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dabisbratz · 5 months ago

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𝒫𝒪𝑅𝒞𝐸𝐿𝒜𝐼𝒩 ; eren jeager x male reader

w.c: 2.3k

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮: miscommunications, eren’s short temper, dumbification, asphyxiation two (2) uses of the f-slur (nonsexual), dirty-talk, exhibitionism + vouyerism, public masterbation, orgasm denial, spittin, one (1) use of the word ‘boypussy’, mean rennie

sonny says . . . rare short sonny post in da wild!?!? was missin nerd rennie n his jock boyfie ૮꒰ ྀི๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘ ྀི ꒱ა thinkin about how long it takes for you t’realize y’like -like him . . .

Eren is. . . Weird.

That’s not an unknown fact, nor is it an uncommon conclusion. If anything, it’s a given. He smells strange, but not unpleasant, his voice goes nasally when he’s not making an effort to smoothen it out, his glasses are always smudged with fingerprints and a thin, barely noticeable layer of grease. He snorts when he laughs, too, in some sort of stereotypical way, and it’s almost endearing, but. . . That’s not why he’s weird.

It’s not his physical traits, no. Not the two moles decorating his neck, or the constant pink flush to his cheeks. Not his warm, brown hair that frames his soft cheeks. It’s not the acne at his forehead— you can tell he’s spent countless nights scrubbing away at it, picking apart his appearance— or the pudge to his body. Found on his cheeks, his arms, his stomach, his thighs— no, it absolutely isn’t anything physical.

Even as you look at him, your eyes trained on the movement of his pen as he writes something down— you’re not even sure what subject you’re supposed to be working on, anymore— you can’t place it. Ink travels along the sheet of paper, bleeding into it as his letters loop and his vowels curl. His lips are chapped, dusted a pretty shade of pink as his tongue swipes over the surface of his pillowy lips, they part as if to speak, and—

“What?” He asks, his voice only ever sounding soft now, for the first time since you’ve met him. He peers at you over the rim of his large, round glasses, his hazel eyes brightening beneath the fluorescent study-hall lights. Eren squints, like the opacity pains him, but his gaze never falters in kindliness. He’s. . . pretty.

Its certainly not the first time you’ve had that thought— he’s fucked you sideways, backwards, and maybe even upside down, so the thought crossed your mind amongst countless other opportunities, but this is different. It’s mundane. It’s. . . casual. Natural, like something fundamentally correct.

In a way that makes your heart want to wring itself dry.

Eren breathes through parted lips, a habit he’s working on, thick eyebrows furrowed as his gaze trickles toward your empty notebook. “What?” He repeats, this time much more nasally. The growing irritability in his voice proves palpable— but it’s not Eren if he’s not easily riled up. Still, his voice is like molasses, you want to cuddle up beneath it and taste it on your tongue. The sweetness, the bitterness. To feel it spread across your tastebuds, thick and syrupy. He’s just so.. handsome.

“What?” You clear your throat, it’s suddenly scratchy, all the words you want to say stuck in your esophagus as you cough into your elbow. They’re not thoughts you’re used to having— you’ve only ever had girlfriends.. You’re used to floral patterns and sweet scents. . . the stereotypical bubblegum pink and hair ties. The hands you’ve held have almost always been smaller than your own, softer, dantier…

“You’re.. You know, staring at me?” Polar opposite of the former, Eren’s hand swats the air as if gesturing to the general area. You instinctively want to roll your eyes, bratty in nature, just to earn the soft click of Eren’s tongue. Fuck.

“How did you know you were… you know.” Rushed, slipping over your own tongue, your teeth feel like jelly, softening in your own mouth. You suddenly feel small, backed up against a corner and trembling like a deer. Bambi’s got nothing on you, incomparable, you think, a cold tremor cascading past your ribs and down your spine. You’re not supposed to be the one feeling this way.

“You know?” He echoes. Pink, plush lips parting and curling around every letter, your heart flutters with warmth as they curl into scowl. You hate to admit it, but it’s your favorite expression from Eren. He’s always looked a bit boyish— like he carries some sort of sheepishness in him, even with his beginnings of facial hair, but there’s something more established about him when his eyes steel over and his lips press together. “What, gay?”

Lilliputian is the minute that goes by, and yet, it lasts forever. “Yeah,” A long beat of silence as your shoulders tense up to your ears, each flutter of your eyelash against your cheek, each intake of air through your nose.. “That.” Excruciatingly slow, almost.

He notes the way you say it. You know it, you can see the cogs of recognition twisting and turning in his head, you loathe it. You want to hold onto the softness of his face, rub patterns into his cheek and pull him forward, whimpering a soft, saccharine ‘Rennie’ in his ear and watch him crumble. Your fingers twitch, fumbling over themselves at the thought, and before you can lift your hand (just to snatch it away), Eren’s lips part once more.

“You mean a faggot,” He sneers, his pen completely discarded, rolling past the flat surface of the wooden table. Radiating from his skin is the warmth of new tension, he vibrates in his seat as if ready to lash out. . . Not at you, never at you. “That’s what you want to say, right?”

“Eren,” Mumbling, barely making it past your lips, you murmur through your teeth. You distract yourself with your hands, two fingers holding onto one as they twiddle and turn around themselves. Eren’s gaze trails downward, a long, prominent scowl on his lips as he leans back into his seat, thighs spread wide over the stretch of the desk chair. His head tilts back, chocolate brown hair brushing against his jaw as he stares at you through the bridge of his nose. His frame isn’t big, and yet, he looks so.. powerful.

“I didn’t— don’t mean it like that.”

“What the fuck else could you mean, then?” He growls, a mean lilt in his voice that nearly has you shrinking back. A warning, not a threat, as the chair creaks beneath his weight, his hands clasping together as he shifts to lean forward instead. Looking you dead on, even as you avert your gaze. A click of his tongue, you listen to his skin brush against his palms as he raises a hand to snap his fingers. Once, twice, thrice.. And suddenly your attention is back on him. “Only fags take it up the ass like you do, anyway.”

“Eren,” You breathe, a soft melody of a voice, eyebrows pinched as you silently plead. Not even entirely sure what you’re pleading for, it’s just that his tone of voice makes you want to repent. Warmth prickles in your skin, and some sick, divine intervention tunes in to remind you that you’ve never felt more empty without Eren inside you. “Come on, man. I didn’t mean it like that, I just..”

His pretty face twists as though he’d eaten something sour. ‘Man’ — you call him, not something more savory. Baby, sweetheart, sugar, sir, Rennie. . . The options are there, and he’s watching you wade through them. You know Eren likes you. He knows you do, in some unexplainable way— he just needs to hear it.

“Is that what I am to you, too?” He grunts, stubborn. He knows the answer, eyes softening as he watches a frown tug at the corners of your kissable lips.

“Rennie,” You coo, as if you’ve read his mind, and he’s never seen your face so… conflicted. “M’sorry.” It cracks his hardened exterior, anger and tension dissipating into the air as he lets out a groan of a breath.

You’ve never seen Eren angry. Maybe in a different context, toward something else, with the exception of the time he’d discovered football meant you were flexible and he hadn’t put it to use yet. But. . . only sexually charged. You’d imagine it starts slow, a slight simmer building in his veins, gathering in his fingers as he clenches his hands into fists. Then fast, and sudden, crystalline rolling down his cheeks in a thick flow of rivers before your very eyes. He probably cries when he’s genuinely angry, you conclude, watching his chest heave and tense as he steadies his raging breaths.

A new sense of shame raises the hairs on your neck— should you comfort him, or give him privacy? It's all so much, you’re left stunned as he stands, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor as he all but stomps over to grab your chin. Your hand instinctively reaches to cup his own, instead, being met with a firm, but painless, tap to your cheek that makes you straighten up, hands falling back to your lap.

“You’re so. . .” Voice rough and thick, Eren’s gaze follows the shape of your lips as he trails off. Past your cupid's bow, is the curve, following where they meet in a shaky line. You’re pulled into a kiss, his pink lips chapped and bitten, you taste a thin layer of blood and iron on his tongue. His hand moves from your chin to your throat, fingers tracing the skin until his palm presses below your adam’s apple, leaving you gasping as he steals every breath from your parted lips. “. . Dumb boys like you never know what they’re fuckin’ talking about half the time anyway.”

The dig doesn’t hurt, your brain barely catches it, with the lack of oxygen and the pout on your lips, all you can chase after is the urge to kiss him again. Again, again, again. You hear him suck his teeth, but it’s hazy when he speaks once more. “Oh, you liked that?”

“Rennie, I wan’ it—“ Leaves your lips, high and whiney, forlorn to even your own ears, a dull throb between your thighs. It’s so good, you didn’t get hard as quick before meeting Eren, but with his hand wrapped around your throat, you can already feel the ache in your balls, the twitch of your shaft, the milky, sticky precum spilling into your boxers. The brunette scoffs, and that only makes it worse.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, mostly to himself, an almost incredulous lilt to his voice as he straightens up, palming at the clear bulge imprinted in his stained sweatpants. “Since you want it so bad, touch it.”

With a breathy moan, your hands reach to grasp at the thick outline of Eren’s cock straining against his pants, pressing your palm against the warmth of his shaft. You feel it twitch and throb beneath your fingers, jumping in your hand as Eren sucks in a sharp breath. You missed this. He huffs above you, face flushed and glasses askew, but his gaze doesn’t leave your face once— glued to the way your lips part, how you mouth against the cotton of his sweats and leave behind a sloppy stain of drool. How you kiss the head, burying your face deeper and deeper into the fabric, breathing in the musk of his cock.

“M’sorry,” You breathe, handsome face squished against his thigh, and Eren can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you off his cock with a resigned grunt.

“I knew I was gay,” Eren rasps, his other hand pulling at the elastic band of his sweatpants, diving past his boxers (with suspicious stains, might you add), and straight to gripping his cock, dribbling salty, sticky precum along his knuckles. “When I’d come home from school,” He sighs, eyes fluttering shut with a shaky gasp. “And watch porn, but—” You barely miss it, stuck in his hold as he keeps you still, the weight of his cock slapping against your cheek— and god, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. “I only focused on the men. Especially when they sounded like girls, whining and crying…”

It’s hard to listen to him ramble, when what you want is right in front of you. Your hips rock, pressing your needy cock just barely against the denim of your jeans— it’s not enough, you need more, you want to feel it, you want to take it— “Kinda like you,” He grunts out, nearly crumbling above you, your pretty lips ghosting over his cock as his fist grips the dip of his balls. Blinking up at him, your eyes remain glued to the veins littering his hand as he fucks his fist, nearly losing your composure. “How they gasp after bottoming out,” Lifting your hips up, brushing your clenched fists against your thighs, your eyes flutter shut as he moans, maneuvering your face into different angles— however he pleases. “When they accidentally shoot a load on their own face. Ha, kinda like you.”

You hiccup on your own desperate, breathy sobs, choking on your gasps— in and out, in and out, Eren’s cock squelches as he fucks his fist, gathering pre and smearing it against your cheek.

“And they always take it so good. Pretty, slutty little holes made for taking dick,” He strokes loud plaps of wetness out of the head, finally, finally, pressing it against the plush of your lips. Glazed over and sticky, a thin, sheen layer of pre paints your lips like the prettiest gloss, and your lips part, carrying a thin trail of saliva between them. “They look so stupid, too. Best part was—” Mumbling under his breath, the brunette gathers spit on his tongue. He's salty and bitter, spreading along your mouth, and you can't help but drool. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head, and— oh. “I’d make sure they looked like you.”

He’s spitting in your mouth. “You should’ve known when I had your ankles above your head and fucked a load into that boypussy of yours.”

You’re close, you can feel it, a tingling warmth in your spine and your balls, your abdomen tightening and hands reaching down to rub it out, but— Eren swats your hand away, a scowl on his lips.

Repent, repent, repent.

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jaiedenbeauty · 2 years ago

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youthxtractorganics · 2 years ago

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gezondenmooi-net · 2 years ago

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bittylildragon · 2 months ago

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Your immune system is getting enough of a workout even if you wear a mask

For those of us who are still wearing masks to reduce the spread of diseases like covid-19, if you're like me, you've probably heard or been told some variation of "Your immune system is use-it-or-lose-it" or "a strong immune system is one that is regularly exposed to things" or whatever. It's scary, being told that protecting yourself from diseases short-term might weaken or destroy one of the core systems of your body long-term!

But there are a lot of reasons this is nonsense, starting with the fact that it's an idea which comes originally from antivax eugenics thinkers, so I'm not going to go into all of the arguments against eugenics and antivax thinking here. What I will instead say is that it demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of how human life works. So, for those of you who wear masks and are vaguely worried that your immune system will get decrepit because of it (or, for those of you who WOULD mask if you didn't think it would somehow weaken your immune system long-term), listen up.

If you don't wash your hands every single time you use the bathroom (yes, every time) your immune system is getting a workout.

If you don't regularly disinfect all of the countertops, doorknobs, light switches, and other commonly-touched surfaces you interact with, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you don't regularly disinfect your phone, keys, wallet, and other things you touch a lot while out and about, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you kiss people, especially on the mouth, (or if you do other more intimate things to them with your mouth), your immune system is getting a workout.

If you have certain types of acne, your immune system is getting a workout.

If you have pets and you don't wash your hands every time you touch them, your immune system is getting a workout. (Especially if you kiss their cute lil heads, your immune system is getting a workout.)

If you have kids or are around children regularly, your immune system is almost certainly getting a workout.

If you receive packages in the mail and don't disinfect them before touching them, your immune system is likely getting a workout.

If you don't actively disinfect fresh fruits and vegetables after buying them from the store (rather than just rinsing/scrubbing them), especially if you eat them uncooked, your immune system is likely getting a workout.

If you have allergies, your immune system is getting a workout probably way more frequently than you would wish.

Plus a hundred other small parts of daily life that are the same!!

My point here is that there are SO MANY WAYS that you're constantly being exposed to things that your immune system reacts to in big and small ways that you have an active immune system no matter what. You don't need to be afraid that you will get weak or whatever if you protect yourself and other people from the spread of airborne diseases by wearing a mask!

#masks #masking #covid #coronavirus #for all the ND readers I'm sorry I know masking has multiple meanings these days #BLD writing

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whispereons · 4 months ago

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Insecurity [Fem Reader x Yandere Male]

Masterlist

Warning! This is a VERY self indulgent yandere fic. Describes stalking and creepy behavior. Long descriptions of body shaming and (you guessed it) insecurities done by the reader. Done in one take and not edited very well.

Brains and brawn may compete to be superior. But it was beauty that triumphed both.

Beauty that you craved. To be beautiful, to be seen as attractive. Hell to even have someone think that you just made the cut to be 'cute' would be all you need.

Yet you never got a second glance your way all your life. The people around you, your friends, your family, even strangers on the street looked better then you.

Were you too fat? Too skinny? Disproportionate? Maybe your cheeks were chubby or gaunt.

You didn't know and every glance in the mirror was a scathing reminder of what was wrong with you, with your face, with your body.

A new flaw was found each time and the previous ones only grew worse.

It began small when you were just young enough to notice that pretty people were treated differently.

At first it didn't bother you, you would hit puberty, you would get that magical glow up sometime soon.

But those hopes grew dimmer with each passing day. Sure you changed but it was basically for the worse. Now you looked and felt awkward in your own body.

People you were interested in laughed around your friends freely and only gave a hesitant pitying chuckle or hum when you spoke. Right before going back to your friends without another glance as you would stare at the floor and worry if you said something bad or if you just looked bad.

But your friends had completely different genes then you. Surely it could just be an ethnicity preference right?

Nope, you were proven wrong when family members your age with similar enough skin tone or eye shape or lip shape or anything else you had who had no problem attracting people.

‘You shouldn't judge a book by its cover.’

‘The right person will like you for you and not your looks.’

Sayings that you took to heart to console yourself but it was like poison to your brain and heart.

The thoughts mutated from picking at your body to your personality too. Yet you still tried to be presentable in some way.

Scrubbing your body every shower till the skin was raw red. As many products you could get a hold on to treat the stubborn acne that just wouldn't go away. Plucking any out of place hairs on your face and shaving anything that could cause people to even think of you as hairy.

The only thing you didn't touch was the makeup that was tempting yet scary to you.

You heard everyone talk about it. Other girls bragging about how they snagged a hot guy with the right makeup. Only for the guys to whisper their disgust at their bare face.

Girls complaining about the increased acne and costs of make up. Guys praising about how ‘natural’ their girlfriends were when you could see the layers they had on, clearly unable to tell the difference.

Pros and cons were thrown all around but whenever you asked if make up was good or not, you recieved the same damn answer.

‘The right guy will like you for you. With or without makeup.’

You weren't oblivious to how neither told you that you were beautiful just the way you were.

The only ones who did were the sought after attractive women who only said it to console you in some way.

In the end you waited too long. By the time you got the courage to seriously try, you were out of high-school and too deeply involved in life to have time to struggle and fail.

It only ate away at your conscious but the fear of being ridiculed and laughed at for wearing bad makeup that made you even uglier then you already were was enough to stress you to tears.

What could you do but give up?

Maybe you were better off this way.

Alone you weren't going to be hurt in a relationship.

Alone you couldn't cry over your nonexistent boyfriend's insults when you fight.

Alone you would never be validated in your sinking thoughts of what a failure of person you were.

That's probably why you could never feel validated in whether you were attractive as you matured. The self loathing thoughts and feelings grew but you kept it locked away.

Mirrors were scarcely seen and photos were always refused or just ignored. It was like the insults were written on your face for all to laugh at.

So why the hell were you the one targeted by some random guy in your college to be stalked?

This wasn't the first time you've seen him but this was definitely the closest he's ever come to you as you sit in a library just a table away from him.

His eyes were still on you as you stared nervously at your computer screen. You haven't been able to type a single word since you noticed his presence.

Subtly you looked up and scanned the room just to take another peek at him.

Yup, he was attractive as hell. Way out of your league.

Handsome, fit, and tall. He's got it all yet he's watching you with a smile that borders between sexy and hungry.

He's got the serial killer vibe down to the art cause that's the only fucking reason he could be stalking you for the past few weeks.

It was around a month ago that you actually noticed him. Simply brushing off his glances as something he was directing to your friends.

After you left to the bathroom and came back you locked eyes with him. He kept that stare up even as you blushed and looked away.

It didn't even occur to you that he thought you were attractive, you just thought that you had food staining your lips.

Sitting back with your friends, you couldn't push down the feeling of being the ugly duckling as you all laughed at a joke yet yours was like nails on a chalkboard.

Loud, out of tune and unwanted.

It took a week for you to note the footsteps behind you whenever you walked back to your car after late night classes.

When you noticed that it was him again, you brushed it off thinking that he just had late classes.

His stares were probably just ones of worry since it was nearing midnight and you were walking alone. You had heard about him before, a kind man that was as charming as he was sweet.

An ideal man that you wouldn't suspect. Which only made the serial killer suspicion much stronger when you overheard him denying having classes on the days of your late night classes.

But even then it would be crazy to assume he's stalking you. At least until you saw his car parked just a block away from your house when you were positive he lived in a different city.

It was the weekend for crying out loud! There was no way in hell that he could be near your house every weekend.

But maybe he had family or friends or anything else attractive popular people had going on.

Besides if he was just normal and interested romantically, he would be chatting up your friends. If he was a serial killer then he would still be targeting your friends. You've never heard of a serial killer who only targeted ugly people.

You'd rather be a surprise suicide then be known as a victim of a serial killer who's MO was ugly people. Even you had a limit.

But the anxiety over the situation was killing you. As a last ditch effort last week you decided to test something out.

Yesterday you loudly told your friends that you planned on doing some vigorous self studying tomorrow for the upcoming exam at the library. You knew that none of them would be able to make it due to their various personal responsibilities but that was the point.

And you were fucking right as he keeps his eyes on you when you knew he didn't have any classes today. And it's not like he's studying with his bag still on the chair and his lips sucking on the straw in the drink he had in his hands.

So what if you eyed the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp?

He's probably planning on using this opportunity to kill you since you're all alone. Might as well let your eyes feast on something good before your death.

Holding back your anxiety over how he'll slaughter you, you heard another student walk up to him and clap his shoulder.

“What's good man? Didn't expect to see you here today. Thought you told me that your next class wasn't till Monday?”

Fucking called it!

But before you could celebrate your minor and frankly bad news considering that you've been confirmed to have a serial killer on your trail, you heard your stalker respond.

“Nothing much, just came here to study while we still have time before the midterms.” He chuckled and you could only bite your lips in jealousy.

Damn him for having such a nice voice. It was smooth and rich, the kind of voice you knew would make anyone melt at the sound.

An all around 10/10 and you wished that you could take even half a point from him.

It was too much, the revelation that you're going to be murdered soon paired with having to hear your soon to be murderer having got the greatest luck in life to be attractive was too distracting.

Packing up quickly you tried to leave without being noticed as you caught the end of the conversation.

“You should come to my place for the weekend. I've invited a few hot chicks and-”

“Sorry, I've already got plans for the this weekend. I'll be real busy till the exam and maybe even then for a while. I'll catch you later though.”

Walking out the library you made a beeline for the campus exit when you heard the heavy footsteps of him close by.

Damn it, you should have just stayed inside.

The streets weren't very crowded as a festival was being held on the other side of the city for some holiday you didn't care to remember.

Therefore it quickly became just you and him on the walk to the garage. The tight grip you had on your bag loosened as you tried to rationalize everything.

Maybe he wasn't a serial killer and you were just paranoid. Everything could just be a coincidence that you're blowing out of proportion.

Getting to your car you fumbled with your keys as the sweat of your palms made it hard to sort through.

Maybe you weren't fucked is what you would think if a large hand wasn't pressed against the rim of your beat up car from behind you as hot air ghosted your neck.

“Sorry if I startled you, you're Y/n right? One of your friends was talking to me about you.”

Stiff as a board you turned around and all the blood drained from your face at the way he towered over you.

Only for it to come rushing back and burn your cheeks as he leaned down. Pretty eyes stared into yours as his soft yet slightly curled hair framed his face.

His lips pulled into a smile as you leaned away till your back was touching your car as he asked. “Sorry if this is a bit sudden but I needed some help with one of my classes and she said that you aced it last semester.”

“Do you mind coming over to my place tomorrow to help me with it?”

You were so fucked.

This right here is mostly for myself but also for all my fellow insecure girlies who can't get behind certain portrayals of fem readers.

I recently read one that gave such a detailed description of a fem readers body who didn't tag it correctly and felt like shit after reading.

This isn't going to be serious, it's comedic mostly and pretty much self indulgent as warned above. It's also an outlet for me to finally get those stupid thoughts out of my head.

It's also a callback to the original reason I was attracted to yanderes if it wasn't obvious. Also I have no clue on what name or appearance aside from his hair to give him. So if anyone has any ideas go ahead and put them in the comments or send a ask so I can decide.

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