#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ love sign from above! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitten4sannie · 2 years ago

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𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇

pairing: husband! san x fem! reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: when san is forced to work overtime on your birthday, he wants to make up for it.

w.c: 4k

warnings: switch! san, pussydrunk san, switch! reader, praise, pet names, dirty talk, brief spit kink, begging, teasing, strength kink, oral (f receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, crying, creampie, breeding kink, brief cockwarming

a/n: this is a birthday present for my lovely best friend nora @cheollipop ilysmmm <3

song recs: get you by daniel caesar, yeah i said it by rihanna, aphrodite by rini

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

When San’s boss set a fresh stack of files on the desk inside his already cramped cubicle, San found himself opening his mouth to protest, “Sir, it’s already half past 8…Do you think I could possibly work on this tomorrow? It’s my wife’s birthday today, and I wanted to–”

“San, San, San,” his boss interrupted with an air of arrogance, setting his hands down on the salaryman’s tense shoulders. “We all have to make sacrifices in this company, you know? You’re not the only one. I’m sure your wife will understand when she sees the extra dollar signs in your paycheck at the end of the week.”

San sat still in his swivel chair, not letting the rage seep past his eyes, envisioning all the ways he could retaliate against the older man standing above him. His hand nudged his stapler. He glanced at his favorite coffee-stained mug that you gave him; it had various adorable cats painted on the porcelain. It’d probably feel immensely satisfying to smash it into the man’s head, but he would never give it up in such a way. Violence was never the answer, of course. Though he was extremely tempted to just rip his computer away from its cords and toss it at the man, he wouldn’t. He needed this job, and he needed to get this sudden influx of work done so that he could get home to you.

Eventually, San blinked up at the man, replying like a robot that had just been rebooted, “On it, boss.”

“That’s lovely to hear. That’s why you’re my favorite employee, Sannie boy,” the man chimed, smacking San’s shoulder in an overly aggressive manner.

Once San gave his boss a tight-lipped smile and a double thumbs up that turned into middle fingers as soon as the man turned his back, he pulled his phone out to dial your number. “Baby?” he mumbled out in an extremely soft voice as soon as you picked up.

“Hey, hun,” you replied excitedly, sliding your phone into the space between your shoulder and your neck so that you could put your cake into the fridge, sticking a candle into it. “Are you on your way home? I picked up a red velvet cake for us to share. It’s got this really fancy buttercream and these little gold flakes sprinkled all over it. I asked the guy and it’s real 24k gold! Isn’t that cool?” Noticing the overwhelming silence in the receiver, you closed the fridge and pressed your back to it. “San, are you okay?”

Opening one of the files and staring down at the endless strings of text informing him of sales percentages and various investments from clientele, San sighed, “I have to work overtime, baby. That old bastard isn’t letting me leave until I get all this shit done. I’m…” Frustrated at his lack of control over the situation, he raked his fingers through his gelled-up hair, not even caring that some of the raven strands began to stick out. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m really, really sorry…”

“San, it’s okay. It’s okay, love,” you said with a warmth that would hopefully give him some reassurance, hearing him let out a small sigh into your ear. “It’ll still be my birthday when you get back, okay? So just take a deep breath, get the work done, and come home to me.”

San opened a new document up on his computer to get started, slowly drawing air into his lungs and letting it out, smoothing his hair out a bit. He smooshed his cheek against his phone, allowing you to tell he was pouting when he answered as gently as possible, “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can to tell you in person.”

Feeling a smile tug at your lips, you idly rolled your wedding ring around on your finger, grateful to have such a sweet angel of a man as your life partner. “I love you too, darling. I’ll see you soon.” Pushing your lips together, you lowered your phone to your mouth to add, “Mwah.”

“Mwah,” San returned instantaneously, a similar smile forming on his face, much more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago. Once you exchanged goodbyes, he gave his knuckles a good crack and admired his silver wedding band for a few seconds before getting to work.

It was a little past 11 when San finally pushed past the front door and slid out of his work shoes, meeting your gaze from across your shared apartment, seeing you sitting at the kitchen table by yourself with the cake positioned in front of you and a small lighter laying on the table. “Baby,” he let out in a sigh of relief, dropping his suitcase onto the floor and walking in your direction to pull you up from the seat into one of his famous tight bearhugs, enveloping you in his warm, inviting scent. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

“Mm, thank you, love. I love you too.” Just as you were about to ask him about work, he clutched the back of your head and pressed his lips against yours to give you a kiss, one that was gentle at first, but grew more firm in the next passing seconds. Despite missing the taste of his lips when he pulled away, you caressed his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over his sharp jaw, feeling the scruffiness of the facial hair that was growing in. “How was work? Shitty?”

“Shitty,” he echoed, just as he pressed his mouth to your own jaw, leaving kisses along it, as well as your cheeks, your nose, your neck, and basically anywhere he could feel your warm skin against him. “But I’m home now, so I couldn’t be happier.” San brought his mouth to your forehead to give it a long kiss, running his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to light the candle or should I, baby?”

“You do it for me,” you said, squeezing his shoulders a bit, before sitting back down in the chair, watching as San sat in the one adjacent to you.

When you handed him the lighter, San brought it to the candle sitting inside the personal sized cake and lit the wick, admiring the way the flame illuminated your pretty face. “You’re so beautiful…” he sighed out, leaning his head against the palm of his hand, continuing to admire you, feeling as though he might begin to melt like the candle below. “My beautiful baby.”

“Stoppp,” you whined softly, heat rising to your cheeks, still barely able to handle the way San looked at you after all these years — with such intensity visible inside his brown eyes that you wholeheartedly believed him when he said that he wanted to give you the entire world. You were his muse, after all. His angel from above. His everything.

“Never.” San gave you a gentle smile as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss the top of your hand, singing a soft rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ in his silky smooth voice, bringing a shy smile to your own face. Once he was done, he pressed more kisses into your skin, running his thumb over your knuckles as you gazed back at him. “Make a wish, love.”

“Why make a wish when I have everything I want now?” you asked, watching as he played with the wedding ring on your finger, the candle below beginning to melt into the frosting.

San let out a sigh, pressing his warm cheek to your open palm, looking at you like he did years ago when you had first met, unbearably love-struck, lips parted and twinkling eyes full of devotion for his beloved. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he purred, guiding your hand downwards to press a kiss onto the pad of your thumb and following your intense gaze to his mouth. “But, right now, in this moment, isn’t there something you desire?”

A familiar feeling of warmth flooded your core, thoughts of San taking care of you in ways only he was capable of suddenly urged you to blow the candle out. You knew what you needed. Of course, San was a devoted husband in every sense of the word, but in the bedroom, he brought that to a staggering degree, always willing to please you in every way he could, loving when you used him for your own pleasure, just as much as he loved giving it to you without any restraints.

“What did you wish for, love?” San inquired, sticking one finger into the cake to scoop up some frosting and holding it up to your mouth, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You accepted his finger inside and sucked the sweet cream off of it, emitting a small ‘mmm.’ “I want you on your knees, Sannie. I want you to please me.”

“Anything for you, my love.” San lowered himself onto the ground before you and began to loosen his tie until he could take it off, feeling a pleasurable heaviness envelop his body now that he was on his knees for his one and only. There was no place he’d rather be. After taking in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, San began to slide his hands up one of your legs, lifting it up to leave a trail of kisses up to your thigh, stopping now and then to admire your soft skin and the intense gaze you were giving him. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, my love. I’ll give you everything I have…” he murmured in between kisses, slowly reaching up underneath your dress to hook his fingers into your panties.

“You promise?” you teased in a soft voice, lowering your other foot down to press into his crotch, the pad of it rubbing along his work pants, feeling the solid outline of his cock pressing against it.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his lips forming his signature pout, unconsciously spreading his knees apart, about to pull your panties from your hips when you pushed your foot down a bit harder, earning a small gasp from him, his fingers resting against your waist instead of continuing his quest to strip you.

Biting into your lower lip, you relieved the pressure you had on him, slowly standing up out of the chair and just barely lifting up the front of your dress to give him an upskirt view. “Use your teeth.”

“Yes, angel. Whatever you want, I can do…” San swallowed down some of the saliva that persistently tried to overflow and drip down his chin, gingerly kneading his hands into your soft thighs, pressing his cheek to it, looking up at your clothed pussy, his cock already throbbing away inside his pants. He moved his head up underneath your dress and got the lip of your panties in between his teeth and slowly pulled it downwards, audibly groaning as he witnessed a string of arousal drip from your heat and down your inner thigh.

Watching him with bated breath, you resisted the urge to grab the back of his head and fuck his face, desperately wanting to hear him whine and beg for you to come inside his mouth. “You can lick it up, Sannie. Go ahead…”

Your husband’s eyes practically twinkled with gratitude, choosing to pull your panties down the rest of the way and off of you, releasing them from his teeth and holding them against his crotch, rubbing them against his cock as he dragged his tongue up your inner thigh, catching your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. Let me eat your pretty little pussy, angel. Please, I need it.”

“I think you can handle waiting a little longer, don’t you think, Sannie?” you mused teasingly, reaching down to press your pointer finger up into his chin, chuckling at the soft gasp that escaped his glistening lips. He was always like putty in your hands. Always ready to worship at your feet if you simply said the words. While that left you breathless, what you really relished was when you pushed him so far that he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore and gave you his all, even if that meant passing out from pure exhaustion afterwards.

“Yes, my love, I can wait. I can wait for you.” Your husband rested his hands down on his upper thighs, his teeth instantly digging into his lip as you took a step closer, your dripping pussy directly in front of his face.

Holding your dress up with one hand, you used the other to spread your pussy apart, your slick dripping down your inner thighs, making sure to push your fingers together and rub them in an up and down motion, making small wet sounds with your movements. “You want your wife’s pretty pussy in your mouth, don’t you, Sannie? You want to taste me on your tongue? Lap my cum up until you’re drowning in it? Is that what you want?”

San felt like he was going to lose his mind, gripping his work pants so tightly, he feared he might tear into them, unless his cock burst out of them first from how painfully hard he was. “Please, baby. I need you so fucking bad,” he choked out, tears stinging the corners of his coffee-colored eyes, resisting the urge to smash his face in between your legs when you grabbed him by the hair and angled his head back, whimpering softly at the grip you had on him. He wanted to be good for you. He had to be good, but he needed you on his tongue like he needed oxygen.

Once San uttered one last desperate ‘please’ in such a soft, tiny voice, you finally gave in, holding your dress up slightly with both hands and spreading your legs a bit more for him, feeling your core tighten and pulse at the sight of your husband’s teary eyes. If you were an angel, then he was heaven itself, and he probably saw you the exact same way. “You’ve been a good boy, Sannie, so come and get it.”

Like a puppy hearing the dinner bell, San was on you, pushing his head up underneath your dress, his mouth connected to your cunt, tongue lapping at your wet folds like it was his one and only mission, hands kneading into your thighs out of habit. “Thank you, my angel. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he moaned against your heat, slurping your arousal into his mouth and swallowing it down like you were an oasis and he was a weary traveler in search of a drink. He licked, and licked, and licked, not even thinking, before he reached behind you with his outstretched arms to pull the chair closer, guiding your hips downwards forcefully enough so that you had to sit down on the cushion below.

“S-Sannie,” you gasped, surprised by his sudden display of strength, your brain going a bit fuzzy as he shoved your thighs apart, then held them up and out of his way so that he could bury his face deeper in between them. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

San took a second to give you a dimpled smile, nuzzling your slippery inner thigh with his cheek, pressing a small, lingering kiss to your warm skin. “So bad, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.” His tongue was hot and wet against your cunt, practically melting against your folds, taking long, deliberate swipes up to your clit, before zoning in on it and sucking on it with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure through your lower half.

Unable to hold your voice back, you began emitting breathy, stunted moans, involuntarily bucking up into his mouth the more he licked and sucked at your clit, feeling your cheeks burn more and more the longer he gazed into your eyes. Though you swore you were used to the intense eye contact that San preferred to have with you, he still always managed to make you feel shy.

San took another quick breather to comment breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So sweet for me. So perfect.” Taking in your pretty flushed face and glazed-over eyes, he squeezed your thighs in between his thick fingers. “Come here, baby.” He pushed your thighs farther apart and leaned upwards, taking your chin in his grasp and pulling you into a much-needed kiss. Once you let him into your mouth to explore it with his arousal-coated tongue, San lowered his hand from your chin the eagerly rub your pulsing clit around in quick, deliberate circles with his thumb, automatically bringing two digits from his other hand to your cunt, your greedy hole sucking them up to his knuckles, not hesitating to piston them in and out of you. Your muffled moans and whines were like an angelic hymn that made him want to build you a shrine and worship you day and night on his aching knees like he was doing now. Once your legs hooked around his small waist, he quickened the pace of his digits, your wetness now so palpable it was beginning to spill out of you and down his veiny forearm, emitting a knowing ‘mm-hmm’, breaking the kiss as soon as you began to tighten up around him. “Angel’s gonna come for Sannie, huh?”

“Uh-huh, gonna come, Sannie,” you breathed out, licking at your lips and tasting the remnants of yourself on your tongue, swearing you were about to come instantly at the visual of your husband quickly lowering himself back down to your cunt to slurp at it, licking near the outline of his thrusting fingers and back up to your puffy clit, eyeing it longingly, before pursing his lips and spitting your arousal back onto it, only to attach back on it like a magnet.

As soon as he curled his fingers up and rubbed at your g-spot, hitting it in a way that had you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, San spoke up, “That’s it right there, huh, baby? Right there?” As soon as you cried out for him, your throat hurting from how dry it was, San finger-fucked you into a state of pure ecstasy, not stopping until your arousal began to spray out of you and into his open mouth, coating his tongue. “Oh my god, look at you, baby. You’re squirting for me. You’re such a good girl.” He lowered his mouth onto your twitching cunt, not able to prevent a bit of drool from dripping past his swollen lips, lapping up the rest of your squirt with a few slow, lingering licks.

Once you had enough time to gather your bearings and catch your breath, San sat up and leaned in close to you, asking huskily, “Is there anything else my princess desires?”

“Your cock, Sannie. Give me your cock,” you answered instantly, not even caring about how desperate you sounded. You were desperate, and you knew San was too, given that he hadn’t touched himself a single time.

Just as quickly as you had answered him, San was already lifting you up into his arms and laying you down onto the kitchen table, spreading your legs apart and fumbling with his leather belt to take it off. Once it hit the floor with a thud, San pulled his aching cock out and slapped it down onto your pussy, watching some slick leak out. "Are you ready? Is my princess going to take all of my cock in this pretty little pussy?"

You nodded as quickly as you could, ready to drool over the thought of finally being filled by him, knowing you’d probably come as soon as he did.

San slowly moved his hips forward and back, sliding his thick length across your needy cunt, the slick sounds of your arousal making him groan. "Let me hear you say it, pretty girl. Tell Sannie how bad you want it."

"I need it so bad, so, so bad.” Just as San’s cockhead began to stretch out your hole, your plush walls clenching around him, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ready to beg on your knees just like he had done earlier. “I need your cock, Sannie, please. I want to be full just for you. Please, please, let me have it. I’ll be such a good girl for you, I promise!”

"God, you’re so cute when you’re begging for me, princess," San sighed longingly, caressing and rubbing your thighs with his thumbs, burning the image of your teary-eyed gaze into his memory. “But, don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to fill you up, okay?” Smiling at the sight of your furious nods, he pushed back inside of you, inch by inch, making you let out a long, almost relieved moan, not stopping until your lower halves were pressed together.

Now that he was being squeezed by your tightness, San felt something switch on inside his brain, no longer concerned with teasing you, but instead overwhelmed by the desperate need to fuck you until you were a crying, cum-filled mess for him, and him alone.

Loud, wet slapping sounds began to echo throughout the kitchen, along with the thud, thud, thud of the kitchen table being rocked back and forth into the tile flooring below. “You’re so good for me, baby, so good,” San praised into your ear, his warm body flush against yours, slamming his hips into yours, appreciating the way you had your legs hooked around his small waist, locking him in place.

“Sannie,” you cried out, unable to stop pulsing around your husband’s thick length, feeling like you would go crazy from the way it was pounding into you. You reached your hands out, smiling when he immediately laced his fingers with yours, holding your hands down against the cool surface of the table. “I’m gonna come. It’s spilling out.”

“I’m going to come too, my love. Let’s come together,” he encouraged, squeezing your fingers against his own, slowing his pace down and fucking you in a more deliberate way, his thrusts slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot every time. Just as you began to mewl and babble from the overwhelming pleasure, San pressed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans just as you swallowed his choked ones. It felt so good, he didn’t even realize when he started to cry, his hot tears dripping down his cheeks and landing onto your heated face. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy, sweetheart. Make you so full of my love. So, so full for me.”

“Yes, please, Sannie, fill me up.” Just as your body shook and trembled, your cum pouring out of you and coating your joined flesh, San’s hot load came pouring into you, filling you up to the brim like always.

“Here it comes, angel. Just for you. I love you so much,” he choked out, his voice raw and throaty from how hard he was cumming, blinking a few more tears away to focus on your pretty face, slowly going soft, but staying inside you, keeping you full of his warmth and love.

“I love you too, Sannie. So much,” you replied wholeheartedly, wiping one of his tears away as you brought him into another kiss, this one as gentle and sweet as the love he always gave you.

Slowly breaking the kiss, he pressed one onto your forehead, bringing you into a long hug, not planning on letting you go. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

➽───────────────❥

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2K notes · View notes

trueebeauty · 7 months ago

Note

ahh i loved your fic about the kings + their problems!! the reverse comfort sprinkled in was just perfect <3 (these men make me so sad *sniffle*)

i would love if you could write some reverse comfort scenarios where they somehow end up crying in front of you, and you just (despite what they might be used to or fear) just hold them and comfort them and let them cry TT

you can decide who you want to write for, god knows they all need a good cry and a hug..

no pressure of coursw, and remember to takw care of yourself!! have a nice day/night :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; tysm!!! there are a bunch of requests very similar to this one, so I'll use your request for it!! <333

pt.1 of 'the kings + their problems

𝖩𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖪𝖶𝖠𝖪 - Jichang may initially resist comfort, feeling that as a leader he shouldn't show weakness. He's used to being strong and in control. But as you simply hold him and let him cry, he slowly allows himself to be vulnerable. Through his tears, he expresses feeling overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility and the need to always put on a brave face. Allowing himself to be comforted helps him release pent-up emotions and makes him feel less alone.

You sat across from Jichang as he sat there in silence, his head in his hands. Jihan and Jibeom had decided to pull a stupid prank on him by not responding to him for over six days, and he had been scared thinking something had happened to them.

"Jichang," you said softly, "they were just playing around, I don’t know wh–"

You stopped, noticing his shoulders start to shake. A quiet sob escaped him, muffled by his hands. Your heart ached seeing him like this, he was usually so calm and composed.

You moved to sit beside him, gently placing a hand on his back. "Hey," you murmured, "it's okay. They're safe. Everything's alright."

Jichang shook his head, still not looking up. "I thought... I thought something had happened to them. I was so scared." His voice was thick with tears, barely above a whisper.

You wrapped your arm around his arm, pulling him closer to you. "I know. It's a terrible feeling. But they're okay, I promise."

He leaned into you, finally lifting his head. His face was streaked with tears, his eyes red and puffy. "I feel so stupid," he choked out. "Getting this upset over a prank."

You shook your head, reaching out to wipe away his tears. "It's not stupid. You care about them, and you were worried. That's normal."

Jichang's lower lip trembled as fresh tears spilled over as you pulled him fully into your arms, letting him bury his face in your shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly. "It's okay…"

He clung to you, his body shaking with sobs. You held him tightly, providing a safe space for him to let go of the fear and stress and responsibility he always carried.

"I was so scared," he repeated, his voice muffled against your shirt. "I thought I'd failed them. Failed as a leader, as a brother."

"You could never fail them," you assured him. "You care so much, Jichang. It's okay to be scared sometimes. It means you love them."

He held onto you like a lifeline as he cried, letting out all the pent-up emotions. You stayed there, a steady presence, whispering reassurances and just letting him feel.

In that moment of vulnerability, he found comfort and strength in your presence. He wasn't alone. With you, he could be human. With you, he was safe.

𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖩𝖨 𝖸𝖴𝖪 - Seongji might feel ashamed and angry at himself for crying, seeing it as a sign of weakness unbefitting his tough persona. He tries to pull away at first, embarrassed to be seen in a vulnerable state. But as you continue to offer gentle comfort, he begrudgingly accepts it. He admits in a rare moment of openness that he's terrified of being seen as weak or incapable, having built walls to protect himself. Being held makes him feel safe enough to let his guard down for once.

You were in Seongji's room, quietly cleaning up the scattered medication that he had spilled. He was hidden away, but you could feel his presence, the tense silence heavy in the air. As you picked up each pill one by one, you heard a soft, choked sound. You looked over to see Seongji fighting back tears as he watched you.

You stood slowly, the pills forgotten. "Seongji," you said softly, approaching him cautiously.

He turned away, trying to hide his face as the tears began to cascade down his cheeks. "Don't," he choked out. "Don't look at me."

But you couldn't just leave him like this. You knelt down beside him with a frown, "What's going on?"

He shook his head, a sob catching in his throat. "I can't... I can't do this anymore. I'm so tired."

Your heart ached for him. You had known he was struggling, but you hadn't realized just how much.

"I'm so tired," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "And so scared..."

You slipped next to him, being mindful not to invade his space. "Why are you scared, Seongji?" you asked gently.

He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor. "The kids, Cheonliang, you... he's going to take everything from me."

"Seongji," you said softly, your heart breaking for him. You couldn't help but reach out, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched but didn't pull away. "Seongji, listen to me. He is wrong. You are enough, more than enough. And he can't take away the things that truly matter."

Seongji finally looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But what if he does? What if I lose everything?"

You moved closer, slowly, giving him time to move away if he wanted. When he didn't, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You won't lose me," you told him firmly. "No matter what happens, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

A sob caught in his throat. "I'm so scared of being alone," he confessed, his voice breaking.

You pulled him into your arms, and this time, he didn't resist. He melted into your embrace, his body shaking as he finally let himself cry. "You're not alone, Seongji," you murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. "You have me. You have Cheonliang. You have the kids. We're your family."

He cried harder at that, clinging to you like a lifeline. "I don't know how to do this," he gasped out between sobs. "I don't know how to let people in."

You held him tighter, resting your cheek on the top of his head. "You're doing it right now," you told him softly. "You're letting me in. And I'm so proud of you for that."

He sniffled, burrowing further into your embrace. "What if I mess it up? What if I push you away?"

"Then I'll come back," you said simply. "I'll always come back, Seongji. Because I care about you. Because you're worth it."

He pulled back slightly, searching your face as if looking for any sign of deception. When he found none, fresh tears spilled over. "Thank you," he whispered. "For being here. For... for loving me."

You smiled softly, wiping away his tears with gentle fingers. "Always," you promised. "You're stuck with me, Seongji Yuk. In good times and bad. I'm not going anywhere."

𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖮𝖮 𝖬𝖠 - Taesoo would likely feel uncomfortable crying in front of someone, not wanting to burden others with his problems. He apologizes repeatedly even as he can't stop the flow of tears. As you hold him and assure him it's okay, he hesitantly relaxes into the comfort. He confesses to feeling guilty for being selfish by accepting care and worrying he's being an inconvenience. Reassurance from you helps him start to believe that he deserves care too.

You walked into the bedroom, concerned that Taesoo had been gone for too long. There he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, lost in misery and unaware of your entrance.

"Taesoo?" you called softly.

His head snapped up, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said quickly, wiping his face. "I didn't hear you come in."

You frowned and stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine."

But a tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. He furiously wiped it away, averting his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said again, voice thick. "I didn't mean to... I don't want to bother you with this."

Saddened by how much he held back, you sat beside him, gently rubbing his back. "You're not bothering me, Taesoo. I care about you. I want to be here for you."

His lower lip trembled as more tears spilled over. "I'm sorry," he whispered repeatedly, a broken record.

You pulled him into an embrace, and he went willingly, still apologizing. "It's okay," you murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

He shook his head against your shoulder, tears soaking your shirt. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't burden you like this. I'm being selfish."

You held him tighter. "Well, I guess I'm selfish too."

"It's different," Taesoo retorted.

"How is it different?"

Quiet for a moment, his sobs gradually quieted to sniffles. "I feel guilty," he confessed softly. "Guilty for taking up your time, for being an inconvenience."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face. He averted his gaze, ashamed, but you waited until he met your eyes. "You are never an inconvenience," you told him firmly. "Caring for you, being here for you... it's not a burden. It's a privilege."

Fresh tears of relief, of gratitude, welled in his eyes. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, voice small.

You smiled softly, wiping his tears with your thumbs. "Of course. Taesoo, you deserve care. You deserve love. You deserve to be held when you're hurting."

A shuddering breath escaped him as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for being here. For... for caring."

You wrapped your arms around him again. "Always," you promised. "I'll always be here, Taesoo. Whenever you need me."

He relaxed into your embrace, finally allowing himself to be comforted, to be cared for - a foreign but welcome feeling. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe. Loved.

"I'm sorry for being such a mess," he mumbled into your shoulder.

You chuckled softly, kissing his temple. "You're not a mess. And I love every part of you, even the messy parts."

He pulled back, searching your face. Whatever he found made fresh tears spring to his eyes, but this time he smiled. "I love you too," he said softly. "More than I know how to say."

Smiling, you leaned in to kiss him gently. "Then don't say it - show me instead."

Taesoo's eyes shone with tenderness as he cupped your face, kissing you deeply. You melted into his embrace, relishing his warmth, his closeness after such vulnerability. Slowly, almost reverently, he laid you back on the bed without breaking the kiss.

—The Rest Is To Your Imagination—

𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖦𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭 𝖭𝖠 - Jaegyeon may seem unsure how to react to being comforted at first, torn between wanting to maintain his image and craving care. He's not used to being on the receiving end of comfort. But as you simply hold him without judgment, he allows himself to cry freely, expressing a need to always be perfect that leaves him fearful of failing. Being held makes him feel accepted as he is, flaws and all.

The news of Seongji's death hit everyone hard, but surprisingly Jaegyeon seemed the most affected. From what you knew, your boyfriend wasn't one to make friends - acquaintances sure, but actual friends?

That wasn't like Jaegyeon at all. You never realized how much he truly respected Seongji until now. You knew he had a better relationship with Seongji compared to the other kings, but you would've expected the others to be in the position you now saw your boyfriend in.

You approached him quietly and slowly, trying to gauge if he was okay with you being near. He looked up, eyes red and puffy. "I should have been there," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I should have stayed with him after he lost his fingers."

You sat down beside him with a small sigh. "Jaegyeon, you can't blame yourself. Seongji was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions."

Jaegyeon shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "But he wasn't at full power anymore. I knew that, and I still left him. If I had stayed..."

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You all knew that, but each one of you had your own responsibilities. Cheonliang was his, and Incheon yours." You paused, letting him take it in before continuing. "Besides, if you had stayed, Seongji might have felt offended, like you didn't believe in his ability to handle things on his own."

Jaegyeon was quiet for a moment, considering your words. "Maybe," he conceded. "But I can't help but feel like I failed him. Like I should have done more."

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "It's natural to have regrets, to question the 'what ifs'. But we can't change the past, Jaegyeon. All we can do is honor Seongji's memory and carry on his legacy."

Jaegyeon leaned into your embrace, his shoulders shaking as he finally allowed himself to cry. You held him tightly, providing a safe space for his grief.

"I miss him," Jaegyeon murmured. "Surprisingly. Never would I have thought I would ever say that."

You rubbed his back soothingly as a chuckle escaped you. "That hurts my feelings. I've never heard you say you miss me," you pouted.

"You're always with me," Jaegyeon said as he pushed you fully onto the couch, burying his face in your neck.

"Not by choice," you whispered in amusement before wincing slightly. "Ouch! Did you just bite me?"

Jaegyeon nodded against your shoulder, his tears gradually subsiding. "Yes," he said shamelessly, pulling back to wipe his face. "I heard that."

Your eye twitched before you tried to kick him, but Jaegyeon just managed a small smile as he caught your leg.

You glared at Jaegyeon, but there was no real heat behind it as he simply smirked and kept a firm grip on your leg. Realizing you were stuck, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're impossible," you grumbled, feigning annoyance.

Jaegyeon's smirk melted into a softer smile as he released your leg and shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting scent.

"Maybe," he murmured against your skin, "but you love me anyway."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't fight the fond smile that tugged at your lips as you brought a hand up to card through his hair. Jaegyeon let out a contented sigh, pressing closer.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, finding solace in each other's embrace. The grief was still there, an ache in Jaegyeon's chest, but with you by his side, it felt...bearable. Manageable.

𝖦𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖡 𝖩𝖨 - Gongseob might worry he's being weak and childish for crying, even as he can't help but lean into the comfort of being held. He admits through tears that he feels he always has to be this ‘person’ and can't show sadness or pain. Being able to cry without being mocked or scolded comes as a relief. The simple comfort with no strings attached allows him a safe space to release hurt and be genuine.

You made your way through your newly bought temple, inspecting every nook and cranny while making notes here and there. Gongseob trailed behind you, his steps labored as he maneuvered on his crutches.

"Man, it's going to take a lot of work to get this place in shape," you commented, glancing around at the dusty shelves and cracked tiles.

Gongseob grunted in response, the effort of walking clearly straining him. An uncomfortable silence hung between you two.

It had been weeks since the incident with James Lee, where Gongseob lost his leg after having a building dropped on him. He had insisted he was fine, putting up a brave front as always. "I'm tougher than I look, you know," he'd joked with a forced grin.

But you knew him too well to fully believe that facade. The pain and trauma of such an event didn't just disappear with a few jokes.

You didn't want to press him, though. Gongseob would open up when he was ready. For now, you focused on getting the temple in order.

"Gongseob, why don't you rest for a bit?" you suggested, gesturing to a raised platform. "I can handle the rest of the inspection."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I'm fine. Don't need to sit around like some cripple."

A small frown tugged at your lips. "Can you not–" you sighed taking a moment. "It's about pacing yourself while you heal. Please, just take a break."

Gongseob opened his mouth, likely to protest further, but you fixed him with a pointed look. He deflated with a sigh.

"Fine. But I'm not just going to laze around," he muttered, already making his labored way towards the platform.

You nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I'll be back to check on you soon."

With that, you continued your inspection, mentally cataloging areas that needed repair or renovation. The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself going back glancing over at Gongseob's still form every so often.

Finally, you completed your rounds and turned to head back to him. "There's a couple of broken shelves that need to be replaced. We can look into that next..." Your voice trailed off as you took in the scene before you.

Gongseob was in the exact same position you had left him, perched on the edge of the platform. But now, his shoulders were shaking, and tears streamed silently down his face.

You were by his side in an instant. "Gongseob? What's wrong?"

He flinched at the sound of your voice, quickly swiping at his eyes. "N-Nothing. I'm fine."

But the waver in his voice told a different story. You settled down beside him, close but not crowding his space.

"Gongseob," you urged gently. "Please, don't shut me out again."

Gongseob was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the crutches leaning against the platform. When he finally spoke, his words were thick with unshed tears.

"I'm useless now," he whispered, anguish clear in his tone.

Your heart clenched before you pulled him against your side. "You are not useless, Gongseob," you said firmly. "Losing your leg doesn't change who you are or how much you mean to me."

He shook his head, a choked sound escaping him. "But I'm broken now. Weak. I can't even walk without these stupid things." He gestured angrily at the crutches.

"You're not weak," you countered. "You survived having a building dropped on you. That takes incredible strength, strength that I can only dream of having."

“And you won’t need those forever.”

Gongseob was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leaned further into your embrace, fresh tears spilling over.

"I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to hold you back," he admitted in a small voice.

You tightened your arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You could never be a burden, my love. And you'll never hold me back, because we're a team, remember? We do this together, one step at a time."

A watery chuckle escaped him at your pun, and you smiled softly, relieved to see a hint of his usual humor shining through.

He searched your face for a long moment before crumbling against you as you held him close.

When his tears finally subsided, he pulled back, looking almost sheepish. "Sorry for the bitchin’," he said, managing a weak smile.

You shook your head, brushing away the lingering moisture on his cheeks. "Never apologize for being honest with your emotions, Gongseob. That's what I'm here for - to be your safe space."

He leaned into your touch with a contented sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Lucky for you, you'll never have to find out," you said with a grin.

Gongseob laughed, the sound warm and genuine. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "Thank you," he murmured against your mouth.

You kissed him again, deeper this time. "You’re welcome," you say when you finally broke apart.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism x male reader #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #kwak jichang #seongji yuk #taesoo ma #jaegyeon na #gongseob ji #james lee

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chiwhorei · 1 year ago

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maybe dbf!miguel (..or any type of older miguel tbh idrc lol just want the biiiiig age gap) who just luvssssssss to us as an urinal.. ♡.♡

❝ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ! ❞

╰┈➤ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: short-form, drabble, NSFW, age-gap, daddy kink, almost pseudocest, piss, degradation

╰┈➤ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: went a little off script for this but I hope you still like it! piss daddy Miguel > anything ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Miguel is your Dad’s best and oldest friend. He been a part of your life since before you can remember, you respected and love him as if he is your own father. (Slow, evil smile)

He fucks you like a whore right under your dad’s nose. It’s a sick game to him, pulling you onto his dick every second your father is out of earshot.

Miguel has you calling him Daddy and taking his load every night you’re home from college. He’s got you sneaking out of the house like you’re a teenager again, trying not to get caught with one of your little boyfriends. Really, the man you’ve known as a second father is training your throat to take the unbearable bulge of his thick cock.

Your father’s best friend plays the part of a perfect gentleman during dinners or work parties with your parents, gives you a polite kiss on the cheek when he greets you, pulls the chair out next to him for you to sit. You look so nervous, you might as well have a sign around your neck that lets your poor parents know how Miguel’s cum is currently leaking out of your pussy. He fucked his cum deep into you on their bed, and your flushed, guilty demeanor makes him want to pull you from the dinner table to do it again.

Miguel is insatiable it seems, and seeing how house-broken and pliant he’s trained you to be— he wants to push you even more in search of some line he hasn’t yet crossed. There aren’t many left.

You’re sitting on tucked legs in front of Miguel, hands in your lap and mouth open. He’s huddled you into the bathroom while your parents house is full of friends celebrating your father’s birthday. You look like a crumpled doll under him, lipstick and mascara running down your face and tears in your eyes. He’s fucked your throat raw, holding the swell in your neck with one hand and pinching your nose closed with the other. Even so, you beg him.

“Please Daddy, please cum on me. I wanna be your good girl.”

Your hands come up to work back and forth on him, fingers barely touching around Miguel’s throbbing cock. You’re begging him to unload on that pretty little face, who’s he to deny you?

Thick ropes cover your messy cheeks and tongue, you don’t even flinch.

“Nasty little girl,” Miguel pats your parted lips, and confusion runs through your features. You open your mouth again for him anyway.

He doesn’t warn you, only smiles big and wild from above your abused little body. His stream of piss hits the plush of your bottom lip and dribbles down your chin, pooling in the fabric of your party dress.

“Don’t worry, princess, Daddy’ll get you nice and cleaned up. We can’t have anyone knowing what you let me do to you.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #secret.dollie #ask.dollie #tw.piss #tw.pseudoincest

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lale-txt · 25 days ago

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❥ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 & 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The way you laugh under your breath and I feel air upon my neck 'Cause something about everything just kills me Your arms fit in your jacket quite perfect for someone your size And I am touching you and it just kills me Your neck shows signs of little bites and I am guilty of my crimes And I am touching you and it just kills me

➸ Kuroo moves into the empty flat above your antique shop. In a place where time stands still, you find a love stored in the smallest things.

❉ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 ongoing!

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 & 𝐂𝐖 strangers to lovers, antique shop owner reader, canon divergence Kuroo (he suffers from a little burnout in this one), neighbors AU, mutual pining, fluff, just two old souls falling in love surrounded by even older objects, oh the yearning

❦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

▹ prologue: the boy next door ▹ ch. 01: the cutlery ▹ ch. 02: the forgotten bookmark ▹ ch. 03: the broken plate ▹ ch. 04: the love letters ▹ ch. 05: the wedding dress

✮ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒 the heirloom: moodboard

❖ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings)

❦ kuroocember's trilogy: love's nectar by @afyrian & homemade love by @nekozaki

#hq x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

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chidorrrita · 2 months ago

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・❥・my lady is the sea

a different take on your relationship with l, you're not sure if he loves you or the comfort you bring

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: brief smut, heavy angst, reader is referred to a whore once

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1.2k

: ̗̀➛ a/n: It’s my girlfriend’s (late) birthday!! Please enjoy this angsty oneshot to celebrate!

He calls out your name. A sailor lost at sea, eyes frantically searching for a light, and you open your arms inviting him in. His body is frigid, his heart shut, but he settles into you. He can never forget the sea, the sound of the waves beating against his ship, the cold that burns his nose, the numbing loneliness. It will stay with him forever, cursed and carved into his bones. You don't mind. You'll carry him inside, wrap him up in you, sit by the fire and offer a warmth he can only imagine, but it will be the best dream he'll ever have. It will keep him alive, if only for a little while longer out there. Give him hope.

With teary eyes, you say his name back barely above a whisper in fear of scaring him. Holding him tight as if he'll slip through your grasp. You stay there standing in the doorway of your apartment clutching each other as lovers would. He pulls away first, guilt on his face and shame in his eyes, unable to meet your worried gaze, and steps through. A ghostly figure passing through the gates to peace. You stay in place, simply following his figure traverse through your house, floating from one spot to the next in unrest. Body unable to stand still, too accustomed to the swell and curl of the water, the aggressive pulling that keeps him moving in self preservation.

He does not need to fear it here, and yet his mind is racing. Keep the sails pointed, the ropes drawn tight, the mast steady as another storm rages and lighting blinds him. You must assure him no storm will chase him here, guide him to rest, take his trembling hand in your sure one, and lead him to bed.

Lull him to sleep with the gentle rock of your hips and your sweet words. The comforting warmth in between your thighs grounding him, bringing him back to you. Hands possessively squeezing your waist as you envelop his cock. No grand show is put on, no loud pornagraphic moans or creaky bed hitting the wall, just easy intimacy the both of you can fall into. Slow staggered, but deep thrusts up into your hole and his chest tightens, abs spasming. You lean down, chest rubbing against each other, he’s infatuated with the way you look above him, the sight alone nearly enough, and then you tell him to breathe. His mind blanks for the first time.

Force him to only think of you, you who stands tall at the bow breaking through currents and gifting him luck, you who slinks beneath the dark water and gorgeous silky voice that beckons him to join, you who awaits on shore clutching a silver locket made from the North of Spain.

You plague his mind just as much as the fear does becoming this twisted sense of love and protection. He mustn't stay long lest the wind come here and rip you away from his grasp.

In his last moments, he traces the curve of your spine, the fullness of your thighs, your cupid’s bow. A soft smile graces your lips, a pleasant dream, and little lines adorn the sides of your mouth. You would hate for him to notice, a sign of aging you’d try desperately to undo, but he adores them, thinks of them as a sign of a good life untouched by worry, a life with time to laugh. A deep furrow in his brow is the only wrinkle he has. His thumb rubs at the same spot on your face, hoping to remove any weight carried there. You need not have the same story of sorrow etched on your temple. Far too precious to ever be spoiled.

Quietly and with all the months of experience, he strays from your warm arms, folds the comforter back, gathers his clothes, and leaves as quickly as he appeared leaving no trace of his ever being there save for the memory you hold deep in your heart.

You awake clutching the comforter to your chest crying out “Ryu,” but he will never show for that is not his name. A fake he gave when you pressed too much. Ryuzaki. A fake that lies in your bed. You are not as much of an idiot as he thinks, you know it is fake, but it felt better to call him than nothing at all and maybe think he is real and not some ghost of the past haunting you. The true horror of a haunting is not when they are in the house, it is what they do to you after they leave. An uneasiness of when they will return. The dreadful realization you will be stuck in this loop of grief and acceptance of their leaving. That you will never know the reason for the visit, their departure, why they chose you to haunt. Was it because you were the first one who opened their door at the sounds of their wails, who saw endless pain in their eyes and could not bear to see anymore?

In between his visits, he’ll send an envelope, unmarked and unassuming, full of cash. Some sort of way of apologizing for he must know too that this relationship is wrong, but all his pride allows him to do is send you a gift. Not one that required much thought or pondering of whether you’d like it, but simply money. Had you not known him, you would’ve taken it as an insult. Money thrown at a cheap whore he visits when in town. You know he does not think of you as such, but you cannot help but feel as one when you lie naked in bed staring at him zip up his pants without so much as a goodbye.

If only you could rip away his pride. Bring him down with you and face himself. Staredown this spector he’s created in your mind and run him out, assure you he will not come back. Give you the comfort you give him when he returns from his travels, but he is far too greedy. He takes everything from you, leaves you with a sliver, and comes back demanding more.

He is not a sailor for the queen, for justice, he is just as dirty as those criminals he hunts. Squirrels away when bright spot lights try to find him and steal away the hearts of those who care about him. He’s tucked you into his rotten life. Blinded you to make you think he cares, that he leaves for your sake, but how much does he. A mastermind at heart, he knows how to play you. Which strings to pull to have you cradled in his arms. The depth of his affection for you will be unknown, but his obsession with your character is ever present.

The only sure thing is his love for the sea, the need to explore it, and make his name known for the sake of justice and righteousness. For the sea, he holds true adoration and will always return, and leave you, the forgotten spouse on land. Tied forever to him.

#l lawliet x reader #l x reader #dn lawliet #lawliet x reader #death note #death note lawliet #death note x reader #death note l lawliet #l lawliet smut #rita writes #mdni divider by @/adornedwithlight #heart divider by @/anitalenia

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julieee404 · 3 months ago

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Kinktober day five!!

Wait... Mattheo?

❥ Monster sex(Teratophillia), Cockbuldge, Size difference, Tentacles ❥ Mattheo riddle

POV: Mattheo and you were walking through the forbidden forest when one of his father's death eaters tried to cast a spell at you. Mattheo jumped in front of you and took the brunt of the spell himself.

Trigger warnings: Werewolf/tentacle monster, knotting, swear words,

"No so she told Draco that he took her virginity but he didn't do that. Jack a seventh-year Ravenclaw did" Mattheo and I were walking through the forest in the evening enjoying each other's company. I was telling him about some gossip I picked up on today.

I heard a rustling behind me so I turned around and gasped gripping Mattheo's arm tighter. "Matt" I said fearfully looking at the death eater now standing before me.

Mattheo turned around looking at the death eater and his face turned from a soft grin to a hard glare.

The death eater just raised his wand at me and muttered a curse neither of us understood. A bright purple light came straight at me. Before I understood what was going on Mattheo had already covered my body with his taking the full force of the spell.

He let out a loud grunt of pain, which broke my heart a little. When the purple light finally diminished I was l lying on the ground with a sort of beast over me. The beast turned around and attacked the death eater, tearing out his throat.

The beast was a sort of werewolf, covered in fur, and large wolf-like ears sat ontop of his head. From his back, there were 4 large black tentacles coming out of his body. He turned back towards me away from the now dead death eater.

I scrambled back and let out a scared yelp, seeing blood on his chin. The beast let out a sad yelp but didn't come closer to me. I looked into his eyes and froze, recognising the deep dark brown eyes that belonged to my boyfriend.

"Wait... Matty?" I said full of surprise. He let out a soft mewl and I stood up walking up to him. And cupping his now snout. "Matty is that you?" The beast pressed his snout against my hand.

"How do I turn you back honey?" I said more to myself than to him. Snape taught us about bestiality returns just last week. Suddenly I remembered. "You have to fuck me" I whispered.

Mattheo reeled back looking down at his cock. It was way bigger than his actual dick and had a large knot at the underside. He shook his head no, obviously not wanting to hurt me.

I walked up to him "Love please, it's the only way I know to turn you back. You have to fill me up." He whimpered but his eyes flashed with desire and his cock jumped up.

"I trust you," I said softly and undressed. I put my clothes on the ground to lay upon them and not the forest ground. Mattheo moved above me and started to prep me. His fingers pushed inside of me, careful not to hurt me.

The tentacles on his twitched clearly wanting to do something as well "Darling you won't hurt me, use your tentacles, I trust you." Two of his tentacles wrapped around my thighs pulling them apart and spreading my legs.

His third tentacle rubbed my clit, the suckers on his tentacle sucked my clit in the most delicious way. His fourth and final tentacle replaced his fingers inside of me.

The sensations made me throw my head back moaning loudly. My moans only encouraged Mattheo taking it as a sign of my obvious enjoyment. The tentacle squirmed inside of me hitting all of my pleasure spots and splitting me open.

I felt my orgasm approaching and I kept gazing into Mattheo's eyes, showing him I wasn't scared of him. Not ever and definitely not now. A soft growl left his mouth and he sped up his movements, making me orgasm quickly.

He kept fucking me through my high before pulling out. He moved over me laying his cock on the top of my stomach. I let out a moan at his pure size, fully convinced that it wouldn't fit. It reached above my navel almost to my boobs. He was thicker than my arm.

He started to slowly move inside me making me writhe in pleasure. he filled me until his knot, not able to fit that inside of me yet. He slowly started to fuck me, not wanting to hurt me.

It was pleasurable but it didn't scratch the itch "Mattheo please let go, please" I begged him. His eyes grew wide and he let go of the control, pounding into me harshly, setting up an animalistic pace.

I was being used, like a cocksleeve for his huge dick. And I loved every second of it, a second orgasm quickly approaching. I wrapped my arms around his huge shoulders and held on tightly as I fell apart on his member clenching around him tightly only prolonging my high.

He let out a growl and started pounding into me even faster, making me scream in pleasure.

I almost came immediately again, Mattheo pushed his knot inside of me making my head fall back at the insane pleasure I was getting from the stretch.

Mattheo started to spill inside of me, his knot not allowing his cum to slip out of me, so my belly bulged a bit and I writhed in pleasure coming a third time.

After both of us came Mattheo stayed inside of me, not pulling out yet, letting his knot deflate. I kept staring into his eyes. As soon as his knot deflated completely a bright purple light surrounded him again and he turned back to Mattheo.

I smiled brightly and he cupped my face "Love are you alright?" He asked looking over my entire body to see if he had hurt me. "I'm alright love are you?" I asked sitting up and getting dressed again. He nodded and kissed me deeply, thanking me between kisses.

"Come on let's go back to your dorm and shower." He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my nose "I love you, darling"

Kinktober masterlist 2024

#kinktober #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherinboys #smut #monster fucker #monster smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo smut

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velchronica · 1 year ago

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pov. ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ itoshi rin

i wanna love me the way that you love me

for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

i’d love to see me from your point of view

or, itoshi rin loves you, infinitely, even when you’re struggling to find reasons why he should

content: insecurity (physical & emotional), hurt/comfort, pro footballer!rin, gn!reader, non-celeb!reader, established relationship, sfw

wc: 1.4k

rin always holds you close and let you cry into the crook of his neck when you need him the most, rubbing soothing circles onto your back, comforting and warm. he doesn’t complain about the tear stains on his shirt—instead, he stays there with you in his arms for hours on end. it’s as if there isn’t anything in the world that could move him until you’ve had enough of him.

rin is always understanding. he’s had his own depressive episodes—(often sae-related) symptoms of his unresolved abandonment issues, the fear of not being good enough. yet in those difficult moments, the one who’d worked through all of it with him had been you. so it’s only natural rin plays his part to repay you, to show gratitude for the fact you’re in his life.

life can be cruel, and the world can be cold. people can be both, even if they don’t mean to be. but rin is neither when it comes to you.

some days are better than others, and others may be worse than most. but no matter what’s led to your subsequent breakdown, rin doesn’t question it, he simply lets you cry it out. and if you’re willing to let go of him for a short moment, he’ll be back in no time after making some hot cocoa and getting your favourite sweet snacks, and he’ll carry you—clinging onto him like a baby koala—to your shared bedroom.

once you’re both comfortably sprawled across the bed with a variety of scrumptious delicacies on your bedside cabinet, you muster up the courage to speak up. rin is attentive: his eyes never leave you once while you rant, but his gaze never grows bored, nor does it show signs of it being childish indulgence or empty support. no, rin will sympathise, and never does less than his best to help you through it.

insecurity is not linear, nor is grief or worry. most of the time, there’s no trigger, nor is it a culmination of many miseries. it isn’t straightforward at all, not something that can be ‘fixed’. you’re not ‘broken’ for feeling that way. you’re human, that’s all there is to it.

to be honest, when you tell rin that you sometimes feel unworthy to be by his side, he doesn’t understand. “you’re the itoshi rin, and i’m, well, this,” you say, scoffing a little at the end.

he doesn’t get how you can undermine yourself like that, how you don’t see all the things—whether they’re as easy to spot as the sky above or a miniscule thing even you’re unaware of yourself—that make you so beautiful. to rin, you’re divine. heaven on earth is your feather-light touch, your smile when you look at him, your laughter whenever rin makes a sour face as if he’s just bitten into a lemon because someone’s annoyed him. heaven is every moment he spends with you.

somehow—god knows how—you don’t see that.

sometimes loving rin is all you know, but other times you know he’s so gorgeous that he catches the eye and captures the hearts of all who pass him by. in your eyes, you’re by no means special, but he is. rin’s beautiful in the way his brows furrow when he wakes up in the morning, thick, dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as they begrudgingly blink up. the world knows rin’s beautiful, too, because you see it under every post he makes on social media. you know the world loves rin (maybe just not as much as you do) when they scream his name as he walks onto the pitch. he’s like an idol, the way they treat him, with the name banners and the feral fans.

you don’t blame them. who can resist itoshi rin?

you don’t understand how rin can love you, when your ‘imperfections’ are all you can see when you look in the mirror. when you compare your body to that of the celebs that rin’s fans ship him with, or nonsense gossip magazines photoshop him with, because you can imagine rin with someone else—someone more beautiful, more talented. surely there’s a million other alternatives. surely someone as beautiful and special as rin deserves someone equally beautiful and special, someone who can match him, someone deserving.

“sometimes i think you deserve better than me. you’re too good for someone like me.”

when the truth you’d buried comes tumbling out your mouth one night, rin simply cannot comprehend how you could possibly think that. if anything, you’re the one who deserves better than him, right? you simply just settled for him, when you could’ve done much better.

“how could i ever want anyone who isn’t you?” rin says, gritting his teeth. “how can you say you’re undeserving?”

and he pulls you into the most devastating kiss, his hands roaming your beautiful body, every edge and every curve, warm and strong. your hands claw at his shoulders, grasping, and you’re breathless as rin’s lips leave yours momentarily, before they’re slamming back into yours once more.

“you’re beautiful,” rin confesses against your lips, before drawing back. something warm falls on your cheek. when your eyes refocus, rin’s crying. “i love everything about you. all that you are. i can’t explain it. i don’t need to pinpoint your best feature when everything about you is the best. you don’t need to be perfect. i don’t believe in that shit anymore. i just want you to be yourself. i want you to be proud of who you are, and i want you to be happy when you’re with me.”

you reach up to wipe rin’s tears away, feeling your own eyes sting with the telltale warning of your tears’ return. however, rin simply takes your hand in his own, and holds it against his cheek.

“i could spend the rest of my life telling you all the things i love about you, because i’d have to talk about everything about you,” rin says, and your breath hitches in your throat. your boyfriend is a man of few words, he’s always been a patient listener when it comes to you. confessing that he’s willing to talk about everything he loves about you for the rest of his life isn’t a small feat.

the day you broke down rin’s walls and entered his monochrome world, he began to believe in love again. and now he’s learned to simply love again, he’s not going to stop loving you.

and now you’re tearing up again. “i wish i could love myself as much as you love me,” you whisper. “there’s so much i hate about myself.” the words don’t roll off your tongue easily—they’re hesitant, reluctant, like a secret.

“then let me love you,” rin says. “i’ll love all the things you love about yourself and the things you hate about yourself. i’ll love you so much that you’ll learn to love the things you hate about yourself. i’ll remind you of how much i love everything you are, every day, whenever you need me, always.” his turquoise eyes are ablaze, and they look like blue-green flames, scorching with passion and love. “if you don’t want to face your fears alone, i’ll be with you. if you want time to yourself, i’ll wait for you. i’ll keep loving you, even when you’ve forgotten how to love yourself.”

when he pulls you close again, you rest your head against his torso, and you can hear the racing rhythm of his beating heart. in his arms, you feel warm, complete.

“i love you, rin. thank you. i think i really needed that today.”

rin exhales shakily, and you feel the vibration of his chest. “i love you. so damn much.” his hold of you tightens slightly, gentle but protective. “i love you because of who you are. if you decide to change for yourself, i’ll still love you. if you can’t love yourself, i love you for all the self-love you’re missing. and i’ll never stop loving you. don’t you dare forget that.”

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock #bluelock #bllk #bllk x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #bllk imagines #bllk fic #♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vivi #♫ songfic

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kinkandkreep · 1 year ago

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❥︎ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

❥︎ 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧!𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❥︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕

❥︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

❥︎ '𝑲𝒈𝒐𝒔𝒊' 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 "𝒄𝒐-𝒛𝒚" 𝒐𝒓 "𝒈𝒐-𝒛𝒊"

❥︎ ᵃ/ⁿ: ʰᵉʸ ʰᵉʸ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ! ʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ!ᵐⁱᵏᵉʸ ˣ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶠⁱᶜ! ᵇᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵘᵖ, ᶜᵘˢ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰʸ ᵒⁿᵉ. ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ! 👋🏾

“Kgosi! Be careful love!”

The little tot’s shrieking laughter can be heard in response, his tiny feet carrying him towards you.

A large smile plastered across your face, you crouch, arms open expectantly. Kgosi tosses himself into your embrace, giggling happily and gesturing to be lifted.

Standing, you bring your baby boy with you, holding him gently but firmly and twirling a couple times in place. Again, that familiar laugh that never fails to warm your heart can be heard in Kgosi’s excitement.

“Yay! Again!” Your baby claps, the movement clunky and uncoordinated what with his chubby hands.

“Noo, not again baby. Mama’s a little dizzy.” Kgosi frowns but his disappointment is quickly forgotten when he recognizes where you’re carrying him.

The baby’s face lights up, black eyes twinkling with newfound mirth.

“Swing mama, wanna swing!”

You place Kgosi safely in the bucket swing, lightly flicking the fat of one of his cheeks and chuckling as he shies away with a bright smile and yet another tiny giggle.

“Hold on tight ok?” Kgosi nods determinedly, little hands gripping the rubber coated chains on either side of him.

“Ready mama!” Nodding, you take your place behind your son, pulling the swing up and back until the seat rests just above your head. You’re preparing to let go when a voice from behind startles you.

“Miss __ __?”

In your surprise you release the seat, your son’s shrieks of joy sounding as he swings back and forth.

Turning, you face the man whom the voice belongs to, and you're shocked and a little disturbed to see he's a large scar running almost the circumference of his head, pale against his skin and visible though he stands a distance away from you.

He’s dressed in all black, and you can see his eyes moving as he watches your son.

Stepping into the man’s field of vision, you lay your arms defensively across your chest, expression flat and unamused.

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

The black clad man’s eyes snap up to your face, and for a moment, you two engage in a tense stare down.

Eventually, he relents, sensing that you weren’t going to.

“I am here on behalf of Manjiro Sano. He wishes to hold an audience with you.”

A sudden, sharp bolt of lightning zips down your spine upon hearing that name.

It had been quite literally years, and you’d not heard hide nor hair of the once invincible man.

You’d managed to convince yourself that that was a good thing.

“Why?” That one single word is so loaded with other lingering questions and feelings and anger that the man shifts uncomfortably.

“I was only told to deliver the message, nothing more.”

You can tell the man knows more than he lets on, but refrains from saying anything else. Perhaps out of a sense of respect for Manjiro. Perhaps out of a subconscious desire to spare you the details.

Whatever the reason, you find yourself a little peeved that he won’t spill, but nevertheless, you acquiesce.

“Fine. But I’m taking my son somewhere safe first.”

“Actually,” the scarred man moves to take a step forward, quickly aborting the movement when you equally as quickly step back, feeling behind yourself for Kgosi.

“Stay there. I don’t want you any closer to my son.”

The man nods, returning to his previous position.

“Actually,” he begins again, one hand slightly outstretched as a sign of submission. “The King requested that you bring your son along. He wishes to see him as well.”

Upon hearing Mikey be addressed as “The King,” you lift a disbelieving brow.

“Really? He’s having you refer to him as “The King?” You know, I become more glad everyday that he left me alone.”

You’re more so speaking to yourself, and the man clears his throat to draw back your attention.

“When you’re ready, I will escort you both to the designated meeting place.”

With that, the man turns and begins walking off, your eyes watching him closely as he does.

Turning, you finally address Kgosi, who has long since stopped swinging and has, rather uncharacteristically, been quietly watching the entire exchange.

“Who dat mama?”

Unsure of how exactly to answer the question, you respond with the first thing that comes to mind.

“He’s one of daddy’s friends baby.”

At the mention of his father, little Kgosi begins to bounce excitedly where he’s still seated.

“Daddy yay!”

Despite your gripe with the man, you can’t help the sad smile that curls your lip at your son’s enthusiasm.

‘If only you knew, son…’

It takes a bit to get Kgosi situated and gather up your belongings, but once you do, you find the scarred man leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded across his chest, awaiting your approach.

"Ready?” He queries, standing to his full height.

You give one solemn nod, following when the man beckons.

The ride is a quiet one: neither you nor the man asks questions. The only sound is that of your son’s absentminded babbles as he plays with his car toys and the occasional “look mama!” when you pass something he finds particularly interesting outside.

You try to keep as engaged as possible, but your mind is running a thousand miles a minute.

‘What on Earth could Manjiro want with us now?’

After about 30 minutes and seemingly endless pondering, you arrive at a little house on the outskirts of the city. It’s not a place you immediately recognize, and this causes you some alarm.

“Why did he want us brought here?” The question comes out more severe than you intended for it to. The man side eyes you, hesitating before speaking.

“The King thought that perhaps you’d be more comfortable and apt to talk somewhere that was a little more quaint and a little less busy than his usual residence.”

“Less busy than his usual residence, you say? I can only imagine the shit he gets into.”

“Lang’ge mama!” Your son gasps, causing you to chuckle.

“Sorry baby, you’re right. Mama should watch her language.”

The man watches silently, trying to suppress a small smile at your interaction with your son.

“Right this way.”

Once you’ve all exited the car- presumably something expensive now that you’ve paid it any real attention- you begin making your way up the porch steps to the front door.

Kgosi insisted on walking himself, so your right hand is occupied by his left. The scarred man offered to carry your bag, and you let him, figuring he had no want or need for diapers and coloring books.

The trek up to the door seems endless, and you attribute that mostly to nerves. It’s been so long since you’ve heard so much as a whisper about Manjiro and his current whereabouts and endeavors, let alone actually seen him.

Ken and the others looked for him for a time after he disappeared, but after some less than savory occurrences, of which you never got the full details, they left that pursuit alone.

“It’s-...it’s difficult, I know, but it’s better this way, __. Mikey clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Ken’s words were heavy and laced with a barely concealed sorrow.

You’d agreed at the time, even though the elusive man lingered in your thoughts on occasion.

Now you were faced with the prospect of meeting him in person again after so long and after so much had transpired.

And not just you, but your son as well.

Releasing a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, you take more confident steps into the foyer, lightly squeezing Kgosi’s hand to calm him from where he bounces excitedly on his feet. You’re in the process of removing your and Kgosi’s shoes when the man speaks.

“One moment. Please, feel free to peruse this area while I step away.”

Before you’re given the opportunity to respond, the man jets off, leaving you and Kgosi to wander around for a bit.

The house is indeed rather quaint; homey and sensible, while still containing modern fixtures and appliances.

You peek into the kitchen, finding it to be fully stocked and in pristine condition.

Not thinking too much about it, and at Kgosi’s insistence, you take a box of apple juice from the refrigerator and offer it to your son, making sure to throw away the plastic wrapping the straw came out of.

Moving along, you encounter what seems to be the first of two living areas.

It’s decorated in warm, neutral colors. The couch, upon sitting, is found to be very soft (Kgosi has a blast bouncing on it) and a large flat screen TV rests atop a stone fireplace.

Behind the couch is open space covered in a large, ornate carpet. Beside it, floor length windows showcase a lush, well manicured garden space, which your son seems quite eager to explore.

“Maybe a little later, son. I don’t want your clothes getting soiled or to track dirt.”

Kgosi pouts, but quickly goes back to enjoying his juice and bouncing on the couch.

You, on the other hand, resume being caught up in your thoughts.

You’re so caught up in fact, that you don’t immediately notice when the scarred man returns.

“Miss __?”

You jump just a bit at his sudden appearance.

Standing, you lift and tuck Kgosi against your hip, nodding to the man and following when he motions for you to do so.

You can practically feel your heart about to beat out of your chest the closer you get to the room where Manjiro presumably is.

Each step feels heavier than the last, until finally, the floor slips from underneath you entirely as you round the corner.

There sits Manjiro, your first love, and the father of your pride and joy.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, __?”

You’re too stunned to speak, though you can feel yourself subconsciously tightening your grip on Kgosi.

Surrounding Manjiro are three men, each more bizarre looking than the last. From where you’re facing him, on Manjiro’s right stands a pair of guys, both with black and purple hair, though one’s is longer and the other’s is gelled to the side. They resemble one another, and you assume they are, at the least, related.

On Manjiro’s left is perhaps the strangest looking man thus far.

His hair is bright pink, and he’s got two large, diamond shaped scars on either corner of his mouth. He sports a wide grin, and you quickly look away from him, deciding you don’t like the way he, or any of them for that matter, makes you feel.

Mikey simply watches as you observe his men, his dull, black irises remaining fixated on you and Kgosi.

“What do you want, Manjiro?” You speak suddenly, and the air in the room immediately shifts from tense to even more so.

“What do you mean, __? I clearly wanted to see you,” his eyes slide to Kgosi. “And our son.”

“Ok, but why now?” You grit out the words, becoming more agitated by the second.

Mikey doesn’t respond, refraining from moving for a second before he gestures to the seat before you.

“Why don’t you take a seat, love? You seem irritated.”

“I’m fine right here.”

“__, I’m asking nicely-”

“I said I’m f-...”

“Sit down!”

The sudden outburst catches you off guard, as well as Kgosi, who covers his ears.

“Loud mama!”

Breaking eye contact with Manjiro, you turn to Kgosi, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry baby,” you throw a pointed sidelong glance at Manjiro with your next words. “We’ll be more quiet.”

You think you can see the beginnings of a smirk start to shape Manjiro’s mouth, but the movement is quickly aborted.

The silence having returned, you slowly take a seat, adjusting Kgosi’s position in your lap. Mikey watches you closely the entire time, his eyes never leaving you or Kgosi’s forms.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? Besides, sitting is much more comfortable than standing when you're carrying weight isn’t it?”

You’re not sure why Manjiro is asking such asinine questions, but you can’t help the urge to roll your eyes.

“I ask again, Manjiro, why now of all times did you apparently want to see us so badly?”

The man doesn't immediately answer, and you can feel your brow twitch.

"Does there have to be a specific reason as to 'why now?' It's not like you were doing anything particularly important right? I just felt this overwhelming urge to see my two favorite people."

You level Manjiro with a scathing glare.

"Your two favorite people huh? You don't typically just abandon your two favorite people with no explanation, especially not when they're your son and his mother."

You could swear the temperature in the room drops at least a little bit, your frosty ire palpable to everyone.

Manjiro simply smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His jaw is clenched the most minute amount, and you can't help but feel some satisfaction that you struck a nerve.

“You’re completely right. This isn’t typically something you do. Unfortunately for us, our circumstances are anything but typical.”

You can’t suppress another eye roll, Kgosi shifting slightly on your lap. He’s been quietly eyeing the strange white-haired man for the entirety of the conversation thus far. He’s not quite sure, but he feels some sort of strange connection to him.

“It doesn’t matter what excuse you give, Manjiro. None of your wack ass machinations can justify your decision to abandon us.”

Manjiro is no longer smiling, instead his eyes are boring into yours. His jaw clenches even tighter.

“I only did what I did to protect you both.”

“From you, right? You and your little freakshow menagerie.” You let your eyes pointedly drift, to one by one land on the other occupants of the room. None of them seem too off-put by your choice of words; the pink haired one’s seemingly permanent grin even appears to widen.

“I mean come on, your little chauffeur here even insinuated it. The kind of crazy shi-,” your son gives you a glance, “stuff, you get up to in your normal residence. Look at you! You’re pale, bordering on sickly. The bags under your eyes are so deep and dark it looks like someone painted them on with black ink. I can see the beginnings of bruises on your arms and despite the air of authority you’re trying to maintain, I can tell you’re exhausted.”

You finally settle back in your chair from where you’d unconsciously leaned forward. Try as you might to suppress them, you can feel the tears beginning to build along your waterline.

“Why, Mikey? Why on Earth did you choose this life, this life of danger and misery, over us?”

It’s quiet for several long moments, and even the pink haired man is no longer grinning.

You and Mikey are locked in a severe staredown, but you can feel your resolve crumbling.

There’s nothing there.

Beneath his gaze, there lies only a dark emptiness, and you can’t help but feel that helping him now is beyond your power.

Just as you feel the first tear fall, you hear a tiny gasp, and quickly your son shimmies out of your grasp, running over to where Manjiro sits and smacking him on the arm.

“You make mama cry! Bad!”

The pink haired man makes moves to grab something from behind his back, but is quickly stilled by Mikey’s raised hand. You notice this exchange with no small degree of horror and disgust and anger, appalled at even the implication of what that man was trying to do.

Manjiro leans forward and down, meeting Kgosi’s determined stare with one of his own.

The two lock eyes for several seconds before Manjiro smiles, and this time, it does seem to reach his eyes.

“Good boy. I’m proud of you for protecting your mama.” Manjiro begins lifting a hand, and Kgosi immediately retreats back to you, only this time, he remains standing protectively in front of your legs.

“You a bad man! No touch!”

Manjiro lilts what sounds like a genuine laugh, and the tension in the room somewhat dissipates. You’re not 100% aware of it yet, but a pleased Mikey means less pain and less of a bad time for everyone involved.

“He’s brave! And smart too. You’ve done an excellent job raising him, __.” Black eyes, so similar to Kgosi’s own, flick down to his little form.

“Tell us your name, little guy.”

Kgosi hesitates, unsure if he should listen to the man who made his mama cry. He relaxes some when he feels your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s ok baby, you can tell them.”

It takes a moment or two, but eventually your son mumbles out “Kgosi,” before turning and gesturing to be lifted. You quickly oblige him, settling him in your lap, his head snuggled against your neck.

“Kgosi…a strong name. What does it mean?”

The words seem caught in your throat for some seconds, before you’re finally able to speak.

“It means King.”

Another laugh, this time louder and more raucous, escapes Manjiro, his head thrown back. The other men wear small smiles as well, all except the pink haired man, who goes back to sporting his large grin.

“It means King! How fitting. You truly are perfect. I knew you’d be an excellent mother.”

“And yet you left me. Left me to raise a child all on my own with no support, financial or emotional. Don’t think you get to laugh now and everything is just forgiven and forgotten. I’m still pissed at you, Manjiro. And I get the feeling I will be for a very long time to come.”

The tense atmosphere has returned, and Mikey has long since stopped laughing.

Instead of responding verbally, he stands, slowly making his way over to you. You can feel your baby shaking, and the thought that this man, who was supposed to serve as protector and provider, causes his own son to shake in fear makes you positively seethe.

Sensing your anger, Mikey stops just a few steps shy of you, and instead kneels down on one knee, never breaking eye contact with you.

“__. I know I’ll most likely never be able to make you understand why I left. I know that in your eyes, what I’ve done is…unforgivable. And I accept that burden as mine to bare. But all I ask, is that you put aside your rage, just for now, so that I may know my son.”

“You’re not entitled to him.” Your words shake around the edges.

“After what I’ve done, you’re absolutely right.” Manjiro lifts his bandaged right hand, placing it over his heart. “But I have no desire to possess you. Either of you. I only wish now to step up, and do what I should have done from the start.”

Manjiro extends his arms. “May I please hold our son?”

Time slows and seems to drag out endlessly.

Manjiro wasn’t there when Kgosi was born. He’s never gotten to hold him, though that was entirely his own fault.

You’d always dreamed of the day that he would, though. The day that Manjiro would sweep you both into his arms and cradle you protectively against his chest.

The day that he would return to you, fervent apologies and heartfelt whispers of love and adoration falling from his lips.

Snapping back to the present moment, you level Manjiro with a hard stare, before finally speaking.

“I suppose that’s fine. But, Kgosi gets the final say.”

Looking down, you address your son, who still watches Manjiro skeptically from the corner of his eye.

“Kgosi hun, do you mind letting daddy hold you?”

Everyone waits with bated breath to see what the little tot will say.

Eventually, after several lengthy seconds, Kgosi simply nods, and begins to wiggle out of your embrace. You let him go, watching with sad eyes as he carefully makes his way over to Manjiro, whose arms have remained outstretched for the entire exchange.

Slowly, Kgosi leans into Manjiro’s chest, and you could swear you see the muscle in the man’s exposed chest jump.

Manjiro immediately closes his arms tightly around Kgosi, gently resting his head on top of the boy’s. A shuddering, relieved sounding sigh can be heard from Manjiro, and he begins slightly rocking from side to side.

“My son, I’m so sorry.”

He lifts his head to address you, and you startle somewhat upon seeing the unshed tears lining Manjiro’s waterline.

“My love, I owe you an apology as well.”

You can’t speak, your throat constricting as you fight to hold back your own tears. Instead, you silently watch as Manjiro stands, lifting Kgosi with him. He takes measured steps towards you, finally stopping and kneeling down before you.

“My decision to do what I did, not even just towards you, but to everyone else I left behind as well, was incredibly selfish. But I truly thought it was for the best. I’m afraid I’ve fallen into the darkness, and I don’t foresee a way out. I would never wish to drag you along into this hell, and so I abandoned you, separated myself as far away from you as possible to protect you from the monster I’d become.”

The tears are falling steadily now, and you’ve the sudden great urge to snatch Kgosi and flee. Perhaps your eyes communicate some of this desire, because Manjiro leans forward, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

“I’m not going to hurt you, __.”

A sob rips from your throat, and yet you’re able to remain relatively upright in your seat.

“You already have.”

Now it’s Manjiro’s turn to cry, silent streaks trickling down his cheeks, hidden from view of the other men in the room.

“I know, I know I have, and again, I am so sorry. I promise now though that I’ll be there for you, you and Kgosi both. You’ll never want for anything ever again- just say the word and you’ll have it, whatever it is you need.”

At this point, Kgosi is becoming a little restless. He whines quietly and wiggles in Manjiro’s grasp. The man looks to you for help.

“He’s sleepy. He hasn’t had his nap today.”

Nodding once, Manjiro hands him to you, Kgosi quickly adjusting himself and snuggling into your chest. You begin gently bouncing and rocking him, and soon the little tot is fast asleep in your arms.

Manjiro lovingly strokes a finger down Kgosi’s cheek as he sleeps, cooing very quietly as the boy subconsciously leans into the touch.

“He looks just like you.” He eventually says, eyes still fixated on the sleeping child.

“He’s got your eyes.” You speak in return, somewhat unsure of where that response came from.

Your heart still aches with the pain Manjiro’s caused, but that same pain, which once radiated sharp and persistent, has begun to fade to a dull echo. You don’t know that you’ve completely forgiven him yet, but as you watch him gaze upon your son with a glimmer of light in his eyes, you think you may be becoming more ok with the notion.

“I mean it, __.” Manjiro’s voice is stern, his expression determined when he turns to look up at you. “I may not always be there physically, but say the words, and I’ll come running.”

You search Manjiro’s face, eventually deciding that yes, he’s serious.

“Alright. But you had better uphold your promise. Else I won’t forgive you next time.”

Manjiro gives one slow, solemn nod of understanding. He stands, gesturing to the scar-headed man for something.

He brings it over quickly, and from where you’re sitting, it appears to be a paper sleeve with something in it.

Deciding against immediately launching into asking questions, you sit patiently while Manjiro unsheathes whatever’s in the sleeve out of your view, staring at it momentarily before turning and handing it to you.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the two, and you wait for an explanation.

“My other hand’s kind of occupied at the moment so I can’t take whatever this is out of the sleeve.”

Another gesture and the job’s done for you, and you do your best not to jostle Kgosi too much when you gasp.

“I-is that-...”

“Yes. It may seem a bit excessive, but this is the best of the best. And I want you to have nothing less.”

“People are bound to ask questions when I use this.”

“Then you’ll just have to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, hm?” Manjiro smiles at you, and again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Or,” he leans down, lips inches away from yours. “You could always tell them about how much of an excellent provider your husband is.”

You look away, flustered, and Manjiro laughs, the sound tinkling like a little bell in your ear.

You take the card, now back in the sleeve, from the scar-headed man’s hands, gingerly placing it in the breast pocket of your coat.

“Well I uh…thank you, Manjiro.”

The man hesitates, leveling you with a critical stare.

“No nickname for me?” You’re a little caught off guard by the question. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What, you want me to call you Mikey?”

“No, I want you to call me-”

“I am not calling you daddy or some shit like that.”

A snicker can be heard from the purple haired men, which is quickly silenced by a look from Manjiro.

“No, call me like you used to. When we were kids.”

You rack your brain trying to remember what other name there could be when the memory comes crashing into you.

“Mani?”

Visible only to you, a bright blush colors Manjiro’s cheeks, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

“There it is. I knew you remembered. Call me that from now on, yeah?”

You roll your eyes but the movement is fond. “Sure.”

After that, the scar-headed man gathers your things, and you’re escorted to the front of the residence.

As you leave, you notice that Manjiro doesn’t follow, and panic briefly bubbles up in your chest.

“Manji-! Mani,” you quickly correct yourself. “W-...will we see you again?”

The man is silent for some seconds, and you fear he’ll say no, before he walks over to you, leaning down and forward and placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“There’s a number on the inside of that sleeve. Memorise it, keep it somewhere safe. As I said before, whenever you need me, call me, and I’ll be right there.”

Manjiro sounds so certain, so reassuring, that for the umpteenth time today, you feel yourself about to cry.

A wobbly smile curves your mouth, and Manjiro returns it with a steadier one of his own.

“Remember you said that. I’ll be calling you pretty soon, you hear? Kgosi’s got his kindergarten graduation ceremony comin’ up and you had better be there.”

Mikey lifts his bandaged hand, laying it over his heart. “You have my word. Just send me the details when you get the chance.”

Satisfied, you turn and follow Mr. Scar out of the room and out to the car. Once you’ve got Kgosi settled, you turn to get into the passenger seat, finding Manjiro watching you from one of the windows.

You wave, and he returns it, and your heart begins to ache with the thought of having to be away from him again.

Pushing the pain aside, you slide into the front seat, and soon Mr. Scar is pulling out of the driveway.

The ride back proceeds smoothly, and some minutes into its duration, you turn to observe the scarred man.

At this point, you’re frankly sick of calling him that, so you decide to simply ask:

“What’s your name? No offense, but I’ve been calling you variations of “the scarred man” in my head since we met, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stop doing that.”

The man’s eyes slide toward you before sliding back to the road.

“Kakucho. You can also call me Hitto if that’s easier.”

You think on it for a moment, before finally settling for a name.

“Kaku!”

The car swerves slightly at your outburst, and you laugh at Kakucho’s expression.

“What, you don’t like it? I tend to nickname all the people I consider close, and I assume we’ll be getting to know each other at least a little more now that I’ve reinstated contact with Manjiro.”

You smile at him, and you can see the man fight down a smile in return.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You can just call me __ by the way, no need for formalities.”

Instead of contesting, the man only nods, and you relax back in your seat.

It feels like it’s becoming easier, accepting the notion of forgiving Manjiro. You don’t know the full story, and you can’t deny that you’re still somewhat wary of who and what he’s become, but you know that you still hold love for him, even despite it all. And if he wants to be there for Kgosi, well, even better.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokrev #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revenger x reader #mikey sano #x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #bonten #bonten timeline #bonten tokyo revengers

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maadvillainy · 7 months ago

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spaceship

pairings: gary smith x gn reader summary: meeting through shared interests with a lone boy warnings: smoking, swearing, gary smith

✎ masterlist

authors note ❥ ok so not all of the lyrics are complete or in chronological order, but it's to make it make sense but um.. erm... I love spaceship! p.s. gary is prolly ooc but this kinda sorta takes place after he's released from happy volts so hes recovering. he gettin betta!!!!!!!

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

The clouds inch closer to each other, closing any view of the blue sky above. The familiar smell of rain closes in, hitting you hard. Nodding your head along with the music that plays in your ears.

Man, man, man

If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him

After I fuck the manager up then I'm gonna shorten the register up

You grin, writing then pausing. Pressing your pen to your lips you think. Writing again. Your back leaning against the oak tree behind you. The occasional old homeless man asking for a cent. It was all so nostalgic. Adjusting your earbuds you hear a sudden sound. Your head darts to the source of the rather rasp voice.

Let's go back, back to the Gap

Look at my check, wasn't no scratch

So if I stole, wasn't my fault

Yeah I stole, never got caught

They take me to the back and pat me

Askin' me about some khakis

But let some black people walk in

I bet they show off their token blac─

You rip out your earbuds, beaming at the boy. "Is that Ye?" He asks rather timidly for his appearance and posture.

He had a long scar tattered on his left brow and down to his eye. His hair cut sleek and faded towards the edges. It suited him, you thought. You didn't know the boy yet you felt like you've known him forever. Odd.

"Yes, it is." You nod shortly. It seemed a little curt but you didn't mean it. You liked talking about music. It made you feel at peace. When you snap away from your thoughts you acknowledge his awkward stance, you pat the space next to you. He slowly sits, staring at your CD player. "Wanna bud?" You hold up the right earbud, he takes it cautiously. He seemed grateful, timid but nice.

Little did you know, oh you poor soul.

"I was actually looking for my own copy, never fucking found it." He grunted. You smile at this, somehow you were completely wrong about the boy. Odd. I mean, you should've known by the mysterious scar on the left side of his face. "I found this one a year ago, lucky enough to have copped it ya know?" You don't put in your earbud yet, but he does. "How much did you sacrifice?"

─Man, I'm talkin' way past the sky

Let's go, yeah

And I didn't even try to work a job

Represent the mob

At the same time thirsty on the grind

Chi state of mind

Lost my momma, lost my mind

My life, my love that's not mine

Why you ain't signed?

Wasn't my time

Leave me alone, work for y'all

Half of it's yours, half of it's mine

Only one to ball

Never wanna to fall

His voice had a small lisp, you could hear it very faintly over the sarcastic tone he held. You're sure he didn't mean to display it, because he seemed a little too irritated to be sarcastic. "I managed to bargain for 8$." You put your bud in, involuntarily sighing.

─ Police watch me smoke my weed and count my G's

Got a lot of people countin' on me

And I'm just tryin' to find my peace

Should of finished school like my niece

Then I wouldn't finally wouldn't use my piece, blaow

Aw man, all this pressure

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

"I didn't know people here liked music." Right, you thought. People here would much rather listen to screeching butchered pigs than real music. You snicker at your own thought, remembering you had company you turn your head to him. "I ain't from here." Your voice came out rather soft for your liking.

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette. It was a habit that grew on. You stopped doing it so often but you just couldn't help it when the opportunity presented itself. "Do you mind if I blow?" You ask, considering him for a second. He didn't seem like the type of person to care; and to sum it up, he shook his head. In fact, he held his hand out. You grin. "I'm trying to quit, so don't hook me on if you're hooked." You chuckle, pulling out another cigarette for him.

"Where are you from?" His eyes averting to the cigarette then to you. "Arizona." Dear fuck.

"Why here?" His question comes abruptly. "I'm not sure." You answer. It was truthful, you had no clue why. You were sure it was something stupid though. "What's your name?" You take out your lighter, Curious George's face on the center. You hear him snicker. "What?" You twinkle.

"Cool lighter, sweets." That was silly, real silly.

"Thanks, scar." You joked back, he simply shook his head. Sparking it you hold it up to him, blocking the wind with your left hand. He does the same for you, your cheek brushing against his fingers when you lean in. It had no reason being so intimate. Anyways, you smoke in peace. Small pitter patters start to drop from the gloomy sky, the semi-dead grass before you starting to grow dewy. You both give each other a look. "I know a place."

I remember havin' to take the dollar cab

Comin' home real late at night

Standin' on my feet all damn day

Tryin' to make this thing right

And havin' one of my co-workers say "Yo you look just like

This kid I seen in the old Busta Rhymes video the other night"

Well easy come, easy go

How that sayin' goes

No more broad service, cars, and them TV shows

I all had that snatched from me

A and R's and their faculties all turn their back on me

And didn't want to hear a rap from me

So naturally actually had to face things factually

Had to be a catastrophe with the fridgest starin' back at me

'Cause nothing's there, nothing's fair

I don't want to ever go back there

So I won't be takin' no days off 'til my spaceship takes off

You sit under a fort, sitting criss crossed eating Push Ups and Scooby Snacks. He wasn't like most guys you knew, he was different from what you were used to. You liked that. You talked and giggled, rain falling slowly from the sky as the muffled voice of the raggedy tv rattled through the wooden box that you both resided in. It was calm, domestic even. Fun. "Hey I never caught your name." You mumble, looking over at the boy. "Gary." He swallowed his Scooby Snack. "Gary Smith." You grin, stealing some of his Scooby Snacks before exchanging your own name.

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I want to fly, I want to fly

I said I want my chariot to pick me up

And take a brother for a ride

#maadvillainy📝#gary smith #gary smith x reader #kanye west #the college dropout #bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit

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navxry · 8 months ago

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DIVERGENT AU : DELIVERY FOR: MS. KIRARA

-> Being the newest doorman, Kirara has a lot to keep track of, but she was still new to the job. Though, that seem to change when they found a new... 'Friend' in these trying times. (That's Not My Neighbor AU) (RULER OF LOVE TAGLIST: @xianyoon ; send an ask to be tagged) [ content warning/s: this fic contains character death and scoptophobia. If you are uncomfortable with these warnings, you are free to click away and find something else to read. Your mental health matters. ] [ <- divergent au | main page | divergent au -> ]

If you had told Kirara that she would be working as a doorman when the world has been overrun with doppleganger in the past... She would most definitely call bullshit.

Though, in a world that is overrun with them and the following eldritch abominations, she can't exactly be picky. And especially when the past job she had with delivering things went horribly with the dopplegangers running rampant.

So here she was, on her first day of the job, and she was done listening to the voice mail left behind by the D.D.D. on how to deal with them. She's not good when it comes to death and bloodshed in general, so she was sure that the job would keep her from seeing any.

And, well, she was proven wrong. So, very wrong.

Seeing each neighbor and doppleganger that came her way, the girl realized why no one bothered to take the job. It was almost a wonder with how she seem to be dealing with each turn, trying to keep herself safe as they tried to convince her of various things.

Some came with imperfect disguises and falsities, while others came in prepared with horrid tempers to boot. However confident she may be in her work, she couldn't lie and say that seeing them get 'cleaned' by the personnel... Is scary.

It reminded her of how bad it would be if she screwed up. And by Gods, she's scared of that outcome.

After having the recent doppleganger swept by the personnel, Kirara sighed and rubbed her temples. She could already hear the door from outside turn and rise, and the sound of heels clicking echoed.

When she looked back up, the doorperson blinked, seemingly caught by surprise at the disheveled appearance of what seem to be a delivery girl that entered. Messy hair tied back, tired yellow eyes that spoke of drama she could only fathom, and their appearance seem more like they were dealing with a heavy workload.

"Mm..." they hummed, their gaze soon directing itself to Kirara. Raising an eyebrow, they simply wiped their eyes, murmuring, "You seem... New. Where's Rosaria?"

Rosaria? Do they mean— oh.

"She's on vacation," the girl replied, causing the latter to nod. With a frown, they adjusted how they looked, though they seem to be holding a few packages.

"... I see. Didn't knew she'd be on one, but... At least she's getting a break from being here for 3 years."

After a while, they placed down their packages to grab the documents. It did took a while, but that didn't mean Kirara wasn't paying attention to how they looked when they aren't facing her.

Huh... I guess they look okay. Hm...

"... Here we are. Here's my ID and permit," they said, handing the items to her. "You're free to... Ask me anything, by the way."

Ah, how convenient!

"Hm... Okay. Let me check your documents and see if they check out first."

".. Alright," they murmured, holding back a yawn as they watched Kirara get to work.

With how much she's faced, she could tell that something is up with this... Delivery girl. She couldn't exactly tell what was it, as when she checked the files and information she can gather, they all checked out.

Name: Navina Last Name: Marise Apartment: F02-04 Reason: I'm a resident of the building. I come from my job as a deliveryperson.

The entry permit had the logo clear as day, and just like the previous ones she's seen, it was placed in the exact spot as she's always known. Sure, she can question them for more information, but she'll do it after.

Checking the ID, she began to glance up at the deliveryperson in front of her, as though to verify the appearance they had.

Navina Marise 1775000329

The date and their ID picture matches, and they have the logo, too.

Kirara let out a sigh, putting down the items before she checked the files. She could feel herself at ease, as they were on the list and were... Normal.

Still, it didn't mean that they were off the hook yet. She couldn't tell if they were to be trusted, and after the last doppleganger that came who seem to be near perfect, she was scared of being faced with the perfect one.

She didn't want to die. She can't. Not on her first day—

"You seem... Rather tense."

Kirara flinched.

".. Sorry, did I scare you?" the deliveryperson asked, their brows furrowed in concern. "I didn't know when to bring it up to you, since you seem... Busy, especially with checking for dopplegangers."

She could feel the tension permeate between them, but she swallowed and nodded, her frown present.

Sensing the tension, the latter shifted, their eyes darting away.

"... Sorry. Its not my intention to bother you or anything, since I understand you can't exactly feel safe with dopplegangers about. They could just be anywhere, and it'd be... Difficult to tell if they got the right disguise."

...

Shifting her gaze, she looked up towards them. She noticed though, that amidst the tension, they seem... Conflicted.

"... You seem to know how they work," she began. "Have you worked here? For the... D.D.D., I mean."

"Once," they answered, scratching their arm. "'s... not for me, though. I don't exactly deal with staring well," they explained, chuckling. "Ironic, isn't it? I had to take the next best thing and... Had to face them head on, doing deliveries and the like."

Kirara's eyes softened.

Ah. I get that feeling.

"Does it get difficult?" she asked.

"Sometimes," they replied, their lips curving to a frown. "We're.. Trained to deal with things like this. Though, the superiors didn't bother with me—said that I can tell which is which just fine from my old job here."

They scowled at this, glaring at the package resting by their side.

"... It gets difficult, though. But they won't listen. None of them do."

A beat of silence. And another.

"... Sorry," they whispered, sighing and turning their head down. "I... Don't like to complain. The world's messed up as is, and me complaining to a stranger won't do a damn thing. Not until the D.D.D. finds a way to get rid of these fuckers."

A bit callous, but it wasn't like they're doing this for the wrong reason. Kirara had too much hope that they were normal, and it seems that they are... For now.

"Hah, well, I haven't heard much from the D.D.D. myself," she told them, putting the files away. "I just got recently to this job, and since the usual doorwoman's off for a vacation, I subbed in for her."

Navina nodded in understanding, this time finding themselves able to look at her.

"Rosaria's... A good one," they began, a smile resting on their face. "She's cold and aloof, but... the D.D.D. would make a mistake in getting rid of her. She's the sharpest one, y'know."

"Are you two friends?"

Navina chuckled.

"I guess. Rosaria's the regular I used to see when I was in your place," they informed her, this time smiling—perhaps due to nostalgia, Kirara thinks. "She's got a lot to tell when she... Ah, worked as a bartender, if I remember correctly. Always complained about the others that bothered her in her shifts, and the people she's met."

Though, the smile didn't last long as they sighed, their eyes downcast.

"Though, when she worked here... She and I aren't as close. I'd sometimes speak to her about the things I found interesting, and she'd listen, but when Ms. Pegg died, she... Withdrew from everyone."

...

"... Do you still try to talk to her about it?"

"No," they whispered, closing their eyes. "I... Don't even bother. It's a heavy subject, miss, so we all made a consensus to not speak a word."

Kirara frowned. She could tell that this one was a difficult topic to cover, and since they're strangers, she can't exactly ask the things she wanted. Still, it didn't stop her from trying to befriend at least someone in this place.

"Well... If it helps, maybe she'll find comfort if you deliver something nice to her," she suggested. "Maybe something that'll... Honor ms. Pegg? For her sake?"

Navina's head turned to Kirara for a moment, their eyes remaining dead. However, she can tell there was a bit of a spark in them at the thought—an idea forming from the once burnt bridge of their relationship.

Though they seem to break from their gaze with the doorwoman, Kirara seem relieved when she saw them smile.

"... Maybe. I'll try and... Do that. When Rosaria comes back."

"Hehe, that's the spirit," she tells them. "You better tell me how it goes, okay?"

The deliveryperson nodded with a smile, but they realized something and looked over at their documents.

"Oh, right... Um, I suppose you're done checking, right?"

Oh, shoot!

"Y-Yeah!" the girl nodded, though before she can push the button, they held a hand up. They bent down to grab a package and pushed it through the shoot, their smile seemingly less confident and more nervous.

"... Here, a package from me. Please consider it a thanks for your hardwork, miss," they said, watching Kirara take it with both hands. Inspecting the package, she couldn't help but smile happily at the thought.

Sure, the world was bleak, but... This one may have given her the hope she needs. The light that shows that not everything is as bad as she thinks.

"Thank you so much," she tells them, opening the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

This caught them by surprise.

...

Then, the doorwoman saw them smile.

It reached their eyes this time.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

And just as they stepped through, the door closed behind them, and finally... Kirara can clock out.

She needs to rest when she gets home. She's got a busy day tomorrow, after all.

@/navxry | do not repost my works | 2024 | entry for may ebg 2024 by @/xianyoon

#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ruler of love!#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ love sign from above!#genshinblr may ebg 2024 #genshin impact kirara #genshin kirara #gi kirara #genshin impact #genshin #gi #genshin impact writing #genshin writing #gi writing

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spicerackofblorbos · 10 months ago

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❥ Hi! I love to learn about people and because of my curiosity, I am often inspired to do some sort of visual art from it. Let me show you how I see you in my eyes! <3

❥ I do have questions I would like you to answer (to the best of your ability) so I can make your board as best as I can and those can be found under the cut!

❥ Please send them in an ask!! Feel free to be as wordy as you want! Again, the more info I have, the better it'll turn out.

❥ My rules are as follows:

➸ I am pretty open to a lot of things but please be aware that I do reserve the right to turn down certain aspects of the request if I feel uncomfortable with it. ➸ I cannot and will not put/use explicit images on these boards. I can do suggestive things but don't be asking for [redacted] lol. ➸ Have fun with your responses! I won't post your responses with the finished board unless you send it through anon (if you'd like me to post it with your answers tho, lemme know!) ➸ Please be patient. I do this in my downtime of being a working adult. Feel free to reach out for updates, though!! (:

❥ Please answer as much as you can, but you don't have to do all of them! (the wordier, the better!):

➸ personal color scheme ➸ specific aesthetic (mall goth, neon gamer, soft cottagecore, things like this) ➸ general outlook on life ➸ favorite shows/animes/books/manga ➸ your favorite characters from said things above and why if you'd like ➸ general likes ➸ general dislikes ➸ hobbies/what you like to do ➸ astrological sign and or MBTI ➸ the season, time of day, type of land or body of water (mountains, oceans, lakes, open fields, etc), and weather you associate yourself with ➸ niche interests (space, dinos, animals, mythology, dragons, things like this. Like imagine you're a 6 year old child, what are you obsessed with??) ➸ things specific to you and your life that you want represented visually (coffee, cars, fashion, music, etc etc) ➸ anything you don't want shown (triggers) ➸ words, songs, or phrases that you feel explains who you are as a person ➸ and anything else you think I might have missed that you want represented!! Like I said, the more info I have, the better the outcome will be (infodump on me I beg of you) ➸ ALSO I like to do this thing where I add in something incredibly specific to you, like the most specific thing you can think about. My best friend's boyfriend asked for Shrek with an onion and I had a lot of fun creating that. If there's any question you won't miss, please make it this one. ➸ If I feel like I need a little more, I might DM you! I want to make sure everything is perfect.

#sky.moodboards #moodboards #aesthetics

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savannahsdeath · 1 year ago

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'*•.¸♡ cheating or not ♡¸.•*'

basically a thought about reader having a toxic bf and ellie taunting you about it because she just finds it so pathetic😓also my previous drabble had 222 words and this one has 888?? someones giving me signs i swear

"he was supposed to come over today!" you said, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

❥︎your best friend kept laughing at your boyfriend. at his absence. at your hope.

"told you!" she shouted happily. "told you he's not good for you!"

❥︎you jumped on the bed and pulled the covers over your face.

"ellie, you're not helping." you mumbled. "what do you think he's doing?"

she lied next to you and grinned, seeing your realization. "probably fucking another naive girl."

"come on!" you playfully kicked her. "maybe he's just asleep."

"or got in a car crash, or got abducted by aliens." ellie groaned in annoyance.

❥︎you poked a hand out from underneath the covers, and she caught a hold of your wrist. after a little fight, you were sitting on top of her.

"or, he could have ditched you for a weekend to have a wild time by himself?" she continued.

"why are you saying that?!" you yelled as ellie kept laughing under you. "why are you even putting those thoughts into my head? he loves me, ellie!" you pinned her hands above her head, knowing she's much stronger than you and would easily get away of your grip if only she wanted to. still, she let you have this moment of advantage.

"suuure!" she replied sarcastically. "do you think he imagined it's you while making out with that popular girl a week ago?"

"stop!" you throw your hands in the air in frustration, accidentally freeing ellie's arms and losing your win over her.

ellie grinned and flipped you upside-down again, this time she pinned your arms above your head. "i think there are lots of women more interesting than you. with their own mind and their own opinions. ones that don't just follow their boyfriends-" she sat up and straddled your waist. "and he's going to break up with you... tomorrow." she said in a sing-song voice.

"no he isn't!" you squirmed and tried to escape. "what makes you say that!?"

your protests were met with laughter. "you know i'm right. you've got all the signs. he's acting cold towards you lately, doesn't want to talk to you much."

"maybe it's just because he's busy." you muttered, trying to find some kind of reason behind his sudden behaviour.

"maybe it's because he likes someone else." ellie teased, leaning closer to your face. "don't you think so?"

❥︎you bit your lip and tried to free your wrists, looking to the side as an attempt to avoid her gaze.

you could feel ellie's hot breath on your face as she leaned closer towards you. "look at me." she ordered. "now tell me that he'll stick around. i dare you to say that."

tears started to well up in your eyes. "he'll stick around." you whispered.

"what? speak up." ellie demanded.

"he'll stick around." you repeated, this time audibly. "he loves me!"

ellie smiled and leaned closer, until your faces were only inches apart from eachother. "i'll tell you what he thinks of you now."

"what?" you whispered, dreading her answer.

"i'll show you, even!" she excitedly sat up and without moving off top of you took her phone.

❥︎after a minute of silence she passed it to you - revealing a photo of your classmate in a club. nothing interesting, you thought. but, ellie zoomed on the crowd behind her, where you could see your boyfriend. obviously, not alone.

"what the fuck is that?" you scoffed as she took her mobile back.

"what does it look like?" ellie grinned, leaning forward, now with her phone up in your face. "he's making out with some random chick!" she said gleefully. "at a club!" she laughed and sat back, a triumphant look on her face. "what are you gonna do about it?"

"it's just a kiss." you shook your head, trying to convince not only ellie but also yourself. "it's not cheating..."

"no?" she laughed and leaned down.

❥︎her hands continued to pin yours down, so you won't pull her away, as she kissed you. your eyes widened and you gasped, what made her smile against your lips. you didn't kiss her back but she didn't care and took her time anyways.

"what are you doing?!" you tried to sound disgusted but, probably, failed. "i have a boyf-"

she cut you off with a chuckle. "so kissing is cheating now, huh?"

❥︎you realized how much of a hypocrite you made yourself be, so you quickly shook your head, hoping to fix everything. with that, she leaned down again. this time, you couldn't hold back.

❥︎time seemed to slow in the kiss, as ellie pressed her body against yours. you could feel her legs shifting, until one of her knees stuck between yours thighs. your arms became untied, but you couldn't bring yourself to push her away. your eyes slowly closed, and a light buzz spread from your lips down to your stomach. your head started to spin, as you felt ellie's tongue enter your mouth, and suddenly, what you thought you knew went out the window.

❥︎ellie pulled away after what seemed like an eternity, leaving you breathless. she smiled down at you, seeing your wide eyes staring up at her.

"you and him are still not even." she said, making it sound like an offer, and you simply nodded..

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #reqs open #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #drabble #ellie drabble #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x reader drabble #ellie x reader drabble

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equizona · 3 years ago

Note

Any of the male rivals from yan sim with a reader who is a freaking gremlin and has the title weirdo of the school but really there just a bit wild and is actually very kind sorry if this is long 🥲

「 ▸ YANDERE SIMULATOR 」

feat. Kizano Sunobu, Aso Rito, Osoro Shidesu

warnings : mentions of bullying

note : Oo, first request for the male versions, yay <3

❥ KIZANO SUNOBU

He gets a whiplash every time you do something stupid. Why are you climbing the school fence? Why are you climbing the bookshelves? Why are you trying to fit on top of the vending machines?

You give him a heart attack every time he sees you doing something 'stupid', and he is almost in awe over your confidence and your creativity. Of course, he's way more confident and creative..

But he knows you're kind from when you stay back to help him finish things in the drama club, or when you remind him of something he forgot. Because of this reason, whenever he hears someone talking bad about you, he will shut them down, pointing out every flaw they have instead.

And trust me, Kizano is by far the best of the crew at picking at people's insecurities and making people feel utterly worthless. Don't cross him. Or anyone he has even the slightest affection for, he will make you lose all affection you have for yourself. And a bit extra.

❥ ASO RITO

He thinks you are hilarious. Why shouldn't you try to fit on top of a vending machine? That's the best seating place idea he has seen in ages. Is Kizano's opposite, he will absolutely encourage you to do all the dumb stuff, and he might actually join you, if he doesn't have an important event coming up and he thinks he's safe to get injured.

Though don't get him wrong, he does make sure you don't do anything that can lead to any serious injures. He is all for being wild and having a good time, as long as you don't risk your life for it, or anything like that. Other than that? Sign him up!

Much like a certain purple-haired drama club dude, Aso will shut down anyone talking bad about you real quick. He isn't as effective as mentioned person, but he's so well loved by the school population that his word is almost law. And besides, who wants to disappoint the school golden retriever?

❥ OSORO SHIDESU

What in the actual fuck are you doing? Why are you doing that– Wait no stop that might get you killed– Oh that one's fine, DON'T DO THAT—

He's a mix of the two above. He isn't overly encouraging like Aso, and he isn't overly against your antics like Kizano. He does his fair share of stupid shit that nobody else would dare to do, and every time he is in awe that you join him, but there are some lines he won't cross, and won't let you cross. He's responsible, but also he's exactly like you.

Osoro will also beat up anyone who talks bad about you. And he scares the students so much that nobody really calls you a 'weirdo' or anything like that again. At least, not around you or any of the delinquents. Osoro does have connections with Info though, and he will find out. People are too scared to even mention you anymore.

Osoro is like your guardian dog, who is also very reckless and with join you but with slightly more responsibility.

#yandere simulator #yandere simulator x reader #yandere simulator male rivals #yandere simulator male rivals x reader

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eremiie · 3 years ago

Text

i don’t do drugs (still, i want you)

❥ nsfw | 19k words | eren x reader

❥ content warnings: dubious consent, cheating, infidelity, unhealthy relationships, toxic relationship, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, cunnilingus, drug use (marijuana), mentions of alcohol

❥ eren is relentless and when he wants something, he’ll have it. he won’t even stop at you— who has a noxious boyfriend eren can’t stand— whom he shows you in more ways than one.

happy birthday to the birthday boy <33

“eren’s touch against your skin is hot, burns like a flame, like a sin— and that’s what it is. because eren knows he shouldn’t be touching you like this and you know it too, but for some reason the softening look in his eyes and the drugs running through your system is enough to douse the fiery feeling, and enough to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, this is okay.”

༄

to give your heart to someone and entrust that they won’t destroy it isn’t easy and has never been.

love has never been that simple— it’s always been like playing some kind of game you can only hope to win and eren understands that.

he understands that essentially, he should’ve been the loser of this stupid game— should’ve just gave up as soon as you placed your heart in the hands of someone so contemptible.

someone who didn’t give their heart right back to you; only looking for someone to bend and mold to be docile, to submit to him because you crave every ounce of attention he gives you in return for little to nothing.

eren knows.

but who was eren jaeger if he wasn’t relentless? if he didn’t show his spite so overtly, trying his best to shake up any situation granted with his underlying anger and envy?

he had no issue leaving lingering touches, knowing where to place his hands just above your hips to move you aside, or how to wipe the dollop of ice cream from the corner of your lips so he could catch the twitch of your boyfriend’s eye.

he’d throw amorous remarks that had more hidden under them than you cared to perceive so eren could crawl under his skin because eren could do just that— anyone could do just that.

he turned this so called “love” into a petty game and played it flawlessly like a violin.

inching ever so close to you, pushing his fingers forth until they grazed you— until he could grab you and have you— treat you so much more better than your significant other could ever.

today, eren was closer than he’d ever been.

“wait,” armin watches as the car begins to pull out of the parking lot, jean’s peering behind him to back out of it. he steers to the right instead of the left once he’s backed up enough. it’s not the direction to eren and armin’s apartment and when they reach the stop sign at the opposite end of the complex opposed to where armin’s used to going, he leans forward with his palms on the console. “we aren’t going home?”

eren turns his head against the window until his temple feels the cold tempered glass instead of his forehead. “do you want to go home?”

“i don’t mind… i just thought we were done for the night.”

“nah, man.” connie slouches further in the car seat, shifting sasha on his lap. “those drinks were ass; bert bought that original sin shit. should’ve left the drinks to someone else.”

“wasn’t that bad.” sasha murmurs.

armin glances out eren’s window. the panels of light from passing buildings cast a warm glow over each individual before submerging them in darkness once again. it’s serene and only the sound of the tires on the road below them fills the car. “so where are we going?” he asks, sitting back in his seat.

“ymir’s,” a smooth left by jean until they’re at an intersection, car coming to a stop. he drums his fingers against the leather of the wheel. “just a pit-stop.”

you weren’t even supposed to have gone with your friends, having told your boyfriend you’d just be going out with hitch for a few hours.

it wasn’t necessarily a lie— you were out with her— although not just her, the rest of your friends which he wasn’t so fond of. and you’re sure he read through it, having given you a hard stare when you left your apartment just hours ago, but he said nothing and for you that was enough to slink out of the house and out with your friends.

“how long?” you smooth your pants out with your palms, looking down at your lap.

“just picking something up and we’ll go back to eren’s.” jean turns his head back, the hazel of his eyes meeting yours. they’re concerned, eyebrows pulled together and a small frown poking at his lips. it’s something so jean, to always be first to care when things involve you. “why?”

“she’s not supposed to be out right now.” another square of light moves over eren’s face until you can only see the reflection of one of his eyes then the other before he disperses into dark again. “does he care that much?”

“take a right, jean.” connie says.

you purse your lips because that was something so eren. to always be the first to care when things involve your boyfriend— even when it wasn’t his place to. “he doesn’t want me out too late, that’s all.”

a faint laughter emits from the passenger’s seat. “what is he, your fucking dad?”

armin mutters a small connie from beside you and then you’re picking at the lint bordering the hem of your shirt. “that’s just how it is.”

“girl, what?”

okay, maybe it wasn’t like that— shouldn’t be like that— but that’s how it was with your relationship.

relationships differed from person to person and you knew that, so there was no reason for you to be playing with your shirt and jutting your bottom lip like anything hitch or connie said was absolutely offensive.

“never in any of the relationships i’ve been in did i have a curfew.” hitch reaches over armin, placing her hand on your knee. her nature is dramatic, and you think it’s one of the reasons why you’re able to not take offense to her words. you look up, her bob swinging as she shakes her head. “that’s not normal, babes.”

armin slides hitch’s hand from your knee, gently placing it back in her own lap. “you can’t gauge someone else’s relationship, hitch. if she’s not complaining about it then leave it alone.”

yeah, as long as you were happy. that was all that mattered, that you were happy and that happiness was genuine— and you were sure it was because no matter how down some situations concerning your boyfriend got you he was also right there to pick you back up.

armin’s right— as long as you were happy all your friend’s jokes were nothing more than that. jokes you could brush off and that wouldn’t keep you awake at night overthinking every word that leaves their mouth because a part of you wonders if it really is normal.

but there wasn’t any reason for it to not be. his concern for your wellbeing was justified because he’s your boyfriend. he knew what was best for you and guided you by that.

“i mean, just because she’s not complaining about it doesn’t make it not weird.” sasha comments.

“exactly, that shit is weird dude.”

“that’s not what sasha said, eren.” anyone could assume with how armin said his words that there was annoyance to them because of the conversation, but it was nothing but the way he always was quick to defend you when it came to your relationship.

so, yeah, it’s been an ongoing problem amongst your friend group.

not that it had to be one. it’s easy to just say it’s eren who always wants to put in at least an ounce of input whenever your lover’s mentioned— even in passing. He overachieved when it came to announcing his enmity, and you’re aware.

it’s easy to ignore because it’s eren. he’s good at running his mouth in every sense— sharp and quick with his tongue even when he isn’t right and it was a quality to appreciate when it wasn’t towards you.

it was never on purpose when it’s towards you. it was just the anger boiling inside of him whenever he had to hear about anymore of the bullshit your boyfriend was putting you through. anything that sounded even slightly out of place to him— you and anyone within six feet were to hear his complaints.

it’s easy to ignore when it’s about your relationship.

and that’s where armin always comes in; effortless with shifting conversations, catching the discomfort in your face, or even just shutting eren up because lord knows when that’s needed.

his rejoinders are always witty— but eren’s were always faster.

“yeah, it’s what i’m saying.” eren picks his head up from the window. as small as the action is, it’s almost enough to make you shrink down in the cramped space you were sat in.

you think, in times like these it’d just be easy to dissolve into nothing, to backtrack and listen when your boyfriend tells you to stay home because he probably knew what he was talking about.

“cool he cares whatever, but who the hell is he to tell you how long you can be out? you’re with us, not some strangers. if anything we should be worried about him. it’s weird, he’s weird.”

the light goes green and jean’s finger that taps against the wheel picks up. “eren, you just don’t like him.”

“shut up.”

armin interjects with a sigh of eren’s name but you cut him short. “you don’t know him like that.”

“i know him enough.”

the car takes another turn and you’re apologizing to armin for the second you’re invading his personal space. maybe, it’s also just for there to be some other noise than the silence that takes place after eren’s words.

it’s a long beat of it too, only the hum of the car that’s polite enough to be of some assistance.

connie clears his throat, “…keep going straight.”

“he doesn’t own you. you’re your own person, you don’t have to listen to what he says.”

there’s a exaggerated groan to the left of you. “eren, i swear…” hitch snaps. “you’re blowing my high and i’m not even gone yet.”

“just saying.” eren shrugs. he rests his head on his hand and goes back to watching the street lights melt into a blur then pass by him.

“you don’t need to say anything.” despite your voice being above a mere whisper it’s taut— that faint trace of irritation stretching it tight like drum skin. “leave it alone.”

for another time eren turns his head towards you. there’s a crease beginning to form between thick brown brows and a part of him that wants to keep going because in that same part he keeps every unspoken thought about you and your significant other locked away in a box with any dumb statement regarding the two of you from anyone being the key.

but your tone alongside the unexplainable feeling that resides low in his gut asks him so nicely to do just as you ask. “whatever.”

his anger isn’t meant for you.

jean takes one more turn until he’s parking underneath the leaves of a towering willow oak tree whose leaves cascade another shadow upon the vehicle. it’s a secluded area, no one parked on either side of the car.

it’s unnecessarily dark apart from streetlights across the parking lot standing near the stairs to the apartments. maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bother if the mood wasn’t so dour.

connie digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and then there’s a slight shuffling from the front seat. “twenty from jean, twenty from hitch, twenty from me.”

“here,” three wrinkled twenty dollar bills. he attempts to smooth it out against the console before slapping them in eren’s open hand. “and tell her she’s ugly as a tip.”

“do it.” sasha chuckles. “i wanna see connie get beat up.”

eren’s free hand wraps around the door handle and the dome lights illuminate, a fluorescent glow shadowing over your face. there’s a decompression as eren stands, sliding out of the car while adding his own twenty to the pile in his hand.

hitch sighs, pushing armin aside and forcing you to take leisure in the new space provided. it’s better than before but you can’t help but think everything still feels stuffy. “some space.”

it’s now that eren can see the way your face is deadpan, nothing short of gloominess overriding the features he’s spent time studying. your mood seems to ooze off you in waves; unusually quiet, a little stiff, and restless. he’s always been pugnacious and pushy and some things never seem to change even when they come to you.

ymir’s apartment is across the lot, up the steps, and on the second floor— a short walk but eren thinks it’ll give you a clearer mind and if he can muster up the courage, an apology.

“_______,” he leans down, forearm pressed against the frame of the car door— it’s an awkward angle, but it gets him close to you. enough to see how he’s gnawing at the skin of his lip and looking down when you look up. “wanna go up with me?”

another short moment of silence.

jean looks at eren, a small wrinkle imbedding itself snugly on his forehead. he glances to you next, elbow on the console and knuckles covering his mouth.

jean likes eren. he does. they’d been friends since middle school and sure, they’d wrestled quite a few times and got into more than enough arguments but he truly likes eren.

they were too similar; outspoken, ram-like persona’s that made way for a certain brashness that jean perfected and eren didn’t.

that’s what it is; with a friend like you there needed to be precision to it. to how he said things and how he came off because you didn’t like conflict. you were the complete opposite of cynical and you were lax.

he knew you like the back of his hand, always a step behind you and by your side when you needed it. never overbearing though. there was a time and a place and jean always knew that. he never intruded with your personal life (even if he had his own opinions on certain aspects of it) and he proved to be the defense you lacked some times.

times like this, where eren was skating on thin ice. where he was teetering on being unpredictable and jean wasn’t sure what was turning the cogs in his friend’s head.

he says nothing.

“be right back,” you mumble, although it’s like you’re saying it to reassure jean.

there’d been less awkward times with eren.

for now, you guessed settling for the drag of your feet against the pavement and the reposeful chirps of crickets was your best option. anyway, if eren wanted to speak he would.

he sequentially raps his hand against the door.

after a moments time, a slight breeze greets you and eren when the copper doorknob turns and the gleam of the porch light makes the girl in front of you squint. it illuminates both you and eren’s figure while slightly flickering and you’re able to catch the linger of her eyes on you.

her brown hair tickles her cheeks, the rest of it sitting in a short low ponytail against her neck. there’s a natural pout on her shiny lips that doesn’t budge at the sight of eren and definitely not at the sight of you.

despite this eren’s posture is still relaxed, expression still curved into that never ending frown he always carries. his hand almost too quickly disappears into the pockets of his sweatpants to pull out the four twenties. “a quarter.”

“wow, no hello?” her tone borders offended and she grabs the bills pocketing it before crossing her arms once more. “fuck you too.” finally, a small smirk graces her face, the apples of her cheek slightly rising to showcase the litter of freckles across them.

eren’s eyes flit down to her pockets waiting for her to pull out his money’s worth before rolling his eyes. “hey, ymir.”

“that’s more like it.” ymir hums, sneaking out a small baggy from the kangaroo pocket of her jacket. it’s one of those snack ziplock bags— except filled with greenery. she gives it a once over before holding it in front of eren’s face. it dangles between her fingertips as she waves it back and forth. “your drugs.”

she might be mocking him, but you’re not sure. eren thinks maybe you should’ve just stayed in the car.

the smell immediately smacks eren, lips twitching when his nose catches the familiar odor of what he can describe as earthy— herbal even— with that undertone of the aromatic scent of diesel he likes. his fingertips itch to grab it, and he does, all but snatching the bag from her fingers with a sigh. "thanks."

ymir snorts, pulling herself from the door frame to stand straight up. for the first time you catch a glimpse of the inside of her apartment; a small wooden table behind her with a round lamp fixture above it. the table is a mess of an arrangement of things, including a few bags, books, and what might be a plate of food.

“this your girlfriend?” she’s curious, it’s evident on her face as she looks you up and down. it’s not in an impolite way— though the innate scowl that had been plastered on her face since she opened the door might’ve made you assume so.

eren corrects her with a mutter of your name, though it’s less of a correction and more of a gateway to that possibility.

“you bought a quarter, who else’s here? besides her?”

“what if i just wanted extra for the week?”

“you don’t even smoke that much, i’m not the dumb one here.”

“ymir, get me my change.”

“yeah, okay and i’ll get my shoes too.”

eren doesn’t interject because the door is faster. it’s a small sound of laughter from next to him and he peers down at you. he’d say he’d almost forgot you were beside him but he thinks that's a little hard.

“i like her.” there’s a slight smile on your face and he considers being fine with ymir making a fool of him for a moment.

“i don’t.” he lies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

the air is silent like the crickets stopped chirping and with silence comes thickness. eren doesn’t like the thickness so he speaks, “also… sorry about earlier.”

it’s hard for him to say. apart from the fact that you know he said it to talk, you know he said it because he doesn’t want to be the butt of the reason you’d feel any kind of negative emotion. it’s also genuine; hard for him to say but genuine because he said it.

“don’t make this anymore awkward, ‘ren.”

eren hopes that’s code for apology accepted.

“alright.”

eren isn’t sure if ymir knows what no means. because when he says no it means that getting seven people in a five seater car was already hard and well over illegal. nevertheless eight.

it’s crowded from first glance— anybody would take notice. how sasha’s perched on connie’s lap in the passenger’s seat in effort to give the other four in the backseat— eren, you, armin, and hitch— enough comfortability just for the duration of the ride. jean was the only one lucky enough, and rightfully so because he had been the one driving, sitting alone in the driver’s seat.

it’s why you opted for standing outside of the car instead, just a little bit more of an arm’s length away from eren who was sat facing you in the backseat. even the appearance of the car was enough to make you feel cramped. anyway, there was a nice cool breeze that’d occasionally whip past you— the epitome of spring and it was comforting when paired alongside the slight humidity.

ymir, after scanning the inside of the car, head level with the passenger’s side window a bit away from sasha seems to not care much. “looks like a party.” she hums nonchalantly.

“‘ts not a party.” eren mumbles as he presses the dome light when it fades out once more to shadow everyone in darkness, this time turning it on for good. he calls for jean, who slings his arm over the console and flips his palm up to eren, wiggling slender fingers. eren tosses the ziplock to the boy who catches it in his palm. it’s nice in jean’s hand, and he places it on the rolling tray in his lap.

sasha’s gaze follows the slight throw of the bag, humming with pleasure when she catches her own whiff of it. once the rip of the two sides of the baggy makes that satisfying sound of every segment that was clicked together unlatching one by one, she turns away, ponytail whipping as she comes to face ymir.

the girl unwittingly begins to drag her finger along the black cotton of ymir’s jacket sleeve. they’ve met before, the proximity sasha was to her face, more or less invading her space whether she realized it or not was telling. she smiles small, corners of her eyes still managing to crinkle when she does. “are you here to beat up connie?” it comes out like a purr, a short giggle that dies out soon after it manages to sound from her throat.

ymir tilts her head, amusing sasha. “is that a proposition?”

“just something i wanna see done in practice.”

connie grumbles lowly. he pulls his beanie over his eyes as if both of his friends will truly disappear if he can’t see them. it’s not logical, no, but still he does it and it makes him feel better. “fuck both of you.”

ymir picks herself up from the sill of the car’s window and instead goes to rest her forearms on the top of the car door that was still open courtesy of eren. you can see her look at you from the corner of her eye. it’s that glance of curiosity again, now it’s less than obvious but it’s still there; how her eyes linger.

you wonder if eren had ever said anything about you, and for a brief moment you recall how she didn’t ask for your name when she asked about you. only if you were ‘eren’s girlfriend’. you weren’t eren’s girlfriend but you don’t remember him explicitly stating that to her. maybe that’s why she was looking at you how she was now, eyes trying to not-so-secretly analyze your features as if your familiarity should pop up out of nowhere.

you consider waving at her albeit the two of you quite literally meeting only moments before, but before you do she looks away, down to eren then to the other three in the backseat. “so, what did i miss out on?”

eren isn’t paying much attention, so instead hitch responds, less than enthusiastically as she remembers previous hours. “we went to reiner’s for a bonfire and left early.”

“so i deserve to be here?”

it’s then when eren looks up, not failing to be quick with a response and smart with it too. even if it was a simple as, “no.”

“you wouldn’t have wanted to go anyway.” hitch lamely remarks. “drinks were terrible so we decided the night wasn’t over. it’s why we’re here.”

“they’re being overdramatic, they weren’t all that bad.” sasha rolls her eyes, and it’s like she can taste the wash of the cider over her tongue again. “it was just a bit bitter, that’s it. like medicine.”

connie wrinkles his nose, imagining that almost acidic taste of medicine that tried to hide under some syrupy artificial flavoring he’d been forced to drink when he was a kid coating his throat as he tried his best to swallow it. “medicine tastes terrible, sash…”

“can we not forget we had fun?” armin adds. he was forever the optimist when it came to others (keyword; others), always trying to see the most positive outcome of any situation he’d been put in and it was something to be thankful for, especially when every other person had something to complain about. he turns his head from hitch’s direction to yours, catching the little grin that began to form on your face and returning it with one equally as small— yet still thoughtful. “we haven’t all been together in a while.”

it was easy to say that they hadn’t been all together in a while, maybe because they were busy with school. their schedules differed drastically and none of them really had any classes together. or work even; sasha working part time shifts as a waitress and armin at their universities library.

though, there was you, who wasn’t occupied with any part-time job and yes, school took a toll but you still had less time to be out and about with the rest of your friends.

right, there was that thing where your boyfriend would tell you he’d planned something for the two of you on a short notice after you’d tell him you already scheduled with someone else.

so you’d go with his plans, and sometimes you’d feel drained by the end of the night, barely uttering a word and just following whatever flow he wanted the night to take on. it was easy to just walk in his footsteps and make him happy— a kind nature that you’ve always had because other people deserve to be happy and it’s easier to say yes.

“it was fun.” jean says, his first words ever since ymir had arrived. quiet and easy he speaks and it’s not far from how he generally acts when he isn’t concentrating, but still it makes you step a little closer to eren to peer at jean.

his concentration was stolen by how he sprinkles the cannabis inside the empty cigarillo like garnish. his fingers move nimbly as he goes through this captivating pattern. tuck; use his digits to pull one end of the leaf to the other so he can lick; let his lips slide along the wrap soaking it just enough to roll; mold the blunt so it’s secure before repeating with another segment. tuck, lick, roll— and then pulling back between every motion to inspect. he’s meticulous, or maybe just somewhat tuning everyone out to make sure he rolls this second blunt almost perfect. it’s endearing, how reserved he can become when unbothered and how he can focus all his energy into one little task. you imagine he doesn’t hear much besides the aimless chatter of the car and the sound of his windbreaker sliding against itself with every move he makes.

“yeah, whatever,” hitch sinks in her seat, smoothly twirling her hand around from the back of it to her palm, her fingers coming down for her inspect her nails in mock boredom. “you know what’d be more fun?” she chirps.

jean hums.

“if you finished up.” she says it hush yet snarky and jean, just for a second, considers throwing the luxury out the window.

“i agree.” ymir pulls herself up from the frame of the car door and it sighs from the retraction of her weight, an old squeak sounding. she walks past you— leisurely because no, she still doesn’t care about the car’s capacity— and the scent of her home follows as she does. it’s something like cinnamon alongside a faint trace of herbs and it tickles your nose. when she rounds the vehicle, hitch yelps at the support of the car door on her side disappearing. “scoot in.”

“are you seriously staying?” hitch’s voice teeters on a whine and she goes for the door handle, not yet pulling because ymir’s finger cradle the top of the door. although, if she didn’t have a sense of self preservation she wouldn’t have hesitated to slam her fingers into it. “there’s no space for you.” it’s distressed, and she’s dramatizing her words knowing it won’t help because ymir doesn’t take hints she doesn’t want to.

“that sounds personal.”

“why can’t we just go in your apartment?” hitch frowns, but still lets go of the handle when the freckled girl pulls the car door back the farthest it can go. her hand goes up, beckoning for hitch to scoot in, and not just her but everyone else inside to make do like they’d done earlier that night. and this time it’s her making a proposition they’d just have to roll with.

“my girlfriend is in busy, stop asking so many questions, jesus.”

eren sighs in a way you’d interpret as annoyed, but it contrasts how he turns towards you almost with a bounce. his hand reaches out to place itself on your lower back, palms surprisingly warm. there was this surge of electricity underneath his skin and you’d almost call him giddy by the way he lightly nudges you forward. it was eager almost, like a kid in a candy store wasting no time grabbing it’s favorite delicacy to beg his mother to buy. “c’mere.” he says gently, no room for you to mistake his words.

he wanted to make space by having you sit on his lap. or, no, he wanted you to sit on his lap. it was obvious enough, he didn’t ask you where you wanted to sit and he never asked if you wanted to sit when you were standing outside of the vehicle. not that it should’ve been anything mandatory for him, but it was almost common courtesy and now as eren looks at you— eyes you’re adamant are soft even in the dark and a palm rubbing up and down your back, hot even through the thick fabric of your top— you’re sure it wasn’t just that he ‘forgot’.

“_____, switch.” jean’s voice is steady and he doesn’t take it upon himself to look up at you just sliding yourself into eren’s lap. your feet still dangle outside of the car and eren barely had time to close the door, get you comfortable, or even pull you close.

you swear eren’s palm tenses up from where it now sits over your stomach. he doesn’t speak, and nevertheless, listen, muttering something under his breath that even you can’t comprehend and pulling you back. as back as he can because there’s this strain from you as your facing jean, hand on connie and sasha’s shared seat and your mouth slightly parted with your eyebrows furrowed.

it’s not like they’re furrowed because you’re confused. you know why he wants you to switch— it’s more than obvious— it’s sitting right in front of your face making it’s presence for sure known and you don’t know why you tried to ignore it anyway.

jean’s still not looking, instead focused on not interrupting his stable pattern. “switch with hitch.” tuck, lick, roll.

there’s unspoken rules of dating.

number one is, ask anyone, cheating. you don’t cheat— it’s wrong and it’s always been wrong— in some religions even classified as a sin because to some it’s that wrong. but the term itself when given circumstances and predicaments becomes broad— as broad as the question ‘what’s your favorite color?’. it becomes so subjective and it sinks low until you could ask someone with just a little bit of a sneer what’s considered cheating.

anyone who rationally thinks about what cheating is can tell you, it’s having sex with someone other than your lover. they’ll tell you it’s a simple answer and it’s why its the first rule of dating— because no one in their right mind would cheat on someone they love. but then turn around and ask another person for them to tell you that jokingly flirting with your best friend is cheating too. because to them it’s simple as well, it goes beyond sex, it’s sharing that intimacy reserved for your lover with someone else.

neither are wrong because it’s subjective and boils down to a relationship, but because there’s those roots of it being something black and white— cheating is wrong— you’ll still have someone arguing that it’s not cheating because you’re joking and another mind who says it is because why would you?

there’s layers that go on top of it— the circumstance and predicaments— and when they’re added it molds and shapes cheating into some kind of umbrella term that’s subjective, because A is cheating and B isn’t. whoever wants to stuff whatever under the umbrella will.

and that’s what made cheating so hard to decipher, that maybe in one persons circumstance it’s completely justifiable, that they might even be praised for committing something so heinous because it pulled them out of the mud of some kind of situation that was dragging them down more than helping them float. and in other cases they’d be condemned to hell— lit on fire and burned at the stake because it was something out of lust and just pure adultery.

and maybe in another person’s circumstance both predicaments were worth saving, or both are worth being sent to hell for.

you’re not sure where cheating begins and where cheating ends, but you know for jean it starts where you’re sitting in eren’s lap, and that it’ll end there too.

“what’s the matter?” eren’s playing dumb, more-so playing with fire because jean’s too calm and you know he’s not arguing this. tuck, lick, roll. he still hasn’t turned to look at you and eren like practically the remainder of the car has and he’s still rolling.

eren know’s what’s the matter, but he doesn’t see the deal because it’s just for everyone to sit comfortably, nothing more nothing less. it’s not anything for jean to make a big deal of and that alone makes his eye twitch, the hold his teeth have on the skin of his lip becoming harder.

but it’s a deal for jean not because it can be considered cheating, but because he knows eren. that his advances aren’t just for him to make room— because if that was the case jean would’ve had no problem minding his business. he knows that eren’s good at taking little steps, pushing further into the soft threads of a spider’s web until the thin strands break and it falls.

and god, it truly is appreciable but when it comes to you and you’re already tiptoeing around your boyfriend, jean would hate for you to have to tread anymore. he plays that role of your wall, and he tries his best to play it well because if anyone understands your circumstances it him, even when you don’t.

“don’t play dumb.” jean calls your name again the tone of his voice falling gentle and then stern when he says, “switch.”

“there’s no difference,” eren spits. “fuck off.”

it’s uncomfortable, the tension that rises like thickening blood with every passing second. it’s uncomfortable how you’re stuck half in the car and half out, neck bent so that your head isn’t touching the ceiling of the car. you breath out as calm as you can muster, although it’s a bit shaky. “it’s fine eren, hitch can just—“

“—no, you’re not doing anything. i’m not doing anything.” it’s just like earlier, a harsh snap of his voice and you know he’s not upset with you but he’s speaking to you and it makes your stomach start swiveling.

jean’s doesn’t think he should have to repeat himself more than three times.

“eren just switch, it’s fine.” armin tugs at eren’s shirt. “we just don’t want her getting in any trouble.”

if you weren’t in his lap you’re sure eren would’ve yanked away with the way he slightly shifts away from armin. “what fucking trouble? she’s fine, she’s not sitting on my dick,”

“she is,”

“connie, shut up,” there’s a quick sound of a light slap from the front seat and it doesn’t take two to figure it hit connie with the small ‘ow’ he elicits. somewhere in the back of your head you thank sasha for knowing how to read a room.

eren doesn’t and you know so when he continues on, “and it’s just for all of us to fit back here.” he starts again, now beginning to gesticulate with his free hand all while unconsciously pulling you further back into him.

the atmosphere is tense, yeah, but it’s begins to fade to tired as well when eren slowly gets louder as he speaks. it’s a trait that arguably could win anyone over because who wanted to bicker with someone who wouldn’t shut up to listen? “we didn’t ask to take your car, sasha had her truck— plus you want hitch to walk all the way around just to sit with me? dude, that’s—“

“okay, eren.” it’s irritable, and a hand goes up to pair with the voice. “okay.” ymir says.

it’s like a breath of fresh air when he truly does stop talking. but still, from the front seat jean is quiet.

when eren relaxes you in his lap completely, he’s still quiet. when eren asks you if you’re okay and comfortable and you nod quietly instead of making noise just incase jean hears, he’s still quiet and it’s the beginning of the pool of guilt that you don’t know will grow by the end of the night— that’ll become swampy waters that stretch from one side of the earth to the other and drowns you.

there’s a thought in the back of your head that has you asking yourself if you should say something. say anything to erase the irked face you know jean’s holding, even when he’s not facing you and it’s another drop to your guilt. because really, you’re in control. if you just got up and switched, eren despite the protests would let you.

because he was a lot of things; aggrieved, zealous, and every synonym that was laid between those two words in a thesaurus. but albeit this there’s a part of you that’s aware that when it comes to you eren tries. he does try to be as level-headed and passive as possible. it was never an easy feat, but he tries and you think that’s all that matters.

so, yes, if you got up now eren would let you. but you’ll sit anyway because cheating is subjective and it’s just for the session— nothing more and nothing less.

༄

“schrodinger’s cat.”

there are rolls of smoke aimlessly floating around the car like billowing waves that live to shoot for the shore then draw back. they cloud the air trying to seep through the windows and failing miserably.

the car lights were out now again, instead the only light visible being the warm streetlights some distance away that lined the walkway of the complex. they weren’t bright enough when you were as far as the vehicle was away from them, especially considering there were some lights flickering and others taking on a more dim look. they’re on their last blunt, rotating it around the eight of them until it’d become nothing but a roach— the remnants of the blunt that if you weren’t careful enough threatened to burn the tips of your fingers while you held it.

“sounds like the name of a dick,” connie fans the air, coughing slightly as his head rolls back against the leather of the seat behind him. the windows were fogged up with more smoke that clung to it as if it was begging to be let out to breathe its own breath of fresh air. “or like, schrodinger’s pussy.” he giggles.

armin continues, passing on the blunt that was pinched between your fingers instead of taking a hit. “there’s a cat in a box, a poison that releases toxic chemicals that has a fifty percent chance of killing the cat and the box is sealed shut.” his eyes dart from sasha— her head poked out as her elbows support her from where she’s leaning against the console— to you, who is actually, out of a few people in the car listening.

yes, it’s dark in the car but with the help of the street lamps he can still make out your body resting on eren’s. you weren’t entirely on him. some of your back was leaned up against the window while the remainder of your weight in your legs stayed on his lap. armin imagines it’s not that comfortable, but there’s a dumb little smile on your face and eren’s left arm is around your lower back, finger tips peeking out and grazing your hip, so maybe it is— for the both of you.

if anything, it was clear the atmosphere was comfortable again. it wasn’t as if anyone forgot about what happened moments ago but more of a ‘life goes on, let’s just have some fun’ kind of thing. everyone was satiated, content, and instead of thinking more about earlier’s events, thinking significantly less. it made way for a blissed out atmosphere, full of lively giggles and stupid chatter that as stupid as it was, was worth listening to.

“why is the box sealed shut?” sasha asks. stupid chatter, chatter worth listening to, and asking questions about apparently.

“because if the box wasn’t sealed shut the theory wouldn’t exist.” armin looks towards the girl again, zoning himself back into the topic of discussion. “so the chemicals have half a chance of killing the cat… because you can’t see inside the box, the cat at the same time is alive or dead.” he’s hoping for amusement, a light bulb to go off in someone's head to announce that they get it, but there’s nothing. just more smoke that quite literally blows in his face when sasha exhales and then follows the routine of passing right. armin flutters his eyes shut for a brief moment.

“how?”

“because sasha, with atoms you can’t guess, every possibility of them existing at once exists.”

“dude,” connie adjusts in the front seat, the sound of him scooting up on the leather as he pulls sasha back and pokes his head out next to his friend. “hit this and shut up,” the arm with the blunt in his hand pops out from in-between the two front seats, in front of armin. he gestures for the blonde to take it, head nodding once and arm reaching out more. “it’s all sounds stupid, like… some doctor strange type shit.”

armin shrugs his shoulders, hand on connie’s wrist to pull his own hand a bit back from his face and in hitch’s direction from beside him who beams when she’s allowed to take the blunt from connie’s fingers and bring it to her lips instead with a hum. “schrodinger’s pussy sounds more stupid, connie.” she retorts, more or less on armin’s behalf.

“it makes sense,” he sighs, sitting more straight and letting his hands come up as he tries to give a more thorough explanation. it wasn’t anything that necessarily needed to be explained but it was a thought provoking subject and simple enough that someone had to get it. “well with a smaller scale… with atoms… but we’re made up of atoms though right? so that possibility should still exist with us shouldn’t it?”

a cough to his left.

“it’s quantum superposition, with that kind of logic there’s the possibility that we— like maybe you,” he points to you, “can exist in multiple places at once— and if that’s a reach than in a different universe, because of the many worlds theory there could ultimately be parallel universes.”

connie nudges sasha, “i told you it sounds like marvel.”

ymir exhales in a way that’s loud and meant to be heard as if she was feigning annoyance. for one, she’s uncomfortable, squished up against the window, the car hot— hot as in she can feel it on her skin and her clothes are a few degrees away from sticking to her. she has two reasons to be annoyed and the third was armin’s rambling about a subject that she couldn’t give one or two fucks about. “what was that all for you to say though?”

“i’m researching it right now in one of my classes, it’s just something to sit on.”

she takes one more hit before speaking, “is he always like this? like, that talkative?”

“depends,” eren glances to armin who is rolling his eyes. “but smoke him up enough and he’ll stop talking completely.”

“it’s also just a theory to prove how absurd it is.” armin says in a way you’re not too sure was him being snappish or not. “that being said, i'm still here. one hundred percent alive.” his hand that was motioning to say ‘i can still hear you’ falls back down to his lap.

there’s a small gap between the car door and jean’s seat right next to his head that ymir sticks her hand through, signaling jean to take the drug between her fingers. he does, and it’s then that you’re reminded he’s there. awfully quiet, and not like it was anything new as far as the night had gone but nevertheless awfully quiet.

you didn’t think he was still upset about earlier. sure, he was able to hold a grudge, especially when push came to shove but it was just eren. he knew how eren was. he could be annoying, a little prick and everything in between but it wasn’t anything for jean to be throwing the silent treatment for.

and he surely wasn’t upset because of you— he couldn’t have been— but the initial thought was still there just because he asked for one simple request that you weren’t able to fulfill.

he brings the item in his hand to his mouth, wrapping the skin of his lips around it once, chest rising as he completely draws everything he just inhaled in, then twice, this time slowly letting go of the smoke inside his mouth like the steam of a tea kettle does when the water reaches it’s boiling point. the smoke twirls around him, and when he passes to sasha again he catches your eye and the corners of his lips come up just a little bit.

it’s a little bit and it’s why another brick falls on top of the layers of them already stacked in your stomach, a flimsy sticky note labeled “guilt” slapped over it. eren shifting in the seat, pulling you closer to him and moving his hand up and down the small of your back doesn’t help. you lean into it anyway.

“it was cool to hear though, seriously.” you nudge armin’s shin with the tip of your shoe. “jean, are you okay?”

the street lights barely work, but you can see how he slowly begins nodding his head. “yeah, i’m cool.”

“oh my god, is he still pissed about earlier?” hitch asks, maybe a little bit exasperated.

“i’m not pissed.”

“but like… you were.”

from in front of you there’s suppressed giggles, that slowly grow until it’s sasha and connie full on laughing (and coughing, connie) to fill the silence that took place after hitch’s words.

“i’m sorry,” sasha interrupts herself with another laugh before her hand comes up to her mouth, squinted eyes shutting more than they already were before she inhales and tries again. “i’m sorry, that’s not funny.” when she looks at jean, who she can probably see better than you can, she takes note of the slight knit of his brows and she wonders if his face could get stuck like that with how many times he’s made a face similar in one day. “okay, okay, but i get what jean was saying earlier though. it’s a principle,” she reaches over the console to place her hand on his thigh, only for him to move it away. “anybody else could’ve squeezed with eren.”

“thank you,” jean mutters.

“we’re already in the car now so get over it.” eren doesn’t say it as bitterly as he could've, actually in an easygoing tone, but the words still stand and jean has to hold his tongue.

he was supposed to be high. he helped finish out one blunt and now they were passing around a second one and he knows he probably is, but there was this tension that refused to leave his body that should’ve been wiped out by the cannabis which clearly wasn’t doing it’s job. and it’s not like ymir sold him anything that wasn’t top-shelf but the thought crosses his mind for a minute as if it was trying to excuse eren as a factor.

“what’s the principle?” ymir questions, a tilt of her head. one thing she didn’t do was hide her curiosity or keep her thoughts at bay, and you had come to realize that tonight.

“when you’re in a relationship you respect whatever boundaries are laid down.” sasha smiles.

it’s like the bell armin wanted to go off earlier finally does— except for a completely different reason. in the dark, ymir’s eyes light up and she very clearly looks at you, piecing together every single puzzle in her head. there’s a hum in her throat as she leans further to get a good view of you perched on eren’s lap.

she studies how you’re no longer against the window, instead trying to rest your head in the crook of his neck. how both of your legs threw over his lap, your shoes in armin’s personal space. or how eren’s hand rested on your knee, rubbing little circles around them that seemed to ease him more than they were you.

“so she is in a relationship?” to her, there’s no one else she’s speaking to other than eren. ymir raises her eyebrow, tilting her head even further, comedically at this point, looking at you, then eren, you, then eren. “she’s the one with the shitty boyfriend? the one—“

“—yes. yes.”

she grins at how quick eren cuts her off. “i knew you were familiar.” seemingly satisfied with herself, ymir leans back into the small space that was supposed to serve as her seat in the car. “that is a principle… so why are we breaking that principle?”

“good question. eren, why are we breaking that principle?” jean’s tone is almost mocking, he’s intrigued now. he’s looking for a real answer, one that’s raw and splayed out in the open for why eren didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

“because some principles need to be broken.”

of course, eren wouldn’t give him one.

“schrodinger’s cat, right? if you know there’s a chance something could happen after weighing your options, why wouldn’t you take a risk and break a principle to eliminate that something?”

a car passes by for the first time, headlights gleaming bright and head on and the smoke within the car becomes clear— almost resembling fog. then the headlights pass over the car full on and silhouettes you and eren as he exhales the smoke from the drug he just inhaled right by your face.

“i said you know of all of the possible chances, not that you stop them.” armin says.

“you also said the theory is ‘absurd’—“

“what’s the ‘something’, eren?” jean’s head is against the headrest, him facing the backseat completely now.

and eren’s silent, hitting the blunt one more time, sucking in a sharp breath that you’re sure had the marijuana simmering well in the pit of his lungs before he lets it go, only a wisp of smoke leaving his lips.

ymir throws her head back, mouth wide and she’s laughing.

she’s genuinely laughing, loud and brimming with pure amusement. it shakes her whole body so that her shoulders are bouncing like they’re preparing to ballonné and she’s placing her hand on hitch’s knee, holding her stomach with the other. “oh you guys are a fucking mess.” she cackles, lips still upturned in this smile that showcases her front teeth when she begins to calm down. “eren, especially you.”

there’s the sound of the car door opening, handle snapping back into place when ymir opens the door. the dome lights turn back on, and then the smoke begins to roll out as she slides out. “this was fun,” she says once she’s out of the car. “but it’s late as fuck.”

hitch immediately slides over, and you’d think you’d slide out of eren’s lap too but you don’t.

“drive safe, whatever,” her eyes that you can now see are small and are dancing with red bounce from jean to eren. “don’t kill each other.” she grins.

ymir mutters something about needing to stretch her legs and it’s less than a goodbye before the car door shuts and the lights fade out until there’s nothing but an impossibly loud silence and darkness taking over.

༄

marijuana is a fan-favorite for a reason.

there’s nothing more enjoyable than the sensation of every single one of your limbs unlocking, becoming weightless and airy. nothing for you beats the daze you sit in for the next few hours, head feeling light, and everything heightened— like you're experiencing life for the first time.

it’s like you’re floating— it’s true what people say, that it’s something you’ll wanna feel again and again because being able to let go and realize that maybe things aren’t that bad was ecstasy. that if there was euphoria hidden somewhere in life, you’d have no problem searching for it if it made you feel like this all the time.

that’s what was so good about it, that you’re able to feel like you can let go while still knowing.

you’re subconscious still thrums and lives when you’re high, it’s in the back of your mind being a spectator, and that’s what made it so different from alcohol. that hours after your expedition, after you’d run around the world twice and took a nap you’d still be able to remember everything via your subconscious. you’re aware and you’re aware from the second you feel the drugs hit you until the second you feel the weight of the world pouring back onto your shoulders.

your subconscious is alive and breathing and it provokes every aspiring thought that conjures in your head. it tells you how much of a shitty idea eating the whole pantry will be, it tells you that in a way schrodinger’s cat was just plain stupid and shouldn’t be considered a theory, and it tells you that you’ve been making stupid choices all night.

it tells you that you’ll regret all this later.

you’ll especially regret saying yes when eren asks if you want to spend a night at his apartment after you tell him you don’t want to go back to you and your boyfriend’s apartment that night.

“what?”

jean’s arms are crossed as he leans against the car, armin next to him. it’s parked in front of eren and armin’s apartment complex, sasha, hitch, and connie still inside of it.

it was simple, really.

there were circumstances and predicaments but there were also principles. there were principles that, like armin said, tell you to not gauge a relationship. because cheating isn’t black and white, neither are relationships and that’s what eren fails to realize.

it’s not his situation until it is and he’s being selfish.

eren’s being selfish— and his approach to your situation even more.

“my god.” eren says it like he should be the one tired. like he’s been bothered all night, like jean trying to be a good friend was taxing on him and he should just let eren run free rein.

“no, you can’t keep doing this.” jean says sternly, because if eren has to listen to one thing he says tonight it needs to be this.

“she’s just spending the night, jean.” eren’s hand that’s wrapped around your shoulder flips up in question. “what do you think i’m gonna do?”

the way eren speaks as if he doesn’t know what possibilities lie ahead drives an incredulous scoff out of jean.

he’s not stupid and he knows eren’s not stupid— that’s the problem— he knows eren, so he can’t bypass what he knows eren’s capable of and what you aren’t.

“she can have my room, i’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what you’re worried about. it’ll be fine.”

“jesus, you basically said the same thing about her sitting with you in the car! you’re doing a lot.”

“i’m not doing anything besides her a favor.”

“you’ve been pushing boundaries all night, chill the fuck out.” jean’s expression is austere and his words likewise.

maybe, eren wouldn’t have to push boundaries if your relationship was healthy.

maybe, eren wouldn’t have to push boundaries if you were his to begin with.

“jean, it’s fine,” you pull eren’s arm from around your neck and take a few steps forward until you’re standing in front of jean.

even just where you stand the tension is rolling off his body in heavy waves and again, your conscious is flourishing and tells you to go home. that your remorse will eat you alive and spit you out and yet, “i said yes, it’s okay.”

eren pockets his hands, relaxes his shoulders and breathes out. “see, she’s cool with it.”

“listen,”

“jean, just let it go.” armin interrupts. he looks tired, annoyed and ready for the constant back and forth between his friends to be over. “seriously, it’s late, just get home safely.”

༄

the sound of the car grumbling on the road seems to annoy jean.

either that, or his friends messing around in the backseat.

whichever one it is, is leaving this constant buzz against his skull— like a rowdy bee trying to rush its way out of his head.

the buzzing, however had been prevalent the minute jean hugged you goodbye, telling you not to do anything stupid with as much sternness as possible without sounding callous.

the moment onward, the bee at the front of his head was only buzzing dully, trying to be a pain in his ass (like eren) and making him way more aware than he should’ve been of everything around him.

now, the buzz is exasperating him and he doesn’t even feel high anymore— he just wants to curl up in the comfort of his cotton covers and coax himself to sleep.

hitch’s fingers smooth over jean’s windbreaker where his elbow sits against the console. she’s forcing a frown on her face. when jean glances over for a split-second it morphs into a smile and then she’s laughing out her nose. “what now?”

she leans in, ignoring the fact that he’s driving and he leans more towards the window, features grimacing even further at the lack of respect of space, but he doesn’t push her away.

“he’s probably still upset about eren.” connie says.

he’s not wrong, not wrong at all, but jean still glares at him through the rearview.

sasha scoots up until she’s in between the two front seats, following hitch’s movement of playing with the nylon of jean’s jacket. “i don’t get why you’re so worked up, it’s just eren.”

jean’s quick to pull away, placing his free hand on the wheel and really trying to just focus on the roads. how the trees fly past the car, the headlights that light up the cracking concrete, or the stars that litter the sky. “exactly.” he doesn’t mean for his mouth to be slick with distaste when he answers, but it is.

hitch sits back in on herself, pulling her legs up to her chest and humming. “do you think they’re gonna fuck, or what?”

the trees, the headlights, the stars.

“schrodinger’s cat, there’s a fifty percent chance it will happen and a fifty percent chance it won’t.” hitch shrugs. “until you see her again, you don’t know if they fucked or not.”

“that’s still not what the theory is saying.” jean mutters, eyes still on the roads.

“okay well then fuck the theory— whatever happens happens.”

“so you’re asking me to wait and see if eren gets her into trouble?”

“you can’t do anything now, and whatever does happen… just help her out.”

jean licks his lips with disdain, but gives a defeated sigh knowing hitch’s words hold some truth to them. there’s nothing he can do from his car and there was nothing he could’ve done when it came to eren.

now, he could only wait it out and help with the consequences he’d catastrophized.

the bee seems to have given up, only humming lightly now. “yeah.”

༄

armin fiddles with his earlobe as he squints between his remaining friends while standing stiffly beside the door he just double checked was locked.

despite the influence of weed armin can tell the air feels thicker than it was outside, full of liveliness that especially coats both you and eren.

still, he knows something dense has already settled in the buoyant room.

“night, armin.” eren’s eyes flit towards him, green pools brewing with something ulterior and armin’s aware that whatever it is is irrepressible.

he’ll choose to ignore his gut.

“goodnight.” armin waves to you and eren, then trudging down the hall until an echo of the door shutting sounds through the apartment.

eren stands up first, hand out for you to grab it. “are you thirsty?”

you do, nodding your head and letting him lead you to the kitchen.

you stop at the countertop, resting your weight against it as you watch eren maneuver around the small space, grabbing two plastic cups; one detailed with an array of pumpkins and the other with the half scratched off name of some organization.

he grabs a water bottle from the fridge, swiftly untwisting the cap and emptying out an even amount in each cup before looking at you with amused eyes. “which cup?”

you grin, pointing to the one resembling a halloween theme and eren’s walking over bowing as he hands you the purple cup. “here you go.”

“thank you.” you bring the cup to your lips, taking a sip before letting the cup cool your heated hands.

there’s no talking, but it’s comfortable— it’s serene.

you’re happy, it’s the serenity you were looking for the moment you stepped away from your problems and into the comfort of this apartment.

you couldn’t count how many times you smiled today, how many times you’ve laughed and it all seems to make up for the tinge of displeasure you felt when first arriving. the slightly odd feelings you felt before you piled into the small car.

you’re at peace of mind and eren can tell, shifting on his feet because he doesn’t want his next question to destroy the calm ambience in your head. he never means to be the person that does that, he tries to leave that up to your boyfriend.

your boyfriend.

“do you want me to drop you off tomorrow?”

eren watches as the clear skies in your eyes cloud up quickly. he looks down, grabbing your empty cup and stacking it with his to carry to the sink instead of having to let the small frown on your face stir guilt in his chest.

“i’ll just uber or something, it’s fine.”

the brunette cranes his head back, thick brow raised above his eye. “why?”

he watches your gaze bounce around the room and the shrug of your shoulders before you answer. “easier that way.”

the boy tucks his bottom lip, trying to suppress the small smirk that wants to counter. he ambles over until he’s right in front of you, feet to feet.

eren’s close enough that you can make out the lightest wave in his thin strands from the stress of his buns, or the red of his squinted eyes that contrast the green glimmer of his irises.

“you know i don’t like him, right?” him, but you’re one hundred percent aware of who eren’s referring to.

a scoff, “you’ve made it a little too obvious.”

“it’s not just for any reason.”

your lips press into a thin line, not breaking the eye contact you began holding with the man in front of you.

“you don’t want me over there when he’s there ‘cause you know how he is too.”

“did i say that?”

“you don’t have to say that, it’s obvious... he’s always on you for no reason, that’s not how a relationship should be.” you’re trying to recall the last time he was in a relationship to tell you how one should go, but you keep quiet.

eren thinks if he told you the reason he’s still single, the conversation would be nothing but a two step, but he’ll choose to tango with you anyway.

“you shouldn’t be watching over your back every second because he’s insecure. he shouldn’t make his insecurities your issues...”

as your humming your acknowledgment of his words he’s turning you around by your shoulders and your slowly teetering over to couch with him, step in step.

“i mean what’s his deal with you having been with us tonight? you’ve been my friend longer than you’ve been his girlfriend, i don’t get why you let him walk over you like that.” your plop onto the couch, eren beside you. you know it’s better to let him ramble.

“armin sees it, jean sees it— he’s an ass and you let him be one. you don’t even speak up for yourself when it comes to him anymore.” his hands flail out as his sentence comes to an end and he doesn’t seem to be flattered by your lack of response.

you give a short sigh, letting your head fall to the arm of the couch, turning onto your back and squishing a leg between eren and the couch while the other rests on his thigh.

“i speak up for myself when i need to. adding fuel to fire isn’t my forté, eren. you know that.”

you speak for his own satisfaction but you make sure every word that departs from your lips is firm with no cracks in between them for eren to argue with— it’s what you’ve been avoiding all day— an argument. and as long as you were in such an elated state you’d continue to avoid one.

eren sighs, but not like yours— it’s twined with remorse. a warm palm settles upon your ankle, its thumb giving a small apologetic rub to the skin.

sometimes he wonders why he can’t have such a calm, cogent way with words like armin.

albeit your stern words, when he looks up you seem to be the reflection of what he wants to sound like when he speaks to you.

your body is softening into the couch as you get comfortable and the shadow of an alleviating smile is barely there when you meet his eyes.

you’re simply laying there, breathing tranquilly, watching and waiting for eren to continue blathering— and that’s all you’re doing, but all you’re doing reminds eren why he’s here in this heady state, shooting off at the mouth in the first place.

you exist and you mollify him and he wants to try again.

“look... i’m not trying to lash out at you again, my bad. i just really... really care for you and i don’t like seeing someone like that treat someone like you... like that.”

the small chuckle you make at how he tries to compose his words urges him to keep going. he’s not even sure if you’re really paying mind to what he’s saying or just liking how he sounds, but yeah, he’ll keep going.

“he shouldn’t be... telling you where you can and can’t go, when you can hang out with who... i don’t like that.”

“mhm...” that entrancing smile, it’s now clear. it’s faint, but eren can see it and he adores it— especially considering he may be the cause of it.

and yes he is, because watching him fight to find the right words all while speaking slowly and carefully is a sight.

“you can do better. someone who will respect you, trust you… maybe try making friends with your friends who’ve been there before he came around.”

“well, that’s oddly specific.” the snort you make turns into harmonious laughter from the two of you until eren is drifting downwards so his cheek is met with the arm rest next to your head.

you turn your own head enough to see him in your near-peripheral and adjust yourself to make space for him to lay sideways between your legs on the small couch.

he slides his hand up so it’s ghosting the skin of your belly, fingertips hiding slightly underneath the cotton of your shirt. the touch is almost too there.

“or, makes you laugh,” like he just did, “smile a lot.”

you’re quite good at playing this oblivious game, both you and eren know that.

when he runs out of words to say it’s that silence where it’s too quiet. that weird ringing sound resonating between your ears.

it’s not uncomfortable though, it’s far from that— even the exact opposite— you’re too comfortable resting beside eren and you’re too comfortable with the warmth of his palm as he creates circles on your lower left belly, from the hem of your leggings to your supple skin and back.

you were too comfortable on his lap, too comfortable spending a night and you were too comfortable downplaying every occurrence for so many months.

so now, you’re here in this deafening silence, comfortably laying beside eren who is thoughtfully gazing at your profile.

when you look back at him you can see that undying passion that overcasts his eyes. you can see him blinding.

eren’s passion is something you’re all too familiar with, something that bubbles so greatly within him that he overflows and it’s difficult to put a lid on. he’ll go against his morals, go against what’s right when his passion blinds him, because once his eye is on the prize he won’t stop at anything to have it.

but his passion isn’t the only thing fogging his vision, it’s the feel of your plush skin against his fingers and the meek look on your face that’s mere inches from his. it’s the fact that he knows he finally has you in the palm of his hands right where he’s always wanted you— and there are no protests coming from you to stop him from having you.

his passion is blinding but so are you.

and he’s sure you’re blind too, because you don’t stop him from leaning towards you. you don’t stop his hand slipping from underneath your shirt and moving to cradle your jaw, gently using his index finger to turn your head completely his way. you don’t even stop him when he gives you the chance to opt out with only his eyes, afraid that if he speaks it’ll snap you both back to the reality he doesn’t want and you’ll find your own voice to scramble away like a mouse.

and even with his query expression you’re acquiescent, like your boyfriend taught and eren‘s not stopped when he presses warm lips to your own, letting them sit idle so he’s allowed to catch up to time. realize that there’s no reality to snap back to because the reality he wants is here— now.

clarity runs through his nerves and then he’s languidly moving his lips against yours. gentle like when you pet a timid cat for the first time, cooing them and speaking in a hush voice so they don’t flee.

he doesn’t want you to flee, god, no— but he’s not sure how long he can keep up this agonizingly slow pace. his fingers press further against your cheek and he turns on top of you so his face can level with yours, deepening the kiss.

this passion he has for you spills from his lips and floods into your mouth. he’s not sure if you can feel it but he likes to think you can, from the way your hands that used to hover at your sides move to scrunch the fabric of his shirt to how your completely moving your lips against his.

perhaps you’ve thrown away your morals too, or maybe you’re still ethical, you’re just doing a little evil for your own greater good.

eren’s lips tremble against yours while he contemplates pulling away. he’s scared for the next step— scared of what you’re thinking and how you’ll react— but as much as he wants to he can’t kiss you forever.

when he pulls away it takes you more than a few seconds to open your eyes. both of your chests heave like you ran a marathon, mouths parted and pupils dilated.

tan fingertips press a bit too much pressure into your cheek, but likewise you’re gripping his shirt just as tight. his eyes watch yours dart across his features like he’s analyzing your next move. pink lips are flushed, a dark eyebrow is twitching, and olive skin is smeared with red.

it’s eren looking at you like this.

it’s eren you just kissed.

it’s eren and not your boyfriend.

this is wrong, and you know that but for some reason you won’t let go of eren’s shirt, you’re not pushing eren off of you and you’re not cursing yourself for listening to eren and not jean because this is what he meant when he urged you to go back with the rest of them.

so if this is wrong, why don’t you feel that skin crawling guilt? why did you like feeling eren’s pretty lips against yours and why do you want more?

the weed, it’s because of the weed.

that was the only explanation you had for yourself, you’re high, it’s not your fault, you’re under the influence— but your conscious—

“hey?” the boy above you lightly taps your cheek, pulling you from your headspace. the shift of emotions on your face had to be clear as day since he begins softly stroking your cheek and shaking his head. “calm down.”

calm down? your heart was beating against your ribcage and you weren’t sure if it was the moment at hand or the drugs. calming down was easier said than done, yet eren seems to be the epitome of calm.

yeah, the situation was feather light for him because he’s not cheating and you are.

that’s right, you’re cheating. it wasn’t subjective anymore, you were cheating.

“eren—“

“i know, i know… but you want this just as bad as me, right?” the pad of his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. green eyes flit down to watch it bounce back into place and you swear he inches forward a little before looking back up at you.

“i…” did you want it like he did? i mean, no one would find out, right? plus, maybe eren was right about everything he was saying to you… you’re high, no one would know, and maybe eren is right.

"it’s clear i want you.” eren murmurs. “always have.”

but the more you try to convince yourself the more you realize that you’re making excuses to be with eren for one night.

“eren—“

“it’s alright.”

his voice flows like water down a stream, talking way to untroubled for your liking. it’s like there isn’t an ounce of apprehension in his body.

truth be told, you can’t recall a time where eren jaeger feared anything he wanted, always fighting tooth and nail into getting his way.

he pulls his hand from your face and grabs your wrist instead to place your palm against his nape. your hand molds to his neck and he leans down to string kisses from the corner of your lip to your ear.

eren’s touch against your skin is hot, burns like a flame, like a sin— and that’s what it is. because eren knows he shouldn’t be touching you like this and you know it too, but for some reason the softening look in his eyes and the drugs running through your system is enough to douse the fiery feeling, and enough to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, this is okay.

eren’s breath fans your earlobe and he’s speaking in a husky voice you know too well.

“trust me… i’ll make you feel good.”

you’ll sleep with him just for one night, because you’re high, no one will know and it won’t be anything more or anything less.

and just like that, eren is hiking your legs up on his waist and your strengthening your grip around his neck letting him carry you down the hall.

he gently shuts his door, then setting you on the bed softly and turning back doesn’t seem like an option anymore.

his curtains are sheer and the blinds are open, letting in the least amount of moonlight that casts enough light to make him out.

he pulls his shirt over his head, the black fabric getting thrown to the floor before he’s slowly stepping towards where you sit on the edge of the bed gripping the sheets unbeknownst to you.

the boy grabs your hand, a gesture that as simple as it is makes you almost stop breathing for a second. and how he tests your name on his tongue doesn’t help.

you repeat his name back to him, and saying it in the confines of his bedroom embodies a fall from grace.

eren enjoys it though, biting his lips to repress a smile that could easily be mistaken as wicked, as he truly knows what he’s doing.

his hand moves from your palm to the hem of your sweatshirt, tugging at it so you get the memo. you feel stuck, like moving even the slightest inch would expose your indecency to the world, so your eyes stay locked on eren’s hand.

“take it off me.” you croak, yet for some reason that’s better than doing it yourself.

“lay back.”

when you shuffle up on the bed, back hitting the bed frame, eren follows along, crawling over top of you and lifting your sweatshirt over your head.

the material blocks you from seeing the awe glimmer in eren’s eyes, and the flicker of hastiness he has to see you in all your glory. whether it be lust, or pure adoration, it’s there.

he adds the sweatshirt to the growing collection of clothes at the floor by the bed and eren leans down to simply feel the warmth of your body against his. his nose buries into your neck, eyes fluttering shut and hands roaming the expanse of your stomach.

it’s like it’s what you need to ease up, limbs unlocking and heart slowing down. you cautiously place your hand on his nape, fingers brushing through the tiny hairs that were left lingering.

and then the gentle sound of a kiss, a flame ignited even further in both your bodies, and another, and another against the tender skin of your neck.

it’s the last ingredient to this recipe you needed to say fuck it, the last ingredient to let you give yourself away because eren even with the lightest press of his lips to your skin leaves you with a taste of what he can give you.

you want what he can give you, you need what he can give you. “more.”

how pleasurable could a simple request be?

eren plants more kisses, up until the corner of your lips and back down until the valley of your chest. his hands fumble to unclasp your bra to continue his administrations. it loosens around you and your breath catches in your lungs when he tugs it off completely.

“god,” he mumbles, fingertips moving to twirl around your nipples as he goes back and forth to mark your skin with a wet kiss on either breast. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s hard to even say thank you,but eren takes the small moan you let out as one anyway.

he moves up to nibble on the skin of your collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin and lips delicately sucking long enough for when he pulls back for there to be a faint bruise adorning your skin.

eren seems pleased with himself, for the few seconds he stares at it before his eyes flit up to yours, cloudy under the moonlight. fingers skim over the hickey and he goes back for more, seemingly not able to get enough of skin on skin, skin on lips.

“eren, what if…” you suck in a breath when he begins again at the junction of your neck and shoulder and like they’re on autopilot your hands string through his hair, scrunching and drawing him closer, farther then closer; you don’t know which one you want. “what if he sees?”

not even a flinch at the prospect.

it could be your imagination but he bites harder, then pulling back and letting his tongue swipe over the forming mark. “let him see.”

you whimper— either at the odds of him seeing or at how eren rolls his hips down against yours before connecting your lips once more— who knows, but it’s melodic to his ears and he repeats his movements again.

and again, and again until you’re mirroring his motions. your hips itch to meet his, trying to taste how he feels perfect against you like a puzzle piece. “jesus…” eren whispers as your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck while your lips search for his.

it’s funny, because albeit all your actions, every time eren looks up to meet your eyes to look for that continuous confirmation that you’re okay, they’re closed.

he quietly sighs before using one arm to still your hips and the other to prop himself up while he gently brushes his lips against yours then to your ear, and lastly grazing your helix before whispering, “what do you want?”

with only a little hesitation, “you.”

“look at me and tell me what you want me to do.”

a little hesitation, but your eyes open to be met with jade ones boring into yours.

he makes the butterflies in your stomach wake up, your legs tighten around his waist, and you hate that he has such a commanding effect on you.

it’s not like your significant others, though. it’s in a fashion that threatens to push you to be submissive, to be compliant for him in a way that you know doesn’t escape beyond sex.

it’s how it should be with your boyfriend.

eren’s teaching you more than one thing today without even knowing it.

“whatever you want, just want you.”

whatever you want, he reiterates in his head.

eren slightly loosens his hand around your hip. against your collarbone he nibbles gently, eyes flitting up to watch you watch him— watch you relax under every soft bite he leaves against your skin.

he’s proud to see that, the way your body deflates under his touch and melt into his and for the briefest second he wonders, could your boyfriend make you do the same?

that’s what he thinks he wants.

he wants to make you feel so good you can’t think of anyone else carving out your body the way he can. he wants to fuck you so good that you’ll come back to him because you can’t think of anyone else but him. yes, that’s what he thinks he wants.

and from your peripheral, when eren lifts his head you can see the way his eyes darken before he pulls back completely to slide down. his fingers tug at your leggings and with them goes your underwear, gathering at your ankles. you do eren the favor of kicking them completely off. your knees knock at his sides as if you were trying to close your legs forgetting eren stood in between them.

he hums at this, going back to kiss your sternum, then dragging his lips down until they’re cocooning your navel, like petals protecting its bud. your eyes squeeze shut as his mouth stays there, breathing hot air before pressing another kiss that makes you cringe because it’s so gentle. it’s so unlike anything eren’s been all today and you’re almost worried for what his administrations mean for you.

you know this moment won’t pass as easily as you think. it’ll be something that lives within you, haunting every single moment you spend around your supposed lover, eating at you alive. and it’ll be something eren will bring up with no remorse. good or bad intentions— you know he’ll use it to push you further into a corner until you have no choice but to break under the pressure because you know he wants you— and the satisfaction of this moment the two of you are sharing was never going to be enough for him.

eren’s relentless, and he walks alongside the walls you’ve built, slowly pushing every loose brick until he can watch you crumble under the foundation you never had in the first place.

his palms are warm on the back of your thighs, sliding upwards until you bring your knees to your chest. you’re on display, like a trophy in a glass case for eren to view and admire. or, you’re the medal he knew’d he’d be wearing from the jump.

“okay?” he asks, but it’s not much of a question because he’s still trailing downwards to leave the trace of his lips against your clit— and you’re tensing up— a small squeak leaving your throat before you’re relaxing. your heels drag down his upper back as your body goes pliant again, chest falling and hand moving to settle in the mess that’s his chocolate hair, dusting his neck.

he moves one hand until his fingers are snagging around the thin hair tie that kept his locks tame, pulls so that they fall over his shoulders and you’re in awe. how the curtains act in unison with the moon to cast across eren’s face a light that highlights his cupids bow, the flecks of green in his dark eyes, and the stray hairs that tickle his cheeks. the pillars of light fall over half his face in fragments and you allow yourself to wonder if eren’s always looked like this.

he smiles slightly, maintaining your gaze as he places his hands back on your legs and dips his head down until you can feel him breathing over your cunt. he relishes in your whimper when his tongue kitten licks at your lips, hot and wet and enough for you to press your heels more into his back.

it’s like a first drop of poison when he’s touching you in a place that wasn’t supposed to be reserved for him, and it’s clear for the both of you that there’s no going back.

eren hums at the fact, and at your saccharine taste, something that’s only you. something he can’t compare because it belongs to you. it sits before he’s dragging his tongue through your folds in a slow, savoring manner. a shaky breath exits your lips so he does it again, slower, more tedious so that your fingers scratch at his scalp tugging him forward.

he this time, full-fledged smiles against you and meets your eyes when he does; pleasure and near satisfaction in his, unleashed want and need in yours.

you throw your head back against the pillow underneath you, screwing your eyes shut and bringing eren impossibly close so he can wrap his lips around you fully. but he doesn’t, he lets them just sit against you tauntingly.

he wants to hear you say his name, be sure you know who your legs are draped over, whose hair your hand stays entangled in.

so like you’re reading his mind you do, breathy and lewd, and it goes straight to eren’s cock, jumping slightly and making his eyes flutter shut.

“yeah?” a simple word searing and ripping through you. and you feel like you’re melting under the pressure of his lips, when they close around your clit sucking gently.

“please,” a simple word laden with everything eren could ask for and more, washing over his skin in flames and igniting a groan from his throat.

he gives you some more of what you want, pulling back for a minute to bring his hand to your entrance, and the pads of his fingers against you make you shiver. thick and teasing and you find yourself asking again, please.

“my fingers or my mouth?”

he’s mean when he says it— as if you can’t have both— as if when with him the world isn’t your oyster.

“eren, both.”

“then beg me…” the tip of his middle breaches your cunt and there’s your heels again, pressing down into his shoulder blades. “like… like you were.”

you whine, shifting your hips downwards so his fingers move deeper; but he’s not dumb, following your motion so it’s still his fingertip that sits pretty.

he murmurs your name lowly, stirring arousal within your blood that prompts for another broken, “please,”

your own fingers tug at his hair trying to get him closer to where you needed him the most. eren barely budges, eyes low and flickering between your desperate eyes that glisten like your cunt because you want him.

you think you want him, but it’s his mouth against you that you want, completed by his fingers. “please— your fingers, your mouth, i want it.” your legs shake, hips rocking with need and the desperation that clouds your eyes, and it’s a whine of his name this time. “eren, please give it to me— ‘want you.”

a shudder runs through eren’s spine, quick and sharp, and he’s burying his middle finger deep into you, tongue following. he’s skillful, swift with it as he licks between your folds, obscene noises eliciting from both you and him.

you’re reminded that he’s done this before— no doubt about it. he’s been with girls before you and more likely after you— he wasn’t yours, you weren’t his.

eren’s free hand falls from your thigh and goes to knead at the skin of your hips. his fingers sink into the soft flesh to tug you closer than you could even be because, the more he had a hold of you, a taste of you the more he wanted to crawl into your skin— infatuation with you loud and booming in his ears.

“you’re so fucking good,” he moans, breath fast, quick. “so fucking good.”

you think the same; he’s so good how he pumps his fingers in and out of you with prowess and takes his time learning inside of you with his mouth. like there won’t be a time he won’t have you after this, so he memorizes and appreciates, because there may not be.

he adds a second finger and pulls his mouth away. you’re tight around them, pulling him in further when he sits up on his knees and moves to lay beside you.

the tension in his scalp releases when your hand leaves it, dropping to his shoulder then his chest. the frayed ends tickle your neck as he peers down at you, face softening when he can see you clearly again.

you’re beautiful; lips forming a pout because you’re so needy for him, eyebrows knit above your pretty eyes that are all the more mesmerizing in the dim light.

he leans down to connect your lips again, and he enjoys how fast you reciprocate, tongues dancing and only the slightest clinking of teeth. you’re rocking down on eren’s fingers again because the pleasure that’s building inside you heightens when you kiss him. it’s rough but filled with the passion eren holds, and you moan into his mouth, fucking yourself on his fingers.

eren presses himself against your side and even through the various fabrics that separate the two of you, you can feel him hot and hard in his sweatpants, mirroring your actions to relieve the tension you were almost oblivious to.

because he was so wrapped up in making it about you, that your mind was clouded only focusing on the pleasure he gave you, how his fingers felt inside you.

he treated you in a way that your boyfriend didn’t— it’s hard not to remind yourself.

your eyebrow twitches and you sigh into eren’s mouth. your left hand reaches down to stroke him through his garments.

he chokes out a whimper and you’re closer, your pleasure teetering over the edge and ready to spill— and when eren’s thumb goes for your clit, rubbing slow circles that contrast the movements of his fingers— you do.

it’s hard and surges over your whole body in waves that shock you one after the other. your body tenses then spasms, pussy clenching around eren’s fingers tight like a vice and releasing before repeating— his fingers drenched with what’s only you.

high pitched, loud moans bounce off his walls and your head lolls against his shoulder as they fall into whines that are soft and melodic to eren.

your body’s feverish and hot and your chest rises and falls rapidly as he brings you down, still sliding his fingers in and out of you slowly. “fuck, _____.” your head slumps against the pillows again, and eren takes a few moments to admire you— a sweat sheen over your face but to him a glow.

he pulls out, smearing your slick over your clit before bringing his two fingers up to your lips, pressing slightly until you obediently open up for him.

his jaw clenches watching you take them in. your mouth is warm and wet but in an entirely different way than your cunt and eren throbs in his sweats.

“jesus,” he croaks, sounding almost fatigued. you sigh at the sound of his voice again, and drag your tongue from his palm to his fingertips.

the remnants of something tart, almost sweet lingers on your tongue when you pull off and when you meet eren’s eyes— so blown out that the infamous emeralds almost cease to exist— you let your legs fall back together.

he buries his head in the crook of your neck, fingers falling from your lips so the saliva on them leaves a small trail on your chin and groans. “you’re a fucking dream.”

your eyes close, lips still parted and the feeling of eren’s cock rigid against your hip so prevalent. “eren,”

he licks at your neck softly, hips shamelessly pushing into your side to get any ounce of release he can. “yeah?”

you think you want eren.

“fuck me.”

the soft rhythmic breathing of eren’s hitches at your words and his cock twitches in his pants.

the warmth of eren disappears from beside you as he rolls over off the side of his bed, reaching for his bedside drawer.

you follow his movement, observing how he’s haste to reach for the cardboard box, fingers fumbling to pull out a thin square of foil.

he’s hard to make out completely from where he’s slightly bent over, deltoids flexing when he goes to place the box back inside the drawer.

eren stands straight up again, glancing at you before he tears the packet open with his teeth— and no, he’s not yours.

he slides his sweatpants off and his boxers follow, and he’s nothing short of your imagination. your whine is telling— back of your hand sliding over to your mouth and your knees knocking together.

eren chuckles, crawling back onto the bed, shadows slinking over his muscles like the pelt of a panther as he does. you each out for him when the bed dips more near you, hands for a brief second being illuminated by the glow entering through the curtains when they slide up to his neck.

your fingers hook together behind his head and he grabs at your forearm gently, turning his head just a bit to press his lips against the skin.

a peck so delicate, like he could break you— have you shatter into pieces like a mirror— leaving eren left with nothing but fragments of glass capturing the shimmer of moonshine.

he wouldn’t want that, he thinks.

eren realizes apprehension still has some sort of loose hold on him, but the brief reminder that this is all he’s ever wanted and hopefully what you want— whether it be just out of lust has him repeating the same gentle kiss to your other arm.

“you alright?” he knows the chances of you saying no is slim to zero, but still he quietly asks.

“this is wrong.”

before it was a thought in the back of your head. something you tried to ignore lest the guilt eat you inside then out.

but eren who your legs are wrapped around— leaning over you where the two of you mold a secret in his room— is your constant grave reminder.

“we haven’t been doing anything right.”

“i don’t get you, ‘ren,” you tug him closer until his heightened breathing can be felt fanning your face. “you just don’t know when to stop.”

“you’re my holy grail; not with you.”

you smile.

eren pulls back to completely open the packet in his hand. he reaches over quickly to place the foil on his bedside table, then rolling the rubber over himself.

you hum, watching unabashedly— better yet— rousingly. “how do you want me?”

“i can have you any way i want to, can’t i?” it’s cocky, taunting, but above all it’s true.

there hasn’t been a time you’ve said no to him tonight. just following along with his words because something about him compels you to just trust. to just be amenable.

eren’s convincing and you compliant that for as long as you remember you’ve been able to be pulled at like a puppet on strings.

it’s not a bad thing though— with eren, no. as ironic as it is, there’s a sense of free will that it gives you— knowing you don’t have to do much thinking to give and get pleasure.

knowing you’re simple being is so tantalizing to him, and that in a way commands him. it’s a paradox, and you revel in it.

“any way i want you to.”

eren hums. he rests his forehead against yours, holding himself up with one arm, the other reaching for himself.

the first press of him up against you has you clenching around nothing but the feeling of his tip. it almost would’ve been embarrassing if how wet you were wasn’t already.

eren begins pushing into you and your mouths part simultaneously. it’s good; the way you suck him up. tight heat perfect around him— warm and slick and just good.

“god,” eren bites his lip, a sharp exhale leaving his nose and his eyes shutting. “you don’t know what you do to me.”

he wants to stay here forever. doesn’t even wanna move, just feel you around him— feel your body below his, hot and soft and everything in between.

when he connects your lips again it’s a half ass kissed, your lips just sliding against each others as eren bottoms out until his hips are pressed snugly against yours. your legs unwrap from around his waist, hiking up until they’re once again near your chest while your arms fall from eren’s nape.

“i need,” his hands move up to your own, entangling both your fingers. another sloppy, dumb kiss before his lips on yours is gone again. “need you to move, eren.”

and maybe, in another universe he’d be quick to tease— take his god forsaken time just to spite you— but he’s just as desperate now that he knows what it’s like to be in you.

his hips pull back until only his tip resides at your entrance than forth so you’re crying a moan that you prayed didn’t wake armin up.

“need you so bad,” you whimper again, squeezing eren’s fingers with your own. “faster.”

“you just want me to fuck you,” he says it low, matter of factly not even looking at you— instead where the two of you are connected— watching how he slides in and out. “want me to ruin you.”

“yeah, yes,” you nod hastily. “want you to fuck me so good.”

“he doesn’t?” testing the waters; or diving head first.

and it shouldn’t make the pleasure in your stomach turn its gears, small waves of it rippling through your body. it’s wrong for you to like eren’s words, yet here you are whining at them.

and eren knows you like them, if how you suck him in tighter is telling. “he doesn’t fuck you like this?”

“eren,”

“tell me,” he fucks you harder— with more purpose— the lewd noise of your slick being moved around by his cock every time your hips smack against each other. “does he turn you inside out? have you crying for his dick like this?”

“fuck…” and it’s worth pitying, that you enjoy this. your eyes meet his and you shiver because they’re dark and inciting. “eren,”

his hand slides from yours, moving over the sheets until you can feel his fingers breaching your lips again. they sink into your mouth, the pressure weighing on your jaw so that it falls open enough for him to see the way your tongue moves around his digits.

“like i do?”

you whimper so pathetically, a noise that spurs eren on, him moving his fingers out and to the side to make place for his thumb to sit perfectly inside your mouth.

“no, right?”

your lips close around his thumb, and he thrusts it and out so slightly, but it’s enough alongside how he fucks into you for tears to prick at your eyes.

you shake your head.

“no?”

another shake, and then a limpid tear falls from your right eye and through the second of a blur you see the small smirk on eren’s face before he comes down to place a kiss on your tragus.

“i know, baby.”

you sob as eren’s hand— fingers still coated in your spit move down to your neck while he pecks what began as benign kisses from your ear to your jaw.

they travel down to your neck just above his hand, and then it’s tongue before teeth and teeth before the harsh suction against your neck that has your head reeling.

“don’t think you’re gonna wanna go back after this.” and something near a laugh elicits from his throat, “don’t want you to.”

and he makes it known with the bruises he leaves behind on your neck, no way to cover them up with how they sit clear in the center of your throat.

“eren,” you cry again, shaky and pitiful.

eren understands the stigma behind cheating. he understands your reluctance and the position he put you in, but, god if getting to fuck you like this wasn’t a power trip he didn’t know what was.

getting to be buried so deep inside you, getting to hear his name tumble from your lips in the most titillating way, you simply being his in this very moment— all things your boyfriend couldn’t have right now— and eren flourished from that fact alone.

he lifts himself up, grabbing both of your wrists and holding them together as he continues to fuck you, feeling that tightness coiling in his abdomen.

it’s like a fantasy assembling right in front of him; your breasts bouncing with every forward thrust of his. his markings adorning your neck like a necklace. your bruised lips swollen and pretty. and then that contorted expression of bliss that graces your features— eren’s doing.

if he knew better he’d say never in a million years would he had thought you’d be splayed out under him like this; but he knows better.

eren gets what he wants.

he groans and he knows he’s close, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on your wrists. “wish i could come inside you.” a thought that comes forward with no regard.

“next time he tries to fuck you, have you like i do my come’d be in there last.” you’re tainted with eren, and either that or the stutter of his hips, the whine he emits makes you come loudly.

you’re thrown over bound, a series of sobs leaving your lips accompanied by the seizing of your body. it’s the image of eren over top of you, jaw dropped in unimaginable pleasure as he comes himself— inside the condom— and if you had a clear sense of mind may you’d not have been a little disappointed.

your body continuously jerks, convulsing around eren whose groaning, head dropping to your chest and just pressing his lips over your skin.

his grip on your wrists loosen. you’re spent, and he is too.

༄

you’re not sure if you’d fallen asleep, but it couldn’t have been for long because you can still catch the glow of the moon on the rim of the glass sitting on the bedside table.

your heart rate is slower, the thump in your chest that was so apparent earlier back normal, control of your body as well.

whether it was the drugs or eren that had you so fucking high, it wasn’t good for you, and you knew that then— knew that more now.

the bed dips behind you and a soft wind falls over you before the weight of the navy comforter cloaks you.

“i got you some water.” eren clears his throat befoe his body heat is on your backside. his hand slides over your hip, the skin, then the fabric of your underwear and you supposed he cleaned you up too. “…if you need it.”

you’re still watching the slight wobble of the water in the glass, body a bit tense when his hand moves upward to your stomach.

the air is simply different. no longer alive with the haste, adrenaline filled atmosphere that used to surround you and eren.

you weren’t running on the blunt you and your friends circled around earlier. you were fully conscious and aware.

the air is limp and cold; remnants of your mistake and eren’s like a last varnish poured over a melancholic painting.

eren’s aware too; he pulls his hand away. “i’m sorry.”

and it hits you; the emotion you’ve been setting aside and excusing for the last few hours.

a sickening, overwhelming sense of dread pours over you, coating every inch of your sweat-slicked skin and suffocating every pore on your body.

it’s grotesque— making you shrink on yourself, pulling the covers up to your chin and hoping that if you’re still enough the guilt and maybe eren would go away.

a ragged sigh from behind you and eren murmurs your name soft and carefully.

“this is so wrong,” you mutter. “i’m not a good person.”

“you’re a better person than him.” his voice is low and quiet, vibrating through the pillow both of you lay on.

you didn’t feel like a better person. you were so quick and careless to throw something away for a second of pleasure, but why?

what was so enticing and infatuating about eren that you were willing to risk something you were clinging onto so tightly for that pleasure? what made him so easy to fall in line with, to play a game crafted by the devil and sell yourself to infidelity?

“but i’m not a good person.” you sit up, covers sliding down your body and you realize you’re wearing eren’s shirt. it does nothing but add to the layers of shame sitting like bricks in your stomach. “it doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, it’s the fact that you— i even had the right mind to do this with you!” your voice picks up as your sentence comes to a close, booming compared to the silence of eren’s room, to the rest of the house.

or maybe it’s not loud; it’s the way you, who rarely raises your voice, always calm and subdued finally has some kind of thunder that bursts behind your eyes. it’s hard and it’s a look eren thinks is meant for him, his own guilt beginning to claw at his bare back.

and maybe if eren was one to think about his actions or the things he says before he says them, he would’ve thought before he bites with a harsh timbre of, “armin is still sleeping.”

it’s not the first time eren has raised his voice at you, and yet your mouth still shuts, eyes flitting to the comforter in your lap as if you were back in the car with your friends and he’s reminded of your persona at heart— everything he struggles to be.

“i’m sorry,”

“stop apologizing, stop saying sorry, sorry doesn’t change that we did what we did.” you close your eyes a crease between your brows forming as you bring your hand up to rub at your neck. “i fucking cheated.” the words are painful and weary and eren winces at them.

he watches your fingers massage your skin anxiously, sliding down until they graze the marks that are now bruises that adorn your neck. you lift your head up to look at eren, eyes slightly wide and brows furrowed. you’re sure the hickeys are faded into something not short of an ugly color. something you’d hope concealer and time would hide.

what was it about eren? that made you let him do this to you?

“he’s gonna kill me.” you whisper. it’s eerily quiet, hush and eren forces his eyes shut once the realization glosses your own that the stupid moon emphasizes.

it always boil down to him, what he’s going to do to you, what you have to worry about him thinking. him, him, him and eren practically feels his body alight with everything he felt earlier; what you know too well as his fire.

the reason why he overtly expressed how he constantly felt, the reason he pushed you over your edge, taking you to his room— and sure, tell him he feels guilty and eren will tell you yes, he does because of how your own guilt crushes you and leaves this penitent expression on your face he can’t look at for too long. but suck every ounce of guilt that swims through eren’s veins to unveil his regret and you won’t find it.

there’s a part of him that as sick as it is to admit doesn’t regret his actions. he knows they’re bad, he knows what he did is condemnable but eren thinks if it could push you even further from your significant other and more towards something more freeing it’s what he wants.

“he’s not going to kill you.” eren pushes himself up to sit in front of you, and no longer speaking with remorse, instead that fire he burns. “that’s the problem… we fucked up, it’s bad, i know, it was fucking stupid— its my fault— i’ll take the blame, but you just…” he sighs harshly as his palm smooths over his face. “stop thinking you’re a horrible person.”

what was it about eren? that at the end of his sentence where he sounds angry and tired, your body deflates and the thunder in your eyes dissipate back into that compliant and dejected look you’d been carrying.

silence settles in between the two of you for a few moments before eren beckons with his hand for you to come forward. “c’mere.” he hesitates to say it when you’re still for another moment, but his words mirror the soft way he said it back in the car and you’re shuffling forward on both knees until he wraps his arms around you.

you mimic him, wrapping your arms around his midsection and fitting your head into the crook of his neck. his skin is warm, embrace strong and tight and you think it’s somewhere you want to stay. you breathe him in— cedarwood and musk with the air of sex— and your body slackens even more.

what was it about eren? that despite the rush of emotions from earlier, despite the predicament he put you in, you’d still come at the motion of his fingers and relish in the comfort that is him.

“you came here to get a break.” his hand strokes down your back. “why would you need a break from someone you love?”

“when have you ever been in love to know?”

“i have an idea of it.”

you leave the tenor of eren’s words floating in the air.

“so much of an idea it doesn’t take me much to figure that you aren’t happy.” eren uncrosses his legs and spreads them to make space for you between them. it’s not a push of boundaries, it’s so he can be even more of that comfort he’s letting you have. you shuffle closer.

“we don’t ever have to do this again. we can forget about all of this, whatever, i don’t care but i’m not gonna let you think you’re happy. you wanna tell him i’ll be beside you. you wanna forget, we can forget.” eren grabs the dark fabric of his shirt over your skin, slightly twisting it in his grip. “i’m sorry i put you in this situation— i’m sorry— i know, but you’re seriously more than he deserves.”

you’re impossibly close to eren, so much so that you can hear his heartbeat thrumming quietly in his chest. feel how his jaw moves overtop your head every time he opens his mouth to speak— to apologize. you think that maybe, it’s you who’s giving eren comfort.

you think that maybe, there won’t be another time eren will have you as close as this and he’s relishing in what he can have before you’re gone.

he only pulls you tighter.

“you’re kind and smart and just so damn perfect, and he doesn’t let you show him that. i hate that _____.” he whispers. “hate it.”

and that’s what it was about eren.

that eren— the flame on the end of a match burning bright and furiously could become as somber and only the remaining warmth of what was when it came to you. it was that you, someone who never challenged him could make him like that— like water washing away fire until there was nothing but the linger of smoke in the air.

and it’s that he gave you what you wanted and in return he got plain and simple you. that you got everything you craved from him without being molded into anyone you weren’t. that when he became rambunctious and loud it was no where near scary. it was that if you put your foot down, the slightest rise in your voice softened him and that it was nothing like how it was with your supposed lover.

it’s that comfort that is his arms, a place that never made you tense or that you yearned for because you didn’t get it enough. the comfort that was his touch anywhere along your body and yes, it made you feel guilty but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret.

it’s was eren himself, who taught and gave you everything your boyfriend couldn’t and he was what you looked past because there was this hope that maybe, just maybe there was something you could do to mend your broken relationship, when really it was never you.

goosebumps traveling up your bare legs and arms and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed. “when it’s good with him it’s good. makes up for all the bad.”

“need someone who can just give you the good.” eren murmurs. “you deserve something so good.”

eren doesn’t say he wants to give you all that is good.

neither you nor eren mentions what he wants, whether it had been what was surface level; your skin on his, or what was deep, your heart.

and he was okay with that.

༄

it’s early the next morning that you collect your things. you switch out eren’s shirt for your own, find your phone— texts from jean and hitch and numerous missed calls and texts from your significant other that makes a nasty feeling settle in your stomach.

you find eren in the living room, television on in front of him but his eyes fixated on the floor until he hears the sound of your footsteps behind him.

“i’m leaving.” you smile small, awkwardly waving before heading to the door to slip on your shoes.

eren watches with big eyes and parted lips as if he has something to say— and he does— so many things he wants to say, so many words he wants to leave you with but instead he stands up hastily, embraces you in one more hug that leaves you with the notion that things will be alright.

you’re okay with that.

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