#There is a truly scary amount of people out there calling her a “he” and it makes me irrationally angry.

[amaryllisandbluebells]

Yeah, headcanons and all but at the same time if you misgender Naoto Shirogane (WHO IS VERY MUCH A WOMAN) and insist on this being the obvious truth I am spraying you in the face with water like a dog for disregarding character arcs and commentary on societal issues in favor of your own projection.

[lenasai]

this is one of the campaigns i spotlighted a while back. ghazi's campaign is progressing, but very slowly - too slowly for the circumstances he and his family are living through. €500-€1000 short term goals are taking an excruciatingly long amount of time to reach.

his situation, in his own words (emphasis mine):

When the war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023, my relatives and uncles took refuge in our house, thinking that it was the safe house, and 5 days after their displacement to us, the occupation carried out a brutal and violent bombardment on the neighborhood next to us. On the morning of Friday, 10/13/2023, the Zionist occupation called my older brother, asking him to escape, evacuate all the buildings of the entire neighborhood, and head to the south of the Gaza Strip. It was very suspicious and scary and we didn't know where to turn. We had to evacuate. I had to flee with my family to a safe area, leaving behind my neighborhood, my home, my shops, my work, my memories, literally everything. We took refuge with our relatives in Al-Maghazi camp, and 12 days after we were displaced, on 10/25/2023, the occupation bombed the bakery opposite the house in which we were displaced, and I was injured in my foot. On the left side and an injury, my brother suffered minor burns to her face, and the house became partially destroyed, but it is the only shelter we have, so we restored what we could to live in the house as much as possible. On November 4, 2023, warplanes targeted the bakery after it was destroyed again. Thank God, none of us were injured, and nothing was done here. We were able to restore, but we cleaned and sat down because there was no other place, and on the morning of Wednesday, January 3, 2024, the occupation made a sudden ground entry into Al-Maghazi camp, and here we were surrounded and we could not leave the house. There was no water, food or any other necessities of life. We just sat and heard the sounds of shelling, bullets and missiles. We are waiting for our turn to come. Until Sunday morning, January 7, 2024, we miraculously managed to leave Al-Maghazi under bombardment and took refuge in Rafah. I had no one or relatives there, and we built a tent to shelter me and my family. On May 28, 2024, we were displaced for the sixth time after nights and days of violent bombing on tents in Rafah’s Mawasi. They were displaced and we did not know where to run. I cannot describe the situation adequately; I think you've seen enough on the Internet. I lost my home, my shops, my family's source of income, and I was left with nothing. I have lost many friends over the past four months. However, I feel nothing but complete helplessness and inability to help my family. The feeling of helplessness is humiliating and painful, as negative thoughts dominate your thoughts, such as thinking about suicide or wishing for death to escape this feeling. But here I am breathing again and thinking of positive solutions in the face of crushing death. I'm trying to cling to life.

today, ghazi made an update: his campaign finally reached its €9,500 short term goal. the next one is €10,000. let's help him reach that goal by the end of next week! i think it's completely doable, but he needs your help. even €5 helps, but if you truly cannot donate, then please spread his campaign in the hopes that it will reach someone who can.

this campaign has been featured on the @gazafunds website and i trust its legitimacy.

€9,629 / €10,000 (short-term) - €371 left to short-term goal

€9,629 / €50,000 total

please share this post so other people can see this campaign!

[kaizokuniichan]

Zoro x reader; gn! reader; some heavy petting; alcohol use; MDNI; purely self-indulgent

The one in which Zoro finds ways to irk the shit out of you because it’s fun.

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Zoro loved being annoying. More specifically, he loved annoying you. From the moment you’d stepped aboard the Sunny; wide-eyed and subtly inching away from him, he vowed that his sole purpose was to fuck with you. It was quite easy to fall into that routine, considering there wasn���t much fanfare in the development of your relationship as crew mates. He acted as he pleased simply because it felt right.

You couldn’t stroll past him without him cracking his eye open and calling out to you, badgering you with a lofty quip.

“Oi.”

“What? What is it now?”

“Pass me that bottle of sake.”

You’d look down, noting the bottle mere inches from his boot, and with an exasperated sigh, toss it back to him with all of the force you could muster. He’d catch it one-handed, devilish smirk widening at the impact of it hitting his palm. You’d been trying to aim it at his head, and the thought of your petulance made his ego swell. Irritation radiated off of you, but you’d still obliged. And that fact scratched at something so deep within his chest that he simply couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop. And that’s all there was to it.

He’d also taken up startling you whenever he could. You tended to be very uneasy around him after all. He’d sneak up behind you, and with his gravelly baritone, inquire “what is it that you’re doing, staring off into nothing like that?” You’d jump with a shout, whirling around with fire in your eyes and a curse upon your tongue that dripped syrupy sweet into his ears. Smacking his shoulder, you’d stalk away, mumbling to yourself about how childish he was.

It was more than obvious to mostly everyone what he was doing.

“You seem to be paying an unusual amount of attention to someone,” came Robin, that mysterious, all-knowing twinkle in her gaze.

“You’re acting like such a little schoolboy,” Nami scolded.

“You know, you could just use your words,” Usopp would murmur.

But Zoro wasn’t one to care much about what people thought. And you remained oblivious, just how he liked it.

Drinking with you made him truly insufferable. It was one of the few times you could stand to be in his presence for more than ten minutes, given you were just as much of a lush as he was. Unabashedly he’d cling to you, whining about how frosty you were towards him. You’d try to go off on your own in search of a local pub. But he insisted you were “too much of a weakling” and “there’s too many big and scary men out there, you need someone to protect you.”

“That is literally the most insane pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” you spat. “Either you come along or don’t. Regardless, leave me the hell alone.” Without bothering to hear his reply, you began to walk away.

“Actually, you know what,” you spun around, “I’m not gonna babysit your hopelessly, directionally challenged ass. Just wait right here and I’ll go grab some booze from the kitchen.”

You had a real mean streak about you when it came to Zoro. But that’s ok. He liked it that way, too much in fact. Your short fuse made it all too easy. It wasn’t his fault you kept fulfilling his every whim, albeit, begrudgingly. He’d have nothing to work with if that wasn’t the case. As it stands, he was the only one who could push your buttons like that, and boy did that feel good.

You’d barely made it back to the deck, balancing an armful of booze, when he hooked his arm around your neck and guided you to the crow’s nest. Silently, you followed his lead.

As the two of you sat on the rounded bench overlooking the deck, you took one of the bottles of wine and passed him his own bottle of sake. Drinking in silence, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, following the golden shafts of sunset caressing your skin. Once twilight and stars speckled the sky, you both were well, and truly buzzed; him red-cheeked and buoyant, and you relaxed and giggly. It was his favorite look on you.

Somehow, his head found it’s way onto your shoulder, and your fingers carded through his mint-colored hair. Both of you took a swig from your respective bottles and settled deeper into the cushions of the bench.

“Why do you keep testing my patience like that’” you inquired.

“What do you mean,” he sighed, turning his face into the crook of your neck. You were always so warm, and you smelled so, so sweet.

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers continued crawling along his scalp, grip tightening slightly.

“Ah. Well. It’s fun I guess. Gives me something to do.”

You hummed, turning your face slightly towards his. With one hand you tapped his forehead to get his attention, and he looked up at you, unfairly long lashes fluttering over his eyes. Squeezing his cheeks with your other hand, you bumped your nose against his.

“Stop fucking with me, or I might start to think you like me,”

“And what if I do?”

Your body recoils, but his arm wraps tightly around your waist before you can shuffle your way out of his reach.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, I know you’re not that dumb.”

Your grip on his jaw grows tighter.

“I swear to God, if you’re actually fucking with me…”

“Ooh, I like it when you threaten me like that. But really, you know I’m serious.”

With a resigned scoff you unthinkingly crush your lips to his, a soft moan of relief bleeding into his mouth. His hand at your waist squeezes possessively, and he pulls you so that you straddle his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allow the alcohol in your system to guide your tongue past his lips. His hands make a journey to your ass, squeezing and pulling you against him. You release his mouth with a sigh; he bites into your neck, tongue darting out to soothe the pain. You’re a squirmy little thing, grinding your hips along his pelvis and thighs. His other hand makes it’s way to the back of your neck and he presses his lips against your ear.

“I knew you wanted this.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

A dark chuckle escapes his lips and he tightens his hold around your waist, flipping you onto your back.

“Well now that I know you want me. Where do we go from here?”

Your hands grip his robe, pulling him closer as your chest heaves. Thick, calloused fingers crawl up your shirt and grope your chest. Widening your legs to allow him to settle between them, you mirror his trademark smirk

“You can start by removing my pants and putting that smart mouth of yours where it belongs.”

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 4

(No gif today since I can't find one that fits)

Synopsis: Reader has a small mental breakdown over her developing feelings for the Doctor.

A/n: yall are the realest bitches I ever met for enjoying this. I love you. Also, I'm going to keep some things mysterious for now. But hey, I got a vague plot and I pound out these to keep the scaries away.

Stupid, stupid and foolish! Pig-headed! Dumb! Childish! Total Moron! You chastised yourself as you went into the women’s restroom and locked yourself in a stall.

Where did you get off developing feelings for a professor? Where did you get off by allowing yourself to get yourself to even begin that? Especially this fucking fast? You knew how men were! You knew that even the good ones weren’t ‘good’ in an empirical sense!

They lie, they cheat. They steal. They manipulate. They go on their phones and take hundreds from “Timmy’s uni fund” and transfer it to their private bank account (often that their poor, downtrodden wives didn’t see or have much access to!) to get their dicks fucking wet. They refuse to shower and they bullshit their way into places they really shouldn’t be.

But him? His smile? His poetry? The way he adored his wife even from a few sentences. Like every cell of his body belonged to this dead woman? The deep Scottish brogue? The way he was tender and cared for every single student? Including your dumb ass? The arch of his nose…and his hands?

It got inside you so quickly.

You continue to internally scold yourself, breaking down into tears.

It borderlined on cliché. Hot for teacher. Daddy issues. One man made you feel special so you got giddy and went and got yourself a crush. You truly were exhibiting what people called “Fatherless Behavior”!

You sobbed deeper into your arms, bringing your legs against your chest. Trying to keep balanced on the toilet, you gently banged your head on the wall beside you a few times. You had to meet with the accommodations people in about forty-five minutes. You had to pull yourself together. Even if it would demonstrate a point. You still had to retain some of your dignity.

Plus, you thought quite pathetically, what if he was out roaming and saw you like this?

You banged your head on the wall about it some more.

You let yourself cry for a few more minutes. Just to exorcize whatever was in your system. You weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over a man, even if that was exactly what you were up to!

After that little emotional outburst was over, you scraped yourself off the toilet and back into the general restroom area. You had to put yourself back together.

Splashing your face off with cool water in the wash basin, you noticed that your skin was inflamed and you had some pimples on your forehead.

“Oh, that’s attractive.” You muttered and started on trying to find the willpower to not pick at them. That’d make it worse. And would affect everything. No amount of makeup covers a sucking wound in a visible area.

You didn’t have much on you except for a medicated chap stick and some concealer, so you made do.

You really regretted listening to him and not smoking now…

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep breathing. Healthy stuff. Plenty of people had told you before. 1, 2 3. Hold, longer 1, 2 3 release. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It worked a bit.

You didn’t work tonight, or tomorrow night. You could afford a bit of a drink. Tonight. Tomorrow would be too late and you’d have dry skin for Thursday night.

That’s what you needed. A night of shit TV, skincare and most of a large bottle of coconut rum drowned in a can of Coke Zero.

Would help remove the feelings coiled in your chest a lot.

Reset the system.

Remove ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ truly was…

You steadied yourself and went to the Disabilities Office and sat in the waiting room after signing in for your appointment.

You pulled out your phone and started flipping through a familiar social media site. The memes perked you up and put a smile on your face. Helped you keep composure. You even replied to a few mutual’s messages and congratulated the one on their new job.

Your meeting came and went. Apparently you could go to student-lead tutoring from people who already took the classes. You got signed up and thanked the councilor, taking the emails for the students to message them and get more in-depth about the struggles you were having

You’d do it later, once you got home…

Speaking of which, you stopped at the store and got a can of Coke and a bottle of rum before trudging inside of it.

You started studying and sending out the emails to your new tutors. Truly a task from hell.

You stopped yourself from having thoughts of another type of tutoring.

The drink you mixed was strong. Perhaps too strong. The show you put on in the background was harshing the vibes so you closed the tab it was on. You checked the site for your place of work. You scoffed at your photos and wondered how little you could pay to get a professional update to them.

Back to school work. Back to projects. You couldn’t afford to let yourself have a stray thought.

The liquor highlighted the slight soft pain you had on the side of your head from the pounding you gave it. You touched it gingerly and gave up.

You weighed your options, you could drop the class and take the failing marks. Or you could be brave and normal. And take the class, just skate by. Hardly ever speak. Take the lowest grade and still fail.

It was a matter of what left you with the most amount of dignity, but also didn’t waste your money or time.

Or heart ache.

Could you really spite yourself like that?

Or just cut off contact for good.

What would not break your heart nor your bank nor your ethics? Was there any option that left all intact and unscarred? Let alone your precious, stupid dignity?

You had too much on your plate as is, now this stupid crush?

And disposing of it?

You drained the rest of your glass and did the bare minimum in the shower. Mainly just let the hot water spill over your head while you stared at the wall.

You put even less effort in on your skin care and teeth brushing.

Just climbed in bed and let sleep find your semi-drunk body and fully-fucked up and over brain.

Your alarm shot you out of bed, leaving your heart racing and your chest heaving. You just didn’t go to get up, let alone do anything. You sent in a mass email from your phone saying that you were sick. You’d let yourself go to work tomorrow night. But you didn’t want to set foot on that campus until you had a better, more stable grip on yourself.

You had a hangover and a sore throat anyways, so it wasn’t a total lie.

Responsibilities be dammed. You chose to rot in bed and doomscroll on social media. It was your mental breakdown and you chose to make it worse. It was your right! And entirely your fault!

You kept yourself in that ball of blankets far too long. Going in and out of consciousness, phone in hand.

Before you knew it, it was Thursday. Late afternoon. You sighed and got up.

You were quite dehydrated and famished. Hardly leaving the bed and relying on the cups that littered the side of your table for your main sources of water for well over twenty-four hours had left you weak and you fainted upon leaving the coil of your bedding.

When you came to, you thanked your lucky stars and any God that may have been paying a half-lick of attention to you in that moment.

You kept it simple and reheated some Chinese takeaway you had in your fridge. It was edible. That’s all you could ask for at the moment. Edible and got you through the waking world…

You went into your bathroom and started not only the long ritual you did to prepare yourself for work, but also repair work for the past two days of neglect. It was hard work. Your face was inflamed, your left side had creases in the skin from the corners of your blankets bunched up.

You stretched out and did a bit of a warm up exercise.

After all of that malarkey, you started chugging a bunch of cold water. Then you started to get your work bag together.

This, this, that, that other thing there, you kept mentally chiding yourself. You were out of materials, hopefully one of your coworkers would be able to lend you some. Just enough to get you by until Friday when the shops would be open. You were pulling a double shift anyways, so what was a sneak out and in. Maybe you’d convince the owner/manager to let you work when you’re usually not on during Friday. Whatever little cash you would make would certainly be welcome, and certainly wouldn’t hurt. You could sleep between appointments or walk-ins!

Maybe you would break your promise to Professor Smith and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and to hell with the entire engagement!

You stretched again and got into street clothes.

You repeated to yourself that you had to keep your mind on money and money on your mind. That it came naturally. Whatever all those dorky manifestations you occasionally saw said. Anything. Just to keep your spirits up and get your mind off other subjects.

Money on your mind was a whole lot healthier than a certain silver-haired professor being in there. And his class you were skipping today…

Who knows, maybe something bad would happen to you and you would be sworn off men in any way except the bare minimum to survive this world for good! You thought catastrophically.

You slid on your street shoes and your coat, slung your work bag over your shoulder and made your way out your door.

What was that one song? And how did it go?

‘So for once in my life

Let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time…”

Yeah, like that.

[ultrakontakt]

i have made the executive decision to share my DFTM fanchildren/Ocs on here despite me being painfully embarassed by it. I'll post my Ramona kid when i finish her fun drawing, but you get Renard for today. Can yall watch him while i go smoke?

more info under the cut, just specifying the universe he'd exist in

SO BASICALLLYYYYYYY in the verse he exists in, ramona *was* successful in killing off MOTHER. however, this raises a problem for all assimilated hosts. Would they still act maliciously? My belief is that, they really wouldn't? In verse terms, the whole event is called "The Great Disconnection". Their bodies shut down for a set amount of time, with the people close to the hosts bein like "what da heck get up", and then them waking up weeks later. Weird thing is that they snap out of the cruel stupor they all have, becoming like their old selves. IE, Antonio/Victoria normal mode/whatevs.

As for shippy shite, Mark had affectionate feelings for antonio but it never truly felt real due to antonio being uhhh. Like That. After the disconnect Antonio feels more real to mark, leading to gay romance blah blah. As for victoria, i think she makes up with alex(and wesley too). carl? gets on better term w/ mark. of course things will always be different due to everything that'd happened to everyone, but not all changes are bad.

Jared's probably still hanging out at the HMF facility though. poor guy has no moms now

As for ramona, i'm not sure if she should be alive or dead in this verse. i like to think she's either happy in heaven with her family or living in alex's garage. she's like having a scary looking aunt who showed up one day, though alex and her(and his friends) like her company. anyways bye byes

[spotsupstuff]

I wanna learn more about Blessing / Boreas. What’s up with all the bat flies with him? What’s his city like?

-rubs my hands together like a fly- uuuuuu boy, time to shake my blatantly favorite child Hell yeah huhuhuhuhuuu

the batflies enter the scene a good while after the Mass Ascension- they are his coping mechanism after Zephyr collapses and goes dark!

from the comic where they talk about Euros' n Sparrows' relationship, one can probably guess how close these two are. Boreas might be the big scary dog of the whole Eo family that punches things in the face rather than take any miniscule amount of shit, but when it comes to Zephyr he is very open and sweet. she's the only person who can actually influence his opinions and ideas greatly, because he loves and trusts her enough to allow her to do so. so when she collapses, he takes it the worst out of everyone. in a very quiet way. his pain if for him to keep, nobody else can know he's hurting

bear witness to Ňuňu

this lil shit was basically Boreas' therapy dog. just.. very very feckin teeny

child...

she is as smart as your typical bat, but the thing was that when she accidentally made her way into his chamber, he didn't have much will in himself to send the animal to eeby deeby so she got to flutter about. and as animals do, girlie used the empathy trap card to figure out this person who doesn't seem to be posing any danger is Sad. so she landed on his head, crawled up to look into his eyes and chirped

n that was the straw that broke the camel's back and Boreas had his first grief-inflicted breakdown ever. Ňuňu stayed during it and even after it, so emotionally-empty-feeling Boreas decided to take her in. hardly can replace Zephyr, but at least he isn't alone

Ňuňu later brought friends and Bee decided that he will look after them then. even after Ňuňu passes away, he still houses and raises them. the younglings like sleeping on his antennas so he has to watch himself to not move them too much sometimes. Euros has a folder full of photos like that

to his city- the name kush is:

originally from me looking for latin words for Rage. ended up going with Desaevio, because Bee is indeed positioned in a fitting place for the word

and the storm connection plus the last two are the main reasons why the Ancients called the city as such. after project Abet Zephyr ended in such a failure, they had to vent some stuff out. and we are going to claim that it is anger because that isn't as pitiful as shame or embarrassment

(the fact that almost every translator i put it into gives me "i'm sorry" works wonderfully, too. because what else will ultimately Boreas do, but quietly mutter to himself a mantra of apologies when he'll be lying in his chamber 30 seconds from his death, drowning in his regrets and mistakes?)

Desaevio was capable of comfortably supporting over 5 million people (no other Iterator city ever reaches that far- the max is ambitious Gen 3 cities that only ever reached around an estimate of 2.7 million) but at times housed over 6-7 million. despite lying close to the geographical location of Bergen in real life, Desaevio is very far from reaching such nice vibes (the old towns Boreas' structure overshadows come close, though). it is way closer to New York, but more dystopian. if u look up dystopian city on google images u get to see pretty closely what it looked like. combine it with Coruscant from star wars for bonus authencity with the layering

made up of skyscrapers, with endless layered bridges for means of transport (most commonly expres trains), with what little decoration of the buildings chipped away by time without anybody caring enough to restore the beauty- the grey, gloomy expanse of Desaevio is as majestic to witness as it is absolutely harrowing

with it being a layered city and one with Boreas' consciousness/structure, some wonder when does one truly leaves the borders of the city and enters the giant's actual insides. it's hard to tell, with old models of Iterators not being all that enclosed and isolated like Five Pebbles is. there is no karma gate to tell you when exactly the walls turn from homes for people to homes for wires, tubes and alien-like organic life of a colossal Hivemind

despite the whole "Iterators are above the cloud level" thing, i like to imagine that it rains in Desaevio either way. at least- some levels are just straight up Wet like after rain. but it'd be those normal rains like we have, not the annihilating ones that the old towns need to bear with down below. or maybe it's just the upper layers' waste water seeping through the ceilings

most of light of the lower levels comes from streetlights, neon signs and Boreas' own systems once deep enough

cameras and such security systems litter all the streets and every public room- and the private homes are still accessable by overseers- and All of that feeds directly into Boreas' memory cache

this omnipresence is why Boreas later suffers with the fuckin

nobody is as unhappy with Boreas' omnipresence as Boreas himself. no wonder he's always ticked off, imagine being a witness to All of New York's road rage 24/7

[boowhumps]

Whumpril 2024

Day 4 - Swaying

⚠TW⚠

- Swearing

- Mentions of Trauma

- Slightly Suggestive (NO NSFW)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Amne brushed her hair, glancing at the mirror ever so often.

A birthday party, Lua had said, but this seems more important.. more extravagant.

Maybe Lua just liked big parties.. or this was forced on them..

Either way, Amne was pretty much forced into it too, since she was sitting in a dress far too fancy for a simple party.

However, she wasn't exactly complaining. The dress was gorgeous, far more than anything she had ever worn before. The black base with the red accents was beautiful, but she was still dreading this party.

Even if Celestial managed to be a place where nothing could harm you, Amne's anxiety somehow surpassed that. The amount of people that would be there.. people that she didn't know.

Amne finishes brushing her hair, and sets the brush down. Looking at herself in the mirror is surreal. She doesn't look like herself, but she hasn't really since she got here.

Amne proceeded to wait patiently. The only good thing was that Silas would be there with her. He always managed to make things less scary, less stressful..

That boy was truly an angel. He was so sweet, caring, understanding.. it almost caused her nostalgia every time they interacted, or maybe more a sense of deja vu..

Amne perks up suddenly as she hears a knock on the door.

"It's open." She calls out a bit.

The door opens silently, and Silas pops his head in, looking a bit flushed as he stares at her.

"Y-you ready.?" He asks, stuttering a bit at the beginning.

Amne manages a small smile and a nod. She stands up and exits the comfort of her room, joining Silas in the hallway.

Finally seeing him makes her own face flush. She can't deny that along with his amazing personality, he's also very attractive, especially in a suit matching her dress..

Fuck, no Amne, no relationships, none of that, not anymore..

Amne breathes deeply, composing her racing mind.

"You uh, look great.!" Silas says, smiling awkwardly.

Amne widens her eyes a bit. "Thanks.. so do you."

Silas nods, and extends his arm.

"What are you-" Amne asks before Silas interrupts.

"It's called being a gentlemen," He says. "No, but seriously, it's just to help you walk, I can't imagine it's easy to walk in such a long dress."

Amne nods, feeling silly. "Right.." She says as she links her arm with his, letting him guide her away..

~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching the main ballroom takes almost no time, and it suddenly reminds Amne of why she never was a party kind of person.

Even with how big the place is, it seems packed to the brim. So many angels.. demons.. and even mixes of them pack up the room almost entirely.

Amne feels the suffocation in the room, and it's enough to make her feel uneasy. A squeeze from Silas brings her back to reality as he looks at her, his usually happy face vanishing for a second.

"It's pretty crowded.. will you be fine in here.?" He asks. "It's okay if you're not, I just-"

Amne sighs. "I don't know.." She says, looking around. "I'll have to test it out for a bit first."

Silas nods. "Yeah, we can do that, just.. don't wander off."

Amne gives him a look. "I'm not a child, Silas."

"Your Uncle told me, in very unagressive words that I had to keep you comfortable all night, so that's what I'll do." Silas replies staring straight ahead.

"Of course he did.." Amne grumbles. "Don't let Zaaron scare you, he wouldn't hurt you."

Silas raises an eyebrow. "It wasn't him, it was Roman."

Amne perks up. "Oh, I just assumed-"

"No no, it's alright, I get it, you're not used to, uh.." Silas starts.

"Communicating with my dead uncle?" Amne asks.

"Not.. that wording, but basically, yeah." Silas responds.

Amne nods. "Wanna.." She stops, sighing in frustration. "Oh for fucks sake, what the hell are we doing?"

Silas raises his eyebrows in surprise. "What do you-?"

"This isn't me, hell, this is not us." Amne remarks. "We aren't party people.. not at all."

Silas frowns. "Yeah, I guess we really aren't.."

Amne taps her foot before getting an idea.

"Hey, you don't still happen to have the key to the old ballroom, do you?" Amne asks Silas.

Silas nods slowly. "Yeah.. I do, why.?"

"Well, there's our escape." Amne states, beginning to walk away as Silas scurried behind her.

The old ballroom wasn't used anymore, for some odd reason, but somehow, Silas has access to it. Amne recalls him telling her about it a while back, how he would go there when things got too overwhelming.. An outlet of sorts.

Even if Amne couldn't imagine a day where Silas wasn't.. Silas, she was glad that at least there was some place in the castle unoccupied..

And maybe the idea of being alone in a room with him excited her more than she would admit.

Amne cleared her head as Silas opened the door to the ballroom, and immediately Amne was caught off guard.

The ballroom was gorgeous, yes, but that wasn't the reason. Even with all the shades of blue and gold, the thing that stood out to Amne the most was the stained glass portraits.

There were eight of them, all along the walls. Amne could point out the ones that looked like Lua, and Silas..

But the one that stood out the most looked exactly like her.

'Uh, how long has that been there.?" Amne asks, pointing at the portrait with a concerned look.

Silas smiles. "Oh yeah, that got here a little bit after you did!"

Amne deadpans. "Right.."

Silas laughs. "I get it, this all must be really weird and new for you."

Amne nods slowly. "Weird is an understatement.."

Silas urges Amne over to a door, opening it to reveal a balcony. As they both step out onto it, Amne feels her heart flutter.

"So.. I don't mean to push you or anything, but you never told me about your life.. before Celestial.." Silas tarts, sounding unsure.

Amne sighs. "Yeah.. I guess I haven't." She looks at Silas. "I can't remember much.. honestly.."

Silas nods in acknowledgment. "I figured.. but I think you do remember something.. or someone."

Amne raises an eyebrow. "What-?"

Silas shrugs. "Sorry, that came out wrong, it's just.. when I was with you for the first couple of nights after you got here.. you were always mumbling about people in your sleep.."

Amne feels her heart stop momentarily. "I-I was..?"

Silas nods. "I didn't want to say anything.. I figured you were already dealing with a lot of new adjustments.. I just.. can't forget what you said.."

Amne turns to him. "What did I say.."

Silas sighs. "Mostly incoherent things, little bits here and there.. but you constantly said a name.."

Amne stops, looking down. "Kaiden, I said Kaiden, didn't I.?"

Silas looks over at her. "You did, how did you-"

Amne's face pales, and she takes a deep breath. "He's-.. someone I was close with.."

Silas frowns. "Like a partner?"

Amne nods, her hands shaking. "For a while, yeah, but we ended a bit before my.. accident." She closes her eyes. "I remember dreaming a lot about him when I first got here, he was always.. so sad, so.. empty.." Amne opens her eyes, looking up at the dark sky. "I miss him sometimes.. but he's also the reason I'm here.."

Silas nods silently, just listening. Amne works up the courage to continue speaking.

"Actually.. you remind me a lot of him.. or, who I thought he was.." She says. "When we first met, he was like you, happy-go-lucky.. sweet.. loving.. the whole gist.." Amne sighs. "But you two aren't the same, I know that, I know he isn't here.." Amne turns to Silas once again. "But you are."

Silas perks up, surprised. "Amne, I-"

Amne seems to get closer to Silas. "You've been here with me through every challenge so far, and you did it because you wanted to."

Silas hands slightly hover over Amne's waist, the temptation to pull her in strong. "I had to help you, I just had the urge.."

Amne looks up at him. "But why.?"

Silas lets out a breath. "I think it's because.. I love you.."

Amne gives a subtle smile. "Then what are you waiting for..?"

Those words are the last thing spoken as the two finally push past their own hesitation. Silas pulls Amne in, kissing her as if she would disappear at any moment. His hands keep a firm hold on her waist as Amne's hands automatically travel into his hair, the way they always have.

Amne is backed up against the wall, helplessly trapped by someone she always claimed was only a friend.

In reality, how could they ever just be friends.?

The once passionate kisses turn sloppy as things begin to get heated. They both feel the desperation to be closer.. to be up against one another, without an inch of space between them. They could only go so long without love, starved to the point of ravishing the smallest amount of love they could get their hands on.

They were meant to find each other, that was for sure, and nothing could separate them.

"AHEM."

Amne freezes up at the sound, feeling Silas tense up as well. They both turn to the door, the one they'd forgotten to lock, but to be fair, neither of them expected the night to go this way.

Lua stood in the doorway, looking a mix of disappointment, anger, but most of all, disgusted.

Amne slightly nudges Silas away from her as they both straighten themselves out awkwardly.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me.." Lua groans. "She just got here a few weeks ago, Silas!"

Silas gets flushed. "What, no, we weren't-"

Lua stomps up to him. "Are you going to lie to my face and tell me you weren't trying to fuck Mrs. Sain-Santos, daughter of psychopathy, over here?!" They yell, pointing at Amne.

"Hey!" Amne shouts back. "Watch it!"

Lua glares at Amne. "Don't even get me started on you!" They turn back to Silas, who still looks incredibly embarrassed. "You, come with me."

Amne crosses her arms. "What about me?"

Lua sighs. "You stay here, and fucking pull yourself together, you look like a mess." With that, they march out of the room, Silas trailing behind looking like a sad puppy.

As soon as the door shuts, Amne loses it.

"Oh Selyna, what did I just do, did I just make-out with a high-rank Angel?! Shit.. What if Zaaron finds out.. or Roman.. oh fuck, I'm so fucked, what was I thinking?!" Amne panics as she paces around the room, pulling her hair from the stress.

She continues to spiral until she hears a commotion start up outside the room. Amne looks at the door, wondering if she should even bother leaving-

The commotion then turns to screams. Amne reacts quickly, rushing out of the room as people run past her in fury. She spots Lua and Silas in the main room, and rushes over to them.

"What the hell's going on?!" She shouts.

Silas looks at her in fear as Lua scans the room.

"Briar and Brennan, that's who." Lua states.

"Am I supposed to know who those people are?!" Amne shouts back as Silas tries to calm her.

Lua turns to Amne. "Did your psycho family at least teach you how to fight?!" They ask.

Amne barely musters up a nod as Lua sighs.

"Good, because we're in for a fucking battle."

~~~~~~~~~~

[zerodaryls]

Reminders for the U.S. trans community (especially our youth) in the midst of everything going on right now:

Estimated reading time: ~5 minutes

1. Gender is a construct. Transphobic legislators can only enforce "adherence" to their idea of gender to a shallow degree.

Physical and social transition is our right, and we will continue to fight for it, but we do not need to present in any particular way in order for our sense of self to be valid.

Even if there are those who refuse to recognize us as we are, we will always know the truth.

We already know we're in the right. They can't take that knowledge away from us.

2. No one can ever take away your sense of self. You will always know yourself best, and no one, not a single soul on this fucking planet, can take that away.

If 99% of the world insists that you're one gender, but you have an internal sense that you're another, then 99% of the world is wrong.

You and you alone have the right to define yourself and your experience in the world.

If a young trans girl's birth certificate lists her as male, her teachers call her "he/him" and use her deadname, she's denied access to puberty blockers, she's forced to wear a "boy's" uniform, play on "boy's" sports teams, and use the "boy's" bathroom, but she feels deep inside that she is a girl? She is still a girl.

No amount of legislation can ever take away her sense of self. No amount of forced conformity to the most shallow aspects of gender will ever mean that we are that gender.

We know who we are. Their insistence that we abide by their willful misunderstanding of us cannot rob us of who we truly are.

3. We will always have each other.

We will continue to support and affirm each other.

Trans people have always found ways to acknowledge, support, and uplift one another, even before we had modern tools like the internet. Even back when community had to be found in secret.

We will always have some sense of community. They cannot take us away from each other.

4.We will always have allies.

For as long as there have been oppressed groups, there have been those who recognize oppression for what it is and stand up for what is right.

Even as access to healthcare is stolen from some of us, even as some states deny our right to accurately represent ourselves in official forms and documents, there will always be people on our side.

While our government may fail us by insisting that they have a right to tell us who we are, there will always be those who instead say, "Who do you say you are? I believe you. I see you. I respect you."

They cannot legislate hatred. They cannot enforce their bigotry.

Good people will always be around.

We are not alone, nor will we ever be.

I know times are scary and uncertain right now. I know it looks hopeless, especially in some states, and especially for the most marginalized among us.

But I am begging you to not give up.

What transphobes want is to scare us back into the closet, force us to conform, or push us out of existence entirely.

They do not get to win. They do not get to rob us of our joy. They do not get to threaten our lives, especially the lives of our youth.

We are more resilient than they could possibly anticipate. We are not going to fade quietly into the background.

We are here, we have always been here, and we've come too far as a community to accept this regressive bullshit.

If you are feeling unseen in your gender identity, know that I see you.

I believe you are who you say you are.

No matter how hard the government may try to make you feel otherwise, you are not (and you will never be) alone.

There will always be people who see, love, and respect you for who you are.

Even if you don't have people in your personal life who make the effort to truly know you, there are thousands of people all over the world who are here in spirit who love you in all your trans glory.

I don't know that I believe in any literal form of spirituality, but I do believe that the metaphorical trans "spirit" is unbreakable.

We will not be erased. We will not be stamped out. We will not give up on ourselves or each other!

I love you.

I don't know where our country is headed. I wish I could say with certainty that it couldn't possibly get any worse, but I truly don't know how much more pain we'll be subjected to.

But I am certain we will make it through these times. I am certain that there are more loving and accepting people in our midst than there are bigots. I am certain that we will raise our voices to be louder than the bigots. And I am certain that we will continue to be ourselves, loudly and proudly, no matter what obstacles they try to put in our way.

And whenever we find that we do not always have the strength to be loud and proud, others will then be even louder and prouder on our behalf.

We will take care of each other, check in on each other, and reassure each other that we are seen, loved, accepted, and worth fighting for.

We're gonna keep going, and we're gonna show the world what it means to truly embrace the fullest expression of oneself.

There is no acceptable alternative.

Allies are welcomed and encouraged to reblog. Expressions of support and encouragement are welcomed and encouraged in the replies / reblogs. I know many of us are scared, but please refrain from catastrophizing on this post; we see enough of that in the news. Those who have given into bigotry are not welcome anywhere near this post; any amount of transphobic bullshit will be immediately blocked and reported without mercy.

[herculiess]

As a little girl I passionately explored the endless universe of music. At the age of seven was when my young and unestablished mind collided with Her Majesty, The Queen. And, boy, was it awesome!

The New Year’s celebration was coming to an end at my grandmothers house. All the guests have already left leavening my gran and me to fetch the table. Grandfather, also know as the Grand Chief of our family, was in the kitchen.

I knew that grannie were tired, a whole day in the privet clinic with not enough personnel, or was it the year when my mother had an open break of her wrist and grandmother had to visit her in the countryside every day for a few month because mom could sterilize her wound by her self. My point is, gran was always shit ass tired after any day of her life and now she had a hyperactive kid on her shoulders to raise. That must’ve been hard times for her.

She looked at the dirty plates with her all forgiving smile and told me we should bring some music to our party. I was delighted!

As a chubby child leaving afar from her school in a yet to be fully build neighborhood I didn’t have many friends, yet alone ones I could’ve had a party or a sleep over with. So she was my best and only friend in this whole world.

She brought computer back to life after an unspeakable amount of cartoons watched on it (Holiday’s special!), сinjected the speakers to it and then He came into my world rocking like a hurricane.

I can’t describe the feeling I had the moment the chorus started, I couldn’t even understand a word in English back then. But something in my chest stiffened. And I jumped on the chair pretending to be a rockstar lighting up the stage, shaking my head so furiously I nearly fainted before I finally fell on the floor.

Grannie was smiling, collecting those Champaign glasses and forks and oily plates with leftovers. I guess somewhere in that dream of mine where I absolutely lost the sense of time, dancing and hopping to the song, she called Granddad. I saw him staring at this crazy circus with laughing eyes, as if he new that day that in time I will be as mad as he was about rock n’ roll… and maybe even more.

I was just a child what chance could I have against the best bend of all times?

From that day has passed eight years until I came back to where I truly and wholly belonged, to where the music had it’s meaning again and not just beautiful faces and high paid mv’s.

So I cut my bangs and did my makeup, got up and went to school at the unholy time of the morning listening to Death on Two Legs, and then I’m In Love With My Car , and after that the whole bloody album. Again and again for months…

As delighted as I was I soon understood that in this world liking the music that no other kid in your school finds interesting or entertaining at least and what’s more rumbling about this music all the time makes you an outcast. The label I hoped to get finally rid of that year.

Why couldn’t I just listen to Stray Kids or other fancy thing. Or maybe be born sometime earlier? Approximately thirty years previous to my actual birth date. It was the road I chose and I couldn’t fully understand that thing for the next few years. Being and moody teenager, don’t miss those times!

Well, maybe a little. Do you?

Queen became a part of my life, the best one, and alike for the billions of people before their music helped me to deal with my demons, to concur the evil one finds inside himself sooner or later, to accept who I am.

And during that period I started idolizing Freddy Mercury. I felt connected to him after watching the Bohemian Rhapsody movie because we are all great liars mostly to our own selves. And finding out where the path of destruction can take you if you’re not careful enough is downright scary. Sometimes I’m afraid I would die poor and alone, though I know it must sound cynical. Not sorry for that part.

So, I try to stay close to my real family. If Freddy has taught us one great lesson is that you have to be close to those who truly care about us. And you know that there will be fights, plenty of them, but you know that when the days grow colder, and you feel heartbroken they will be by your side, no matter what, no meter when. Sometimes we have to listen to even the most unwanted comments and pushes they make because the love us and want what’s best for us. Sometimes we disagree… and it’s totally fine!

What I’m trying to say here, is that Queen were the ones who taught me the lesson that, as cliché as it sounds, saved my life. It’s been a long way. So, thank everybody… This is the reason I want to believe in eternal life for the greatest teacher I’ve ever had.

[sk3l3t0n444]

been seeing you have breakdowns over yttd in the tag how ya doing buddy (i love watching other people suffer)

i am not ok, im very close with my older brother so gin calling sara big sister sara and with sou and kanna and kannas guilt and reko and alice fucking wrecked me. and the fact that i saved kanna instead of sou fucking destroyed me because ajdbdjemebgdjd

in any media where a character has a sibling or sees another character as a sibling i will bawl. and the amount in yttd killed me.

i relate to more characters than i should in yttd LIKE WHO THE FUCK RELATES TO HINAKO OTHER THAN ME?

the list of favs is too long and im going to put all my favs here because this is my blog and i do what i want. kanna, gin, keiji, sou, reko, kai, alice, ranmaru, hinako, anzu, ranger, safalin are my favorites and i will explain in detail because i can

kanna: she has a sister!!! and and and and she felt bad and she was a fucking wreck! i love it when my characters are wrecks!

gin: THE HIM HES SO SILLY AND THE AUTISM AND HE CALLS EVERYBODY HIS BIG SIBLING IM GONNA CRYYYYYY

keiji: i made an entire post about him

sou: HES AN ASSHOLE BUT HES MY ASSHOLE...wait...thats not...YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!

reko: ...hOT...preTYy...LAdyyy...and shes so niceeeee AND SHE HAS AN OLDER BROTHER??? FUCKING SOLD!!!

kai: he just wanted to protect! (and hes kinda cute ngl)

alice: AWESOME HAIR 10/10 and also HE CARES SO MUCH FOR REKOOOOOO he truly cares about reko and he just wants the best for her <3

ranmaru: i saw his victim video where he said he he didnt know what to do with life and how he was nothing special and i knew he would be my fav. he pretends to not care and to an extent he doesnt, but he does care about everything. and hes kinda cute :)

hinako: chaotic evil...and she reminds me of niffty...and the dark circles are a mood but also shes just a middle school student, she was either bribed, threatened, tricked, forced etc to do this. there is no way she chose to be a pawn. shin took sous name to survive, the fake hinako must have a reason similar to that.

anzu: SILLY!!! AND PRETTY!!! and also she clearly puts up a silly front but shes scared, she feels so much fear but tries to make everybody else laugh

ranger: tbh hes just god damn cute and i relate to him a scary amount and i think thats my red flag

safalin: she truly cares about the players and helps them. not out of obligation but because she wants to. shes scared that she would be forced to hurt them so she warned them and told them not to trust her :(

ok ive ranted enough

[finnofamerica]

Waking Up Slow - Eddie Munson X Reader || Fluff / Angst

Summary: After ending up in detention, you end up making friends with an unlikely person

Word Count: 1,228

Date Posted: 08.25.2022

TW: Mentions of abandonment, loneliness, cheating, parentification of a child.

Note: N/A

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Box || Fandoms/Characters ||

You were never the type to get detention. You were a cheerleader for christ sakes. You may not have been quite as perfect or popular as Chrissy, but you were just as well part of the group, adored by the basket ball team. You just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that awful English Lit teacher had it out for you and refused to hear anything different. 

You had a singular detention buddy as you were stuck in the library, redoing the protective coverings on the entire paranormal fiction section. Trust me, the one and only Eddie Munson was just as shocked to see you as you were to be in detention in the first place. His offense? Tardiness. For the third time that week. You knew that because you were in his first period biology class, which he missed. 

“Y/l/n, Right?” Eddie asked as he plopped down on the floor next to you, in a home made Corroded Coffin shirt. You’d never heard of the band, you figured it must’ve been something you weren’t into. 

“Yeah.” 

“How come you’re in detention? Aren’t you in the group that never does anything wrong?” He asked. It came across dick-ish, but part of you knew that it was pure curiosity. 

“Because Mr. Fitz hates me,” You grumbled. “Fucking asshole. He probably off fucking Mrs. Lynde right now, not that her husband knows of the affair.” 

“Such a mouth on you, Princess. Not what I expected from the almighty cheerleading squad.” 

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, carefully pealing and resticking the cover you’d messed up. 

“You’d be surprised, Munson, not all of us are perfect like Chrissy.” You loved Chrissy, everyone did, but she was a tough act to follow. She was your best friend, but somehow you felt you always amounted to second best. “Aren’t you supposed to hate cheerleaders?” 

“I can always hate you tomorrow,” He shrugged, making you giggle, “There is nobody here to judge either of us. What happens in the library can stay in the library. Besides I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation.” 

That was the moment you decided you liked Eddie Munson, very much. He was not what you expected in the slightest. Everyone always told you that he was a freak, violent, scary. He was sweet, funny, caring. 

After an hour of small talk, the custodians came and left, all except the emergency lights went out, shocking you out of the book you were half reading. 

“What the hell?” Eddie wondered out loud, getting up and stretching his long legs. He rattled the library door, unable to get it open. “I think they locked us in here.” 

Your face went deadly serious, “You really think that Fitz left us here?” 

“If he was fucking Mrs. Lynde like you say he was, then there is a good chance he forgot all about us.” 

“I don’t have a phone.” You admitted. 

“The school phones block out bound calls without an admin code.” 

“I don’t wanna know why you know that.” 

“We’re stuck, may as well get comfortable, Princess.” 

You slumped back against the bookshelf, resigning yourself to the situation. Eddie took his spot across from you. 

“Are your parents going to worry?” He asked. 

“It’s just me and my mom. And No, she works overnights at the hospital, so, she’s usually gone before I get home from cheer practice, and back after I’ve left for school.” 

“That’s shitty.” 

You chuckled bitterly, “Yeah. It’s not really her fault though. She’s doing what she can to support us.” 

You realized how truly lonely you were. Even though you were “hot” and popular, most people never really cared enough to get to know you. Most of the popular crowd only cared about image and gossip, and tedded to bully others, intentionally or not. Others assumed that because you were a cheerleader you were dumb and wrote you off without ever having a conversation with you. Hell you didn’t even spend time with your mom most of the time. You made yourself dinner, did your homework without help, found your own way to school. 

“Eddie,” You found yourself asking, fiddling with your chipping nail polish, “Do you think, had we not been stuck together, you would’ve taken a chance on me?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Getting to know me. Talking to me beyond the latest gossip.” 

He thought about it for a long moment. 

“Would you have taken a chance on me?” He returned your question. 

It was troubling. Would you have risked getting judged by those who were supposed to be your friends all for someone they told you was a freak? Would you have sought Eddie out, not knowing what you do now? 

Finally you nodded. “I would. If I saw you alone, away from the Hellfire club, I would.” 

“I’d be willing to take a chance on someone willing to chance it on me.” 

You smiled softly, blinking back tears of yours. 

“Tell me about DnD.” You requested, wanting to know more about the club and the game that so ostracized Eddie from everyone else. He smiled at you, explaining the general rules of the game, before launching into the campaign that he was running. You asked questions where appropriate. 

He asked you about cheerleading, wondering what drew you to the sport. 

“Not to get sad on you,” You chuckled, “But ever since my dad left I’ve felt so lonely with my mom having to pick up extra shifts, and Chrissy and I were always friends, she asked if I wanted to try out with her. So I did. At first, I loved the idea of belonging somewhere, being part of a group, but soon I realized that most people just care about their ‘popular’ image. I realized that they didn’t really care about me, I just made them look good, y’know? But now that’s where I belong. Y/n the cheerleader.” 

“If you want, you can always join us at Hellfire.” Eddie offered, “The guys might be hesitant at first, but we take care of our own.” 

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” 

“Wake up,” a voice prompted you, shaking both you and Eddie slightly. “Hey, were you here all night?” 

You felt a weight around your waist and warmth pressed against your back. It took your tired brain a minute to realize that you and Eddie were spooning. 

“Ms. Yates?” You asked quietly, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?” 

You knew the young librarian was always here earlier than any of the rest of the staff. 

“7am, dear,” The librarian helped you into a sitting position, a kind smile on her face, “Lets get you both some coffee.” 

You startled Eddie awake, narrowly missing his flailing appendages. 

You both sat in Ms. Yates office, as she called your parents, sipping on freshly brewed coffee. 

“I am going to be taking this up with the principle, believe you me,” She said to your mother on the other line, “Absolutely unacceptable behavior from Mr. Fitz, leaving two students locked in the library.” 

You were barely listening to the conversation, half asleep on Eddie’s shoulder. 

After another thorough questioning from the principal, you and Eddie were excused for the day. Leaving the school with something you never thought possible. A new perspective. 

Tags: @munsonthemisfit @eddiemunsons-girl

[songmingisthighs]

[1.06] mingi × reader

⇀ happy birthday, my love

As expected, Mingi's birthday party was a blast. While he couldn't invite all his friends to the dorm, he was glad he could spend it with his group members and parents.

It was the first time you met them so of course, you were nervous and even scared. But to your luck, his parents loved you to bits and his mom even pulled him to the side to tell him that she was very much happy that he was able to find someone like you.

His mom's comment made Mingi pull away from the festivities for a bit. He never really thought about how you fit into his life so much better than he could ever imagine.

The first was with his idol life. Not everyone could keep up with having an idol boyfriend what with the hectic schedule that goes to 5 am and starts at 6 am, then the unconventional and borderline inconvenient dating locations such as his practice room, dorm, and van, and also the constant anxiety of being found out and not knowing how people will react. No matter how much he trusts his fans, he knew that you will still be in danger.

The second was with his friends, specifically ATEEZ. The amount of time he overthink about how you will blend in with the boys before he introduced you to them was insane. He didn't want to have to choose between the people who has been with him through all of his ups and downs and the person who will be there from that point onwards. It was scary when he first brought you to meet everyone. But thankfully, first hour in and Wooyoung had already insisted they re-debut as a 9 member group.

The third was hours ago, when you met his parents. Of course, having spent his youth focusing on his career, he's inexperienced with romantic relations. So when his parents hears that he had began seeing someone, they were initially apprehensive, telling him to be cautious. But not even half an hour later, his mom had told you to call her 'mom' and that she expect to see you in family events. She didn't even care if Mingi also came or not (which made him whine).

So after cleaning the dorms from the festivities, basking in the euphoria from his birthday, Mingi laid you down on his bed and draped himself on top of you. With his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, he was at his most peaceful state yet.

"I love you," he blurted out of the blue. You looked down and grin at him, "I love you too, Mingi. Why so sudden?" You asked, curious at his sudden proclamation. Mingi shifted so his chin is resting on your chest, he gazed at you with such loving eyes that you wanted to just squish and kiss him.

Mingi pursed his lips and shrugged, "Just... for being with me," he reached forward to kiss you fully on the lips. "Having you here is the best birthday present anyone could ever give," he muttered against your lips. You can only giggle and wrap your arms around Mingi and pull him close, "Happy birthday my love," you said in between pecks. "To many more birthdays to come," you added softly without pulling away from him.

With fluttering heart (and swollen lips), Mingi's head floats to the thought of the future with you. And truly, he couldn't wait.

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @ikonic-loser @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @seoulscenarios @forjupiter @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @seonghwarizon @noonaishere @jo-hwaberry @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @hyvn-jaeee @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

May I submit a slightly specific request? Are you at all familiar with the creature called a Tarrasque from D&D? Could you do the Overlords having to calm down their S/O, who’s true form is the Tarrasque, and is in the middle of a hungry rampage?

Overlords with S/O who's true form is the Tarraque.

Alastor

"My, My, My, My, My, how very interesting darling~"

He honestly thinks it's probably the most fascinating thing he's come across, I mean, sure he's found some interesting demonic forms.

But never had he found one so... titanic.

Such a truly monstrous form would require an immense amount of demonic energy, and my... that just reminded him how much he loved you.

Will happily watch you tear up the cityscape, picking a spot where he could properly watch you play out your hunger fuelled Wrath. Watching a you chewed up any poor sod you caught in your path.

But as entertaining as he found the whole endeavour, he'd still decided to step in. He'd try a little force but, that did squat.

So he resulted to his favourite form of persuasion.

Singing.

He'd get up somewhere high, using his demonic powers to channel his voice as he sang a gentle tune.

He'd likely sing something with significance, the song he sang on your first date, or your wedding perhaps?

Something you knew. Something that would soothe the beast.

It would work, you slowly returning to your natural form.

After you calmed down, the radio demon would manifest besides you, pulling you close before he took you home and tended to your aching body.

Valentino

"Damned baby, I did NOT expect that..."

Val would do his best to lead you away from all the expensive places, wouldn't want you breaking one of his clubs

Letting you chow down on all the poorer shmucks.

He would eventually step in, doing his best to calm you down.

He'd probably snap at you, demanding you chill the fuck out.

It would take some persuasion, the demon really having to put his foot down to get you to calm down.

Once you'd eventually calmed down, Valentino would take you home.

While he'd pretend to be very stern with you, he would actually be really concerned for you, tenderly caring for you, nursing you back to health.

After that... you became much like a nuclear detergent for the moth demon. Valentino threatening to 'Sick' you on his enemies.

It was an empty threat and maybe a little demeaning, but what were ya gonna do when your S/O was the most powerful Overlord in hell.

Velvet

"Holy Fucking Shit! ... That's so FUCKING AWSOME!"

Velvet thinks your the coolest thing ever.

She will literally try and ride on your giant monster head, and more often then not will end up on your back, riding you like a big horsey.

Will actively direct you towards people to eat.

Eventually when you calm down, sating your hunger she'll drag you back home. Happily telling you all about her favourite parts of your rampage and the screams of your victims.

After you'd recovered, Velvet would likely try and encourage you to go on another rampage.

Wanting to ride you around like a terrifying mount as you terrified the city. Needless to say you only let her such once, (you actually let her do it a few times, but would probably choose somewhere more scarcely populated for your rampage.

Rosie

"Darling... Darling... you need to calm down."

Rosie was naturally surprised by your... uh, 'monster-ness'.

It was impressive to be sure, to achieve such an immense demonic form certainly illustrated your power.

But your immense size would make it significantly more difficult to, you know? be with you.

So she began trying to calm you down, appearing at eye level as you traversed the streets.

Each time pleading with you to calm down, to just listen to her.

Eventually she'd appear in front of you, telling you to calm down right now or you'd be in big trouble.

And funnily enough, that would get you to calm down. The demoness firmly telling you to calm down as you returned to your more humanoid form.

She'd tend to you for the next few days. Ensuring a full recovery from your little rampage.

As scary as it was to see you like that, she had to admit it was quite fascinated by your demonic form.

And while they'd be exceptionally rare, she would allow you to transform, if only so she could appreciate the majesty of your monstrous form.

Hey Hey. I hope you enjoyed, it was an odd request and I probably butchered it, but I tried to do it the best I could.

It's a bit simple in comparison to most of my headcanons, but I did the best I could. Hope you like it. Bye Bye.

[sunfish-studies]

Celebration

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Cogs › | Next:  ‹ Let The Games Begin! ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of training calls for celebration for everyone’s hard work, so it’s barbeque time!

“All right, meat!”

“I’m starving!”

While the boys freshened up after practice matches, the managers were already on the move to prepare for the barbeque. Since there were quite a lot of people, the coaches decided to held it on the backyard of the gym, where the sharp hill stood just beside it. The coaches helped setting up the grills while the managers divided to cater different things.

Yachi decided she would get the utensils they needed; paper plates, chopsticks, paper cups, trays for rice balls, and other things. Shimizu would cover for the rice ball making, Yukie and Eri were in charge on cutting the vegetables in bite-size, Kaori and Mako would clean the vegetables before it was cut.

Meanwhile, you’re in charge of preparing the condiments and sauces, unwrapping the meat cuts, and arranged them on a bigger plate. Aside from that you had to make sure the meats searing on the grills weren’t charred.

“[Name]-chan, please replace me for cutting the onions,” Eri sobbed, reaching out to you with grabby hands.

“Alright, senpai,” you giggled in reply because Eri was clearly needing a break and watching the meats seared was a great break for her. Quickly, you stood on her place and started slicing the tear-induced-menaces after washing your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to suffer the same fate as the Ubugawa’s manager–the first seven slices went through without a hitch, but when you reached the tenth your eyes started to sting and blurry from the pain. Then tears began trailing down your cheeks, and you wiped it you’re your shirt sleeve.

“D-Don’t cry, [Name]-san!!” you looked up, seeing Hinata with his place face quivering on his feet. “W-what should I do!?”

“It’s fine, Shoyo-kun, it’s just the onions,” you sniffled pointed towards the bowl full of it. “It hurts my eyes.”

“I can take your place, Otohaku-chan!” Lev popped up beside Hinata.

“Instead of cutting the onions, you’ll chop your fingers off,” Yaku deadpanned before offering. “Here, let me do it.”

“No, it’s alright, Yaku-san,” you shook your head. “It’s time for you to have a break, not working.”

Being persistent sometimes has it’s perks, it took numbers of rejection to finally have Yaku gave up. You knew he was just trying to help, but you didn’t want to rob his time relaxing. When all the preparations were done, the boys were already surrounding the grills with hungry faces. Coach Nekomata gave them a light speech along with praises for their hard work over the week, and they dived to grab on the meat straight from the grill.

“THANKS FOR THE FOOD!”

Just like Kaori, you brought a plate of rice balls to offer and managed to witnessed Yukie’s enormous appetite. She practically inhaled four rice balls in one go and you’re not the only who was dumbfounded from it.

.

.

Konoha and Komi almost had their souls went to heaven from the frightening circle Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Taketora made. Well, they did elbow each other to encourage one another getting close or at least having a talk with Shimizu. The girl walked pass them holding a paper plate with food–looking extremely gorgeous and she didn’t even try.

“That was scary,” Konoha muttered underneath his breath. The three finally stopped because of Karasuno and Nekoma’s captain scolded them–the three immediately shrunk.

“They really had their guard up, huh,” Komi added, feeling his energy drained from such a scary encounter.

“Uhm, excuse me,” the two turned to look over their shoulder and that’s when they noticed–Karasuno’s other first year manager who’s Bokuto constantly talking about. The owl captain wouldn’t shut up about her much to their annoyance and now they knew why.

“Would you like some rice ball?”

“Sure,” Konoha replied dumbly.

“I’ll take two,” Komi followed with a daze. You placed one on Konoha’s empty paper plate and two for Komi upon his request. Smiling at them, you proceeded to excuse yourself so you could offer to someone else.

Following your figure dazedly, they noticed how the light shone even brighter and basked you in a beautiful glow. That’s when they thought of a conclusion.

A goddess just graces us mere mortals! They screamed in their head.

.

.

You tried to calm Yachi down from her traumatizing experience being surrounded by absurdly tall boys (“Titans, [Name]-chan! Titans!”). Thankfully, all of them were nice enough to made room so your friend could reach for some meat. Yachi almost cried in happiness from the real taste of meat.

From the sidelines, Shimizu and the other managers were watching the two of you while talking about the boys sometimes.

“How much are you going to eat?” Kaori questioned because Yukie was having a ridiculous amount of food towering on her plate and she just kept munching away without care.

“The third-years in Karasuno all seems pretty mature,” Mako commented.

“Our ace is weak-willed, though,” Shimizu smiled sheepishly.

“What? Really?” Eri replied in surprise. “Even though he looks that scary?”

“Though, I think that’s still better than our simpleton ace,” Kaori commented. “Still,”

Their eyes were directed towards where the said simpleton ace was standing and placing meat until it towered on your empty plate.

“Eat more, [Name]-chan! Or you won’t get even taller!” he stated.

“And eat more vegetables!” Kuroo added, placing cabbages and carrots to your plate, adding even more food.

“Have some rice balls, too.” Somehow, even Akaashi participated in this whole fiasco and put a rice ball onto your plate. Now, there’s a ridiculous amount of food on your plate.

“…I can’t eat this much,” you commented, staring at the food filling your plate.

“Nonsense, I don’t see you eat anything even when the others are,” Akaashi stated. “You’re too busy handling other things nonstop.”

“Have a break will you,” Kuroo patted your back. “Everyone’s having fun and you should too.”

“Have more meat, [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“You can have my share, Otohaku-chan!” Lev followed and you immediately shook your head.

“At least he and Akaashi took care of our baby manager well,” Kaori sighed in relief.

“[Name]-chan is close with Fukurodani’s captain and setter, huh? Even Nekoma’s captain,” Mako giggled. “She’s drawing everyone in.”

“Well, it’s rare for a first-year to be as tall as her,” Eri grinned. “The boys are especially poles so it’s probably great not to strain their neck once in a while from looking down.”

“Karasuno’s pretty lucky to have her, huh?” Yukie said after swallowing her food.

“Yeah, we are,” Shimizu smiled.

.

.

“Did you have fun?” Sawamura asked you when you’re helping other managers to clean up the remaining plates left behind on the table along with other scraps littering around. He picked up a few paper cups and placed it into the trash bin.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation. “Everyone’s so nice, it’s probably the most fun I’ve had.”

“Thank goodness, then,” he gave you a smile.

“I’m really glad I joined the volleyball club,” you commented, grinning.

“And we glad to have you here,” the captain chuckled and replied.

Everything was over by the time the sun started to sink into the horizon–time truly flew by when you enjoyed it. Since Miyagi was quite a distance from Saitama, they needed to depart first or they would be back extremely late at night. Yukie and Eri were fake-crying and joking about refusing to let you go–in the end, you’re all exchanging numbers so you could keep in touch.

“Did you have fun, Otohaku-san?”

“Coincidentally, you asked the same question as my captain, Akaashi-san.” The Fukurodani setter, like before, helping you on carrying the extra luggage in hand although you did tell him it’s only until you reached the stairs. “And to answer, I am. These one week of training camp is fun. Somehow, I don’t want this to be over.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” Akaashi replied. “At the Spring Interhigh.”

“I’m sure we will, Akaashi-san.” you smiled. “And thank you for helping me with luggage.”

“[Name]-chan!!” Bokuto bounded over with a grin plastered on his face. “We’ll be waiting at the nationals!”

“Karasuno, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san doesn’t play volleyball.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Just agree with me once, Akaashi!”

“Well, whatever he said,” Kuroo piped up, approaching the three of you. “Made sure your team go to the nationals so we could meet again and make the battle came true.”

“I’ll do my best, Kuroo-san.” Then Kuroo reached out to ruffle your hair, it’s been a while since he did that and you weren’t even going to lie about enjoying it. The cat captain was similar to an older brother now.

“Off you go then, [Name],” he removed his hand from your head. “And don’t miss me.”

“How could I when I have your phone number, Kuroo-san?” you snickered. “You’re probably going to bombard me with chemistry puns at 10pm.”

“Then, I’m gonna call you every day so you won’t have to deal with Kuroo!” Bokuto declared before laughing victoriously.

“Please block his number immediately, Otohaku-san,” Akaashi stated. “Or you won’t be getting any sleep. His talking is endless.”

“Why, Akaashi!?” the said boy whined.

“Aside from that, be careful on your way home,” Akaashi decided to ignore the captain and gave you a small smile.

You returned his smile. “Will do, Akaashi-san.”

With that, the whole week of summer training camps has come to an end. The whole team watched you guys drove away into the other way back to Miyagi.

.

.

“You have a match tomorrow, don’t you?” former Coach Ukai questioned, brows creased from the insistence of your combi. “That’s probably enough, then!”

“One more! Just one more!” Hinata pleaded.

“We’ll finish after this one!” Kageyama added.

Two days of practicing to prepare for the preliminaries, just a day before the match Sawamura dismissed them early to get some rest. Since it would be impossible to use the gym unless getting an earful from him, Kageyama and Hinata needed to look for another place. Former Coach Ukai lent them the court only for a bit, just until the others who wants to practice comes.

And you were there to hold a leash if they’re being stubborn or something.

“This is the last, alright?” you scolded the two. “We shouldn’t bother the others who wants to practice here. And you should rest before the match.”

Thankfully the older man letting them had the court just one more time and you couldn’t help but feeling grateful of it. You sighed before turning to face former Coach Ukai and bowed down. “On their behalf, I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Former Coach Ukai dismissed it. “Their eagerness is a great thing, but even eagerness isn’t going to magically give them energy. It would be bad if they burnt out even before the game started.”

“[Name]-san! Can you throw us the ball?” Hinata called out.

In the end, the two managed to successfully killed the quick–and sure enough, it also impressed former Coach Ukai which added more reassurance that your team would be more than okay to face the entire preliminaries and became champions.

[besotted-eros]

Obsessed!Eren Headcanons+

Genre: SFW Headcanons + NSFW scene under cut

Summary: Eren being helplessly in love with you, and the night where he could show you just how bad.

Content: Bit of toxic jealousy, obsessive thoughts, losing virginity, romance,established relationship,oral (female receiving), unprotected sex

AN: Take some fluff, take some angst, take some smut and don't say I don't feed you

Eren loves so deeply, so passionately, so possessively. From the moment his heart decides on you, you are twisted in him. Yours is the first name on his lips in the morning, whether he wakes up beside you, or in a barracks beside Armin. Or in a jail cell alone. He thinks of you obsessively, weaving you into everything he does.

He used to follow you, sorting his schedule by yours. You would find him by your door, by the table you liked to read at, waiting for you expectantly.

It's almost scary sometimes. He makes your breath falter with his intensity, his need for you. You know he means it that he'll go mad if he ever loses you.

He keeps a note you wrote him in the inner pocket of his jacket. It doesn't say much, a quick entreatment to sleep and eat, your name signed with love. When he salutes his fist rests over it. He pledges to more than the scouts. It remains there long after his last salute.

He steals your hair ties, often reaching up to touch his hair when your absence gets too much. When his hair is down, falling below his shoulders like a chestnut curtain, he keeps it around his wrist. When he loses himself in the fog of memories that don't belong to him, he snaps it. It reminds him of the way you'd tap the back of his hand, pulling him back into the world of the living. You are his anchor.

He refuses to keep his hands off you in public, even if it gets him in trouble. No amount of scolding from Levi will make him stop touching your waist as you pass by during training, or pulling you in for a kiss before zipping away. Your friends become use to it, the way Eren will pull you against him when you sit together, or move you into his lap. His hands will rest on your hips, rub your shoulders. But he loves holding your hand above all. It's the way the world knows you are tied. Bound.

There are only a few people allowed to touch you. Mikasa, Armin. Sasha on good days. One time Jean attempted to throw a casual arm around you as you spoke, and was quickly thrown to the ground. Yes, Eren and Jean fought. But this time was different. Eren spat in his face, baring his teeth as he delivering a bone crunching punch. "Don't. Fucking. Touch her." He growled, sounding more animal than man. He never apologised for that. You were careful to keep your space from other men too.

When you're apart he is hollow. Listless. He imagines what you're doing, if you're safe. If you're missing him. He pictures you in trouble without him, and it stirs him into action, to find you faster. To wrap you in his arms, the only place you'll ever truly be safe.

When you reunite, it brings him to tears. They quiver in the corners of his verdant eyes as he tenderly cradles you, large hands stroking through your hair. He buries his face in you so you won't see them. And he says your name. Over and over. Like a chant. Like a prayer. Like a thank you.

There is one time that those tears fall. It is when he takes you, when he gives himself to you.

The evening had been perfect, ignoring the upcoming trip to Marley that weighed heavily on all minds. You didn't want to think about that, instead focusing on the spiced wine that Levi had quietly pushed into your hands while Hange grinned from behind him. And the way Eren traced circles on your knee, his normal stoic face softened into a half smile.

You snuck away from your friends, leaving Connie and Sasha bellowing a war song while Mikasa tried to force Sasha's shirt back on. You had tapped his wrist, and soon you were out of the mess hall, holding onto each other as you stumbled into the moonlight. You kissed, soft and repeated, your lips unbearably supple under his. Eren wondered if the butterflies would ever fade as your head leaned against his shoulder. He never wanted them to. He wanted to love you like he was free falling from a wall, with his heart in his throat and life bursting from every pore.

Soon you found yourself at the door to the room you shared with Mikasa and Sasha. This is where you would usually part, with him kissing your forehead goodnight. He would quell his thoughts of you in the shower later, your name hot on his tongue as the cool water cascaded over his firm body.

But this time you pulled him in.

When he laid you on the bed, your soft hair splayed across the over the pillow like a sunburst, his heart stopped. He had seen this before. He had dreamt it. There was no god to Eren, no angels. But in that moment he knew he had found someone to worship.

But nothing could have prepared him for how it felt. Lips meeting like crashing waves, the soft gasps that left your throat as his hands found parts of you no one else would ever touch. He wanted to run his fingers across every inch, to discover you like a new world. Here, the dip of your hips. There they smooth into your legs, here into your ass where the flesh was soft and pliable under his fingers. His thumb brushed across your lips, and when you took into your mouth, tongue tracing the pad of it, he groaned.

He could have ruined you right then and there. But he held back.

Eren memorized you, the feel of your chest against his and the way you kissed his collarbone until it was a field of blooming bruises. Tomorrow he would wear his shirt unbuttoned, wearing your love like a medal. He returned the favour in tenfold, leaving blossoms of soft purple across your neck. They were rewards for every time you touched him. How good it felt. Eren had never felt this good. Soon your chest was littered with them, his mouth hot and desperate on your breasts. Here he seemed to say. I have touched you here, and here. I loved you there, and there.

You spoke his name into the night like a prayer. The want in it, the need of him. It twisted his stomach into a rosary as he held your face and kissed you like a blessing. He liked how your mouth formed him, called him forth into the world. He wanted more of that.

So he kissed his way down, teeth sneaking out every once in a while to nip at your supple skin. You found where you wanted him most, where you throbbed with want. You were so delicate under his fingers as he dipped them into you, walls fluttering as your toes curled. Your hands found his hair, encouraging him further as his tongue slid against your clit, making you buck.

He could do this to you. He could make you putty under his fingers. This strong, demanding woman who slayed those who threatened her, reduced to whimpering his name.

His. Eren was making you his. He was defiling you in the softest of ways, pressing your legs open, your slick slit parting for him. He dragged his tongue up, down, up again to circle your throbbing clit. When you looked down at him, his eyes were glazed green glass, your wetness making his lips shine. He pulled his fingers out, holding the soaked fingers towards you. Obediently you took them into your mouth, and he gasped against your warmth, sucking at your clit in response and making you throw your head back. Your throat exposed, vulnerable and ridden with angry bruises.

He couldn't handle it. His shaft was hard against the bed as he pressed into it, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And then you pulled up, tugging his long hair. You licked yourself off his lips, tasting how you coated his tongue. Your legs were still spread, exposed for him. Eren angled himself, his dripping head aligned with your wet entrance, while he kissed his love into you.

"Please," you asked, it was all Eren needed.

And then you were connected. His fingers found yours, and you held tightly to his hand as hips rocked against yours. Your eyes were closed, pinched tightly at the sensation of pleasure and pain radiating from the warmth between your legs. He was big. He was so big.

Eren whispered your name.

"Look at me. Look at me while we do this." He murmured, his nose tracing your cheek as he peppered soft kisses on your jaw.

You did, meeting his green gaze. His mouth opened, a kick of pleasure making his toes curl as he adored you. The way you stared up at him, a look he would never see you give another. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, breasts bouncing as his body picked up speed. He was desperate. He was aching. He had pictured you like this for so long, but his dreams held no candle to the way your walls gripped him.

"Never. Never let another man touch you." He panted, his heart soaring as you nodded, nails digging into his shoulder as you held on to him, feeling him rail into you. "Be mine. Be forever mine. Please y/n..." His voice broke as he picked you up from the bed, needing to feel even closer. Even tighter. Your legs wrapped around him in response as your moans hit a fervored pitch. He gripped your thighs, using them to bounce you up and down his veiny shaft, using you to milk him. Eren sat back, letting the moonlight bathe your back as your hair stuck to your skin, mingling with his.

"I love you." He said. It cut through your incoherent moans, your whimpers of satisfaction. You pulled back to rest your forehead against his, letting yourself stare at him. To be seen by him. He could have done anything to look at you forever, to live his world only through your eyes.

"I love you too, 'ren." You whispered, and it pushed him over the edge. He slammed you back into the bed, load whines ripping from his throat as his hips snapped against yours over and over. You. You. You. You invaded his every sense, his every particle. You were Eren's everything.

When he came, it was like a dam breaking. Flooding you, making you cream around him. You overflowed with him, and he was at once addicted to the sensation. You cried out with him, your moans mingling as his hot mouth overtook yours. His cheeks were wet. He shook as you kissed, collapsing against you. His body was hot and muscular, the scratches you left on his back steaming slightly.

You lay there for peaceful moments, pressing your face into the top of his head while he listened to your heartbeat. He would do anything to ensure that it would never stop. He was going to do anything to ensure it never stopped.

Even if that meant he wouldn't always be there to hear it.