common in many folks when first interacting with the other kind, though they seemed to always get over it quite fast. Not Cecilia though, for some stupid ass reason that she didn’t know. 

“I-I haven;t much experience around…. your kind either.”  

“Well like I said, neither have I. It would be a fun first for both of us.” 

Fun?!   

She wasn’t sure what to say without the possibility of offending him. None of her words had really landed and he still seemed to have no idea what she was getting at. The hallway leading to the back and by extension, the backdoor was starting to look really appealing. 

If she was careful… if she was quiet…. Her bike was chained up to a pipe right out back. If she could make it out there without being seen, she’d be out of this mess. She’d be able to ride back to her apartment, explain herself to him over text instead of…. Instead of… right now and…. Right here. 

Pocketing her phone, which was still on the line, she unfolded her legs and began to crawl towards the back. A couple of cups and bottles of flavoring had fallen and shattered to the floor, she maneuvered past them so as not to get sliced in the knee and cry out. When she made it to the back hallway, she pressed herself against the wall. She stiffened when she felt her phone vibrate and the vague sound of Garret’s voice. Ignoring it, she continued to crawl the length of the hallway, the backdoor always in front of her, teasing her.   

After what felt like an eternity of slinking along the tiled floor, her nose was inches away from the door. She looked over her shoulder before standing up and fumbling with the door knob. The creaky old door seemed louder than ever as it hinges squealed. She cringed, pushing it all the way open and stepping out. Her bike was on the left, chipped blue paint looking more beautiful than ever before.  

She scrambled over to it, grabbing the bike lock and frantically clicked in the code. The lock snapped open and she didn’t hesitate to pull it away from the building and mount it. She began to pedal, her eyes fixated on the thin alley across the street that she had always used as a shortcut to her complex. 

Suddenly, she heard movement. The rustle of fabric and a low grunt right before a growing shadow appeared feet in front of her. She had but a millisecond to turn her bike harshly to the left before something bigger than a decent sized car crashed down in front of her, the impact throwing her off her bike and sending her skidding across the pavement. The ground rocked once more before everything stilled. 

Cecilia groaned, her elbows and calves burning from being dragged across the ground. 

“Shit!” she froze as that same deep voice rumbled from far above her. She didn’t want to look up, but her body at that moment seemed to be on autopilot as her neck strained to look upwards.  

Her eyes widened, a mountain of mass stood before her, reaching at least forty meters in height. Her mouth went completely dry when her eyes met with two familiar blue eyes, staring down at her.  

She quickly looked back down, only to be met with the sight of those massive shoes only about two feet away from her.  

“You alright?” Cecilia flinched at the voice, “That looked pretty rough.” 

“I….I…” her lips quivered. 

“Why’d you come out this door? I could have moved out of-'' he paused, Cecilia tentatively looked back up to see the eyes of the giant before her narrow. “You cold or somethin’? You’re uh…” he chuckled, “You’re shaking.”  

To her horror, the enormous body before her started to get closer, beading down and taking up more of her vision if that was even possible. Her arms shot out in front of her, instinctively shielding herself. The movement around her stopped. She looked up to see Garret straighten back up, his eyes wide before something seemed to click in his brain. 

“Is it me?” 

#male giant #g/t #g/t writing #Garret is the ultimate bimbo.

[fanofstuff02]

Ii… Know I said I’ll post the next chapter of Adamsapple x Chaggie yesterday but I remembered one idea I had and worked on it. I’m sorry :< I’ll post it I promise.

The thing I worked on on the other hand… It’s an one shot inspired from this ask on @rius-cave ‘s account (read it from here) where an anon suggested the idea of Lucifer and Adam fighting so bad that Adam ends up in Angel’s room crying.

Enjoy! (Also would you mind if I tagged you @things-arent-what-they-seem66 and @talesfromawannabejournalist ?)

Angel was getting ready to sleep when he heard a slight knock on his door, like the person behind it was doubting their decision to come here.

“I don’t know who you are but you better have a good fucking reason to be here this late.” He said to the door.

“Angel? Can I come in?” Someone spoke with a shaky voice.

Adam.

He opened the door, only to be met with a devastated sight of his friend. He looked like someone stole something from him. Heck, he must’ve been seriously off, he wasn’t even hiding his third eye on his forehead.

“Woah, what happened big guy?”

I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.?”

“Sure, but why?” Angel said, letting him in.

“Lucifer can’t come here unless you allow him to right?” He leaned against a wall, taking his head in his hands.

“Yeah, I guess..” So he did something…

“Let’s get you a beanbag..” He muttered to himself, walked to his closet but stopped when he heard a sob coming behind him.

The sinner, curled up in a ball with his wings wrapped around him, was crying silently. He sat down beside him quickly and began rubbing circles to his back.

“Hey… It’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself. Let it out.”

“I-I can’t cry..” He was shaking. Fucking shaking.

“What?! Of course you can, everyone can!”

“Not me! I’m the man, not the pussy!” His wings revealed him, he was trying desperately to end the tears with wiping them violently. “I can’t let feelings-“

“Hey.” He held his wrists and hugged him. “I told you to let it out.”

That did it. He didn’t care anymore. He cried loudly to his chest. His tears were colder than anyone could ever have.

They stayed in the same position for a while, Angel awkwardly patting his back as he thought of what to do. Sure, he could try to comfort him, but it’d probably make him feel worse. Maybe this’d be enough for the sinner?

Who the fuck was he kidding? He needed someone to do it properly. And he knew just who it was. He whistled quietly, and took his pet in his hands. Adam let go of the hug and looked at who came.

“As much as I’d like to make you feel better, I suck at it Ad. But, I have someone else. Would you like to hug Nuggets?” He held him to Adam, and the upset demon took him. He licked his face softly, getting a chuckle and a hiccup from him. He hugged him tightly. He seemed a bit calmer but there were still lots of tears coming out of his eyes. Angel put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you want to, I’m here.”

———

Lucifer walked down at the hallway, going to Angel Dust’s room. He was looking for a certain demon, and Charlie suggested he should go and check Angel Dust’s room. The spider and him had some sort of a friendship after all.

He needed to apologize. No, more than apologize, he probably needed to get him his favorite meal, take him to a rock concert and shit like that. He could do those later, but first he needed to see if he was okay and talk the things he said out.

There he was, standing at the doorstep. He knocked it softly, hoping he wasn’t waking the pornstar up.

A tired Angel opened the door, but his attitude completely changed when he saw the King of Hell. He was looking at him with ice-cold eyes, and they also held a little bit… Anger?

“What can I do for you Your Highness?” He said simply, wanting the King to go away. Adam didn’t need him at this moment.

“Uhh, Is Adam here?” He said, trying to look inside the room. But Angel just spawned two extra arms to block the view, standing infront of the short guy.

“Yes he is. But he is sleeping. I suggest you to come at the morning. It’s the middle of the night right now.”

“I see, but can I please at least see hi-“

“No. No you can’t.”

“But you just told me he was-?”

“Yes, he is. He fell asleep while crying because of you. And I doubt that he wants the person, who made him pour his fucking heart to me, near him even if he is sleeping. So why don't you just leave him alone, like everyone else did. After all,” He placed his finger on Lucifer’s chest, near his heart. That's what he deserves, right Your Highness?”

“Come on Angel, I didn’t mean it! I wasn’t thinking when I-”

“That’s always what they say.” He hmphed. “If you seriously want the better of him, then go the fuck away. And come back, when you see him more than a toy or a pet you can play around and threw away when you get bored. Good night, Lucifer.” He shut the door in his face.

Lucifer backed away, looking at the door shocked.

Adam, who hated crying and showing ‘girly’ emotions, poured his heart out to another demon, because of what he said?

This wasn’t right. Right, they were having an argument, and sure, maybe it got a little out of hand, but… But it couldn’t hurt Adam that much.

Right?

—

Angel leaned against the door. God, he wasn’t going to deny he was quite surprised how he could find the courage to do this, but he knew Lucifer wouldn’t dare hurt Charlie’s clients.

Well, he is the wrong one after all. He peeked at his bed, where the demon he wanted to see was. Fat Nuggets was lying and probably sleeping near him, like he wanted to be there just in case he’d wake up crying again. Sometimes Angel could swore he was a literal angel.

He groaned, he needed a few things or atleast a glass of water, but he also didn’t wanted to leave Adam alone.

It’ll be quick. Just five minutes. He got up and opened the door, checking for Lucifer. When he couldn’t see him, he rushed to the kitchen.

Lucifer waited for him to dissapear from the curtain he was hiding in, and sneaked to his room. He hoped the magic wouldn’t work since Angel wasn’t in his room.

It didn’t.

Oh but how much Lucifer would want it to do.

Adam was there, in Angel’s bed, sleeping with the pig-pet near him. Looking horrible. His cheeks were puffy red, and still wet. His hair was messed up, his other eye wasn’t hidden like it mostly was, one of his horns looked like it had a missing piece, and so many few more details formed the broken man infront of him. But worst of all, even though he was sleeping, he looked more like he just passed out.

He was hurt.

He was hurt because of him.

He did this.

He absentmindedly tried to placed a hand on his, but his hand stopped when he heard someone behind.

“Ahem. I believe I told you to, GO. THE. FUCK. AWAY.” Angel Dust whisper-yelled, as Lucifer refused to let go of Adam’s side.

“I can’t leave him like thi-“

“Oh but you said you should, right? THEN DO IT! I am not allowing you here!”

The king felt the command grip his throat. He walked out of the room and stood at the entrance. The sinner was now straight up angry, and he didn’t seemed to care Lucifer was superior to him.

“Angel, I-” He faced a door again, the spider didn’t even had something to say to him.

He sat down at the entrance. If he had to wait for the morning then he’d do it.

He needed to clean up his own mess.

————

This was supposed to be a little one shot help-

Should I make a sequel?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #holydust #guitarduck #adamsapple

[mcverse]

☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚)

☆ 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐞 / 𝐧𝐨, 𝐩𝐮𝐤 / 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐲𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐚 / 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧 / 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 / 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞 / 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐤𝐱𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠 / 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐞 , 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

☆ ​𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

“(Name).”

Your eyes flutter, emotions dancing behind each closed eye lid. Your ears press flat against your head as you contemplate whether you’ve heard him right. He speaks your name, a phrase that has spilled from his lips more times than you can recall, to the point where it reaches you even in your dreams.

And yet, this time feels distinctly different. There's an added emphasis and sharpness to it, as if it weighs heavily on his tongue just to say those words. It's almost forced, yet strangely lacks the hesitation one would typically expect in a conversation such as this.

In all your time around him, even during teasing or comforting moments, he has never spoken to you without that gentle tone. The absence of it leaves a void, something you regretfully yearn for now as you find yourself locked in a tense gaze with what seems like a monster in disguise.

He hides his intentions so effectively that you never imagined this confession would take this direction. He fineses the situation so well that you thought of him as a personified version of a blinding sun, simultaneously painful to gaze upon yet offering a small, delightful wave of burn that stings as it gently caresses every inch of your exposed skin.

Your partially chapped lips remain sealed; you’re too afraid that uttering anything would make a bad situation worst. Doubt creeps in. Have you been mistaken all along? Perhaps he doesn't feel the same way after all?

In all honesty, that thought never crossed your mind. It’s not because you’re naturally confident; it's simply because he has a knack for making you feel self-assured enough to entertain the possibility of something more between you both, all based on his actions.

Those moments you didn’t imagine, no matter how much they feel like you did—they were just for you. No other woman in the village has his attention, no other woman does he hold in his arms, bare his heart to, or whisper sweet nothings that are just that; nothing.

That's all it is and all it comes down to, proven to you by his now tense posture and the stone stare he sends you. And it only further destroys the pedestal that you held him so highly upon as he continues to talk while you remain stunned in place.

“I didn’t mean for it—us—to get here…”

What does that mean? You can't help the curt tilt of your head as your eyes swirl with confusion. Did he intend for things to reach this point? Did he knowingly lead to this outcome? It’s a thought that nags at you, but it’s hard to reconcile with the Neteyam you once knew; it just doesn’t seem like something he would do.

The Neteyam you know wouldn't intentionally lead you on. He wouldn't deliberately create a sense of comfort, flood your thoughts with him, and ultimately make you fall in love with him. That idea seems entirely absurd in the context of who you believe him to be.

You blink, swallowing thickly as you part your lips to speak. Licking them, you question him, “I’m not… what do you mean, ‘I didn’t mean for us to get here?’” You need confirmation of your assumptions or even an explanation of why you could be wrong.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, the weight of the moment clearly taking a toll on him. He lowers his head to the ground, unable to meet your eyes. "This shouldn't be happening... It can't go beyond this," he says, the second statement not aimed at you but more of a self-directed declaration.

You don't know what overcame you to respond in the way you did. It's hard for you to even understand why you aren't more on the offense as you softly ask him, "Tell me why not?," when you should be offended and defensive more than anything.

And worst of all, you don't get why your heart is still holding on to hope when you know the answer, but you've played it up to this point like you don't.

He takes a moment to respond, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he's the one facing rejection at this very moment, rather than the other way around. "It'll feel like I'm betraying her," he finally admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotions.

You may not have known her personally, but you were aware of her existence, and it all makes sense now. It's clear why no other woman is beside him, even though he's of age to mate. The woman he truly desires is miles away, back home where he should be.

You're not her. You just happened to be there when he was feeling low and had nothing better to do. In other words, the time you spent together wasn't enough; you weren't enough.

And the painful truth is that you wish you were enough. Because if you were never going to be enough for him, he should have let you go. It hurts more to be only partially loved when it would hurt less to not be loved at all.

"Betrayal?" You can't help but let out a bitter laugh. His use of the word feels like a double standard, painfully ironic in this context. "You know nothing of betrayal. If you had even a hint..." You pause, tears swelling in your eyes, your face burning with a mix of humiliation, embarrassment, and suppressed anger. "You wouldn't have caused my heart this much pain."

Your words draw his attention back to you, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly agape in apparent shock at your statement.

It only rubs saltwater into your fresh wounds. Did he truly give so little thought to your feelings? It becomes painfully clear that he strung you along, relishing the attention you gave him while holding you in such low regard.

How could you have been so blind?

A better question, how could he be so heartless? Or was it that he only had a heart when it came to her?

Neteyam snaps his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin, tight line. His forehead creases as his eyes flicker over your features, skillfully reading you like a puk. It took a while, months, but he now knew you.

He probably knew you better than you knew yourself because even though he might say it shouldn't have come to this, he had a feeling that's where you were heading.

He could have stopped it, could have saved you the pain—the yawnyewla of falling for someone like him knowing how he felt, but he didn't... a small part of him didn't want to.

A single tear falls down your cheek, but you quickly brush it away. Your chest rises and falls in a slow yet steady rhythm as you work to calm your racing pulse. “You are kawnglan. I wish to never see you again.” you hiss softly, then pivot on the balls of your feet and hurry away from him.

Night falls quickly as you remain within your mauri for the remainder of the day, choosing to nurse your wounds, however poorly you may be at it. You've never been heartbroken before, so a plan needs to be put into motion.

While you wish never to see him again, that doesn't seem practical. You also don't want to stay inside, pouting and crying your eyes out until your tear ducts dry either.

In the days that follow and those that come after, you do the opposite. You put on a facade when you're around others, while at night, you take off your mask.

It's challenging to maintain the act in public, especially when Neteyam is nearby or when you bump into him. However, you are determined to avoid him, even if it means a brief interaction before you can find relief.

Many nights, you lie awake, unable to sleep because your mind is filled with scenarios. You're constantly coming up with better ways to react to his rejection or what you'll say if you ever have another conversation with him.

Ewya, if you had just admired him from a distance, this wouldn't be your reality right now. But instead, you went out of your way to learn his name. Now, all you want is to forget it, to forget him.

You've never felt more unlike yourself. It's hard to recognize yourself when you look into the water during the sun-kissed mornings. Putting yourself willingly into the hands of another for the first time, only for it to backfire horribly, was a terrible mistake.

You should have made a better choice. You should have known better—you knew right from wrong, so how could you not see how wrong it was to love a man who yearns for another?

You spent months avoiding him, and as time went by, it became second nature, making it easier to see less of him without much effort. Were you taking this too far? You didn't think so.

He knowingly took a part of you, so it's only fair that he also knows how you can't stand to be around him... at least not now—he’s lucky if you ever will again.

You learned two lessons from this: There's no better feeling than a first love—it's unforgettable, just as there's nothing worse than a first heartbreak—it takes time to forgive and heal.

And although you were slowly healing, you were cautious as you dipped your toe back into the dating field. You'd be lying if you said you weren't afraid to get hurt again. A small part of you doesn't think you can handle another heartache, so you started slowly; taking baby steps, and this time, you didn't put all your eggs in one basket.

Al'wah, you met him one day while you were sitting thoughtfully on a rock. He came up and sat beside you, and although it was awkward at first, he was smooth at talking.

He even went as far as to say he'd been interested in you for a while but Neteyam was in the way. Unlike Neteyam, he was brave enough to admit his true feelings, and you were flattered. However, you weren't ready to commit while after getting to know him better, Al'wah was.

Next was Zen'kí, a very calm and talented fisherman, proving he was a natural provider. Your conversations with him were easier, as he was more down-to-pandora than anyone you've actually met, and he was truly caring—about nature and all of Pandora's inhabitants.

The only reason it didn't work out was because of rumors among the women of the village. They said that O'laya had been interested in Zen'kí for much longer than you. After knowing how it feels to be in love with someone interested in another, you had to do the right thing and step back so she could finally step up.

There were a few others: Koar and Whûn’k. Each one left an indelible impression, but it wasn't meant to last. Then, you reconnected with Seyknü, a Na'vi you had actually grown up close to. It genuinely surprised you to learn that he was interested in you.

When you were growing up, you had the biggest childish crush on him until Neteyam came around. Now, it seems he's seeing you differently. You can work with that.

As you reconnect with Seyknü, your opinion on commitment change, and it's happening at the right time. You're rediscovering how much he can make you laugh, how charming he is, and how attentive and protective he is toward others. It's good to see that he hasn't changed, but it's tough to realize that you have.

He accepts you wholeheartedly for who you are, and you're ready to reciprocate the same in time. However, it's Neteyam's current actions and whatever game he's playing that seem to be getting in the way.

Honestly, what is he up to?

As your relationship with Seyknü continues, Neteyam's presence becomes more pronounced during your time together. This is growing emotionally taxing and weighing heavily on your heart.

Whenever you and Seyknü seek moments of intimacy or simply enjoy each other's company, Neteyam seems to find a way to insert himself into the situation. Whether he's with Tuk or claiming to have duties from his father, he's always nearby.

When you and Seyknü are lost in your own world, sharing laughter and joy, you can sense Neteyam's gaze on you, like a piercing dagger.

Even when Seyknü reaches out to touch you, whether for a helping hand or more intimately, it's rare for Neteyam not to interrupt. He either "accidentally" bumps into you both or enlists the help of one of the children to divert your attention.

This pattern persists for a while, causing you to question everything that has led to this point. Is it too much to ask for happiness? Should you lower your expectations? But you’re wrong about that too, as you seem to be a lot these months. This realization dawns on you one day when you go searching for Seyknü.

You find Seyknü near some large boulders, and just as you’re about to call out to him, you freeze in your tracks. He isn’t alone. Standing in front of him is Neteyam, and the atmosphere is thick with tension.

Neteyam’s face is contorted with anger, his eyes cold as he looms menacingly within a couple of feet from Seyknü.

Seyknü doesn’t look any better. His tense posture, ears flattened against his skull, and the twitching of his upper lip, baring his canines. With a chest puffed out, he hisses at Neteyam through clenched teeth, “What’s your problem!?”

Neteyam’s hands twitch at his sides, his ears flicking upwards at Seyknü’s tone, but he makes no movement suggesting he’s about to approach Seyknü anytime soon. “You are. Back off her,” he insists.

Seyknü blinks in confusion before his eyes widen as he realizes who Neteyam is referring to. He scoffs, casting a disdainful look up and down Neteyam’s form. “I’ll do no such thing. Save yourself the trouble and move on,” he retorts, his disgust evident in his expression. “She already has with me.” he adds with a smirk.

Neteyam’s jaw tightens in response to Seyknü’s statement. His tail goes stiff behind him as he closes the distance between himself and Seyknü, bringing their faces mere inches apart. Neteyam looms over Seyknü due to his greater height and attempts to explain, “She’s confused—”

But Seyknü interrupts him, shaking his head with a look of disbelief. “No, you’re the one who’s confused,” he retorts firmly. “You can’t force your way back into her life after how you’ve behaved.”

“Don’t speak as if you know what went on between us.”

"I know more than you think," Seyknü spits back, his attempt to push Neteyam away proving futile as Neteyam stands firm. With a confident smirk, Seyknü continues, "I'm the one she confides in now, the one she seeks when she's happy, and the one who takes care of her when she's excited..."

Tensions rise as their exchange becomes more heated but he appears entirely unbothered by the threatening look Neteyam gives him in response to this revelation. Seyknü's smirk widens as he taunts, "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You don't fit in here anymore. You're just a forest boy with no heart.. ha, sorry, a heart that remains anchored to a place far from here."

Neteyam can no longer tolerate Seyknü's words. He swiftly pins Seyknü against one of the boulders, pressing his hand firmly into the center of Seyknü's chest, rendering him immobilized, despite Seyknü's futile resistance.

A faint, mocking smirk tugs at the corner of Neteyam's lips as he observes how weak Seyknü seems, desperately gripping Neteyam's wrist with both hands.

Neteyam can't help but think... How can you be with someone like this? This island boy can't even free himself from Neteyam's grip. He's obviously too weak to protect you. If he can't protect you, Neteyam highly doubts he can provide for you, let alone please you as well as he could. In those aspects, there's no competition.

However, Neteyam acknowledges that everything else Seyknü claims is true. He pushed you into the arms of another man, making him feel like crap since and he often finds himself wondering if that's how he made you feel. He hates that feeling and regrets more than anything that he made you feel that way.

"Last time, Seyknü. Back off—" Neteyam's sentence is abruptly cut short by a powerful punch to the face. The impact temporarily sends him off his feet, and he staggers backward, creating some distance between them. Seyknü seizes the opportunity, taking advantage of Neteyam's momentary confusion, and tackles him to the ground, landing another hit on Neteyam's face.

As Seyknü prepares to land a fourth punch, Neteyam skillfully dodges it by moving his head to the side. In a swift counterattack, Neteyam headbutts Seyknü in the mouth, causing Seyknü to yelp in pain and clutch his mouth with furrowed brows.

Distracted by the pain, Seyknü fails to notice Neteyam's hold on him, ready to flip him over. Towering over Seyknü, Neteyam strikes him in the eye, followed by a flurry of punches targeting his nose and mouth. The physical altercation escalates with each blow Neteyam delivers.

You have to intervene, coming clean that you were eavesdropping because the situation is growing increasingly violent. Neteyam is viciously attacking Seyknü, who, by this point, is simply lying there and taking the blows.

"Get off him!" you shout, rushing in and grabbing hold of Neteyam to pull him away from Seyknü. He moves more easily than you'd expect once he realizes it's you. He watches as you bend down to check on Seyknü's condition. That simple action annoys Neteyam more than it should.

He interprets your concern as an indication that it’s because he's the most injured, or at least that's what he wants to think, rather than realizing that you simply didn't want to interact with him yet. But it was Seyknü who initiated the violence with the first punch, leading to this chaotic situation.

"Seyknü, Seyknü!" you urgently call out to him, trying to get him to open his puffy eyes, while wiping the blood from his face as best as you can. You growl, looking up at Neteyam, "What is wrong with you!?" you hiss, "You hurt everything you touch!"

Neteyam's ears flatten against his skull, his lips forming a small pout as his eyes soften at your words. He bends slightly as steps forward, reaching out to you, and says, “Please let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. This is what you do," you say with a sharp inhale, looking away. You move to help Seyknü up, his soft groaning urging you to assist him. “Just…leave us alone.” you add, walking past him with Seyknü to get him to the medic tent.

…

After ensuring Seyknü will be well taken care of and crafting a few believable lies, you make the decision to leave the hut. However, as you step outside, you pause when you spot someone loitering nearby.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your earlier annoyance resurfacing.

Hearing your voice, Neteyam turns to you, straightening up. He slowly steps closer to you, cautious as he should be because you were this close to heading back inside to avoid him. "Is he okay?" he asks softly, nodding toward the tent.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and cross your arms. "You mean after you beat the crap out of him? He's holding on."

Neteyam rolls his eyes in response, shaking his head, his braids swaying with his movements. "He hit me first," he tries to defend himself, but you're having none of it.

"That doesn't give you the right to do what you did!" you exclaim, stepping closer to him, fists clenched at your side as your whole body burns with anger. "You could have killed him!"

He groans, his brow-bones furrowing deeply as he looks away, his teeth clenched in visible conflict. "Why him?..."

Your expression shifts from anger to confusion as you raise a eyebrow. "Why what?" you ask, crossing your arms and studying him closely, trying to discern what's going on in his head.

"Why him, out of all the men in the village?" he asks, his tone curious, and he fixes an expectant gaze on you.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. His question seems to revolve around Seyknü—on why you chose him. What does this have to do with Neteyam? Given what he did, this is what he was more concerned about? This wasn’t the kind conversation you had in mind, and it's not a topic you're inclined to discuss with him.

You pivot on your heel, declaring your intentions, "I'm going home."

"No," Neteyam's voice booms behind you as his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from prying eyes. He leads you to a clearing and stops, releasing your wrist, his expression now serious. "I'm trying to talk to you!"

"I don't want you to! What I do is none of your business!" you shout, your voice tinged with frustration, your arms gesturing wildly. Your patience is wearing thin, and you're overwhelmed by a mountain of emotions.

You're starting to feel like you're the one losing your mind here, not him. And that's an issue because the problem here is undoubtedly Neteyam. "Why are you so insistent on meddling in my life? What difference would knowing make?”

“Because I still might have a chance” he shouts back, his voice laced with desperation. His chest heaves as he locks eyes with you, and you’re left utterly stunned by his words.

“What?…” Your voice wavers as you struggle to comprehend what he’s saying.

"I messed up, okay!? I was a skxawng—blind and… afraid." He trails off, the last word falling off his lips with hesitation before he gathers himself and continues, “But not anymore. I finally see what was in front of me all along." With each word, he takes a step closer, a sense of urgency in his eyes as he looks down at you, seeking your understanding.

With each step, you back away, shaking your head and raising a finger to mimic your disbelief. "No. You can't just… You're not saying what I'm thinking… are you?"

He nods, following you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm not hooked on the wrong girl. The one I want is right here, right in front of me. I can't be afraid of letting her slip away too when I can do something about it right now."

A small gasp escapes your lips as your back meets a tree, leaving you trapped between it and him. Your wide eyes meet his, and your pulse races fast in sync with your thoughts. Since your confession, you never thought he would reciprocate your feelings.

The tables have turned. He's the one approaching you this time. In the past, you might have been thrilled by this new development, but now, knowing what you do, happiness isn't what you feel. Who did he really think he was?

"That's a shame," you say, swallowing subtly with a dry cough to clear your throat, averting your eyes as you attempt to seem uninterested. "You're a little too late. I'm over you." You lie through your teeth, hoping he believes it because you were struggling to believe them yourself. Deep down, you know that you won't ever truly get over him, but you need to try to move on.

He stops in his tracks, his face briefly contorting with hurt. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign that you're lying. Then, as quickly as the hurt appeared, it vanishes, and he's inches away from you, his arms caging you in. "You're lying," he states firmly.

You firmly press your hands against his chest, your voice slightly quivering, "N-No, I'm not!" The tremble in your voice betrays the emotions coursing through you as you apply more pressure. It's been months since you've been this close, and the sudden proximity sends your senses into disarray, leaving you feeling utterly disoriented.

Yet, everything about him remains unchanged; from the musky scent you've grown so fond of, down to the comforting warmth that still emanates from him, a warmth you continue to crave even on these darkest of nights.

His breath gently fans across your face as he leans in closer, until your chests touch. "Then look at me when you say it," he murmurs huskily, his words carrying the weight of a shared secret between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and his features soften as he takes in the tension etched across your face. "Look at me."

It's not a trance. It really isn't. He no longer holds sway over your emotions or actions because your heart has found its place, firmly back in your chest and out of his hands. You've taken control of that all by yourself. Nevertheless, you can't help but respond to his command, your breath catching as your gaze locks onto his mustard-colored eyes, your heart quickening as you notice the unmistakable intensity in his dilated pupils.

Your lips are just centimeters apart, on the verge of touching, about to share a single breath. One part of your mind warns you that it might be a bad idea, while the other part insists that you miss him dearly, and a brief moment of connection wouldn't cause any harm; you can part ways afterward.

You bite down on your lip, fighting the urge, and murmur, “No…” Your eyes remain glued to his lips, torn between desire and caution. You can’t let this happen. Entangling yourself in his web of lies would be self-destructive. It took what felt like an eternity to heal from the figuratively scars he gave you.

"No?... You're not listening again," Neteyam grumbles, his accent growing heavier with each word. He lets go of the tree, cupping your face with his large, warm hands, urging you to lock eyes with him again. "Now, say it," he presses, a mix of frustration and longing in his gaze, searching for your response.

You part your lips, all set to utter the words as your focus returns, but an inexplicable lump forms in your throat, choking your voice.

He waits for just a moment, his mind already determined on what comes next, but he does so with a bated breath, hoping you won’t utter the words he dreads. It’s clear that you’re stronger than him, evident in how you’ve rebuilt yourself after your last encounter.

He'd go to any lengths to prevent that from happening. Getting over his previous love became more manageable after he sorts out his feelings, partly thanks to the distance and you. Yet, if he has to remain here, watching you move on right before his eyes, getting over you will be an agonizing process. He's prepared to do whatever it takes, even if it means begging, to avoid that.

Your silence stretches on, becoming almost unbearable, and Neteyam's patience finally gives way. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's not as gentle as he'd like it to be. His kiss is passionate, a raw expression of all the intense emotions coursing through him, a desperate attempt to convey just how much he wants you, and only you.

You fight it at first, not wanting to give in but your lips mold so well into his and they feel so soft against your own that you cave. Instinctively you turn your head to deepen the kiss and he takes your submission as an okay to slide a hand down your back and tangle the other in your hair so you’re flush against him.

Ewya you missed him. Every part of him. Down to his braids that always wack you in the face to the mischievous glint in his eyes when he’s caving into Lo’ak antics. Is it even possible to miss someone this much when they’ve been so close to you this whole time?

You grunt when your back hits the tree again, with more force than before. It was enough to knock you back to your senses and your mumbling against Neteyam’s lips before pulling away and placing a steady hand on his chest to stop him from chasing yours.

“Kehe…” you huff firmly, trying to catch your breath. What was he doing? Trying to literally take your breath away? He was on the right track if he was. “I can’t be with you.”

He only hugs you tighter, cradling your head in the hand still in your hair, “Why not? I know you still want me. Don’t do this. I want you too… I need you.” he pleads, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then several times again, hoping to distract you from continuing this conversation when he can be showing you something better.

“I can’t stand you.” you blurt out, naming one reason why this can’t move on. It’s only a half lie. You can spend all your days staring at him, his beautiful patterned smooth skin and luminescence freckles that littered his body. He was art in its purest form. A rare shell you can only find at the bottom of the ocean in a dozen eclipse.

But you couldn’t stand him all the same. He played you, like a wind flute and he had no remorse when he tore you down. He can’t just show up when he had time to mule over his mistakes and comes to terms with his heart. As a warrior—no, a man—he should have had enough courage to tell you how he truly felt before you let yourself get in too deep.

He hums, showing he acknowledges your statement before mumbling, “I know…” as he trails from your cheek to your neck, licking a strip up your pulse, which he found easily due to your heart rate. He plants a kiss before attacking it, sucking hard enough to leave a bright, purple bruise.

Your body tense automatically at the strange sensation, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite your lip to stop the moan from leaving your lips. Your body may be tense, yet it arches off command to get closer to him.

If he knows, then why is he kissing you and handling you like you’re already his? It was embarrassing, leaving you feeling shame when it’s him who should after what he did and what’s he doing now.

“I hate you.” you continue, opening your eyes to peer up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly—it’ll be wonderful to relax under it but instead you were being ambushed by a persistent ex-someone.

He breathes out a chuckle, finding your words amusing as he continues to assault your neck with more marks of claim, “You don’t.” he replies matter of factly, shaking his head and causing his braids to tickle your shoulder. He jerks your head back enough for him to move on to the other side to apply the same treatment.

The tug causes you to whimper slightly, it is both pleasure and pain, but the pain wasn’t physical—at least not in that way. “Yes, I do.” you insist, thankful he’s holding you so securely as he does or you’ll surely collapse to the floor, wishing in that second that it’ll swallow you whole.

He pulls away just enough to look you in your eyes, his own a shade darker than normally, “You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”

His words cause you to freeze, eyes wide again at the realization that he was in fact correct. All you had to do was tell him no, tell him you really didn’t want this and walk away because even though he was a manipulator as recently discovered, he still held some honor. He had sisters, he wouldn’t take it that far if you didn’t want to.

Which brings you back to this moment, why can’t you seem to do just that?

"I understand," he whispers, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "I know I need to work to earn your trust back." He presses his lips softly against your nose. "Consider this a promising start." He concludes with a gentle kiss on your lips, expressing his sincerity in a less intimidating manner.

He leaves you breathless once more, and you allow it, letting your emotional barriers crumble to expose the heart that still longs for him underneath. Your heart races in your chest, and you wonder if he can feel it against his own—if they beat in unison, if you affect him as profoundly as he affects you. Just this once, you wish for him to share your nervousness.

After a few minutes, he breaks away, his lips parting, both of you slightly out of breath. Though it might not have matched the intensity of your first kiss, you're secretly flattered by the thought that you have an effect on him, even if it's more subtle.

Before long, he returns his attention to your body, his lips finding the front of your neck, coaxing you to tilt your head back again. He showers you with kisses and gentle nibbles as he travels down to your collarbone. When he playfully nips at it, you can't help but emit a mixture of a whimper and a hiss, to which he responds with a low chuckle.

His hand, previously entangled in your hair, loosens its grip, and the one resting on your lower back joins it on your hips, softly caressing your skin as he continues his downward journey. Although the angle is slightly awkward, he doesn't seem to mind. His lips trail along the edge of your top. You observe his every move, a sense of anticipation growing within you as you wonder what he’s going to do next.

As if he's attuned to your thoughts, he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes just as his bottom lip brushes over your nipple from beneath the revealing top. The sensation makes you jump slightly, and your nipple responds by stiffening. You resist the urge to hide your face, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It felt really good. It shouldn’t feel that good with him of all people.

His ears perk up, his interest piqued by your body's reaction. He repeats the action, gradually applying more pressure with each brush, making you squirm and proclaim that it's not enough. "Stop," you frown, "Quit teasing me. You have no right."

He apologizes with a kiss to the center of your chest. "I couldn't help it," he says, "Your reactions are adorable, they drive me crazy…." He trails off, running his hands up your back, fingers toying with your straps before loosening them and letting the top fall to the ground.

He pulls back slightly, gazing at you in a way you never thought he would. "You're so beautiful, yawne. How could I have been so blind? Forgive me, however long that takes."

You're completely lost for words. Despite all the different sides of Neteyam you remember from before you both went your separate ways, you can't recall a time when he was this gentle—even when you thought he was already at his gentlest with you.

It makes your stomach flutter with shimmyflies. If this is his way of trying to earn your forgiveness, you won't be able to remain headstrong for long. It won't be long before you're putty in his hands once again.

"I refuse to listen," you stammer out, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him. Your body may have yielded to him, but you won't entertain his lies. You don't have to pretend there's something more. Right now, you only need one thing from him, and it doesn't involve much talking.

"That's fair," he mutters, "I deserve that." Leaning forward, he playfully sticks his tongue out to gently lick your right nipple. "I won't talk anymore, I’ll show you…" he concludes before wrapping his mouth around it and giving a fervent suck. His action elicits a shuddering exhale from you as you arch your chest forward and weave your fingers through his braids, pulling him closer.

A deep groan reverberates from his chest as you secure his hair firmly, keeping him in place. He proceeds to suck, lick, and nibble, to the point where drool starts forming at the corner of his mouth. His breathing becomes ragged, his hold on you tighter and you can only imagine the tightness in his tewng.

It doesn’t take much for you to imagine the wetness forming in yours. You can feel it, moistening the fabric right at the center. With each passing second, it grows even wetter as he continues to suck, teasing your nipples until they border on a pleasurable ache. Soon enough, he switches to the other side, repeating the tantalizing treatment; one of his hands slithers up your body to keep your other company.

With a gentle pop, he pulls away, lightly pecking your puffy nipple before gazing up at you from beneath his thick lashes. Neteyam seems like he wants to say something, as evident in the way his jaw slackens, but he quickly closes it, perhaps recalling his earlier words. Instead, he averts his eyes, focusing once more on your breast before trailing down your body, mirroring his descent as he settles on his knees to align with your navel.

His hands find your hips, but they don’t stay there long when one confirmation curt nod from you has him untying your tewng, joining your top on the ground. You shiver slightly, attempting to squeeze your legs shut as the cold air hits your glistened lips.. Neteyam doesn’t allow you to succeed, choosing to grab your inner knees and keep them open.

There’s this primal, cloudy look in his gold optics as he stares at you for a moment too long before he leans in to give a long, drawn out lick from your hole to your clit. Your breath hitch when the pressure on your clit was oddly aggressive and moan as that one lap turns into many messier laps.

As he presses firmly against your lips, any concern about his ability to breathe fades when his tongue delves into your trembling heat. The rhythmic brush of his nose against your clit dispels any lingering worries. His groans intensify with each movement of your hips against his face, his gaze alternating between your expressions and the mesmerizing sway of your breasts.

He could spend hours savoring the taste of you, never growing tired. Your intoxicating scent sends him into a frenzy, he’s humping the air as thoughts of you consume his mind. He was suffocating, yes, but in the best way.

Neteyam’s hand skillfully guides your leg over his shoulder,, the new angle making it easier to fuck his face as his tongue reaches deeper. Your hips move almost instinctively, driven by the mounting tension in your stomach; you're close and Neteyam knows it or he wouldn’t be guiding your movements to go faster, mouth open as he eagerly awaits to taste every drop you offer, his tail thrashing behind him in anticipation.

Moments later, sensing your need for an extra push towards the edge, he plunges two thick fingers into you down to the knuckle with a curl that has you throwing your head back and creaming all over them.

It required every ounce of restraint to prevent his name from slipping out amidst the sinful moans escaping your lips. Despite experiencing the most amazing head you’ve had, you cling to the last shreds of your sanity, refusing to reveal his name.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening in his hair as the overwhelming sensation of him slurping your juices clean threatens to overstimulate you. Despite your attempt to pull away, Neteyam remains steadfast, only relenting once he’s finished. As he withdraws, he licks his lips and rests his head on your thigh, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I hope that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he steals a glance at you, his ears perked. "It was hard to stop; you taste like something forbidden."

"You're speaking again..." you grumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably at his words. "What did I say?"

Neteyam chuckles, rising to his full height and pressing his chest against yours. Your leg, previously draped over his shoulder, now finds a resting place at his hip. “I was thinking about that while I was…” He pauses, lip curling as he observes the flushed pout on your face. “And I realized that whether you listen or not, talking is better than silence. Although there wasn’t much silence from you just moments ago.”

You hiss, anger and embarrassment mingling as you bare your teeth, your ears pressing flat against your head, “Is this a joke to you?!” Were you, even now after what you’ve done together, a joke to him?, you want to ask, but the potential answer makes you hesitate.

“Have you truly not been listening?” he responds with a question of his own, his tone earnest. “I’m here with you, finally… showing you how I feel, expressing all this because I need you.” He tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he locks eyes with you. “Only you,” he adds with unwavering conviction.

Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Don’t you crave, (Name). Don’t you fucking dare. Remember the pain, the hurt, the tears, and the loneliness he put you through. How you weren’t even his first choice, how some good head wasn’t equivalent to love.

You swallow thickly, your voice catching in your throat. "What does that mean, Neteyam..?"

You’re stronger than this.

Without hesitation, he responds, "I see you... hey..." gently guiding you to meet his gaze when you attempt to turn away. "I see you, always have, always will. What do humans say? 'Till death do us part'?"

Damn it.

You burst into laughter, a deep, genuine sound that reverberates through the air, and playfully smack his shoulder at his amusing choice of words. "Enough," you protest with a breathy whine, feeling the heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Humans have such strange ways with words."

Neteyam nods, acknowledging your point. “You’re right. Death wouldn’t stop me. My love for you will endure even beyond death,” he affirms, sealing his words with gentle kisses to your lips. “Please, tell me you feel the same,” he requests softly, pulling back to search your eyes. “I need to hear it from you.”

Gazing at his lips, you contemplate whether to voice your feelings or not—though, in truth, you already have. But saying it again, what if this was just a dream and it would end like your first confession? After a moment, you meet his gaze squarely, "I still feel the same. My feelings never left," you affirm softly.

His shoulders relax as he exhales deeply, his eyes softening and smile becoming more relaxed as he firmly grasps your other leg, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. He presses you back against the tree, his pelvis pressing against your bare pussy, you can feel just how hard he is during this whole confession, "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he confesses, pulling you even closer.

"Hm..." You playfully arch an eyebrow. "Judging by your tweng , I'd say very happy... perhaps we can make each other even happier."

#✰ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐮— 𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭¡𝐜𝐚 #✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 — 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #atwow #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar wow #avatar neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam imagines #neteyam avatar #neteyam smut #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar 2022 #atwow headcanons #atwow fanfiction #atwow x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fic #neyetam

[orcboxer]

Sure there's zombies killing and eating people on the street but those people are not dying from the virus they're dying from comorbidities. For instance, that guy we saw getting eaten on the way into work today clearly died from blood loss, not infection, plus he already had a heart condition. People with preexisting conditions are just going to have to take care of themselves. Say it with me, "They're all already dead to me." See, that feels a lot better now doesn't it?

Good because you still have to go to work. No we're not paying you extra. Yes we're doubling grocery prices. No you don't qualify for disability. Or healthcare. Or a home.

Look, if you get bitten, you can stay home for one day, I guess 😒, but then you need to come in early. We're really short staffed at the moment, despite our company's profits being higher than ever. In fact we may be laying some of you off next month. You don't mind working off the clock right?

Also you look silly with that protective gear. We're gonna harass you for it, not like institutionally but just socially. Who cares if a zombie attacks you? Who cares if we invite them into the building? You don't need to defend yourself, you're just overreacting. If you get bitten just tell everyone the festering bite mark is from a different animal, that's what we all do.

And hey, don't worry so much. It's endemic, which means we don't have to keep track of how many people are dying from it anymore. Just look at those numbers! It's only killed 2,000 people in America this week! That's basically nobody! We're back to normal!

If everything starts tasting like rotting meat for the rest of your life, it's probably something else. If you experience brain fog or you forget things constantly or you're tired all the time after even minor physical activity, it's just because you're lazy. Yes every other virus you ever get will also be increasingly worse but that's just a coincidence. Those viruses just happen to be exponentially worse now.

Plus, those few weeks during the lockdown were terrible for my mental health. I just can't keep living like that, so we have to go back to normal life, which now involves people biting each other and twitching uncontrollably and rotting visibly.

You can't expect the world to wait for you. "Already dead to me," remember?

#bummer post #covid

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #rafah #israel #current events #gaza strip #human rights #childrens rights #save the children #cease fire in gaza #cease fire now #cease fire permanently #palestinian genocide #support gaza #pray for palestine #ceasfire now

[coconutdays]

going crazy

s. your boyfriend, handsome and secure suguru geto, doesn't get jealous

w.c. 4.8k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: based on my seat taker biker!geto au! also I feel this does not live up to seat taker! but I tried my best! so I hope you can still enjoy! likes reblogs and comments r always appreciated to know y’all liked it!!!

your boyfriend does not have a single jealous bone in his body. it’s convenient you suppose?

you’ve heard nightmares of insecure men who have to know where there girlfriends are every second of every hour, the direction they’re even going to utter a breath in. the occasional story of a girl who can’t speak to any men whatsoever because her boyfriend will berate her for doing so. 

although you do always keep suguru in the loop about what you’re doing and don’t really talk to guys because at the end of the day, more often than not, they always do not plan on just being your friend, he never expected those things out of you. It was a silent form of showing your respect for him. and he did the same out of instinct too, first too. 

but aside from that, he doesn’t show any jealousy.

there was a time he even tried to set you up with toji zenin when he was still crushing on you. 

your boyfriend is a little peculiar, you’re very well aware of that, but you find his confidence in himself sexy. because you couldn’t look anywhere else if you wanted to. he was handsome, his face chiseled so prettily it was painful. his smooth voice that always had you reeling to get him to talk more. and his spine tattoo that always made you blush at the sight of it befriending your scratch marks after a particularly rough night, 

so you don’t care about the way you dress, because he won’t control what you wear. in fact, it’s one of the things you both love about each other, a recent discovery now that you’ve been dating for a month. suguru is an avid fan of the way you dress, relishing in what new outfit he’ll see you in whenever he sees you that day, and if not possible, asking for a picture. and you love how he loves it. appreciating the fact that he loves when you wear booby shirts to campus or dates with him or particularly tight jeans that attract eyes aside from his, but are worn for the sole purpose of serving cunt–and riling your boyfriend up.

it all comes together to why you wear the dress you do tonight to go clubbing with him and some friends. it’s honestly the hottest thing suguru will have seen you in so far. yes, your previous halloween costumes were something alright, but this…was different. halloween was like a month ago and the outfits for those events were meant to be slutty, purely slutty. this look was meticulously planned by you the moment you ordered the dress online. the sheer dress and its sparkles had been running across your mind that entire week of shipping with the perfect sultry way you planned to do your hair and makeup. 

you 

hey can we carpool later tonight, my dress isnt motorcycle proof :/

suguru

sure princess.  can i get a peek?

you

don’t feel like it hehe wait for it sugu <3

suguru

tease

any other time, he would’ve more than likely have gotten his peek at your outfit, you are weak to his demands naturally, but this was something he genuinely would have to wait for. pictures would not do you justice and you wanted to catch your boyfriends raw reaction when he saw the look for the first time . 

and you were right.

when he went up to your apartment to pick you up and you opened the door, the reaction was worth the wait. the constant warmth your boyfriend’s gaze always held fell the moment his eyes landed on you and took a moment to breathe you in. 

you saw his pupils dart to your cleavage first, staring for a hard second, then to the tightness against your waist and hips bringing attention to your figure. the small quirk of his eyebrow seconds within that let you know he spotted the thong hugging your body under the sheer dress. he did a once over of your legs, looking at what shoes you were wearing, before he brought his eyes up to look at your face again.

he doesn’t say anything, instantly moving forward and getting rid of the space between the both of you to take your head in his hands and plant his lips on yours. you press a hand against his chest when you feel him swipe his tongue across the top of your mouth so hungrily. 

“you’re going to kiss off my lipgloss sugu.” you giggle, heaving a little as you press your forehead against his, blinking up happily at him. 

his stare is firm as his blown up pupils stare back into you, “sorry pretty girl, couldn’t help myself.”

“and why’s that hm?” you bite your lip through your smile, eagerly waiting for his answer, still forehead to forehead with him, his hands still holding you in place.

his hair is in that half up half down duo you go so feral for, you realize this detail when he says, “you know why.”

“no I don’t,” you drag on, a teasing lilt in your voice

“because,” he drags one of his hands down to caress your neck softly with his thumb, you can see a slight crease in his eyelids at your playfulness, “my girlfriend is trying to get away with first degree murder right now.”

“you like the dress?” you give him a toothy smile and you can slightly catch his gaze turn hungry at the sight of it

suguru suddenly raises you up by clasping his arms behind you, below your butt and on your thigh, so you’re above him when he looks at you lovingly, “like is an understatement.”

“well i like your hair today,” you compliment him, still giggly

“yeah?” he smiles, “i’m glad.”

it’s your first time ever going to the club with suguru, so there’s some sort of powerful feeling lingering when you enter the loud building holding hands with him. you’re going in belonging to someone and so is he, as opposed to other people going in and hoping to catch a body tonight or at least a good grind on the dancefloor–satoru cough cough.

the white haired maniac’s influence gets all of you a vip table with liquor already waiting for you and when you get there, suguru sits and plants you on his lap, arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

It’s when you look forward, you see toji zenin give you a quick once over from where he’s seated near satoru. and you ignore it, you always do. he’s never made an advance on you ever since you and suguru became a thing, he’s respectful of the relationship, but his eyes can never lie, he’s into you. it’s why you’ve never uttered a word to him and why he doesn’t either. and you can’t really blame him if the purpose of tonight's look was to turn all heads, not just your boyfriend’s.

“you smell good baby,” suguru mutters into your ear as he brushes a hair away from your face, “are you using the perfume i got you?”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders when you respond with a nod of your head and, “yeah. I finally ran out of my old one.”

“good girl.” he smiles appreciatively before placing a tender kiss on your neck

the softness of it makes you giggle a little and crane your neck a little, suguru pinches your side to tease you for it. 

it’s when a certain lullaby of a song comes on that your ears perk up and your boyfriend observes the reaction, looking up at you and rubbing circles into your waist, “what’s up baby?”

within an instant all the girls at your table begin to get up and rush to the dance floor and you turn to suguru, already starting to unwrap his arms from your waist.

“i have to go dance this babe,” you say hurriedly, like a little kid leaving their mom the moment they see the bouncy castle go up.

suguru can say nothing before he watches you run off to join the other girls on the dance floor, eyebrows raised in amusement at your antics then in reaction to your immediate inclination to start dancing. 

you look pretty, he thinks as he reaches over to serve himself a glass of whiskey. 

and he continues to think it as he ‘talks’ to his friends, nodding and giving small mhms when all he’s really doing is watching you live it up at the center of the club. 

you’re ethereal, the only star in that murky puddle of bodies. maybe your dress is part of the reason for all that shine and glow you’re giving off, but nothing beats the pretty little smile on your face that says you’re having a good time. it’s turning him on to be honest. he always wants to shove himself inside of you when you bear that toothy smile at him. 

and other people think the same, he notes. 

he’s always seen the stares, he knows you’re a sight to behold. there hasn’t been a day where he isn’t aware that so many other people want you. he knew it when you were merely the smart, hot girl he had a crush on his lit class, with so many other guys obviously paying a little more attention when it was your turn to speak, and he knows it even more now with your male following on social media and the way he constantly gets sized up just for being next to you. for fuck's sake he's heard toji zenin talk about how bad you are before he knew about your thing with suguru at the halloween party, hell, he still catches the frat president unable to control the way his eyes eat you up when you're near.

“done already?” satoru asks haughtily when he sees all of the girls that went to dance come back heaving a little

it’s been an hour since they all left at the start of that first song.

“y/n’s still there though,” one of them breathes, taking satoru’s drink from him, “she does not stop.”

“yeah, she doesn’t,” suguru laughs a little, looking back at you, still as energetic as when you first got there.

fuck, you're beautiful.

speaking of before,

he’s painfully more aware of it when he notices the number of eyes gravitating towards you from the dancefloor, tables, and the bar.

it’s like a bunny in a room full of wolves. or those scenes where scooby and shaggy are in a dark room and a thousand red eyes pop up to blink at them. the eyes to you ratio is beginning to get a little mind boggling now that he sees it in a real life setting. this is not the handful of guys checking you out when you go to the library with him or the nth guy staring at you when you walk past with your boyfriend next to you. this is a huge club with you in the middle and catching the eye of almost every guy in here, most of whom come to this place with plans of taking a girl home or putting moves on her. 

the thought manifests itself when a blonde frat bro walks up to you and tries to dance with you. suguru’s heart stops a little for some reason. he’s seen guys come up to you before, actually talking to you and trying to get your number, so he shouldn’t feel this irked when he knows the guy is going to be disappointed by your answer. he actually wants to go up to the guy and beat his face in.

the surge of pride that courses through his body is immense when he sees you put a hand between you and the guy and you make an annoyed face, all before strutting off and making your way back to the table. 

he manspreads a little more for you to sit between his legs, draping one arm on your thigh, the other holding onto his whiskey.

“a guy tried to dance with me,” you huff when you sit down, reaching for suguru’s drink, which he hands over without a second thought, now using the other free hand to fully hug you.

“I saw,” he says, perching his chin your shoulder, watching as you take a sip of the whiskey and cradle the cup in your hands.

“dance with me,” you turn to look at him and pout, “i don’t want guys coming up to me.”

“but you look so good rejecting them.” suguru teases, smirking a little at you

when your face deapans, he laughs and hugs you tighter, “we’ll go in a bit. rest your pretty feet for a second, don’t want them to tire out.”

“okay,” you slump into his hold, pouting

and suguru did keep his promise, like always. he took you dancing after a few minutes of rest and letting you drink the rest of his whiskey.

he protected you from any other guys trying to come up to you, evident in the way no guys even dared get close from a ten feet radius.

he kept you close and let you dance with him, hands appreciatively holding onto you when you pressed your body against his. it was much different to the dancing from that first time at satoru’s party, he was really holding onto you this time. his hands always found your ass, your hips, even the underside of your boobs during every second of every song.

and suguru isn’t a jealous guy, so it was a little weird to you when you saw him notice a guy oogling you and he immediately pulled you in to makeout with him on the dancefloor. it was unlike any other makeout session you had ever had with him before. he was gripping your ass while his other hand held your neck, that wasn’t new, he always did that, but his energy about it was so…all consuming. 

all you know, is that instantly had you horny and you couldn’t help the mewl you let out after he squeezed you in his hold.

“let’s go,” he spoke a bit tensely into your ear so you could hear him past the music.

and you were never one to go against him because everything suguru did always made sense and worked for you, so you nodded mindlessly and said, “okay.”

when you got to suguru’s apartment, he immediately pushed you against the door and resumed the makeout session he had started at the club. one of his hands was planted against the door while the other roughly gripped your waist to keep you close to him. 

“If you ever see toji, i want you to run the other direction,” he spoke ominously against your lips

the command had you furrowing your eyebrows, you mean of course yes you'd do that, but you never would’ve thought he’d ask it from you. he never really cared to address your actions when it came towards other guys. suguru wasn’t ever jealous…nonetheless, you agree meekly, taken aback by his roughness, “okay.”

all your boyfriend did in response was let out a gruff sound of acknowledgement before pressing his body further against yours and beginning to tug your dress off. he started by pushing down the straps, then pushing the upper half down, including your strapless bra until your tits popped out. 

he pushed both of them together the moment they peeked out and then let a glob of spit drop down onto one of your nipples rather obscenely before he went down to mouth at that same breast. it had you keening, you could feel your thong becoming nonexistent with the way you were starting to drench through it.

a bite from suguru had you squeaking before he continued his ministrations on your other breast while his hands worked on pushing the rest of your dress all the way down, even your thong since it caught onto the tight material of the dress.

you were left completely naked in front of him now and he manhandled you by suddenly picking you up and pinning you against the wall next to the door. he let one hand hold one of your legs to his waist, while the other went under and quickly swiped a finger across your folds with ease due to the wetness

“so easy baby,” he muttered against your lips before plunging a finger all the way in and curving it upwards

“you’re being mean,” you complain, feeling completely flustered at his brash actions

“what’s so mean about making you feel good hm?” he leans back to get a good look at you when he plunges another finger in and starts to push them in and out quickly, watching as your eyebrows knit and you start to mewl, “atta girl.”

“nothing,” you mumble, brainless as you wrap your arms around his neck and hook him in closer with your legs, “ow!”

he started adding a third finger when he felt like you were starting to open up more, however your small complaint started dying into a moan when he increased his pace with the third finger. 

“that’s a lot sugu,” you heave through delirious breaths, flustered at the fact that he was staring so intensely at how you were sucking him in

your comment had him finally looking up at you and you dont know if you’d rather he go back to staring at your pussy, because he was giving that same intense stare to you now. the all heavy pressure of his gaze was entirely being directed at your own eyes now, and how could you meet that same gaze equally when he was three fingers into you and making you moan like a slut.

suguru might have granted you a quick mercy when he leaned against you, quickening the pace of his fingers so you could get louder, and breathed into your ear, muttering lowly, “my cock’s a lot more than three fingers but you always cream all over it.”

the dirty sentence has you pulling suguru closer to you, and trying to trap him where he was so you wouldn’t have to look at him in the flustered state he put you in. but your boyfriend didn’t have it, forcing himself out of your grip, and craning his neck back to go back to looking at you.

he pulled out all three of fingers just to land a sharp slap across your pussy before plunging all of them into you again, “let me watch you baby. be good for me, okay?”

he honestly expects you to be able to answer him when three of his very large fingers are stretching you wide open and curling on that one spot that always has you crumbling, you know he expects you to because he turns his head a little when you don’t answer and lands another slap before going back to fingering you.

“speak up princess,” he orders so easily and so sweetly, like he’s not torturing your body right now

and you do your best to force the words out of you, legs quivering and resisting the urge to writhe in his grasp when you gasp, “ok–okay.”

“good girl,” he almost groans with a snarl as he suddenly stops fingering you open and hoists you over his shoulder, a squeal leaves your mouth at the action.

he’s walking you both to his bedroom, you notice from the path of his hallway made out from your view, and the realization doesn’t last long before suguru brings you down again, then pushes you down and bends you over his bed. he lands a slap to your ass and you can makeout the rustle of him getting naked when he says softly, “grab the pillows and put them under your stomach angel.”

and you listen, reaching easily for both of his large and fluffy pillows, and putting them under your abdomen.

you feel suguru’s heavy length press against your ass and bare pussy when he presses up against you, gripping onto the crease between your thighs and ass, and starts mouthing hot and heavy kisses across your spine. you whine a complaint at the fact that you feel so good, but you know you could feel so much better if he just put it in already.

“what?” suguru notices the pitch that you always make when you’re complaining, continuing his line of affection down your spine

“put it in,” you pout, wiggling your ass for emphasis and hissing a little when you feel his cock graze your lips at the action

suguru gives a last kiss to the bottom of your spine before coming back up and grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your head up so he could look at you, “how bad do you want it?”

“really bad sugu.” you mewl, feeling gratification from the sting of his hold on you

“you want me to fill up your little hole? even when we both know you’re gonna start crying that it’s beating your pussy up, yeah?” he questions cruelly 

“mhm,” you nod pathetically, “even if i do.”

his lips twitch a little at your admission and he yanks on your hair a little harder when he lands a sloppy kiss on your lips that has a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths when he pulls away.

he stands back up and lands another stinging slap across your ass, groaning, “my pretty fuckin ass.”

as if he couldn’t get any dirtier, suguru then grabs either of your cheeks and spreads them apart to get a good view of your sex, the sudden exposure of which makes you feel even wetter. that last fact seems of no use to suguru when you feel a large glob of spit land and run down your hole.

you suck in breath when you feel suguru start to rub his tip across your folds.

“sloppy little pussy,” he mutters before pressing into you. and you both groan when he starts to inch himself in even further.

the moan you let out when he completely pulled out and slammed back in was sinful and the noises that followed when he started doing that again and again at a faster pace without mercy had you outright screaming. 

you felt like you were constantly breathless, constantly trying to breathe. he hadn’t ever been this hard on you before.

and you thought you knew what hard was from him before.

“i know, i know,” he whispered against your neck when he pressed himself down against you and started jackhammering even closer to your cervix, so on point with your gspot too that you felt your orgasm starting to build up

a particular gutteral squeal from you had him breathing a “so cute” while he never relented his brutish force against you

“sugu–sugu,” you reached around for one of his arms, heaving, grabbing onto it while he violently moved the both of you, “i’m gonna–mmm–i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum!”

the confession had suguru suddenly changing positions, hooking his arms up and under your armpits to pull you up to stand flush against his body while he slammed up against you ferociously. it unexpectedly had your high crashing against you after a graze of your gspot.

“that’s it baby, that’s it.” suguru consoled when he felt you twitch in his hold and your juices dripping all over his abdomen and cock, “such a good fucking girl.”

all you wanted to do was fall down and rest, but the most you could muster was letting your body go limp in your boyfriend’s unrelenting hold, letting him use you as he pleased.

“ ‘s too much sugu,” you whined as the overstimulation started kicking in

It didn’t get him to stop at all.

“remember what you said earlier hm?” he brought up, breathing heavy as he lifted a foot up to plant it against the edge of the bed. it was leverage for the scream worthy pace he started forcing on you now.

tears started to fall down your cheeks at the overstimulation. it was so good, too good. It was all so sinfully good. 

you felt your walls start to flutter again at your second nearing orgasm when you sniffled from the tears. and although your boyfriend still evilly abused your pussy, he leaned down and moved your face to the side with one hand so he could be face to face with you. 

you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he started licking your tears off.

it was the catalyst for your orgasm and you thrashed rather hard against suguru, who you could feel suck in a breath at the sporadic clenches of your pussy.

“fuck,” he breathed harshly, pulling you even tighter against him to more easily meet his thrusts and you could feel his cock twitch as a symptom of his incoming orgasm.

that, and he started to speak up filthily.

“Mine–mine–mine–mine.” he reiterated quickly, punctuating each time with a thrust, “fuck ‘s all mine. god can’t get enough of you pretty baby. so fucking slutty and pretty. fuck–fuck–next time i see toji giving you heart eyes im gonna pump my cum inside you so he can see it running down your fucking legs. fuck–you like that baby? what–a–good–good–fucking–girl. tell me you want that baby.”

scrambling for any piece of sanity just to tell your boyfriend what he wants to hear, in hopes of spurring his lust, you moan out weakly, “i want it sugu i want it.”

“yeah? you want him to see me dripping out of your pretty fuckin pussy? god–i fucking–want–it. he’ll never get to fucking know what it’s like to cream this little hole.”

“so–so dirty sugu,” you moan sheepishly at the embarrassing realization that he might just make you cum a third time because of the added spur of his pussy drunk words. 

“pussy’s fucking dirty,” snarls back at you, pulling you closer to him, “can feel you clenching around me. know you fucking like it.”

the shut down of his words had you shaking in attraction to his ability to shut you up like no other.

“never–forget–you’re–mine,” he thrusts through, “ ‘s fucking pussy, your ass, your tits, your body, your pretty fucking face, ‘s all mine. you don’t need anybody but me. i’m yours i’m yours i’m yours. ‘s dick ‘s all yours, everything, baby. take it–take it–take it.” 

his breathing was starting to get heavier and you could feel his abs start twitching against you, a sign of his orgasm building up just as yours was all over again.

so it surprised you when suguru pulled out and threw you onto the bed, your legs hanging off the edge before he picked them up and slanted them up against his body by hugging them close. “come here, come here,” he quickly let one arm go for a second to guide himself into you again before wrapping it around your legs again. he repositioned the one leg of his back on top of the bed for his leverage and leaned forward a bit to go back to his brutal thrusts. 

“wanna see your face when you cum again.” he muttered as he stared at you squealing and moaning lewdly at his ministrations

suguru started kissing and mouthing at your calves while keeping you in a deadlock of eye contact. his cheeks and ears were tinged pink and his hair had fallen out of the half up half down do he had it in earlier. 

the worshipping of your legs and eye contact had to have been the last straw for you, because after a certain lick of your skin, you started crashing, feeling yourself let go across the entire lower half of your boyfriend, resisting the urge to cover your face in embarrassment because he recently made it a point that he really really liked seeing your face when you came.

the point was proven when he followed soon after you, thrusting half haphazardly into you as he blew his load inside of you in time with every squeeze of your cunt. it was accompanied by a litter of painful bites across your calves and heavy breathing from your boyfriend. he looked like he came hard, it felt like he did, considering how every spurt of his cum was sharply thrusted into you, making you wince in pain every time his tip kissed your cervix.

both of you were breathing heavily after, especially suguru, his skin covered in a thicker veil of sweat than you, who was simply taking all of that force he was exerting. he was still holding onto your legs, resting his forehead on the bare skin of your foot that wasn’t covered by your heel. 

his eyes were closed and he licked his lips, a bit tired, as he spoke, “i think i do get jealous after all, i’m sorry.”

his confession made you slightly clench around him, making him suck a breath in at the sensitivity while you breathlessly giggled, “that’s okay, i never said you couldn’t.”

suguru lazily bit your calf again as a sign of retaliation, "you could sound less excited."

#geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk suguru #suguru geto smut #geto smut

[shisurus]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

#im listening to fmab sad soundtrack while writing this im gonna die actually #dungeon meshi #laios touden #falin touden

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

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

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that��� Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

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